The Falls of Erith by Kathryn Le Veque

of money could
coerce me to shame myself by kicking over a castle made of sand and call it a
victory. My skills are worth far more than that.”
    “Your
talents are for sale and if I pay the right price, you will do as I wish.”
    “Sell
me your rights or I’ll raze Creekmere.”
    What
had been a fairly pleasant atmosphere of professional bargaining suddenly
turned ugly.  The mood that swirled between them was dark, moody and ominous.
The baron looked at Braxton as if the man had lost his mind.
    “You
come into my home and threaten me?” he hissed.
    “Not
a threat, my lord. Consider it a promise of things to come. I will buy
Serroux’s debt for thirty thousand gold marks, assume your rights to the
Serroux heiress, and hear no more about it from you.  Are we clear?”
    The
baron was red in the face.  His mouth worked into a thin, angry line. “What
about an alliance? You will be my neighbor. Can I expect hostility from you as
my neighbor?”
    “If
you are worried about allegiance, consider me a loyal neighbor.” He leaned
forward on the table, his blue-green eyes as hard as stone. “And I assure you,
baron, that you would much rather have me as a friendly neighbor than a bitter
enemy.”
    “You
are giving me little choice.”
    “I
am giving you none at all.”
    Wenvoe
weighed his options. This day had not gone as planned, but with the acquisition
of thirty thousand marks of gold, it had not been entirely unpleasant.  He held
his furious gaze a moment longer, just to know how displeased he was with de
Nerra’s threats.
    “Pay
me my money before daybreak and be gone with you.”
    “Put
your agreement in writing and you shall have your money by within the hour.”
     Exactly
an hour and half later, Braxton and his men were back on the road to Erith. But
not before they made a slight detour to Kendal.
     
    ***
     
    “Mama!”
    In
the kitchen yard, Gray heard her daughter calling her. But she was busy
churning butter, as the elderly cook had injured her back, and had not the time
to stop what she was doing to respond to her child.  She called out instead.
    “Here,
Brooke. In the kitchen!”
    Clad
in brown broadcloth and the mended apron, Brooke raced around the side of the
keep and straight into the kitchen yard.  Her blond hair was everywhere, her
cheeks flushed with excitement.
    “Mama,
he’s come back. Sir Braxton has come back!”
    Gray
did come to a halt, then.  Puzzled, she wiped the sweat from her brow with the
back of her hand before wiping her palms on her apron. It was just shy of
sunset; Braxton had been gone a little over a day and already he was back.  She
felt a strange sense of excitement at her daughter’s announcement.  But she
also wondered why he had returned so soon.
    “Where
is he?” she asked as the two of them left the kitchen yard.
    Brooke
was half-trotting, half-walking. “In the bailey. Hurry, Mama. He’s brought
gifts!”
     Gray
froze for a moment, staring at her excited daughter. A bit bewildered and more
than curious, she resumed following her bouncing child out into the main
portion of the bailey.
    Braxton
and his men were indeed returned. The five massive wagons were being parked against
the southern wall while the bulk of the army was already setting up their
encampment.  Brooke decided her mother wasn’t moving quickly enough and raced
back to grab her hand, tugging her along. Very shortly, they ran headlong into
a big black charger with an equally big knight astride it.
    “Sir
Braxton,” Brooke said excitedly. “Here she is. I found her just as you asked.”
    Gray
looked up, shielding her eyes from the glare of the setting sun. Braxton was
astride his destrier, clad in full battle armor. She’d never seen the man with
his helm on. In fact, she’d never seen him in full armor. Every time she had
been around him, he had been in various stages of dress – mail only, pieces of
plate armor, and no armor at all.  He didn’t seem fanatical about maintaining
his