Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A fter a two-hour search of the lands to the west of Shrewsbury, Dane and his men returned to the castle.

The mist was just starting to lift, casting golden fingers of light down into the muddy, cold earth as the Duke of Shrewsbury and his army came thundering in through the open gatehouse, which was quickly closed again as soon as they were through. Dane reined his steed to a halt mid-bailey and was met by another small army of pages and squires, young men assigned to the stables, to take the horses away and tend to them. As his fat horse was led away, Dane removed his helm and began to pull off his gloves.

"Dane," Boden rush up beside him, having just come from the battlements. "Did you find those bastards?"

Dane was weary and frustrated. "Nay," he said. "They returned to the forests outside of the town and disappeared. We thought we found a couple of paths, but they split up and we lost the trail in Ford's Heath. After that, there were enough forests and bogs to keep them concealed. They are back in Wales by now."

Boden could see how upset his brother was, and with good reason. The entire army was greatly saddened by the death of Syler, the news of which had spread as much as Boden had tried to keep it quiet. The mood of the castle was dark and morose as Dane and his party returned and, unfortunately, returned empty-handed.

"You did what you could," Boden said quietly. "I know you tried very hard, Dane. You mustn't be disappointed in your efforts."

But that was no comfort to Dane. "I failed," he said simply. "I vowed to bring Syler's murderers to justice and I failed."

Boden glanced up, seeing William as the knight spoke to a downcast Dastan a few feet away. As he watched, William put his hands on Dastan's shoulders in a comforting gesture. Boden knew how bad everyone was feeling in the wake of Syler's death; he was feeling badly about it also, badly because he had been locked in at the castle and unable to help. Each of them was feeling like a failure in his own way. Boden finally put a hand on Dane's shoulder, a gesture of comfort.

"You may have the key to all of this in the vault," he muttered. "We still have a prisoner."

Dane's head shot up as he suddenly remembered the man he had grabbed in town. "I captured a Welshman and gave him over to the men," he said. "They brought him back here?"

"Indeed, they did."

Dane felt a surge of hope in his veins. "Excellent," he said. "While I interrogate the man, you will make sure the gates remained locked and release the women in the keep. I believe they can move about freely for now."

"I will send a soldier to release them," Boden said. "I am going with you."

Dane didn't have time to argue. His gaze moved to William and Dastan, standing in a huddle. "Dastan!" he shouted. "To me!"

Dastan rushed to him, followed by William. Boden was a little slower, having issued the command to release the keep, but he followed quickly. All four men headed to the eastern gatehouse, which was comprised of a small tower with a vault in the bedrock below it. It had been dug into the ground when the gate and wall were built two hundred years before, a dank and dingy hole in the ground that held three cramped cells. It was where Dane had instructed Syler to be taken and stored, and it was with irony he realized one of the Welsh responsible for the man's death was also being held there.

The eastern tower, built of the same red stone that the rest of the castle was built with, had a heavy contingent of guards at the vault opening, a narrow doorway that contained a flight of narrow, slippery stairs cut into the rock that led to the depths below. Dane grabbed a torch, as did Boden, and the group proceeded down the stairs where three more guards were waiting at the bottom, watching the prisoner. Dane handed the torch over to one of the guards, straining to find the cells as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness.

The first cell was very tiny, off to his left and hardly big enough for a man. It had heavy iron bars all around it. The second cell contained Syler's body; they could all see it on the ground, cushioned by clean straw, with a horse blanket thrown over it. The third cell contained a frightened, beaten man cowering in the corner, all rolled up in a ball, but Dane wasn't particularly focused on him.

At the moment, he was more focused on Syler.

He had to see the man for himself one last time. Stepping in to the small cell, he knelt beside the knight's body and pulled back the horse blanket, coming face to face with Syler's still- bluish face, only now there was more gray to it and his eyes were half-open. With a heavy sigh, Dane put his hand to the man's cheek in another apologetic gesture, perhaps an apology that those responsible for his death had not yet been brought to justice. But the gesture was short, and heartfelt, before Dane covered the man's face again and stood up.

