Page 2 of Knight of Havoc
“Very well. We shall see that Stephen is released from Bristol and send word to Queen Matilda that in return, I demandRobert’s release. To expedite the matter, we can make the exchange in Winchester.”
“Who will you send for such an important mission? Not only must you send someone who can see that the usurper does not escape but you must needs find someone trustworthy to see to the earl’s well-being.”
Reynard’s attention went to the empress and their eyes met across the room.
“Norwood,” she called out.
“Aye, my Empress,” Reynard answered, stepping forward.
“I shall task you with the honor of exchanging my brother the Earl of Gloucester for the usurper Stephen. Make your way to Winchester with a contingent of men after securing the false king from Bristol. In the meantime, we will make our way to Oxford, and you can meet up with us there after the prisoners are exchanged.”
Reynard bowed. “As you wish, Empress Matilda.” Reynard turned and went to stand before Richard. “Care for a little adventure?”
A smirk lit Richard’s face. “I thought you would never ask.”
They two men softly chuckled and left the room to ready themselves for their travels. Reynard could only ponder what awaited them upon the open road.
Chapter Two
Blackmore Castle
Outside of Bristol, England
Lady Elysande Thorburnof Blackmore took hold of the rope in a firm grip and pulled. The cow bellowed in protest, and she yanked harder trying to get the animal to move. With her livestock scattered, she had been only too happy when she had come across this animal chewing its cud in a field. If she could only get the stubborn beast back to what was left of her stables, she would at least have fresh milk. There was not much else left.
She let the rope go slack. Any effort on her part to have this animal agree to being led had gotten her nowhere. She crossed the distance and ran her gloved fingers over the animal whilst staring into its soft brown eyes. She laid her forehead on its neck in defeat.
“Please, God, help me,” she whispered softly hoping that her plea to a higher being might be heard.
As if in answer to her prayer, the cow finally stepped forward. Elysande raised her eyes heavenward and gave a silent word of thanks. With the slightest of tugs, she and the animal began walking back toward the castle. The beast would at least be fed once inside the barn. Aye… she still had enough hay for the cow and grain for the few chickens she had managed to return to the coop. Any other livestock had been slaughtered by Stephen’sarmy when they came through the area, rampaging in protest that their king had been taken and held in Bristol.
She scowled at the memory but was thankful she had hidden herself away and had not been a part of the destruction they had left in their aftermath. They had ransacked whatever had remained of the village. What had been left of her fields after the harvest had been burned as had her outbuildings. Her serfs had either been captured or killed and she had been left to bury the bodies. She had herself, a handful of servants, and her elderly grandfather to take care of since her parents had been staying at one of their estates in Normandy. She had sent word months ago of her plight, but the message may have been delayed or lost since she had had no word of their return. Not that they would be of much help rather than burdening her further. Nay… Blackmore was hers and her parents had been mostly absent from her life.
Her situation was grim, and she had no idea how she would continue to feed not only herself but those who had remained loyal to her household. And her ailing grandfather… no one should live out their last days starving. She was already aware that he was not long for this world.
She reached the outskirts of Blackmore wishing with all her might that she would open her eyes to find that this had all been but a horrible nightmare. But the view before her did not miraculously change from the one she now gazed upon. The barbican gate with its portcullis was a shambles. The stone walls were now in need of repair, but both were far beyond her capabilities and those of her household servants. She would need a mason along with the manpower to work the heavy stones back into place. The knights who had guarded the keep had done their best, but they had been no match for an army bent on destroying all in their path. Their heavy machinery ofwar had seen to what little there was to the perimeter of her home. She should be thankful the keep was still in one piece.
Leading the cow into the stable and then a stall, she left the animal after ensuring she was fed. She had barely made her way through the inner bailey before her maid, Olive, ran down from the steps of the keep. Her worried frown made Elysande run the remaining distance to reach her. She grasped the maid’s hands.
“What has happened?” Elysande urged whilst fearing the worse.
“’Tis your grandfather. You must come quickly, milady,” Olive replied.
Hearing her grandfather needed her, she left her maid behind whilst racing into the keep and making her way up through the turret. The circular stairs slowed down her pace but once she reached the second floor where her grandsire’s bedchamber was located, she once more ran down the passageway. His door was ajar, and she pushed the portal open. That the castle priest was inside caused Elysande to choke back her tears.
“Grandfather,” she called whilst rushing to his side. She took his cool frail hand and brought it up to her cheek. One boney finger traced the tear that slid unbidden down her face.
“Ah, my sweet granddaughter. How I wish I could keep death from my door. But he has come for me and will wait no longer,” Barnabus wheezed out before a coughing fit made Elysande reach for a cup on the table next to his bed. She made an attempt to get him to drink once he caught his breath again, but he waved the chalice away.
“Death cannot take you from me, Grandfather. He will have to wait,” she insisted. Olive had arrived and she went to grab a wooden stool and brought it to the side of the bed. Elysande took a seat.
“He has waited long enough, child. If only your parents had returned from Normandy so I would know I was leaving you in their care. Now you will be alone,” he whispered looking about the room as if her parents would miraculously appear.
“She will not be left alone, Sir Barnabus.” A deep baritone voice with a French accent called out from the doorway. A small smile lit Elysande’s lips.
“You see, Grandfather? Sir Hawke de Challon is still here watching over me,” she answered whilst the priest continued to lift up prayers on her grandfather’s behalf.
“He is not the same as your parents or a husband, Elysande, but I suppose he will have to do,” he murmured whilst keeping his gaze upon her.
