Page 58 of The Captive Knight
Thibaud finally yanked his horse around and cantered back into the castle. He dismounted in the courtyard with a jangle of reins. His steps fell upon the stairs to the ramparts with grim force as he climbed up to join them.
When that spun-wool head emerged, Jehan barked, “Well?”
Thibaud’s face was a stone, etched deep. “It is as we both feared.”
Jehan spoke a curse she’d never heard fall from his lips, an expletive like a knife-tip slicing across her hopes.
“Remember,” Thibaud ventured, holding up a hand, “my great-nephew is but a boy—”
“He’s no boy, Thibaud.”
“Fifteen years of age hardly qualifies—”
“At fifteen,” Jehan interrupted, “I fended for myself in the hills of Gascony. At fifteen, the Prince of Wales was knighted at Crécy. At fifteen, my brother—”
“You were all raised as knights,” Thibaud argued. “But my kinsman is a cripple, raised only for the church.”
“And yet your monk-cripple has led a band of armed men to my gates. Did I send the wrong man to do my bidding?”
Thibaud flushed and pressed his beard against his chest.
“Stop making excuses,” Jehan insisted, “andspeak.”
Aliénor flattened her hand against her chest as if to hold in the heart threatening to beat out of her skin.
With a harsh sigh, her uncle said, “My kinsman claims, in the absence of his father, he is acting as the true heir of this castle.”
Laurent!
“He claims,” Thibaud continued, “you are an English usurper. It is his intent to remove you from this place.”
“My brother doesn’t want this castle.” All attention turned to her, but Jehan’s sharp gaze struck her breathless. “Laury doesn’t want the title. Heneverhas.”
“The situation has changed, little dove.”
The endearment was meant to calm her, but his gentle words were no match against a gaze so fierce.
She turned to her great-uncle in search of common sense. “Thibaud, how is my brother to seize this castle with less than a dozen men?”
“Through force of honor. Based on his rightful claim.”
“Force of right does not carry weapons.” Hot blood rose to her cheeks. “He is outmanned.”
Thibaud barked, “I told him the same.”
“There’s proof he’s acting out of desperation—he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
“He knows what he’s doing.” The creases in Thibaud’s face deepened as he turned his attention to Jehan. “My great-nephew sees no solution except in your death, Sir Jehan, or his own.”
A relentless pulse pounded on her temple.Laury, Laury, what are you thinking?
Jehan murmured, “He knows I won’t kill him.”
“That’s what he is counting on,” Thibaud said. “That’s why he’s challenging you to single combat.”
