Authors: Netherworld
CHAPTER SEVEN
The process of rousting Gryffyn from the storage vaults hadn’t been an easy one.
Keller had taken all three of his knights and thirty of his men to accomplish the task. Entering the keep with his big numbers, he sent ten of his soldiers up to guard Chrystobel’s door while taking the rest with him to the storage vaults on the lower ground level of the keep.
It was dark and crowded in the vaults below and Keller decided the best method would be to drive the fox to the house, as it were, so he sent the knights down to begin the hunt. Gladly, William, George, and Aimery descended the ladders with their broadswords in hand as Keller stood at the top of the ladder with his soldiers. The knights began to beat on, tip over, or shake everything they came across, creating a huge racket. The game that Gryffyn was so intent on playing was now turning against him as the group of angry Englishmen intended to make sport of him. At least, that was the hope.
As dawn began to appear on the eastern horizon, turning the sky shades of purple and pink, Keller’s knights wrought havoc in the storage vaults of Nether. There were bales of cream-colored wool bound with rope that they plunged their broadswords into and barrels of barley that were opened and stirred with sharp weapons. There were a great deal of stores and the knights were methodical, starting at one corner of the room and moving forward in a wave so as to drive Gryffyn out of his hiding place and to the ladder where Keller was waiting for him.
This went on steadily for an hour until it became apparent that Gryffyn was not in the storage vault. When William was finished with the last barrel of apples, he finally appeared at the base of the ladder, gazing up at Keller at the top.
“He is not here,” he said, sighing with some exhaustion. “Are you sure this is where she said to look for him?”
Keller nodded. “Aye,” he said, a creeping sense of displeasure coming over him. “Are you sure there are no alcoves or hidden rooms he could be in?”
William looked around the darkened storage area as George and Aimery continued to poke around. “Nothing,” he said. “Mayhap he left before we got here.”
Keller lifted his dark eyebrows in resignation. “That is possible.”
“That is the only explanation unless she lied to you.”
Keller shook his head. “I do not think so,” he said. “I will, however, question her again while you go speak with the father. See what Trevyn knows about his son.”
William leaned on the ladder, looking up at him. “He knew nothing when we questioned him earlier,” he said. “I am not sure a few hours will make a difference in what he knows.”
“It might,” Keller said. “Mayhap the son has left Nether altogether. Ask the father if the man has any friends or allies around here that would take him in.”
William nodded wearily, calling off the Ashby-Kidd twins as Keller made his way up to his wife’s bower only to be told by his soldiers that the woman and her sister were sleeping soundly, exhausted from the excitement of the night. After a moment’s indecision, he left her to sleep and instead joined William to hunt out Trevyn. In the briskly cold dawn of a new day, they found Trevyn in the great hall, breaking his fast in a cold room before a darkened, sooty hearth that had been dead for hours.
The hall smelled heavily of smoke and animals as Keller and William entered. Hungry dogs were clustered around Trevyn as the man picked apart cold meat and stale bread for his meal. He glanced up when the English knights approached.
“There are no servants to prepare a meal,” he said. “You still have them held captive in the bailey.”
He sounded somewhat disgruntled but Keller didn’t react to what could have been interpreted as a rebuke. “Where is your son?” he asked, his voice a cold as steel. “And do not tell me that you have no knowledge of his whereabouts. I believed you once but I will not believe you again because he appeared to Lady de Poyer a few hours ago, so he is indeed somewhere within these grounds. Tell me what you know or you will not like my reaction.”
Trevyn looked at him, his dark eyes dulled with age and fatigue. “What can I tell you?” he asked, perturbed. “My son does what he pleases, wherever he pleases. If he is not in his tower room or here in the hall, then he could be a thousand other places. I simply do not know.”
“You do not know or you will not tell us?” William asked, propping a big boot up on the bench and leaning on his knee. He was exhausted and growing increasingly agitated with the fact that no one seemed to know where Gryffyn was hiding. “He is your
son
, old man, and presumably under your control. Why does everyone around here act as if that bastard is the lord of Nether? That title would have formerly been held by you, in case you were not aware. Now you are subject to Sir Keller de Poyer, Lord Carnedd, premier knight of William Marshal, and Lord Protector of the King’s interest in Powys. Whatever fear you hold for your son, it would be wise for you to fear de Poyer more. Now, tell us where Gryffyn is so we can release the servants and finish with these foolish games.”
