Chapter Seven

“If you continue to hold your sword like that, you will get your fingers chopped off,” Jonathan said loudly. “Hold it this way—not with your fingers splayed toward the blade.”

He held up his sword to demonstrate to the royal recruits that were in training at Axminster. It was late afternoon and the weather was good for the work they needed to do. Today, it was more advanced sword tactics, something Eric had curiously passed off to the two sergeants that served him, but the sergeants could only teach basic things.

Douglas and Jonathan had seen that fairly quickly.

With Eric’s permission, they’d taken over teaching the recruits the finer points of handling swords and various weapons. Axminster had a well-stocked armory, so there were plenty of weapons to train with and the men took to it eagerly. Douglas and Jonathan had watched the first few days of the weapons training from the wall, noting that the sergeants seemed experienced with the more rudimentary weapons like the mace or the axe. They knew how to use a sword, but not like a knight did. Now the men were learning from elite knights and were quite excited about their lessons.

Even if those lessons were coming from an enormous and fairly terrifying warrior.

Jonathan was a knight’s knight. Blackchurch trained, he was more at home in a battle than most and, as it turned out, was an excellent teacher as well. He didn’t just tell them how to do it—he showed them. If a man didn’t do it correctly, Jonathan would show him how to do it correctly until the man got the hang of it. The men seemed to take to his teaching style, and after the first week of training, Douglas backed off and let Jonathan take over completely because he seemed to have a knack for it.

It was yet another thing that Jonathan was good at.

Truth be told, Douglas had been wondering from the start why Grayson had left Jonathan behind. A knight of his value should not have been discounted it so easily, and that’s what it seemed like to Douglas. The Earl of Norfolk had a quality knight in Jonathan de Wolfe, a man with training and the family connections, so a man like that should have been integral to the workings of an army like Norfolk’s. The last Douglas had heard, Jonathan had been in command of Arundel’s army, but the Axminster battle showed that he was taking orders from Grayson. Although Grayson and the House of de Winter were intertwined with Norfolk and Grayson was, in fact, an earl, it still seemed odd to Douglas.

He just couldn’t understand why men of that caliber had been left behind.

Because the House of de Lohr was tightly allied with the House of de Wolfe, as Douglas’ father and Jonathan’s father had been the best of friends years ago, Douglas and Jonathan had known each other virtually since birth. Jonathan was older than Douglas was, but they had always gotten along. He was glad to have Jonathan with him during his time at Axminster, but something seemed off with the man. Douglas couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was almost as if Jonathan was hiding something. That was the best way Douglas could describe it. On the surface, Jonathan was his usual self—humorous, dedicated, and principled—but there was something in his eyes that suggested there was turmoil just below the surface.

Douglas had been pondering that very thing for the past six weeks. Jonathan hadn’t spoken of anything out of the ordinary and Douglas hadn’t asked him, but he was curious. He supposed that if there was something Jonathan wanted to know, he would tell him.

Meanwhile, it was business as usual.

As the day began to wane, Douglas continued to watch Jonathan from the wall walk as the man continued the troop training in the central bailey, the one that stretched from the gatehouse to the inner bailey and the keep. It was an enormous stretch of dirt, grass, and outbuildings, and the wall that enclosed it was equally enormous. The wall walk at Axminster was so large, and so long, that it was nearly a half-mile all the way around it. As Douglas moved down the wall, alternately watching Jonathan on one side and the countryside on the other, he could see Eric and Isabel coming from the inner bailey. He lifted a hand to the pair, waving, and Eric lifted a hand in return.

Isabel, predictably, didn’t.

Douglas moved to the heavy ladder that gave access down to the bailey. There were towers with stairs, but those were mostly at either end of the wall, so he took the rather treacherous ladder down to the central bailey to save time. Eric and Isabel were still several feet away, heading in his direction, as Douglas went to meet them. Off to his left, Jonathan had his back turned to both Douglas and Eric as he abruptly stopped the trainees from the exercise they were engaged in.

“Stop!” he shouted, holding up his hands. Then he moved to the soldier nearest him and pointed to the man. “You there. Why are you holding your blade like that?”

The soldier froze, looking at Jonathan in confusion. “M’lord?”