Now, he could focus on the prisoner in the next cell.

When the guards unlocked it, Dane pushed into the cell with Dastan and William behind him. That was all that would fit. Boden remained at the cell door. When the prisoner remained rolled up in a ball, ignoring the men around him, Dane lashed out a big boot and kicked the man in the back.

"Get up," he snarled. "You will face me."

The man flinched in pain and slowly began to unroll himself. It was William who impatiently reached out and yanked the man's cloak off his head and then pulled him up by the scruff of his dark, matted hair.

"Sit up," William barked, slapping the man in the head and then shoving him back against the wall of the cell. "You will answer him, do you hear me? Answer him or I will beat your brains out where you sit."

Dane put out a hand to still William's quick temper, and William backed away, but he was still huffing. Dane stood over the prisoner, the same young man with the crossbow that he'd clobbered in town, and folded his arms.

" Wyt ti'n deall Saesneg ?" he asked.

Do you speak English ? The Welshman lifted his head, fear written all over his face, and nodded unsteadily.

"Good," Dane said. "Do you understand that you are in a very bad position?"

The Welshman hesitated, looking at all of the serious English faces around him. "Do what you want," he said, although his voice was trembling. "I cannot tell you anything. Do what you will to me."

That brought William down on him and he delivered two nasty blows to the man's face before Dane and Dastan could pull him away. As Dane pulled the Welshman back into a sitting position, Dastan shoved William back at Boden, who yanked the young knight out of the cell. They could hear Boden angrily scolding William as Dane and Dastan closed in on the prisoner.

"I cannot keep him off of you for much longer," Dane said. "His friend is dead and he is angry. It would be best to tell me what we want to know. Who led the raid into town today?"

The Welshman had a bloody nose that was causing him a good deal of pain. He put his cloak up to his face to try and stem the flow.

"I'll not tell you!"

"If you tell me, you will live. If you do not, then one less Welshman in the world will not matter to me. I will get my information elsewhere and your death will have been in vain. I can promise you that you will not die painlessly."

The Welshman was young and it was clear that he was frightened. Perhaps an older, more seasoned warrior would have ignored Dane's demand, but the Welshman seemed to be considering it. He could see the angry redheaded knight outside of his cell being held back by another knight, and that worried him. He had a feeling they would turn the redheaded man loose on him and then he would know great pain. His fear began to build, bringing a wave of panic that he was unaccustomed to. He'd never really been in a fight, not in all his eighteen years, and now he found himself the captive of powerful English knights.

He knew nothing. He was nothing.

But he wanted to live.

"We killed the duke," he said defiantly. "Killing me will not bring him back!"

Dane eyed him curiously. "What makes you think you killed the duke?"

The Welshman wiped at his bloodied nose. "Because he rode from the castle surrounded by his men," he said. "He was struck down. I saw it!"

Dane looked at Dastan, who seemed to be equally puzzled. But then, it occurred to Dastan what he meant because he had been there. He had seen them take Syler out in a hail of well-placed arrows and now it occurred to him as to why .

Syler had been targeted.

"Is that what you thought?" he asked, incredulous. "That the duke was riding in the midst of his men into town?"

"He was!" the Welshman said, still with a defiant tone. "He's dead and now Shrewsbury will belong to Godor, as it should."

Now, the man had Dane's full attention. "Godor?" he repeated sharply. "Is ap Madoc behind this?"

The young Welshman looked at Dane with a mixture of surprise and pride. "Then you know of him already," he said. "You know of his greatness. Shrewsbury will belong to him now. You will see!"

Dane had to take a step back. He looked at Dastan as the realization of the situation washed over him. Grabbing Dastan by the arm, he pulled him out of the cell where Boden and William were standing. Facing the trio, although he was mostly looking at Dastan, he spoke softly.

"Davies ap Madoc was behind this," he hissed. "The same man who offered for Grier's hand and was denied. You heard the prisoner– now, they think they have killed the duke– because Syler was riding with the men, they assumed it was the duke with an escort and they aimed for him. Don't you see?"

