Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

C assian was having a good time watching Myles and Richard fight each other on the battlements.

Brother fights were always the most humorous.

He didn't know how it started, but Myles had taken offense to something Richard had said and the battle was on. There was punching and kicking and pinching going on until Curtis intervened, but they didn't take kindly to it, so they went after Curtis and he slapped Richard in the head and swept Myles' legs out from under him. With the fight effectively over, the soldiers clapped and laughed, leading to abject humiliation for Richard and Myles, who pretended to ignore each other until Curtis went away.

Then, the punching and kicking started up again.

"Richard!" came a booming voice. "Myles! Cease at once!"

Christopher was just coming off the stairwell, his blue eyes blazing at his naughty sons. The boys came to an instant halt, looking at their father in terror.

"But… but Myles would not do as he was told," Richard stammered. "He was supposed to go to the armory and start cleaning weapons, but he said he did not have to do as I told him."

Christopher cocked an eyebrow, pointing to the stairwell. "Both of you to the armory," he said. "Clean the weapons and do not come out until I send for you. Go. "

"But Papa…!"

"If you do not obey me immediately, I will turn you over to Jeffrey. Is that what you want?"

It wasn't. The threat of the old German knight was enough to get them moving. The boys scampered past their angry father, down the stairs, nearly crashing into their sister as she stood at the base of the tower. As Richard and Myles ran for their lives, Christopher turned to Cassian.

"I should have stopped them," he said, fighting off a grin. "But it was great entertainment. They remind me of my brothers, but we were far meaner to one another when we were young. Julian knocked out one of my teeth, once. I broke his nose."

Christopher smiled weakly. "I cannot say that David and I were not exactly as Richard and Myles are, but not for all to see," he said, looking at the nearby soldiers who were trying not to grin. "All I have ever asked of my children is that they not embarrass me. Is that too much to hope for?"

Cassian's grin broke through. "At that age? More than likely, it is."

Christopher shook his head, disgusted with his sons' antics, but it didn't detract from the reason he'd come in the first place. He motioned to Cassian.

"I've come for a reason and it wasn't to discipline my ridiculous sons," he said. "I have need of you, Cass. Come with me."

Cassian did. He followed Christopher down the spiral stairs of the tower built into the wall, emerging on the ground level to Brielle waiting patiently. He smiled at her but as he drew closer, he could see that her eyes were red-rimmed. He grasped her gently by the arm, peering at her.

"What is wrong?" he said.

She sniffled and tried to look away, following Christopher as he headed towards the enormous keep. "I am well," she insisted. "I… I have simply been sneezing. You know I sneeze a great deal this time of year."

That was true. In the spring, when things were blooming, Brielle could sneeze her head off. Therefore, Cassian didn't give a second thought to her red eyes or red nose. He simply followed her and Christopher towards the keep, assuming they were going inside.

But they weren't.

Christopher veered off about the time they reached the keep and headed for the entry that was half-buried in the ground. A short flight of steps took them down to the sublevel of Lioncross where the ancient Roman foundation was. It was still used for prisoners or even extra sleeping rooms when they were overloaded with visitors because the foundations contained cells that had been built into the Roman ruins by Benedictine monks during the Dark Ages, hence the title "abbey" in Lioncross' name. It was dark and cold and quiet down there.

Perfect for a private conversation.

At the entry, Christopher struck a flint and stone on two lamps that were kept at the doorway. It was shocking how much light those oil lamps could deliver into the darkness and he handed one to Brielle while he took the other. They took him into one of the larger cells near the entrance.

"I haven't been down here in a while," Cassian said, looking at the dark-stone, slick walls. "I'd forgotten how much it smells. Like a grave. There are dead people down here."

Brielle's eyes widened and she dropped her chin into her chest so he wouldn't see her eyes welling. Christopher knew he couldn't drag this out.

Cassian had to know.

"We brought you down here for a reason, Cass," he said. "I wanted to make sure this conversation was private."

Cassian truly had no idea what was going on. Brielle was there, so he suspected it might have something to do with their betrothal. He looked at her more closely as she sat down, her gaze averted, so he wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad thing.