Jonathan went to the man. “Lift your hand, but do not move it,” he said. “Show me how you are gripping that sword.”

Still puzzled, the man lifted his hand with the sword in his grip. Jonathan grabbed him by the wrist and held it up for all to see.

“Do you see the way he is holding this?” he said to the group. “See how high his hand is on the hilt? He is going to break a wrist or worse with the first serious blow he delivers.”

He made sure everyone could see it. As the group nodded, making sure they weren’t holding their swords in that fashion, Jonathan let go of the soldier’s arm.

“Who told you to hold a sword like that?” he asked.

The man was no longer puzzled, but now becoming increasingly mortified. “I have seen Sir Eric hold his weapon like this,” he said nervously. “Is this not right?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Nay, it is not right,” he said. “Only a fool would hold a sword like that. I cannot believe Sir Eric would hold his weapon this way. Are you certain?”

“Aye, m’lord.”

“Then he was wrong,” Jonathan said flatly. “I thought he did not teach weapons?”

“Not usually, m’lord,” the soldier said. “But this time, the sergeants were ill. Sir Eric did what he could.”

Jonathan simply shook his head as if Eric was the biggest fool in the world as he adjusted the man’s hand on the hilt. The problem was that Eric, now standing a few feet away with Douglas, had heard him. So had Isabel. Before Jonathan could say anything else that might slander Eric, Douglas cleared his throat loudly.

“Wolfie,” he said. “We have visitors.”

Jonathan turned around, seeing the very man he’d been speaking of right behind him, and by the look on Eric’s face, Jonathan knew he had heard him. Rather than pretend he hadn’t said what he had, he leaned into it.

He wanted to clear the air.

“Ah, le Kerque,” he said. “Just the man we have been discussing. I must ask you something. Have you taught them to position their hands so high on the hilt? I can only imagine you were misunderstood, but I want to clarify.”

There was something in Eric’s eyes that suggested defeat. Defeat and humiliation. He looked at the soldiers around them, all of them looking at him, waiting for an answer. It was true that he’d heard the entire conversation between Jonathan and the soldier and clearly heard Jonathan call him a fool, but he wouldn’t address it. He wasn’t confrontational by nature and certainly not with a knight of de Wolfe’s caliber.

If the man thought he was a fool, so be it.

“A bad habit I picked up over the years,” he finally said. “I found I had more control that way. I know it is a bad position and it leaves the wrist exposed, but the sword I used had a guard on it to protect my fingers, so I was comfortable in doing so. Unfortunately, I seem to have passed my bad habit on to the soldiers.”

Jonathan could see that Eric was embarrassed and he shook his head firmly. “Not at all,” he said. “Now that you explain it to me, I understand why you showed them your technique.”

“It is not much of a technique,” Eric admitted. “I haven’t been to…”

Jonathan wouldn’t let him finish. He turned to the group of soldiers and held up a hand to silence their chatter. “Sir Eric has explained why he showed you how to hold the sword in such a manner,” he said loudly. “I have heard his explanation and I accept it. Each man must be comfortable with their weapon and that is how he was comfortable with his, but I would suggest until you become adept with your sword that you hold it further down on the hilt. If you decide you’d rather hold it closer to the blade, eventually, then that is your choice.”

He was trying to restore the respect for Eric that he had stripped away with his callous comment. The man he’d scolded initially for holding the blade poorly asked another question of him, and he went to the man, entering into a discussion about sword techniques. Douglas, who had been silent through the entire exchange, agreed with Jonathan completely. Eric’s way was a foolish way. But he also knew that Jonathan was now trying to save the man’s pride in the face of his men.

It was a complicated situation.

“Le Kerque,” he said to Eric. “I was thinking about riding over to Tatworth and seeing how the situation was. Would you care to go with me? I could use your counsel.”

Eric shook his head. “You are kind to ask, but I will remain here,” he said. Smiling weakly, he dipped his head. “If you will excuse me, I have tasks that await.”

He moved away before Douglas could say another word. As he watched the man walk off, he heard Isabel’s low voice.

“I have a need to speak with you, Sir Douglas,” she said. “Come with me.”

