Page 7 of The Tempest
She was speaking rather lovingly of her husband, which surprised Astria. “Did he not sail with you?”
Maude shook her head. “Nay,” she said with resignation, as if she’d accepted such a thing long ago. “Nay, he dinna have a taste for the sea.”
“But you did?”
Maude nodded. “My father had one offspring—me,” she said. “He was a great seaman, Irish by birth, and he inherited Medusa’s Disciples from his own father. Red Shane Connacht was my father and my lineage goes back three hundred years, lass. Three hundred years of the family way. When my da passed, I took the helm. And here I am.”
“Here you are,” Astria confirmed. “And now you have three sons to carry on your family business.”
But Maude shook her head. “Only two,” she said. “When I give this up, Declan will take the helm because I know my eldest willna. He’s the earl and will fulfill his destiny as such. That is where ye come in.”
“Me?” Astria said, puzzled. “Why me?”
“Because ye’re going tae be his wife.”
So much for surrender.
The fight, for Astria, resumed in earnest.
CHAPTER TWO
Blackchurch Guild
“They’re coming infrom the east, my lord,” Creston said. “Our scouts have spotted them coming on foot and on horseback. They should be here within the hour.”
The message was grim. In the keep of Exmoor Castle, the rather large tower in the center of the Blackchurch compound, Creston and Cruz were giving their report. The pair, along with several recruits, had been out scouting the countryside for signs of Medusa’s Disciples and found them on a small road heading west from the village of Bampton. That was only a scant hour from Exebridge and, consequently, Blackchurch.
They were situated in the large solar belonging to St. Denis de Bottreaux, the lord and master of the Blackchurch operations. The Earl of Exmoor, St. Denis had inherited the role and title from his father, who had inherited it from his. The list of de Bottreaux men went back to the days of the Duke of Normandy, when a de Bottreaux ancestor was granted the title and the lands in Exmoor for his service at the Battle of Hastings.
In fact, there were two brothers, both of them young and ambitious, both of them dedicated to William of Normandy. St.Giles de Bottreaux was the older of the two, his younger brother being St. Lyon, and it was St. Giles who distinguished himself on land while St. Lyon remained shipboard and devastated any hope of Edward the Confessor receiving any help from the sea. No reinforcements for the battle, no assistance of any kind thanks to St. Lyon, but it was St. Giles who had received the earldom. St. Lyon received several ships in gratitude for his service, hence the birth of Triton’s Hellions. St. Giles went on to form the Blackchurch Guild, a guild that was now on edge because of the most recent report.
Bloody Maude reallywasapproaching.
“How many men?” St. Denis asked. A short but powerful man, he had a head of white hair and a razor-sharp intellect. “More importantly, what power do they have if they’ve left their ships behind? That is their preferred fighting medium.”
Creston nodded. “I realize that, my lord,” he said. “But we saw at least six wagons with cannons, being pulled by teams of oxen that they have undoubtedly stolen. As for men, I would say no more than two hundred.”
St. Denis seemed startled by that answer. “Twohundred?” he repeated. “They intend to take Blackchurch with only two hundred men? We will destroy them with our numbers alone.”
Creston didn’t seem convinced. He looked at Cruz, the Aragon knight known as The Conquistador, who almost seemed amused by St. Denis’ arrogance.
“We are speaking of Bloody Maude, my lord,” Cruz said. “She only needs two hundred men because if they get inside our walls, they will methodically destroy every Blackchurch man they come up against. Do not think you can simply throw men at them and they will be subdued. This is not an ordinary army.”
St. Denis was back to being somewhat concerned. “Then what would you suggest?” he said. “I am not afraid of her, but I do not want her injuring or maiming our soldiers. Or us.”
As Creston and Cruz shrugged, Aamir spoke up. “Ask her what she wants,” he said simply. “We have no known conflict with Medusa’s Disciples, so what could she possibly want from us?”
“Who knows?” St. Denis said. “It could be real or imagined. Those who scavenge the seas do not need a reason to pillage.”
“That is the point,” Aamir said. “Pillaging Blackchurch would be suicide. Unless God himself comes to earth with two hundred angels to destroy Blackchurch, I would not worry. But, clearly, Bloody Maude wants something if she is coming here.”
All of the Blackchurch trainers were listening to the conversation, Payne included. He was back against a wall, leaning against the stone with his big arms folded across his chest. He could see the concern and puzzlement and, quite frankly, the fear. No one wanted their manhood taken as a trophy of war, but it was more than that. Bloody Maude had a hell of a reputation as a fearsome fighter and a merciless foe.
And she was coming for Blackchurch.
Payne couldn’t believe it had come to this. He’d spent many happy years at Blackchurch concealing a family secret that most men couldn’t have concealed for that long. But he’d done it ably. He hadn’t exactly lied, but he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming, either. Not that a man’s past really mattered at Blackchurch because as long as he performed flawlessly, a man was judged on his own merits. But now… now, something was happening that Payne had never anticipated, and he had to come clean or risk much when those close to him discovered the truth.
The moment for him to be completely transparent had come.
