Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

D amien de Winter was a delight if there ever was one.

Damien and his father, Denys, returned to Narborough after dark, riding into a bailey that was lit by the fire of dozens of torches. Damien, of course, was on his brand new horse, a magnificent blond beast that he was extremely proud of.

But it was too much horse for the lad, as was soon to be proved.

Once they entered the bailey, Damien crowed in delight as the soldiers paused to admire his horse, but the animal was weary from the ride, and a bit skittish, and Damien lost control of the steed when someone slapped it on the rear and it bolted.

As Damien tried desperately to rein the horse in, it charged right up the small flight of stairs leading into the keep. The doors were open because of the heat of the day, so the horse ended up charging into the hall where the evening meal was commencing.

By that time, Damien had managed to stop the horse, but not wanting his mother to insist it was too much animal for him, he cheered loudly for himself and raised a fist to the startled crowd in the hall as if he'd planned the entire thing.

"Alas!" he cried. "I have the greatest horse in all of England and I shall be invincible in battle! All hail Damien the Magnificent! Cheer for me, do you hear? Do it now!"

The hall burst into laughter and cheers as Damien struggled to back the horse out of the hall, revealing that he really didn't have control of it as much as he wanted everyone to think. Denys ran in at that point as Cort and Dillon approached cautiously, hoping to help Damien with a horse that was clearly too much for him and not insult him in the process.

"He is a fine animal, Damey," Cort said. "You have every right to be proud of him. May I try him sometime?"

Damien had backed the horse into a wall as Cort and Dillon quickly grabbed it by the reins, steadying it as Damien slithered off.

"He only responds to me," Damien said arrogantly. "But you may try if you think you have the skill to handle him."

Cort was trying desperately not to smile and crush the young man's fragile ego. "We shall see," he said. "In fact, let your brother and me take him out to the bailey for you, if you will allow it. I want to get a good look at him."

Damien nodded, petting his horse but leaving bloodied handprints because he'd rubbed his palms raw in his attempt to control his horse on the ride home. The young man was trying desperately to maintain the illusion that nothing was amiss.

"Well… if you are very careful with him," he said. "His name is Vulcan, after the Greek god of fire. He is very spirited."

"He is, indeed," Denys said, coming around the side of the horse. A big man with dark, graying hair, he was the competent head of the Narborough de Winter contingent. "Are you well, Damien? Tell me that you are or your mother will skin the hide from me. Christ, I should have never let you talk me into buying you this animal. He is far too strong for you."

Damien's face fell. "He is not, Papa," he insisted weakly. "We… we simply have to come to know one another, 'tis all. We will be just fine."

"Damey!" Alais had finally made her way from the kitchens to her son's side, having seen just the last few moments of his charge into the hall. "Thank the saints that you are safe. You are not injured, are you?"

Damien saw his mother and his resolve began to fracture. He became that frightened little boy again. "I am fine , Mother," he insisted weakly. "There is nothing to worry over. I am not hurt."

Alais caught a glimpse of his bloodied hands and she gasped "Look at your hands!" she said. Then, her fury turned to her husband. " You did this. You are trying to kill him!"

As Cort and Dillon tried desperately not to laugh, moving the big horse towards the hall entry, Denys faced off against his angry wife.

"Of course I am trying to kill him," he said sarcastically. "That is my objective in life; to kill all of my children but they keep evading me. Finally, I thought this wicked plan would work– saddling Damien with a wild horse that would trample him to death."

Alais recoiled in horror, putting her arms around her youngest son. "You see?" she hissed. "You admit it! He is not going to Thunderbey Castle!"

Denys rolled his eyes. "He is going to Thunderbey Castle," he said. "He is going and the horse is going. The lad needs to grow up, Alais. He cannot remain attached to your apron strings forever."

As Alais and Denys nearly went to blows over the situation, Cort and Dillon carefully led the skittish horse out into the bailey.

"Damey is very fortunate," Cort commented. "This is a powerful horse that could have seriously hurt him. What was your father thinking letting your little brother ride this animal?"

Dillon was looking the beast over. "He's a beauty," he said. "Mayhap I can persuade my father to give him to me."

"Or me," Cort said. "He likes me better."

Dillon peered at him under the neck of the horse. "You are mad," he hissed. "I will be the next owner of this horse, mark my words."