She turned toward the keep. Feeling like he was about to have his bum slapped, Douglas followed. He remained a step or two behind her because she was walking quickly and he suspected she didn’t want him to take pace beside her. The woman had a clipped manner at the best of times, and he thought this particular incident might have something to do with what they’d overheard from Jonathan. Lady Isabel didn’t like her knight insulted and it had been clear from the beginning that she was protective of him. Douglas was coming to suspect there was more going on there that she didn’t want anyone to know.

So he remained silent.

Isabel took him into the keep and into that lavish, two-storied solar that was so impressive. He entered the chamber and shut the door behind them, but he didn’t move away from the panel. He remained there, legs braced apart, hands clasped behind his back, and waited.

It wasn’t long in coming.

“I do not appreciate Sir Eric being demeaned to the very men he is training,” Isabel said as she turned to him. “But I suspect that has been going on since you and de Wolfe began helping with the training. Showing how much better you are than Eric.”

Douglas shook his head. “We are not better than Sir Eric, my lady.”

“I heard that de Wolfe is Blackchurch trained.”

“He is, my lady.”

“And that gives him the right to glorify it over a mere knight who did not have that opportunity?”

“He is not glorifying it over anyone, my lady.”

Isabel, who had been mostly pacing since entering the chamber, came to a halt and glared at him. “I heard it with my own ears,” she snapped. “De Wolfe called Eric a fool and I will tell you, quite plainly, that I will not stand for that. I will send you all back where you came from immediately if there is one more instance of that behavior. Am I making myself clear?”

Douglas nodded. “You are, my lady.”

He didn’t say anything more, mostly because he wanted her to have her complete say before he began to defend both himself and Jonathan, but given what they had just heard in the bailey, he really couldn’t blame Isabel for her reaction.

“I never wanted you here to begin with,” she said, growing more agitated. “With Tatworth subdued and his army disbanded, you are unnecessary. I do not even know why you are still here. Can you tell me that?”

Douglas made sure to look her in the eye as he spoke. “Because the situation is volatile, my lady,” he said. “Tatworth’s army has been disbanded, that is true, and he has allies who are currently ostracizing him.”

“Then you are not needed!”

“But the situation could change,” Douglas said evenly. “According to what I have been told, Tatworth has been tight with his allies for years. Generations of alliances. If he should convince them that he has been wronged, then they may decide to support him again and march on Axminster simply out of vengeance.”

“But—”

“The situation is not stable, not at all,” he said, cutting her off. “We are here, and remain here, to deter anyone from attacking Axminster purely out of a misplaced sense of revenge. My brother, and my father, have been long allied with your father and brother. They feel that this is what they would both want.”

Isabel was so angry that she was twitching. “What about what I want?” she said. “I am the heiress. This is my castle.”

“Then what do you want, my lady?”

“I want you out!”

“Because you feel that we have insulted le Kerque?”

“Because you disrupt everything,” Isabel said. “Need I mention your display to Lady Mira earlier today?”

That brought Douglas some pause. He had been wondering when he would hear about that little action, and here it was. He cleared his throat softly.

“It was not what you think, my lady,” he said quietly. “I realize my action was for all to see, but there was a reason behind it.”

Isabel was nearly beside herself. “What on earth could that reason be?”

Douglas lifted a blond eyebrow. “Because your ladies, the ones you take great pains to mentor and teach, have decided I am a target for the most inappropriate attention,” he said. “Two of them have even hid in the privy to watch me while I relieve myself. Is this the sort of behavior you let go unchecked?”

Isabel was shocked. She went from angrily twitching to taken aback very quickly. “Of course not,” she said. “My ladies are the very model of decorum.”

He shook his head. “In my experience, they are not,” he said. “And I am not entirely sure their parents would think so, either, yet you’ve done nothing about it. You’ve let them harass me, spy on me, and God only knows what else that I do not know about. Therefore, I’ve had to take matters into my own hands.”

Isabel was horrified. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Douglas was becoming irritated because she seemed too defensive, as if he was making things up. “It means that I convinced Lady Mira to pretend to be in love with me so that your ladies would back off and leave me alone,” he said. “Lady Mira did not wish to do it, but I forced her into it. I would not have to if you had taught your ladies some discipline in the first place, so do not blame this on me. This is your folly, Lady Isabel. Not mine.”

