Keller hastened to disagree. “He admitted that the arrow that struck George was meant for me,” he reminded William. “I told you what Lady de Poyer said to that regard, so the man is indeed out to kill me. I say let him try.”
Again, William shook his head. “That would not be wise, Keller,” he said. “Think on it this way; as we have seen, Gryffyn would not attack you man to man. Rather than do that, he relied on an arrow, so it would seem he is not confident in a confrontation of brute strength against brute strength. He is much more apt to attack a weaker person physically, your wife for example, because it makes him feel more powerful. She makes him feel omnipotent and you are a challenge to that sense of power. Therefore, she is the better bait because he will come to her, knowing he can best her.”
Keller had gone from giving his full support to the scheme to drawing back considerably. The thought of Chrystobel in danger nearly threw him into fits. “But she is a mere woman,” he said, trying to make a strong case for his refusal when he knew, deep down, that William was correct. Gryffyn was a coward in every sense of the word and would more than likely attack a woman before he would attack a full-grown man. “She is afraid of her brother as it is. How can we expect her to lay a trap for the man?”
William cleared his throat softly. “Stop thinking like a husband,” he muttered. “If my wife was expected to lay a trap for her murderous brother, I would say the same thing, but the truth is that Lady de Poyer makes the perfect bait. We will be around her at all times so she will be well protected, but if Gryffyn has killed his father, it would make the most sense that his sister is next. That is exactly what he threatened to do, is it not?”
Keller wanted to argue with him; he truly did, but he found it difficult to muster a convincing case. He was so torn that he could hardly think straight. Why was he so reluctant to put Chrystobel in danger? Could it possibly be because he actually cared for her somehow and cared what happened to her? Impossible, he told himself sternly. Still, the thought lingered.
“I must think on it,” he finally said, unable to look William in the eye because he was certain that the man could see his turmoil. “Set the posts for the day and get some sleep yourself. I will see you later.”
He turned to leave but William grasped his arm. “Wait,” William said. “I know you are not keen on the idea of making your wife a target, but we have little choice. At this very moment, Gryffyn d’Einen is running loose somewhere in this fortress after having murdered his father. He may very well be watching us right now. In any case, I will not sleep soundly until the man is caught and I doubt you will, either.”
Keller almost brushed the man off but he refrained, mostly because he was right. He and Wellesbourne had never been particularly close but that had been Keller’s fault. He didn’t want to get close to anyone again, but the past day or two had seen that attitude waver somewhat. Wellesbourne was an excellent knight, excellent counsel, and more than that, he felt as if the man was offering his friendship. Perhaps it was time for Keller to reconsider his harsh stance against emotional attachments and open himself up. But it was difficult.
“Nay, I will not,” he agreed quietly. “I fear that you are more than likely correct in your suggestion.”
William breathed a sigh of relief that Keller was actually agreeing with him. That had never really happened since William had known him. The man didn’t take suggestions well so it was a surprise to realize that he was accepting this one. De Poyer was being almost… congenial. Aye, that was the word William was looking for. He’d hardly seen that from the man, either. Perhaps his stiff liege was finally easing.
“We could use more assistance with this situation,” William said, dropping his hand from Keller’s arm. “When are de Lohr’s reinforcements set to arrive?”
Keller scratched his scalp in a weary gesture. “It was my understanding that they were a few days behind us at most, so unless bad weather has delayed them, I would expect to see them very soon.” He stopped scratching his head and sighed wearily. His fatigue was catching up with him. “Put the senior sergeants in command while the knights get a few hours of sleep. I want my men patrolling every inch of this fortress and most especially the keep where the ladies are. And get Trevyn out of here before his daughters see him like this. That would not be good for their morale.”
William nodded. “Aye, my lord.”
There was a friendly expression on William’s face, one that compelled Keller to behave similarly. He counted himself lucky to have Wellesbourne under his command so he gave William a brief, awkward smile as he turned and headed out of the great hall with Trevyn’s blood on the floor and its dirty hearth. Already, his thoughts were turning to Chrystobel. He realized that he very much wanted to see her.
The morning was deepening as he crossed the muddy bailey towards the keep, the sky above brilliant blue as a brisk breeze swept across the land. Gusty winds not only chased fat, puffy clouds across the sky, but it also kicked about leaves and clutter in the ward. Everywhere Keller looked he could see his soldiers; upon the walls, milling in the bailey, or near the towers. He even saw the Ashby-Kidd brothers over near Tower Night, standing in conversation near the entry.
Keller was satisfied to see such a heavy English presence but he knew, as he lived and breathed, that Gryffyn d’Einen was somewhere, watching and waiting. It was an uneasy feeling he had, but one he intended to remedy quickly. With that in mind, he headed in the direction of George and Aimery to relay his orders – rest for the knights with the senior sergeants in command, and the hope that de Lohr’s reinforcements would soon arrive.
William had been correct. Keller wouldn’t sleep easy until his wife’s murderous brother was caught.
Chapter Eight
Chrystobel had heard the sobbing in her dreams, eventually awakening her from a deep sleep. She gradually became aware that there was a sobbing woman in the landing outside of her chamber and as she listened more closely, she recognized the woman’s voice. It was a kitchen servant, one that had served Nether for many years. She was a flighty woman but not usually given to hysterics, which concerned Chrystobel. Rising wearily from her bed as morning sunlight streamed in through cracks in the oilcloth, she was careful not to disturb Izlyn as she made her way across the cold floor to the chamber door and unbolted it.