"Of course, my lord," he said politely. "What is it?"

Christopher cleared his throat softly. "You saw William Marshal arrive today."

Cassian nodded. "I did."

"He brought news, Cass."

Cassian cocked his head. "What news?"

Christopher looked him in the eyes, speaking calmly and succinctly. "John's mercenary army made it to Northumberland in the early part of the new year," he said. "They went after Berwick."

Cassian's eyes widened. "Christ," he gasped. "Did it fall?"

Christopher shook his head. "It did not," he said. "Berwick held, as did Northwood and Roxburgh, and most other castles the mercenary army attacked. However, Northumberland's army suffered terribly in the fight, I am told. The mercenaries also went after Pelinom. Your father and his army were caught up in it."

Cassian nodded in understanding, but he didn't seem too distressed. "We knew it would be," he said. "My father was concerned about it. But Pelinom is strong. It held?"

"It did."

Cassian breathed a sigh of relief. "I am glad," he said. "More than glad. I am greatly relieved. My lord, I have been thinking of going to see my father. I realize it may be a difficult thing to…"

Christopher held up a hand to silence him. "Cass, please listen to me," he said. "Pelinom held, but not without great cost. The greatest, in fact. John's archers managed to strike several of your father's men during heavy bombardment. You know your father– he would not simply stand by while his men were being attacked. He went to save them. As he was dragging men to safety, he was hit as well. I am very sorry to tell you that he did not survive."

That was not what Cassian had been expecting to hear. Not in the least. In fact, that was the last thing he expected to hear and he looked at Christopher as if he hadn't understood him.

"He… he what ?" he asked tightly. "He fell?"

Christopher could feel the lump in his throat as he looked at Cassian's confused face. "Your father was killed, Cass," he clarified. "He took two arrows to the back, but still, he kept pulling men to safety until your mother forced him to stop. He… he died in her arms, lad. He was with your mother when he passed, so he was comforted. He was not alone. I'm so very sorry."

Cassian just stared at him. Then, he licked his lips as if he wanted to say something more, but the words wouldn't come. He scratched his cheek, looked at Brielle only to see that she was weeping, before returning his focus to Christopher. He could see that Christopher was tearing up, too.

Then, it began to sink in.

"My father is dead?" he asked hoarsely.

Christopher nodded. "He is."

"And you are certain of this?"

"Aye. That is what William Marshal came to tell me and he would not lie."

Cassian blinked. Then he took a step back and shook his head. "Nay," he said, but his face was beginning to crumple even as he said it. "Nay, it's not true. My father cannot be dead."

Christopher could see the breakdown coming. "Your father lived a rich and glorious life, Cass," he said steadily. "He was very proud of you and your brothers. You know how much he loved you. He would expect you to take this news in a way that would honor him."

Cassian was still backing up. He ended up backing right into a wall, stumbling, and falling to his knees. Every ounce of self-control he had was suddenly smashed into a million shards of pain.

Your father is dead.

He couldn't believe it.

But he had to believe it.

As Christopher and Brielle watched, Cassian burst out into gut-busting sobs. "Oh, my dear God," he wept. "Papa, you cannot be gone. You cannot! "

Christopher didn't even know what to say. There was nothing he could say to comfort the young man who had been flung into the throes of grief so brutally. He looked at Brielle, who had tears streaming down her face as she went to Cassian, coming to within a few feet of him before kneeling on the ground.

"I'm so sorry, Cass," she whispered through her tears. "He loved you so very much."

"He did," Cassian gasped, tears and mucus pouring down his face. "I know he did. His last words to me were of his love for me and… and, oh God, I was so stupid. I would not tell him I loved him in return. I was angry at him and I would not tell him. Our last words were those of anger. That is all he remembered of me in the end. A stupid, foolish, stubborn son."

Sobbing deeply, Cassian ended up on his side, laying in the cold dirt of the abbey, weeping his heart out. Brielle inched closer to him, sobbing openly.

"That is not all he remembered of you," she insisted. "He remembered his strong and brilliant son, someone he was so very proud of."