Isabel was absolutely stunned. Stunned and outraged and offended. He had insulted her, her teaching methods, and the very young women under her tutelage.

But the truth was that he was right.

Isabel had known that her ladies had taken a shine to Douglas. They had admired him and giggled about him. She had heard it. She also knew that their admiration of Douglas had distracted them from their tasks, because she had seen it from time to time and admonished them accordingly. But she didn’t know about the spying in the privy. That was new to her. Or perhaps she had heard it but refused to believe it, or even let it take up space in her mind, because she knew her ladies were better behaved than that. Axminster’s Angels. The finest families trusted her.

But de Lohr was from a fine family, too. Perhaps the finest in all of England.

And he didn’t have a high opinion of her or her ladies.

I’ve had to take matters into my own hands.

If such a thing got around…

“Then you are telling me that what everyone saw was not a genuine gesture of romance?” she finally said.

Douglas shook his head. “Nay, my lady, it was not.”

“You did it to discourage my ladies?”

“I did it so I could piss in peace.”

That was a blunt way of putting it, shocking to a lady’s ears, but Isabel had heard enough shocking things in this brief conversation. “I see,” she said, noticeably subdued. “Then I apologize, Sir Douglas, for the measures you’ve had to go to in order for a little peace. You must understand, however, that my ladies are not used to strange knights in the castle and—”

“And that is your excuse for their lack of discipline?” he said, cutting her off again. “What happens when they go to a party or another household and see strange knights? Will you use that excuse when they follow the man around and annoy him into being cruel to them? How much understanding will you have when you are the one who is being paid to teach them discipline? It will be your fault, not theirs.”

Isabel was becoming angry again. “As you have pointed out more than once, Sir Douglas,” she said snappishly, “I will accept responsibility for their behavior and take great steps to ensure it does not happen again. But your very presence since you arrived at Axminster has disrupted everything.”

He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help it. “So now you are back to blaming me again,” he said. “Lady Isabel, I am here because I am ordered to be here. Not because I want to be here. I have other things I could be doing, more important things, but here I am, trying to prevent an aggressive neighbor from taking all of this away from you. Mayhap I should simply leave and take my men with me. Then you can fend for yourself, and when Tatworth’s allies return and take your castle, you can tell everyone how that was my fault, too.”

He hadn’t raised his voice, but his message and words were clear. Isabel, usually so confident, had to admit that she understood his reasoning. And she was blaming him for everything simply because she didn’t feel as if she needed, or wanted, any outside presence at Axminster.

“I would not blame you,” she said. “You seem to think badly of me.”

“Because you are blaming me for everything from le Kerque’s damaged pride to your ladies’ undisciplined behavior.”

She knew that, but it was difficult to admit it. “I simply said that your presence was disruptive.”

“And you live in denial,” Douglas said. “The only thing disruptive about this place is you, because you throw a tantrum when things are not to your liking.”

Her brow furrowed and she was about to lash out at him when she suddenly turned away, taking in a deep breath to keep what was left of her dwindling composure.

“No one has spoken like that to me in years,” she muttered. “You remind me a great deal of my brother, Sir Douglas. He was the only one brave enough to tell me the truth about things, and I trusted him, but in this case, I do not know you and I do not trust you. Your words are disrespectful to say the least.”

Douglas knew he’d overstepped, but she had pushed him in that direction. He was tired of being ignored by her, and when she wasn’t ignoring him, she was treating him like an imposition.

“Mayhap they are, my lady,” he said. “But you have been showing me great disrespect since the moment I arrived. You let your ladies treat me with the same disrespect, yet you expect me to show you honor and obedience. How can I when you have set the precedence on how we are to treat one another?”

She turned to look at him then. “Is that what I have done?”

“It is.”

Isabel pondered that. Her mood swing, so prevalent since they entered the solar, seemed to be waning at the moment. She was cooling. Douglas wasn’t entirely sure this was going to end pleasantly because she didn’t seem the type able or willing to surrender her pride, so he was on his guard as she began to pace again. She seemed lost in thought more than agitation or anger.

Still, he was on his guard.

“Then we should settle this once and for all,” she said. “I feel as if my request for assistance has opened the door to an invasion of another kind. An army of men is determined to keep my castle from Tatworth, but they don’t seem to realize they have taken it over just as Tatworth intended to do.”

