The Falls of Erith (15 page)

Gray
smiled thinly. “Nay, I did as father taught. He was a kind, forgiving man and
you drove him to his grave with your evil ways. Shame on you.”

Constance
marched up on Gray and slapped her across the cheek.  Stung, Gray reacted by
slapping her back. Constance toppled backwards, almost falling to her knees.
Gray would never forget the look on her face.

“You
ungrateful, insolent bitch,” Constance half-wept, half-hissed. “How dare you
strike your own mother. May God curse you for your actions.”

Gray
was at the end of her patience. “And may God curse you for staining this family
with your warped ideas and twisted sense of morals. I’ll not have you poison my
daughter as you tried to poison me. I will not tolerate any more of your
interference, Mother. Do you understand me?”

Constance
struggled to reclaim her dignity, turning her back on her daughter. “Get out.”

“Gladly,”
Gray said. “But before I go, I will say this. You will stay to your chamber. 
You will not try to seek my daughter, or me, or anyone else at Erith. I will
not see you out of this room, for if I do, I will ask Sir Braxton to send you
back to Thirlwall Castle. You were born there. You can die there, too, for all
I care.”

With
a lingering glance at her mother’s stiff back, she turned and quit the room. 
When she reached her chamber on the floor below, she shut the door softly and
wept.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

Lord
Alan Haistethorpe was a tolerant man with a son who was not so tolerant. One
look at Brooke Serroux and the Elliott Haistethorpe begged his father to leave
for home immediately. But Alan had come this far to examine the prospective
bride and would not turn away so easily.  Erith Castle was a well-known de
Montfort stronghold that Alan remembered from his youth and the idealized
memory of it still lingered for him. He did not want his son to pass so easily
on a legend.

What
he could not figure out yet was where Braxton de Nerra fit in to all of this. 
He had heard of the mercenary; most people in the north had, for de Nerra had
done a lot of fighting for the border barons. He wondered why Erith required
the man’s services, which put him on his guard.

Braxton
was cordial without being overly friendly. He took Alan and Elliott into the
great hall and offered them wine out of his own supplies. It was a fine Madera,
rich and red and tart.  Beyond that, he went so far to explain that the lady of
Erith would be joining them shortly, but little else. He was not much of a
conversationalist. Alan and Elliott ended up feeling quite unnerved by his
presence, made worse by the three knights that wandered in shortly after their
arrival.  Braxton’s men were young, strong and intimidating. They stood in
various positions around the room as if waiting for a fight to start.

They
had caught a glimpse of Brooke after the scuffle in the yard. She was a pretty
little thing.  Braxton had sent her to change her clothes and when she reappeared,
it was with an older woman with exquisite features.  Though the daughter was
quite lovely, Lady Gray Serroux was magnificent.  Alan, and Elliott’s,
attention shifted from daughter to mother in a hurry.

Braxton
saw their expressions almost as soon as the mood changed. But he was distracted
from his thoughts of murdering the pair by Gray’s appearance; she was clad in
one of her new surcoats, an exquisite emerald garment with delicate lines that
emphasized her slender torso and full breasts. In fact, she looked amazing. For
a moment, Braxton was actually speechless. He’d never seen anything so lovely,
and he’d never seen her in anything other than rags. But he quickly found his
tongue as she came upon them.  He stood up and held out a hand to her, gently
guiding her to a seat.

“My
lords, may I present the Lady Gray Serroux, Lady Brooke’s mother,” he said.
“Lady Gray, this is Lord Alan Haistethorpe and his son, Elliott.”

Gray
smiled at the pair, taking her seat. The men followed suit. “Welcome to Erith,
my lords,” she greeted. “We are honored by your visit.”

“As
you honor us with your invitation,” Alan said, looking somewhat confused. “Is
the Lady Constance indisposed?”

“My
mother is unwell this day and unable to greet you,” Gray’s tone hardened. “With
your permission, Sir Braxton has graciously agreed to mediate the
negotiations.”