Cassian was far gone with grief. "He died thinking I hated him," he wept. Then, he started to shout. "Papa, I don't hate you. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you! "

Brielle watched Cassian fall apart right in front of her eyes. She turned to her father beseechingly.

"Help him, Papa," she begged. "Please help him!"

Christopher was distraught. He did the only thing he could think of at that moment– he went to Cassian, sitting down next to him, pulling the man out of the dirt and wrapping him up in his big arms. He held him tightly even as Cassian struggled against him, but he soon gave up and simply wept on Christopher's chest. Brielle wrapped her arms around them both, holding them tightly.

"Do you want to know what your father remembered of you?" Christopher said, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I will tell you. He remembered that small lad who fought with his brothers and broke noses. He remembered the boy who followed him around and wanted to learn everything about being a knight. He remembered that child who ate too many blackberries and was up all night with a bellyache. Do you remember when you told me that? How you still can't stand the sight of blackberries? You told me your father sat up with you all night and told you stories to take your mind from your ache. That is what your father remembered, Cass. He did not remember the heartache of a minor argument, only the joy of a life with his youngest son. I swear that's all he remembered."

Cassian had his face against Christopher's chest, wrapped up in the love and comfort of his father's dear friend and the woman he loved. He was in the best place he could possibly be, but all he could feel was black, horrific agony and grief.

He'd never felt more alone in his life.

"I should have told him I loved him before he left," he muttered. "Do you know what my last words to him were? That I was disappointed in him. I hurt him when I told him, I know it. I could see it in his face. But he still told me he loved me."

"That is because he did," Christopher said. "Sometimes, we say things in the heat of an argument that we do not mean. Your father knew you didn't mean it."

Cassian pushed himself away from Christopher and Brielle. "Did he?" he asked. "Because I thought I meant it at the time. He hurt me and I wanted to hurt him. I was petty and foolish. I should have gone to see him at Rhayder but you sent me to Canterbury instead. By the time I returned, he had gone home."

Christopher hoped Cassian wasn't going to turn on him for not letting him see his father one last time. "I thought that sending you to Canterbury was best for you," he said. "You were furious and unsteady and I felt you needed time away from Lioncross to breathe and gain perspective. Had I known it would have been the last time you would ever see your father, certainly, I would not have sent you away. I hope you know that."

Much to Christopher's relief, Cassian nodded. "I know," he said after a moment. "I did not mean to blame you for anything. There is no one to blame but me. This is all my fault."

His sobbing had lessened as he started to calm down a little. He wiped at his face furiously, but he simply ended up smearing dirt everywhere until Brielle came to the rescue and used her kerchief to wipe his face off.

"You must go home, Cass," Christopher said. "John's army is over near Scarborough the last I heard, so you can easily avoid him, but you should go home right away. Your mother will need you."

Cassian was sitting on his arse, legs straight out in front of him as he hung his head and sniffled. "When did this happen?"

"January."

His head came up, looking at Christopher with an incredulous expression. "My father has been gone for two months and we are only now hearing of it?" he said, aghast. "Why did my mother not send me word? Why did my brothers not send me word?"

Christopher shook his head. "I do not know," he said honestly. "It sounds as if John's army tore the north up pretty seriously, so it is possible that they simply haven't had the opportunity. Mayhap there is a good deal of necessary rebuilding going on right now and it is possible that they are overwhelmed with that. I am sure they would have sent word if they could… when they could."

Cassian shook his head. "Or my father told them how horrible I was and they hate me for it," he said, hanging his head again. "Mayhap they do not want me to return home."

"That is nonsense, Cass. Of course they want you to go home."

"May I return home with my new wife by my side?"

Christopher hadn't been expecting that answer and, frankly, it irritated him. So Cassian was going to use his father's death to force Christopher's hand? He looked at Brielle, who was gazing back at him with hope. That just made Christopher even more annoyed because Cassian knew she would want such a thing.

"Nay," he said. "Frankly, Cass, that kind of manipulation is beneath you. Your father's memory deserves more respect than you trying to use it to gain your wants, so I will deny your request. You may not marry Brielle now and I would be very careful in your reply to me. If you try to use your father's death against me again, you may not marry her at all, so keep that in mind before you try to emotionally coerce me."