The light of recognition went on in Dastan's eyes. "That's why I was not hit," he said. "Then the raid on the market was a ruse. They were trying to draw out the Duke of Shrewsbury, and they were aiming what limited arrows they had right at Syler, thinking that he was the duke when he came from the castle surrounded by soldiers. They thought he was you ."

Dane put his hands to his head as the understanding of the situation rolled over him. He was flabbergasted and infuriated at the same time. "My God," he breathed. "The man is trying to kill me. He knows I have married Grier, or at least he knows that some man has married Grier, a man who is now the Duke of Shrewsbury. And he is trying to kill him to get to her."

"It could be that all he wants is Shrewsbury, and not Grier. She may have been only a means to an end and he has no feelings for her."

"Or he does have feelings for her and wants both her and the dukedom. Either way, he must get rid of me."

As that understanding settled, both William and Boden displayed a wide-eyed countenance, shocked with what had happened. They looked at Dane, who was torn between disbelief and anger. An excellent knight had taken arrows meant for him and with that thought, the anger won over.

But even as rage swamped him, thoughts of Grier filled Dane's mind. He was coming to think that it would be wise for him to discover just what manner of relationship was between his wife and ap Madoc, because if the Lords of Godor were trying to kill him in order to obtain Shrewsbury, then there might be more to this than he realized.

Grier could hold the key.

"Keep the Welshman down here," he commanded quietly. "I think it is time to ask my wife just what she knows of Davies ap Madoc and the Lords of Godor."

Dastan couldn't disagree. "I cannot tell you if there was any relationship between them," he said. "When ap Madoc's father came to offer for her hand, he made no indication that there was any relationship at all. But then again, Lord Garreth never asked him. Mayhap, it would be wise to see what Lady de Russe knows about this."

"I intend to," Dane said with a hint of suspicion in his tone. He looked to Boden and William. "Ensure our prisoner is fed and well-guarded. Willie, you will stay away from him. Do you understand?"

William pursed his lips unhappily. "If I must."

"You must. If he is injured or killed, I will send you back to your father in disgrace. Is that in any way unclear?"

Grossly unhappy, William looked away. "You do not have to threaten me."

"Answer me."

"It is clear."

Dane pointed a finger at him. "I will hold you to that." His gaze lingered on the knight a moment, looking for any signs of rebellion, before returning his attention to Dastan. "Mayhap now would be a good time to tell your wife and her cousin what has become of Syler. We cannot keep it from them for much longer. I am sure rumor of his death is quietly spreading."

Dastan nodded, dreading the duty. Dane made William and Boden leave the vault first, following them up the stairs to make sure William wasn't tempted to harass the prisoner once Dane was gone. He stood at the entry to the vault, watching William walk away while Boden spoke to the guards. Once William was far enough away, Dane thought it would be safe to leave the vault himself.

He had a wife to see.

Just as Dane and Dastan were turning for the keep, they could hear screams in the distance. Dane cocked an ear, confused and alerted.

"Did you hear that?" he asked Dastan.

The knight nodded, hearing more screams. "It sounds as if it is coming from the hall."

As they watched, servants began shooting out of the whitewashed structure that contained the kitchens, but there was even more screaming going on inside. When Dane saw William break out in a run towards the kitchen, he began to run as well. They had no idea why people were screaming and running from the kitchens, but they were certainly going to find out. Something horrific must have been happening, and after the raid that morning, they couldn't discount that somehow, someway, Welshmen had made it into the kitchens where there were knives and fire and other deadly things.

The swords came out. As William entered through the kitchen yard, followed by several armed soldiers, Dane and Dastan, and several more armed soldiers, entered from the main doorway.

And what they saw was certainly not what they had expected.

The first thing Dane saw was Grier on top of a table, covered in flour. Charlisa was against a wall with a massive spoon in her hand, screaming and swinging the spoon like a weapon, and everyone seemed to be in a panic as a flour-covered rooster went on a rampage around the floor. It was the most puzzling, and possibly most hilarious, sight that Dane had ever seen and he probably would have laughed his head off had he not just come from a very depressing and serious situation.

He wasn't in the mood to laugh, as Lady de Russe was about to find out.