Keller looked up sharply from his map at the sound of her voice. “What is it?”
Chrystobel’s mouth popped open. She couldn’t help it. Horror flushed her veins as she held the missive out to Keller.
“This is my brother’s writing!” she hissed. “Gryffyn wrote this!”
Keller snatched the missive from her, peering at it. He could feel the woman’s terror and it bled over onto him. But, more than terror, his most predominant emotion at that moment was rage. Pure, unbridled rage.
“Are you certain?” he demanded, aghast.
Tears popped to Chrystobel’s eyes and she nodded furiously, so much so that her careful braid began to unravel. “Aye,” she said, her voice tight. “I would know his writing anywhere. I have seen it enough to know that Gryffyn wrote this missive!”
Keller stared at her, seeing her complete sincerity. But he still had his doubts, futile doubts clawing at him in the face of something quite shocking. Could it really be true?
“It is still possible for more than one man to have similar writing,” he said, having difficulty disputing her. “An educated man wrote this. I can tell from the words.”
Chrystobel wiped at her eyes. “Gryffyn is educated,” she insisted. “My father made sure all of his children could read and write. God’s Blood, my sister can write in three languages and so can Gryffyn. Believe me when I tell you this is his writing. He is trying to mislead you!”
After a moment, his focus moved back to the missive. The more he looked at it, the more disgusted and enraged he became. By the time the knights joined him in the small hall, he had been working on a steady simmer for at least a half of an hour.
Woe betide the man who truly enraged Keller de Poyer.
*
“It bears the seal of Shropshire,” Keller told his knights. “I can only assume that d’Einen either stole a seal or had one made. Who’s to know how he came across it in the first place, but he evidently has. This is the last time this man will try to deceive me. If he truly believes I am stupid enough to fall for this, then he is in for a rude awakening. I will play his game but I will win it, once and for all.”
Rhys was reading the missive as Keller spoke. The other knights were looking rather disgusted by the entire thing, enraged and frustrated as Keller was that Gryffyn d’Einen was going to such lengths to destroy him. As Keller fumed, Rhys glanced over at him.
“Are we completely sure this was written by d’Einen?” he asked. “No disrespect intended towards your wife, but I have seen Shropshire’s seal and this is it. What if this truly came from Shropshire and the handwriting is from someone else who scribes similarly to Lady de Poyer’s brother?”
Keller wasn’t offended. In fact, he nodded his head in agreement to everything Rhys was saying. “I have thought on that myself,” he said. “My wife is convinced it is her brother’s writing and given that we’ve been attacked twice now by Welsh rebels, with no true knowledge of how the rebels always seemed to know our every movement, my suspicion has been that Gryffyn d’Einen has been behind it all along watching everything we do. This missive, if indeed written by him, would only confirm that suspicion. The man is trying to destroy me.”
Rhys drew in a long, slow breath. “I cannot disagree with you,” he said. “But unless we have someone who comes to us and confirms that he saw d’Einen write this missive, we must go on the assumption that it indeed came from Shropshire and that Shropshire is calling for aid. We cannot refuse the call.”
Keller sighed heavily. “I am aware of that,” he said. “But let us assume it is not from Shropshire and that d’Einen indeed sent it. For what purpose? The only logical assumption is that he is trying to get me out of Nether, but why? To attack my army on the road?”
Behind him, William shook his head firmly. “Nay, Keller,” he said. “I had dealings with d’Einen, lest you forget. I saw the man in action. It would be my guess that he is trying to remove you from Nether altogether. With you away, the castle will be vulnerable to a rebel attack. He is trying to get you out.”
Keller looked at William, pondering his statement. With another heavy sigh, he turned away from his knights and began pacing. The knuckle-popping started again, in earnest, as it usually did when he was frustrated. It was his habit of choice. Carefully, he considered the situation.
“So he is trying to remove me,” he muttered, more to himself than to the others. “He wants to remove me so he can claim Nether and, more importantly, claim his sisters. He knows I would not take the women with me on a battle march, so I can only assume he wants to get at them.”
“He will kill them, Keller,” William said quietly. “You know this to be true.”
Keller nodded, his gaze lingering on William. “I cannot go the rest of my life fighting off my wife’s brother,” he said. “Eventually, I may fail and the results could be devastating. He would reclaim both Nether and my wife, and this I could not stand for. It would therefore stand to reason that I must eliminate him. I have been spending all of my time on the defensive. Mayhap it is time to go on the offensive and eliminate the man once and for all.”
William and Gart, who was standing next to William, nodded in agreement. “He means to destroy you,” Gart insisted. “You must destroy him first.”
Keller knew that. He paused a moment, staring up at the ceiling as he thought over the situation carefully. He had the finest knights in all of England on his side. It was time he used them to his advantage.
“Very well,” he decided, finally turning to look at the group. “If d’Einen wants me out of Nether, then mayhap I shall go. At least, to his eyes, I shall be taking my army to Shropshire, but in reality, I will be here at Nether, waiting for him to make his move.”
“A trap?” William cocked an eyebrow. “An excellent idea. What did you have in mind?”
Keller scratched his head in thought. “How many men do I have here at Nether?”
“Five hundred and fifty,” William replied.
Keller absorbed that number. “I have to send more than just a few men out in response to the Shropshire missive,” he said. “If the Welsh are watching, and you know they will be, they will be suspicious if I only send out one hundred men. It has to be more than that to make a good show of things.”