Gryffyn was near the table. In a flash, he marched to his father and clubbed the man in the jaw, sending him to the floor. Gryffyn grabbed the knife on the table, the one used to cut the bread, and pounced on his father as the man struggled on the wooden floor. Holding the knife to his father’s throat, he snarled into the man’s face.
“I will kill her,” he repeated, hissing. “Chrystobel has disobeyed me and for that, she will pay with her life. Izlyn, too, because she does not deserve to live, the imperfect and foul child that she is. She is an embarrassment to the d’Einen name. I will be done with these women who disobey me and then I will be done with you because you brokered this contract that would see the English assume my inheritance. I should have killed you when you negotiated the deal behind my back but I did not. I heard you tell those Saesneg bastards why you gave away my legacy. You hate me and I hate you. Now, I will take back what is rightfully mine and rid Nether of the English scum forever.”
Trevyn struggled for his life. “Gryffyn, nay!” he cried. “I did not mean what I said about you! I only said it for their benefit!”
Gryffyn wasn’t listening. He was bent on destruction. Taking the bread knife, he plunged it into his father’s chest, stabbing the man deep into his heart. As Trevyn lay dying on the floor, his deep red blood bleeding out onto the wood, Gryffyn wrapped the old man’s hand around the knife to make it appear as if he had taken his own life. The way Trevyn had rolled onto his side, Gryffyn easily propped the hand up against the knife hilt and kept it in place. As Gryffyn pushed himself off his father, he rolled the old man over even more, driving the knife deeper.
Trevyn d’Einen, former Lord Carnedd, lived the last few seconds of his life breathing in the dirt off the floor of the great hall as his son slinked back into the recesses of the hidden passage. Gryffyn’s black, vile heart could only understand one thing at a time, one abhorrent emotion above all else. He couldn’t even think that his father was dead by his hand. Nay, that was not in his realm of thought. At the moment, all he could feel was betrayal. His sister had betrayed him and she would pay with her life. Returning to the hidden passageway near the hearth, he sank back into the shadows to make his plans.
His next target was Chrystobel.
*
After his discussion with Trevyn, Keller had returned to the crowd of Nether inhabitants and gave orders to release them, and that included the servants. He stood in the cold, bright bailey, discussing the schedule of the day as his men assumed their new posts and the servants flooded back into the kitchens, keep, and hall. Screams from the servants returning to the great hall and finding the bloodied corpse of Trevyn d’Einen alarmed the English knights, sending all four of them racing into the hall to find a scene of death before them.
Unfortunately, some of the servants had seen Keller and William emerge from the great hall just before Trevyn’s body had been discovered, so the rumors began to fly fast and furious that Trevyn had been murdered by the new lord of Nether. George and Aimery heard the whisperings and yelled at the servants, which upset them more. A good deal of weeping and commotion went on around them as Keller and William tried to sort through the chaos and figure out what had happened. The first thing Keller did was have George and Aimery herd the hysterical servants out of the hall.
When the weeping subsided and an eerie silence settled, Keller was able to think more clearly. As he gazed down at the body, it appeared as if the man had killed himself because of the hand against the knife hilt and the way the body was laying, but to Keller, the scene was puzzling at best. He had spoken to the man only minutes earlier and he had seemed well enough. Certainly not upset enough to take his life. It was a most puzzling circumstance and a disturbing one as well.
“This does not make any sense,” he said as he stood over the body. “D’Einen did not seem depressed enough to take his own life, and certainly not by stabbing himself with a bread knife. The blade is dull and it would have taken a great deal of force to push it through skin and bone.”
William was kneeling beside the corpse, shaking his head with bewilderment. “It would not have been a simple or painless way to die,” he said, inspecting the knife shoved deep into Trevyn’s chest. “But if someone else did this, who would it be? All of the occupants of Nether were under guard one way or the other. There was no one else around.”
Keller’s dusky eyes were grim. “No one that we know of,” he said quietly. “It is entirely possible that there was someone else wandering this fortress that we did not know of.”
William was still looking at the body. “That is possible,” he agreed. “Do you have any ideas about it?”
“Mayhap Gryffyn has not left the fortress as was speculated.”
William looked up at him, the light of realization going on in his eyes. “Mayhap he was here all along,” he concurred, standing up and brushing his hands off on his breeches. “You said that he tried to coerce Lady de Poyer into killing you. Is it possible he thought his father was a traitor as well? Enough to drive him to murder the man?”
Keller shrugged his shoulders, looking down at the cooling corpse. “We have had one altercation with the man and it was enough to tell me that he is unpredictable and brutal,” he said, keeping his voice lowered so the servants wouldn’t hear him. “It is quite possible he is hiding here at Nether, evading our searches, and waiting for the proper time to strike.”
William listened seriously. He pondered the situation, his gaze moving back to the corpse of Trevyn. “Then mayhap we have been going about this all wrong,” he said after a moment. “Gryffyn has lived here his entire life and would know where to hide to evade us. We could search for years and still never find him, so instead of going in search of him, we must bring him to us.”
Keller’s eyebrows lifted. “A trap?”
“Indeed.”
Keller liked the idea. In fact, it made a good deal of sense. “He wants me dead,” he said. “It would make the most sense to use me as bait.”
William shook his head. “Nay, it would not,” he replied softly. “You said that your wife told you that Gryffyn would kill his entire family if she did not do his bidding. It is quite possible that Gryffyn has already started that task, first with his father and next with his sisters. It would make the most sense to use one of them as bait and since the little one is so skittish, it would make the most sense to use your wife.”