“I am sorry you feel that way, my lady.”

“If I were to ask you to leave now, would you?”

“The truth is that I cannot until I have clear instructions from my brother.”

“Then I am, indeed, invaded. You were simply less violent about it.”

She had a point. Sort of. Douglas lifted his big shoulders. “Then how do you propose we settle this?”

Isabel looked at him, pondering the answer to that question. She was quite calculated when she wanted to be, and she wanted these men out. She knew they were men of honor and intended to use that to her advantage.

We should settle this once and for all.

She intended to.

“I will make a bargain with you, Sir Douglas,” she said. “Are you willing to listen?”

He sighed. “My lady, I cannot—”

“If you do not bargain with me, then I will be forced to send word to the king of your unlawful occupation of my castle,” she said, interrupting him. “I do not think he will be pleased, and even if he allows you to remain, it will cause… problems. Especially when I tell him that you have been coercing my young woman into romantic situations.”

She probably would. Douglas was beginning to curse Curtis for forcing him to remain at a post where he was so desperately unwanted. He could feel his irritation rise again but didn’t give in to it. He was sick of arguing with her. Perhaps if he agreed to her bargain, she would shut the hell up and accept what had been dealt.

“It would be unkind, and untrue, to do so,” he said in a low voice. “But if you wish to settle this once and for all, what is your proposal?”

Isabel’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before trailing away, across the solar, until it came to rest on a table with a game board upon it. She indicated it.

“My father was a man with a sharp mind,” she said, moving over to the table against the wall. When she came upon it, she reached down to pick up one of the many pieces on the game board. “He was a man of tactics, of great thought, and of victory. He taught me those aspects of shatranj, a game he enjoyed greatly. Do you know how to play?”

Douglas nodded. “It is called chess,” he said. “My father learned to play it when he was on Richard’s crusade in the Levant and has taught it to his sons. We all learned to play.”

“Do you consider yourself an expert?”

“I am passable.”

She looked at him. “Then let us play this game to settle this situation,” she said. “If you win, I will no longer question your presence here. You can stay for as long as you wish and do whatever you deem necessary whilst you are here. But if I win, you will go. No questions, no argument. You will take your men and go.”

Douglas had a feeling that was where she was going with this. He shook his head.

“I cannot leave without my brother’s order,” he said. “I have told you that.”

“And I do not care about that,” she said. “You will leave on my order and you will tell your brother that you did. This is my castle, Sir Douglas. If I do not want you here, then you will go.”

He could hear that bristling determination in her voice again. It was clever—she couldn’t physically make him leave and didn’t have the manpower to force him out, so she was going to rely on a battle of wits. It was perfect, in truth, because he’d lied to her. He wasn’t merely passable in his skill with this game.

He was an expert.

Perhaps if he agreed, she’d settle down… once and for all.

“Very well,” he said. “If you wish to take your chances with this, then I am willing.”

“Good,” she said, now happy. Or, at the very least, eager. She rushed to the solar door and yanked it open, calling for a servant, whom she sent for wine. As the servant fled, she returned her focus to Douglas. “Please sit. I am eager to commence.”

I would not be if I were you, he thought, but he dutifully took a seat at the table. The set was quite beautiful, with an elaborate board made from opalescent stone and pieces on one side carved from the same stone. The other side had pieces carved from darker stone. It was an elegant game, a man’s game.

But Isabel wanted to dominate it.

Douglas would have liked to have toyed with her, but he honestly didn’t have the patience. Isabel had been difficult from the start, and if she wanted to settle this, as she said, then he was going to settle it on his terms. He’d played chess enough with his father and brothers to know that he was one of the better players in his family, and he doubted Isabel could compete. Chess was a game of strategy—and since he was excellent with military strategy, and Isabel wasn’t, he was confident he could end this quickly.

He was going to try.

“When was the last time you played, Sir Douglas?”

Isabel was positioning her pieces to make sure they were in the correct spots. Douglas was doing the same thing, picking them up one by one, blowing off the dust, and then setting them down again. They were both pretending that this was a casual affair when the truth couldn’t have been more different.

The stakes were high.

