Page 159 of Historical Hotties
“Hexham,” he said. “Those are de Rochefort’s men.”
Burle squinted at the bodies in the distance, also putting away his sword. Stanton, however, stood there with his sword in hand as he studied the heavily armed men.
“I have not seen Galen Burleson in months,” he finally said, being the last to sheath his sword. “The last time I was in town, I heard that Hexham Castle was going through something of an upheaval. They lost their captain to Newcastle and several men followed him.”
The knights from Hexham had spotted the men from Prudhoe; at least four were making their way towards them. Creed picked up what was left of his pork and shoved it into his mouth just as the men from Hexham joined them. Greetings went all around as the men began ordering pork and ale. One man even scavenged Carington’s half-eaten custard cake. What had been a quiet meal suddenly turned into a loud party.
Galen Burleson was a knight from Hexham, now captain of their guard. He and Creed had known each other for years and Creed considered the man a friend. Galen was a big man with black hair and light brown eyes. He was quite handsome and had been known to have his share of women until he married a few years ago. Now he had a lovely wife and three very small boys. Galen greeted Creed with a weary smile.
“De Reyne,” he nodded. “It has been a long time.”
Creed nodded his head as he downed the last of his ale. “Where have you been hiding yourself?”
Galen shrugged as the vendor brought him a wooden cup of ale. “At Hexham watching my sons grow,” he said, taking a healthy swig of ale. “My oldest has seen four years.”
“Already? It seems as if he was just born last week.”
“Four years ago this past April,” Galen nodded and leaned against the table. “He likes to torment his younger brothers. In fact, my boys remind me a good deal of you and your brothers.”
That statement brought a smile to Creed’s lips. “I am afraid to ask why.”
Galen snorted. “Because my oldest is much like Ryton; he is stable and wise. My middle son is much like you; he is the largest and not quite three years old. And my youngest is the wild man in the group. He reminds me a good deal of Lenox. He likes to run around the bailey and scare the horses.”
Creed shook his head, smiling as he scratched beneath his hauberk. “Then curb him before he grows too old. Lenox became uncontrollable by the time he was a young man.”
“Lenox was hilarious and you know it.”
Creed conceded with a smile, reflecting on his younger brother. “I miss him.”
“We all do. He was my friend.”
Creed lingered on Lenox a moment. Galen and Lenox had, in fact, been the best of friends, so Galen’s assertion was an understatement. It was still painful for the man to talk about it. It was painful for all of them.
“What brings you to Prudhoe?” Creed shifted the subject.
Galen scratched his chin. “Summoning a priest.”
“What for?”
“Lady de Rochefort’s mother. She is dying.”
“Lady de Rochefort’s mother has been dying for ten years.”
Galen wriggled his eyebrows in agreement. “So what brings you into town?”
Creed thought of Carington back in the carriage; instinctively, he glanced over his shoulder at the cab in the distance.
“An errand for Lady Anne,” he replied vaguely.
“What kind of errand?” Galen scowled. “Do not tell me that she has you running circles for those two little beasts she harbors in her bosom?”
Creed gave him a lop-sided smile. “Nay.”
Galen made a face. “She once asked me to bring my sons to Prudhoe so that Gilbert and Edward would have someone to play with. Do you recall? I had to think of a plausible excuse why they could not come without offending her.”
Creed’s grin broadened. “I remember. You told her the boys had some kind of pox.”
Galen snorted into his cup. “Naturally, she did not want her boys to catch whatever my children had, so I was granted a reprieve.” He sobered. “I have no idea how I am going to decline should she ask me again. I will have to tell her that I have sold my boys into slavery and we will never see them again.”
