George was riding at the head of the small army. There were forty men behind him, including his brother Aimery, who had been married the previous year to William Wellesbourne’s eldest daughter. William had moved his family to Nether several years ago, his wife and three children, and while the two younger children had gone off to foster, Aimery had married the very pretty Rose Wellesbourne. But Rose moved back to Pembroke when the Ashby-Kidd brothers were stationed there, so it was a bit of a wonderful surprise for William, in the gatehouse, to see that Rose had accompanied her husband to Nether for a visit. It was even more of a surprise when William saw his daughter’s gently swollen belly and realized she was pregnant with his first grandchild.
As Rose and William hugged happily in the gatehouse, George entered the bailey and dismounted his big black steed. As he passed the horse off to a soldier and headed towards Keller, who was moving towards him from the direction of the keep with a small girl in his arms, the de Poyer twins made an appearance.
Cal and Staff had been playing over near the corner of the keep, specifically because William had told them to stay away from the busy gatehouse. Unhappy, they were building something with the stones that were scattered all over the bailey, but when they saw George, they focused in on the man. They remembered George when he had visited at Christmas time. He had a brother that looked just like him, but the brother was starting to bald whereas George wasn’t. That’s how they recognized him. Furthermore, George had tied them up to a chair when they stole his coin purse out of his saddlebags. Worse yet, he had told their father, who had promptly spanked them. Nay, the boys weren’t happy with George’s appearance in the least. It was time to get even.
As George made his way towards Keller, Cal and Staff gathered handfuls of small pebbles. George was several feet away from Keller, lifting his hand in greeting, when he began to feel a stinging sensation on his legs and arms. It took him a few moments to realize that Cal and Staff were throwing rocks at him. He came to a halt, scowling at the boys, who continued throwing the pebbles. With a shake of his head, frustrated and resigned, George dodged flying pebbles as he closed the gap to Keller.
“Greetings, my lord,” he said to Keller. “You and your young daughter are looking quite well today.”
A pebble smacked him right in the cheek and his hand flew to his face, turning to scowl menacingly at the boys. Keller, however, was rather pleased with his sons’ aim. He was hoping that if they threw enough rocks, perhaps George would leave and Izlyn would remain unmarried. But he knew that was a foolish thought so he held up a hand to his twins, admonishing them to stop. Cal and Staff ceased their assault, at least for the moment. When their father returned his attention to George, Cal fired off a pebble that hit George in the back of the head.
“The boys have not forgotten how you punished them for stealing your coin,” Keller commented as George rubbed the back of his head. “Even at their young age, they have a sense of vengeance.”
George eyed the naughty twins. “They are going to have a sense of my hand to their backside if they are not careful,” he grumbled, then looked quickly at Keller. “With your permission, of course.”
Keller fought off a grin. “Of course,” he agreed. “But I seem to remember two brothers in my service a few years ago, twins of course, who fought and threw punches at the slightest provocation. Do you remember those two?”
George sighed heavily, grinning reluctantly. “I believe I do,” he said, trying not to laugh because Keller was. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Izlyn standing at the keep entry and suddenly, his attention was diverted. The young woman filled his field of vision and his smile turned appreciative. “She has grown more beautiful since the last time I saw her.”
Keller turned to see what had the young man’s attention. In fact, he didn’t even have to guess. He knew. Izlyn was standing several feet away, holding little Genevieve, and she was gazing at George with the same expression that George had. It was the same expression Keller had when he looked at Chrystobel. It was love. Clearing his throat softly, Keller headed for the castle.
“Let us go inside and share some wine as we discuss marriage details,” he said to George. “But I suppose you would like to speak with your intended first.”
George’s eyes were riveted to Izlyn as he followed Keller. “May I even take her hand?”
Keller cast him a long look over his shoulder. “Nay,” he said flatly. “You may not touch her until the wedding.”
George was disappointed but not deterred. Ultimately, he would get what he wanted and that was all that mattered in the end. As he followed Keller, he felt the resumption of little stings on his back and legs as Cal and Staff commenced throwing pebbles at him again. When Keller was well enough ahead of him, George stopped, whirled around and picked up a handful of dirt and rocks from the bailey in the same motion, and fired off several pebbles of his own that sent the naughty twins running for cover. Then, he dropped the dirt, brushed off his hand, and trotted after Keller, catching up with the man just as he was ascending the steps into the keep. The twins remained in hiding.
Chrystobel greeted George warmly and stood aside when George greeted Izlyn. The two lovers stood there, staring at one another dreamily, until Chrystobel shoved Keller into the keep and followed the man so her sister could be alone with her intended. Izlyn and George could hear Keller voicing his strong objections and then Chrystobel telling him that if she had no objections to leaving them alone, then he should have no objections. Keller grumbled and they could hear a door slam. Izlyn giggled at the fading sounds.
“He is very protective,” she said. “But, certainly, he has nothing to worry about. You are always perfectly behaved.”
George didn’t want to disillusion her, not just yet. That would come later when he was legally and morally allowed to do whatever he damn well pleased to her. He smiled saucily as he began to dig into his blue Pembroke tunic.
“For now, anyway,” he said, adding a bold wink. “You look well and beautiful, as always.”
Izlyn blushed prettily. “Thank you,” she said. “Have you been well?”
“I have,” he said quietly. “I have missed you very much.”
“And I have missed you. The longing has been dreadful.”
“For me as well,” he said. He continued to rummage around in his tunic, finally pulling forth what he was searching for. He held something up between them, pinched between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “I was packing my belongings the other day and came across this, wrapped in a small piece of linen I had tucked into my saddle bags. I thought you might like to see what I have been carrying for luck ever since you gave it to me.”
Izlyn peered at the object. It looked like a dried weed, flattened by time and age, but when he turned it more in her direction, she realized that she was looking at the thistle she had given him the day before Gryffyn had been killed. She gasped as realization swept her.
“You gave this to me years ago,” he said softly, watching her astonished expression. “Do you recall?”