Alan
and Elliott looked straight at Braxton, who met their gaze emotionlessly. “We
were unaware that Sir Braxton had been engaged for his negotiating skills,”
Alan said. “We thought… well, it is well known that he is a soldier of
fortune.”

“I
am a man of many talents,” Braxton said steadily. “Contract negotiation happens
to be one of my strengths, as I have brokered many a successful contract for
myself. Surely you have no quarrel bartering a betrothal with me.”

Alan
and Elliott looked at each other. It was clear that neither man knew quite how
to react.  Alan finally asked the question they were both thinking. “Do you
receive a percentage of the dowry for your fee, my lord?”

Braxton’s
eyes were steely.  He let loose a great secret, simply because he wanted to
ward off any future complications. And he could see, by the way Elliott had
looked at Gray, that there could very well be some.

“I
am Lady Gray’s betrothed and, as such, will retain wardship of her daughter
upon our marriage,” he said steadily. “Negotiating with me is as good as
negotiating with the girl’s father. Now, shall we get down to business?”

Terms
were unable to be reached.  One too many glances at Gray Serroux from Elliott
Haistethorpe caused Alan to excuse himself with his son while the man still had
his head. Within the hour, Alan and Elliott were making haste back to
Windermere with harrowing tales of the mercenary Braxton de Nerra and his
murderous negotiating skills.  

***

Gray
had only been to Milnthorpe once in her life. It was a larger berg with an
entire long avenue dedicated to merchants.  There was also a big stone
cathedral and a tournament field at the edge of town by the river that flowed
down through the Lyth Valley and dumped into Morecambe Bay.

The
party from Erith had left the fortress at dawn.  Gray and Brooke were astride
two warmblood mares that belonged to Braxton, gentle animals he used to breed
with the war horses to produce a sturdy, long-legged offspring which he then
sold to the nobility that appreciated fine crossbreds.  The morning was soft
and bright, and the jaunt along the wide road was at a leisurely pace.  For the
first time since she could remember, Gray actually felt at ease and without
care. She’d never experienced such a feeling, or at least if she had, she could
not remember when last.  A glance at Brooke showed the young girl to be equally
relaxed. Happy for almost the first time in her young life.   It was already
starting off a good day.

But
the morning had not been without its momentary drama.  Before the party left
for Milnthorpe, Brooke had apologized to Braxton for lying. The evening prior,
Gray and Brooke had had a serious discussion about the rights and wrongs of
life. Lying was wrong, even if one was fearful or attempting not to discredit
an elder.  Gray had also told her daughter that she was to stay away from
Constance.  Through Brooke had not completely understood why, she nonetheless
agreed. Gray secretly wondered how long that would last; Brooke and her
grandmother were close.  She suspected it would be a bit of a battle.

On
the road in the new hours of dawn, the sun was just clearing the horizon. 
Wrapped in her new cloak with the gray fur, Gray felt like a queen. She was
clad in the emerald brocade surcoat but realized when she had dressed that all
of her shifts were old and worn.  No matter, however; she was grateful for
whatever she had and would not complain.  So the surcoat went over the worn
shift and the new cloak had gone over that. Her blond hair was pulled back at
the nape of her neck, wound into a bun that showed off the slender shape of her
neck and shoulders. She looked positively elegant.

Braxton
rode slightly ahead of her, turning every so often to shoot her a glance. She
would merely smile at him. Dallas rode slightly ahead of Brooke while Graehm
and Geoff rode behind them.  The four knights and two ladies were surrounded by
twenty men at arms and one of Braxton’s massive wagons that had been brought along
to cart back whatever booty that happened to acquire. The rest of the men, and
wagons, had been left back at Erith. The rebuild was still in full swing and
the remaining soldiers could not be spared.

As
Gray and Braxton passed the time exchanging meaningful glances, Brooke was
involved in her own silent game.  Riding on the wagon seat beside the driver
sat Norman and Edgar. Brooke could feel their stares on her back and she would
casually turn every so often to see what they were doing.  So far this morning,
Edgar had stuck his tongue out at her twice.  She was keeping track. For every
transgression, she was going to punch him twice. He was already racking up
quite a bill.