Trevyn looked between de Poyer and Wellesbourne, his dark eyes circled and his features taut. Angrily, he slammed his bread and meat to the table.
“I told you before that I did not know where Gryffyn was and I will tell you the same thing now,” he said, frustrated. “The man has a mind of his own. I do not pretend to know it.”
Keller was watching Trevyn carefully. Unlike Chrystobel, the old man was a bit more adept at lying. He could tell, and the realization infuriated him.
“If you knew where he was, would you tell me?” he asked steadily.
Trevyn faltered. “Mayhap,” he said, averting his gaze and looking to his bread once more. “Mayhap not. What do you intend to do to him?”
Keller was finished interrogating the old man. He had to make a point and his patience, usually limited even in the best of circumstances, was gone. He reached down and ripped the bread from Trevyn’s hand, tossing it to the dogs. When the old man swiped for the meat, Keller swept it completely off the table. As it landed on the floor, the dogs had a grand feast. When Trevyn looked up at Keller, astonished, fearful and enraged, Keller met the aged gaze with an expression of complete control.
“Your son is an uncivilized brute,” he growled at the old man. “I have no idea how long he has been beating you and your daughters, but I tell you now that those days are finished. I am here now and Gryffyn will obey me or he will pay the consequences.”
Trevyn visibly paled. “Who told you such things?” he nearly choked. “Did Chrystobel tell you that he beat us?”
Keller was fighting down a righteous sense of fury. “She has not told me directly,” he said, “but I would have to be a fool not to have figured it out. Moreover, Gryffyn threatened to kill all of you if she did not murder me to prove her loyalty. What manner of beast have you raised, d’Einen?”
Trevyn was struggling. He had a difficult time maintaining eye contact, knowing de Poyer’s words were true but unable to acknowledge it. Like his daughter, he had been living with it for so long that it was simply the way of things. Now, he was being questioned about something he had no answer for. It was too uncomfortable to admit that he’d lost control of his son long ago. Shaking his head, he simply looked away.
“I do not know what you mean,” he muttered. “My son is strong and intelligent.”
“Your son is an animal,” Keller countered. “If you do not help me locate him, then I cannot protect you against him. If you will not do it for yourself, at least do it for your daughters. I cannot believe that you, as their father, stand by while your son abuses them. Are you truly such a weakling?”
Trevyn’s head snapped to Keller, his mouth working as if he had something to say. It was evident by his expression that there was much anger, and much fear, in his heart.
“I agreed to William Marshal’s terms,” he said, “the crux of which did not give you permission to demean and insult me and my family. You know not of what you speak!”
Keller cocked a dark eyebrow. He was deliberately trying to provoke the man into an emotional confession, hoping they could glean information about Gryffyn from it.
“I am not sure how the truth can be considered demeaning,” he said. “Do you fear your son so much that you would do anything to protect him? What about protecting your daughters? Don’t they deserve your protection also?”
Trevyn hissed at him and tried to stand up, but William slammed the old man back down into his chair. Trevyn took a swipe at William, who easily dodged the strike. He rammed his hands down onto Trevyn’s shoulders, holding him fast as Keller leaned into his face.
“You are a weak and pathetic excuse for a father,” he hissed. “You have two beautiful daughters and all you can do is allow your son to abuse them. You are a coward of a man, unworthy of the lovely women you have fathered. You are supposed to protect them, you fool, or are you too afraid to do it? You should have woman parts between your legs because you surely do not deserve to be called a man.”
Trevyn’s face was a deep, dull red and sweat beaded on his forehead in spite of the cool temperature of the room. “You do not understand!” he barked.
Keller slammed his big fists on the table, causing Trevyn to jump at the violent movement. “Then explain it to me,” he demanded. “Explain to me why your daughters live in fear of their brother. Explain to me why you allow the man to do as he pleases. Explain to me all of this because as surely as I stand here, I cannot fathom a father’s failure to do his duty.”