“I was just trying to remember,” he said, setting his last piece down. “Probably around Epiphany. My mother has an enormous feast that lasts about three days and all we do is eat and play.”

“Sounds charming,” Isabel said, sounding like she really meant it. “I have no family any longer. I have often regretted that.”

“Did you play this game with your father?”

She nodded. “Often,” she said. “He was very good.”

“Did you win?”

She glanced at him. “As much as he would allow.”

Douglas had his eyes on the board, already planning out his strategy. “I will not allow you to win if I can help it,” he said. “I hope you are not expecting that.”

“I am not, Sir Douglas. But I will not allow you to win, either, if I can help it.”

“Then the rules are established.”

“They are.”

“Ladies may go first.”

Isabel settled down, her gaze fixed on the board. The servant came and brought drink, handing Douglas a cup and extending one to Isabel, but she brushed the man off. He set her cup down and departed the solar, shutting the door behind him, but she never gave notice. She was focused on the board.

Finally, she moved.

Her first move was unspectacular. A pawn moved one space forward. Douglas was looking for a particular move that would open up her king, because he could end the game in about two moves if she were foolish enough to do that, but the pawn she moved was at the very end.

He moved the same piece on his side.

With the next move, Isabel moved to the other side and moved the third pawn in, which was exactly what Douglas wanted her to do. She moved it out two spaces.

He moved a pawn on the opposite side out two spaces as well, making way for the queen to move on a diagonal. But Isabel wasn’t watching that. She was moving to the front line of his pawns to clear them away so she could get to his king, but Douglas was already ahead of her. With his move, and hers, he was able to move his queen on a diagonal so that the spaces between his queen and Isabel’s king were wide open. When she realized this, her eyes widened because there was nowhere for her to go. Her king was fixed and she couldn’t move any of her other pieces in to block Douglas’ assault. Shocked, she looked up at him to see a knowing smile on his lips.

“Your king is in danger, my lady,” he said quietly. “I believe he belongs to me.”

As her mouth fell open in shock, Douglas moved his queen in to take Isabel’s king. In less than four moves, he’d ended the game, and Isabel was nearly beside herself to see what he’d done. She had been focused on removing obstacles to his king while he had changed his strategy with every move she made.

Now he had her.

He’d won.

“That is not possible,” she finally said, looking at the board. “Was I truly that stupid?”

Douglas let his grin break through. “Nay,” he said. “You were simply focused on my king. I was focused on you.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “And I fell like a foolish knave,” she said. “I cannot believe it.”

“I was fortunate.”

Isabel couldn’t argue with him. “You were sharp,” she said, lifting her eyes to his. “Well done, Sir Douglas. It seems that I am to keep my mouth shut and let you do as you please.”

She was folding, just like that. Somehow, that didn’t make his victory very sweet. Had she fought him on it, Douglas would have taken the victory and gloated over it, but she wasn’t fighting him. She was conceding, with honor. Truthfully, up until this moment, he wasn’t sure she had any, but she did. She understood.

A seed of respect sprouted.

“Since this was over so quickly, I would not be opposed to playing a few more games,” he said. “Mayhap the best out of five?”

That seemed to surprise her. “But you have already won.”

He shrugged. “Mayhap I took advantage of a momentary lapse in your strategy,” he said, holding up his queen. “As a knight of honor, I would be agreeable to a few more games to settle this once and for all.”

Isabel heard her words and a weak smile spread across her lips. “You do not have to.”

He flashed her a smile, putting his queen back down again. “I know,” he said. “But I want to be fair.”

It was the first time they’d actually had a pleasant moment between them. He was smiling and so was she. Perspectives were shifting just a bit. An understanding was starting to happen. Perhaps Douglas wasn’t as bad as Isabel had originally thought.

And perhaps Isabel wasn’t such a shrew after all.

“Very well, Douglas,” she said, addressing him informally because the situation called for it. “Let us see if I cannot do to you what you did to me. Five games, you say?”

“Whoever wins three first is the winner.”

“Then be on your guard, knight. I am coming for you.”

That made him laugh. Settling back with his wine, he actually enjoyed the rest of the games. In the end, he beat her soundly, three games to two, but the truth was that Isabel didn’t much care. She understood a little bit more about Douglas de Lohr now.

And she wasn’t upset about it in the least.