With that, he stood up, leaving Brielle shocked and Cassian weeping again. "I am sorry," he said, wiping his cheeks. "I did not mean it the way it sounded. I only meant for comfort. Brielle gives me a great deal of comfort and I should like her to return with me to pay respects to my father and I know you will not let her travel with me unless we are married, so that was all I meant, I swear it. I am sorry you thought I meant otherwise."

Christopher believed him. Cassian had never been the manipulative type, so he believed him. His anger calmed.

"You are forgiven," he said. "Get out of the dirt now and come inside with me. I believe The Marshal would like to pay his respects to your father. Will you speak with him?"

Cassian shook his head. "Not right now," he said. "I would just like to sit here for a moment, please."

"Are you certain?"

"I am."

"May I sit with him, Papa?" Brielle asked.

Christopher nodded. "If he wishes it."

Cassian's answer was to reach up and take her hand, holding it tightly. Christopher put his hand on Cassian's head in a gentle gesture, much in the way he'd seen Jax put his hand on Westley's head those months ago. There was something tender about it, calm and comforting. Perhaps, for a moment, he was Jax, giving his son the last bit of comfort he could. He imagined that Jax was watching over them at the moment, giving a smile to such a kind and simple gesture.

Cassian felt it, too. In Christopher's touch, he felt his father's.

I love you very much, Cass.

Those were the last words he'd heard from his father. The rest of whatever Jax had said to him at the time didn't matter. Just those six short words were the only thing of importance. But his words to his father were much more serious, much more devastating. Jax had spoken of love in their final conversation and Cassian had spoken of disappointment.

That, more than anything, was weighing upon him.

As Christopher left him alone with Brielle, Cassian simply sat there, looking at the ground. He didn't say anything, nor did Brielle. She held his hand and that was all. The two of them, sitting in the silence and dampness of the old Roman ruins beneath Lioncross' keep.

Silence and dampness, where Jax was at this very moment.

A grave.

No matter what Christopher said, Cassian knew his family hadn't sent word to him yet because of his argument with Jax. Somehow, they knew how poorly he had treated his father and of the terrible things he'd said to him, words that were now coming back to haunt him. An argument that had gotten out of hand because of him was now the last thing his father remembered of him. A spoiled, selfish son who'd told his father he was disappointed in him.

Christopher had told him he needed to go home.

Truth be told, Cassian didn't think he could face them.

He couldn't go home.

Perhaps his father had been right all along. Perhaps he really wasn't a man and he hadn't matured. His father had much better things to say about Brielle's attitude than Cassian's, who had pitched a tantrum when he hadn't gotten his way in all things.

Jax had been right about that.

Perhaps he'd also been right about everything else, too. Perhaps he wasn't ready yet to be a husband to Brielle. It was true that she loved him and he loved her, and they had loved each other for years, but he realized that he wasn't worthy of her. A man who had treated his father as horribly as he had treated his wasn't worthy of someone as wonderful and beautiful as Brielle de Lohr.

He'd done a horrible, horrible thing.

He loved her enough to know he couldn't, or shouldn't, have her.

It was that sense of doubt and condemnation that stewed in Cassian. With each moment that passed, he knew he wasn't worthy of any of these people he'd grown up loving. Not Brielle, not Christopher, and certainly not his father. As he packed up his possessions to return home, he knew in his heart of hearts that he wasn't going home. His father, his family, was better off without him.

On a bright but cool morning three days after receiving the news of his father's death, Cassian departed Lioncross Abbey with the understanding that he was returning to Pelinom, but he never made it. He headed east and simply kept going, only Christopher and Brielle didn't know that until six months later when Christopher sent a missive to Pelinom to find out when Cassian was planning on returning to Lioncross. He was met with a panicked response from Lady Kellington, explaining that Cassian had never arrived in the first place.

Cassian was missing.

Assuming the worst drove Brielle into mourning and Christopher into action, sending men out to find any trace of Cassian, but it was of no use. Cassian had covered his tracks well.

It was as if he simply vanished.

And that was the way he wanted it.