Sir Gart Forbes was an enormous man with piercing green eyes, a bald-shaved head, and hugely wide shoulders. And the man didn’t walk. he stalked. He had the look of a hunter about him and he literally stalked as he dismounted his charger and went to greet Keller. Their handshake was so powerful that it would have toppled a lesser man, but Keller simply grinned. A heavy-handed handshake was Gart’s way of declaring one was worthy of his attention.
Sir Rhys du Bois, the second knight to wearily dismount his charger, didn’t have the look of a hunter. He had the look of a trained killer. Nearly as tall as his hunter counterpart, he was broader and more muscular, with black hair and brilliant blue eyes. Every woman whose gaze was fortunate enough to fall upon Rhys du Bois would swear he was the most handsome man in all the world, which was mostly true. He was a fine example of male beauty coupled with intelligence and skill.
Keller, however, saw beyond the Adonis-like knight and the stalking hunter. He saw his old friends. Rhys grinned as he took Keller’s hand when Gart finally released it, and Keller shook the man’s hand firmly. He’d known the men since he had been a young man, newly knighted in the service of the aged Henry II, and they had kept in touch with each other even though he’d not seen them in over a year. They were a most welcome sight.
“So de Lohr sent you two?” Keller said, shaking his head. “What happened? Did he run out of excellent knights to send?”
Rhys laughed softly. “No one wanted to come so we had to draw lots,” he said. “Gart and I lost.”
Keller was grinning, smiling more than he had in months. “You serve Christopher and Gart serves his brother David,” he said, looking between the two of them. “You normally do not serve together. How is it you ended up as motley pair?”
Gart was pulling off one of his massive leather gloves, his trained gaze moving around the bailey as he did so. “The de Lohr war machine is involved in the baron’s revolt against John,” he said. “We were spared to come to Wales because Christopher fears that while most of the English barons are preoccupied with civil unrest, the Welsh might decide it is a perfect time to create problems. He wants us here, with you, in case that happens.”
Keller’s smile faded. “I’ve not seen Richard in a few years,” he said. “I was with him all through the great quest to The Levant, but once he gifted me to William Marshal, I was sent to Wales and in Wales I have remained. This has not been my choice to be in this land of endless mountains and pewter skies.”
Gart and Rhys knew that. Keller had been a very great knight for Richard and much decorated for his heroism in the Holy Land. To tuck this great knight far away in the wilds was nothing short of criminal. Keller was someone they both greatly respected.
“William Marshal must have a purpose for putting you here,” Rhys said. “He is not foolish. I am sure he wants you here for the same reason de Lohr has sent us to support you. With England eating itself up from the inside, if the Welsh decide to take advantage of the chaos, it would be very bad not to have a foothold here.”
Keller knew that all too well but he still wasn’t happy about it in spite of the fact that he now had an impressive castle, titles, and a beautiful wife. But it was not in his nature to complain. He was a knight and knights did as they were told.
“I just came from Southern Wales,” he finally said. “It is calm for the most part. I heard no stirrings of revolt.”
Gart grunted. “All the Welsh do is revolt,” he muttered. “The Scots, too. And the French. Can no one simply do what they are told these days by those who demand to rule them?”
Keller was back to grinning. “You have spent enough time in the wars in France to know the answer to that,” he said. “No one wants to be subjugated these days.”
“Speaking of subjugated,” Rhys said as he peeled back his hauberk, revealing the sticky black hair beneath. “How has it been for you around here? Any excitement?”
Keller just looked at him. Where to start? After a moment, he simply shook his head. “Let us go into the great hall and I will tell you the madness that has been commonplace here since my arrival.”
Gart looked interested. “Madness?” he repeated. “Have we missed something?”
Keller could only lift his eyebrows. “That would be a simple way of putting it.”
*
Chrystobel presented a lovely meal for Nether’s newest guests. After being introduced to Sir Gart Forbes and Sir Rhys du Bois, she had run back to the kitchens were the servants were preparing a great feast. Great pitchers of ale, made from barley from their own fields, appeared on the tables and were quickly consumed by the two big knights and over one hundred senior soldiers they had brought with them into the great hall. The rest of the English mingled with Keller’s forces to the north side of the bailey and near the gatehouse, swelling the ranks of the English to almost eight hundred men. Nether was a big place and was able to accommodate the crowd, but the d’Einen soldiers were rather outnumbered. The sight of so many English made them nervous.
When Chrystobel sent the ale to the hall, she also made sure to send barrels of ale out to the soldiers in the bailey, English and Welsh. She didn’t want to neglect any of Nether’s inhabitants, and especially the Welshmen who were not overrun by the English. Meanwhile, the cook and two of the kitchen servants began making loaf after loaf of dense brown bread and, piping hot, the loaves were sent out in waves to the great hall and troops outside. Butter went with the loaves, giving the men something to eat while the cook worked on re-heating roast mutton and covering it with a rosemary-peppercorn gravy made from the rosemary in Chrystobel’s garden. As the mutton was being sauced, an old kitchen servant was making a great, hearty stew made from dried peas, barley, and carrots over an open flame in the kitchen yard in an iron pot big enough for a man to bathe in. The stew was thick and delicious, seasoned with onions and precious salt, and soon everyone was partaking of the mutton and of the stew. It was a glorious feast, indeed.
With everything running smoothly, Chrystobel stood in the corner of the hall, watching her husband, William, George, Aimery, and the two enormous English knights as they devoured the meal. The hall was rather lively, being so crowded, alive with conversation and filled with smoke from the hearth and the wanderings of hungry dogs. Men were laughing and talking everywhere.