Cort opened his mouth but caught sight of two young women approaching from the direction of the gardens. Arabella and Dera were heading in their direction and as he spoke, his gaze never left Dera.

"Dil," he said quietly. "Is there something between your sister and Brend?"

Dillon could see the women coming. "Did Brend tell you that?"

Cort shook his head. "Nay," he said. "But something in his manner changed when he spoke of Arabella. I saw the same change in her manner when she spoke of him, so it is only a guess on my part."

Dillon pursed his lips wryly. "They are in love with one another," he said. "But my father does not know, nor does my mother, so this is a secret you must keep to yourself."

Cort shook his head sadly. "I will," he said. "Christ, Dil… they can never marry."

"I know."

"Marriage to an Irishman is illegal. They would both be in a world of trouble, not to mention what it would do to the House of de Winter."

Dillon could see his sister as she approached, her face alight with a smile as she caught sight of him and Cort.

"Do not tell her that you know," he said quietly. "It will break her heart."

Cort didn't reply. He was thinking on the tragic love story of Arabella and Brend. He genuinely cared for both of them and the fact that their love could never come to fruition was quite sad to him.

But in the same breath, it was also quite preventable.

Love was a fool's emotion.

"Where did you get that horse?" Arabella asked as she came near, pointing to the golden stallion. "Cort, is that your animal?"

Cort shook his head, turning to look at the beast and giving it an affectionate slap on the neck. "This is the horse your father bought Damien," he said. "Your brother is quite proud of it even though it almost killed him."

Arabella grinned, looking at the sheer size of the horse. "My father bought Damey that ?" she said, incredulous. "He looks as if he breathes fire!"

"He does, almost."

"My mother will not be happy."

"She is already not happy," Dillon said. "She and Father are fighting about it in the hall."

Arabella turned her attention towards the hall, hearing the soft buzz of conversation and smelling the smoke from the hearth.

"I suppose I should go in and see if I can calm Mother," she said, but her focus returned to Dillon. "Before I go, however, I wanted to ask if you would escort Dera and me into the village of Lynn tomorrow."

Dillon frowned. "What for?" he asked. "Did I not just escort you there two days ago? Ask Brend. Let him take you."

Cort stepped in. "I will take you," he said. "It is either that or I have to spend my day with your wearisome brother. I would much rather spend it with you ladies. When do you wish to leave?"

Arabella smiled brightly. "After sunrise? Is that too early?"

Cort snorted. "It is never too early for me," he said. "In fact, I do not sleep, so any time you wish to leave is fine with me."

"Good," Arabella said, turning to stick her tongue out at her brother. "Stay here for all I care, you selfish brute."

"I will," Dillon said petulantly. "Who wants to be seen with you, anyway? Get out of my sight."

Arabella stuck her tongue out at him again for good measure, grasping Dera by the hand and pulling the woman after her as they headed towards the hall.

Cort watched them go, thinking he'd been rather clever about offering to escort them into the rather large burgh of Lynn. Of course, he was going to bring Brend with him to keep Arabella occupied while he focused on Dera.

Even now, he was focused on her.

She was dressed in a pale blue garment that reflected the pale blue of her eyes. Truly, he'd never seen anything so exquisite. She was looking at him, too, smiling timidly as Arabella dragged her away. He smiled in return, only in his case, it was bold and flirtatious.

He didn't know any other way.

"All they want to do is go into town and look around," Dillon said as he tugged on the horse so it would follow him. "There is a new merchant there who imports goods from Saxony and beyond. You are going to be bored to tears, Cort."

Cort was following, too, but he was still looking at Dera, who was moving into the hall. When she faded from his sight, his thoughts were still lingering on the lass with the skin like cream.

"Somehow," he said slowly, "I do not think so."

"What did you say?"

Cort realized Dillon hadn't really heard him and, in truth, he didn't want to repeat himself. He didn't want to tip Dillon off on why he'd really come to Narborough.

To seduce a rebel.

"I said somehow, I think so," he said, more loudly. "You are right, but it is done. I'll take them into town and bully them until they consent to leave. And then you and I can spend tomorrow evening drinking and feasting."

Dillon grinned. "What's wrong with doing that tonight?"

"Tonight, too."

After leaving off Damien's new horse to the care of the stable master, Cort and Dillon spent the rest of the evening on the wall with Brend, drinking and speaking of days gone by and of the adventures Cort had on behalf of Henry.

It was a good night.