Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(196)

The mood of the room darkened. Keller’s brow furrowed as he reached out and accepted the missive.

“The messenger told you this?” he clarified. “Where is he?”

Rhys shook his head. “The man handed it to our sentries and swiftly departed,” he said. “He said he had to return immediately. What messenger would do that? He should have waited for a response from you at the very least.”

Keller was growing increasingly puzzled as he noticed the seal on the message. The dark green wax bore the stamp of Shropshire – a shield crest with a diagonal line through it and the words “Deum super omnia”. God above all. Keller gazed at the seal a moment before breaking it and unrolling the parchment.

As Rhys and Chrystobel stood by in tense silence, Keller read the carefully written missive. It looked as if an educated man had written it. The seconds ticked away as he digested every word. By the time he got to the end of the parchment, he began to speak.

“De Boulers has been attacked by a local Welsh warlord,” he said. “He asks for help. Hen Domen, if I recall correctly, is near the town of Trefaldwyn on the marches. I must see my map to be sure.”

Since Keller had been conducting most of his business in the small hall, the maps, parchment, and writing instruments he had brought with him were stored on a rather large writing table that had been brought into the room for just that purpose. He set the missive on the small feasting table and went over to his collection of maps and other items, rifling through them until he came to the map he had been looking for. As he turned back for the feasting table, he glanced at Rhys.

“You had better find the other knights and send them to me,” he said. “And wake William. He will need to hear this, too.”

Rhys nodded and was gone, quitting the keep as Chrystobel stood there in fearful silence. Her gaze was fixed on her husband.

“What does this mean?” she asked, trying not to sound frightened. “Are you leaving to go to battle?”

He had his map half-unrolled but went to Chrystobel and put an arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple. “It is not as bad as all that, I am sure,” he reassured her. “By the time we get there, the fighting will more than likely be over.”

He kissed her again and dropped his arm from her shoulders, taking his map over to the feasting table and unrolling it, anchoring the ends with fat tapers. As he hunched over it, studying the map that depicted all of Wales and the entire stretch of the marches, Chrystobel came up behind him. She studied his broad back, his powerful form, as he scrutinized the map. He was thinking of the marches and she was thinking of him. God’s Bones, how she would crumble if something were to happen to him. She was so very frightened for him. Reaching out, she touched his back, her hand moving across his broad body until it came to rest on his hip. Laying her cheek against his upper arm, she held her husband to her, feeling his warmth and life, trying not to let her fear get the better of her. Instead, she focused on the map to take her mind off her disquiet.

“That is a lovely map,” she said quietly.

Keller’s eyes were on the mid-marches. “It belonged to my grandfather,” he said. “When I was assigned to Pembroke Castle, my father gave it to me. It has been invaluable.”

Chrystobel noted the lovely designs and clean lines. She also noted the de Poyer family crest – a big red shield with three birds of prey in yellow. She’d never seen it before.

“My father has maps,” she said. “They were in his chamber and I packed them away.”

Keller nodded. “I found them,” he said. “I went through his possessions before they were stored and took the maps. They are mingled with mine now. His maps of the interior of Wales are more detailed than mine.”

Chrystobel’s gaze moved to the pile of maps and papers over on the writing desk against the wall. She could see her father’s smaller maps neatly stacked on the table with Keller’s bigger ones. Not wanting to further distract her husband with chatter, which was really just nervous chatter on her part, she remained silent, leaning against him as he continued to study the map.

Too many sorrowful things were going through her head. She knew Keller was a knight and had fought many great battles. Perhaps, foolishly, she had hoped that would end when they married and they could live in peace for the rest of their lives. Aye, it had been a foolish thought, she knew.

Sighing sadly, she moved away from Keller, wandering over to the end of the small feasting table where the missive from Shropshire lay partially opened. She wasn’t trying to be nosy, nor was she particularly curious about the missive, but she happened to look at it as she moved towards the end of the table. As her gaze moved over the letters, she noticed something suspicious about them. She’d seen letters like that before, many times, and she reached out, snatching the parchment and unrolling it completely. As she read the scribed characters, her eyes widened with both shock and dismay. Dear God… it couldn’t be!

“Keller!” she gasped. “This… this missive!”

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.