Milnthorpe
came into view much faster than Gray had anticipated. She was rather enjoying
the ride, watching Braxton’s powerful form as he rode in front of her. But soon
they had arrived and soon there were crowds of people going about their
business all around them. The bustle of the town started well before they
actually entered it. It was a busy and bright morning already.

Braxton
had been to Milnthorpe a few times and knew the layout. He took the party
directly to the Street of Merchants and found an area beside one of the
thatched-roof stalls that was roomy enough to park the wagon.  Norman and Edgar
leaped off the bench, collecting the chargers as the knights dismounted. 
Braxton dismounted, turned his horse over to a nearby soldier, and went to help
Gray.

She
smiled at him as he approached, sliding gratefully into his upstretched arms.
He lowered her to the ground, his hands lingering on her a moment longer than
necessary.  He winked at her as he let her go.

“Here
we are, my lady,” he said, glancing up one side of the street and then down the
other. “If I recall correctly, there are several import merchants near the
western end of the avenue. They should have fabrics and goods from all over the
world.”

Gray
was essentially along for the ride.  Braxton had a definite plan and she would
simply follow him. The man was pretending the turmoil of the previous day never
happened and she was glad to go along, including the shopping trip he had
planned for them before the crisis of yesterday. Taking her hand and tucking
into his elbow, he motioned for Dallas to take charge of Brooke.  The tall
blond knight took the young lady in hand, escorting her after her mother.  With
Graehm, Edgar, Norman and about ten men at arms in tow, the party moved into
the avenue and left the rest the group behind.

Gray’s
trips into the town of Leven, the nearest village to Erith, had rarely involved
anything other than basic needs.  But this trip was different and she was a
little dazed by all of it; they were going shopping for things they did not
need.  The concept was mind-boggling. As she soaked up the sights, Braxton
paused by an open stall with various fragrant oils displayed.  He sniffed the
myrrh oil, liked it, and bought it on the spot for a full piece of gold.  The
merchant wrapped it in a pretty piece of cloth and tied it with a ribbon,
handing it over to the knight who, in turn, handed it to an astonished Gray. 
As they continued their walk, Gray clutched the oil as if was the most precious
gift she had ever received.

The
merchant stall he had in mind was a large stall that anchored the entire
avenue. The man that owned it wore a strange little cap on his head; Gray would
not learn until later that he was a Jew and his shop happened to be the most
lucrative shop in Milnthorpe. Entering the dark, cool place, Gray was struck by
how packed it was with items. Porcelain, fabric, belts, and phials of secret
liquids were strewn all over the place. Awed, she stood by the door for a
moment, absorbing the scene, before Braxton gently nudged her inside.  She
followed him, straight over to the bolts of fabric.

Dallas
and Brooke followed them inside while Geoff and Graehm, the men at arms, and
Edgar and Norman stood just outside. But the two squires were very curious
about the place and strained to catch a look inside.  It was a dark and
mysterious place inside the wide-mouthed door.  Suddenly, Brooke popped out
with Dallas on her heels. She almost bumped into Norman, who quickly excused
himself.  She smiled briefly at Norman but cast Edgar a vicious glare.

“Come,
Sir Dallas,” she said grandly. “I would like to find a merchant who has spun
sugar and treats.”

She
made sure to show Edgar the coin Braxton had given her, sticking her tongue out
at him as Dallas escorted her across the street. Edgar watched her go, angrily.
He wanted some spun sugar, too. Norman slapped him lightly on the back of the
head and made him go back and stand near the open doorway.

As
the men at arms waited patiently and the boys wait, not so patiently, for
Braxton and Gray to reemerge, Brooke and Dallas came back from their unknown
destination down the Street of Merchants.  Brooke was carrying a sack, holding
it with her left hand while her right hand burrowed deep inside. She pulled
forth a piece of hard candy and popped it in her mouth, making sure that Edgar
saw her do it. She came upon the squires where they sat against the wall next
to the door.