Trevyn glared at him with a deadly hatred. Angry as he was, he wasn’t stupid. He knew he was outmanned by the two English knights. Nothing they had said was untrue. They had verbalized the same thoughts Trevyn had been thinking of himself for many years and the more he mulled their words over in his mind, the more his hatred began to turn inwardly. He was an embittered and torn man.
“I made a promise,” he finally muttered.
Keller leaned in to hear him better. “What promise?” he asked. “To whom?”
Trevyn shook his head, looking at his lap. “To my wife,” he said quietly. “She perished of childbirth fever shortly after Izlyn was born. She made me promise… she could never bring herself to discipline the boy, you see, and she made me promise not to lift a hand to him. She could control him whereas I could not, so it was never an issue until he became older and then… he is my only son. He is allowed to do as he pleases.”
Keller drew in a long, calming breath, glancing at William to see the man’s reaction. William appeared both puzzled and disgusted, so Keller pressed Trevyn.
“But he terrorizes your entire family,” Keller said, unsure of his personal feelings with regard to the man’s answer. “Why do you permit this?”
Trevyn merely shook his head. “He was a lively boy when he was young,” he said. “He was mischievous but not naughty. But somehow as he grew older, the foul streak arose. I had promised my wife not to strike or discipline him, so I let him do as he pleased. Now… there is no way to stop it. I promised my wife, after all.”
Keller stared at the man a moment before looking to William. The big blond knight met Keller’s gaze before removing his hands from Trevyn’s shoulders. Having a wife for as long as he had, William understood Trevyn’s point of view more than most. He plopped his big body down on the bench and faced the man.
“I can understand that you promised your wife not to strike him,” he said, his tone considerably less hostile, “but in making this promise, do you realize what you’ve done? You’ve allowed the man to run wild and terrorize all of you. I am sure that is not what your wife had in mind when she made you promise not to strike him.”
Trevyn was still staring at his lap. “Mayhap,” he agreed quietly. Then, he lifted his head and looked at Keller. “But it has come to this. Gryffyn knows no fear or boundaries. He takes what he wants, he does what he wants, and even though he is my son I have grown to hate him over the years as one would hate an enemy. Do you know why I brokered this deal with William Marshal? Giving him my castle and lands? It was not to know peace with the English. Nay, that was not the reason. It was so that my son could not inherit these lands that have belonged to my family for generations. Instead, Gryffyn will inherit lands in England, a country he hates intensely.”
It was a shocking admission. Keller’s rage at the old man had calmed significantly by the time Trevyn was finished. In fact, he understood his reasoning completely.
“But you made your daughter part of this deal,” he pointed out softly. “You offered to marry her to an Englishman of the Marshal’s choosing.”
Trevyn nodded. “I know,” he said. “I wanted it that way. At least it would remain somewhat in the family if Chrystobel married the new lord of Nether. At least my grandchildren would inherit it, but not my grandchildren through my son. I do not want that line to have anything to do with what is so beloved by the d’Einens. I pray every night that my son will die without having issue and that his evil ways will die out with him. The House of d’Einen is a good family, my lord. But Gryffyn has tainted the name.”
Keller sighed loudly, glancing over at William for the man’s reaction. William looked at Keller as if to say
how can we become angry with him now?
Keller finally cleared his throat softly.
“Where is your son?” he asked quietly. “I do not want to kill the man. I only wish to locate him.”
Trevyn shook his head. “He has more than likely left the fortress,” he said, sounding defeated. “He has a friend he cavorts with, a local lord named Colvyn ap Gwynwynwyn. The man lives at Castell Mallwyd, about a half day’s ride from here.”
“And you believe he went there?”
“It is possible.”
Keller glanced at William again, both men knowing that there wasn’t much more to be said on the subject. It was assumed that Gryffyn had left the fortress. After a moment, Keller rose from his seat, as did William. The knights began to move away from the table, heading for the hall entry.
“You will tell me if he returns,” Keller said to Trevyn. “Meanwhile, my soldiers will be manning this castle and her walls. Your soldiers, particularly since they are loyal to your son, will be kept elsewhere and watched over by my men. Today, the English will assume the full mantle of Nether Castle.”