Read Online Brothers' Fury (Bleeding Land Trilogy 2) by Giles Kristian - Free Book Online
Authors: Giles Kristian
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me,’ he said, though his eyes said different.
‘Then I have wasted my time,’ Bess said, standing.
‘Sit down, Bess,’ her grandfather said.
‘Why? I have work to do and our business is concluded.’
‘Sit down.’
‘Why, my lord?’ she said, the title all but spat.
‘Because I have not finished looking at you, girl,’ he said, patting the air with a hand. ‘How do you suppose to lure the young wolf back into the fold? And what will you do with him if you manage it?’
Bess held his eye and, deciding she had nothing to lose, sat back down.
‘You are a wealthy man, Grandfather.’
‘Wealthier than I appear,’ he admitted. ‘But I have found in times of war no prudent man should beat the drum about his fortune. Not unless he wants to piss his money away on muskets and horses for soon-to-be-dead men.’
‘I want you to buy Tom a royal pardon,’ she said, the very idea sounding preposterous now she had given it voice. ‘Such things must be possible. For a man of your standing.’
But to her surprise the old man did not laugh or scoff. He steepled his ringed fingers as Merrett came in with a leather pitcher and a chamber pot, which he tried in vain to place surreptitiously behind his lord’s chair before refilling his cup. Then he came to Bess but she shook her head.
‘I played the part in King James’s court,’ the earl said then, almost grinning. ‘Hell’s beast but there were some young blades back then.’ He drank. ‘Most are long dead now of course. But his son,’ he said into his cup, ‘his son is a different man. I know him not.’
Bess made to rise again but her grandfather’s hand bid her wait.
‘For all that His Majesty has requested me at court many times. You are not the only one who wants my money, Elizabeth.’ He pinned her with those deep eyes that must once have made women’s hearts flutter but now rested upon plump cushions. ‘You still have not told me why I would help you.’
‘You hold no sway at court,’ Bess said.
‘My money does,’ he riposted. ‘Money always commands an audience.’
This was true enough, Bess thought, and so she would answer him.
‘You would help me because perhaps you are tired of being alone,’ she said. ‘Or because you are old and doing good might ease your conscience before it is too late.’
The old man stood up now and picked a log from the basket by the hearth. ‘I have been alone a long time, granddaughter,’ he said, weighting the last word, ‘and am resigned to dying here …’ he glanced around the dimly lit room, ‘in this house.I want no part in the quarrel that has got men so excited.’ He shook his shaggy head. ‘The fools do not know what war is, for if they did they would not be so eager for it.’ He bent, placing the log in the fire with a trembling hand which he did not remove until the log was just as he wanted it. ‘I have seen war and have no appetite for it,’ he said, straightening and looking at her again, firelight playing across his face, bronzing his grey hairs and beard. ‘Should the rebels beat the King, gain their great victory and turn the world on its head, what would I care? Pray tell, girl. I shall be gone soon enough. I have no family whose place in this world I am bound to preserve.’
‘We are your family,’ Bess said, unsure if the old man sought her pity or her anger. ‘You cannot undo what was done long ago, but you
can
help me. Together we might, God willing, give my mother back her sons. Tom and Mun are enemies and should not be. Your blood runs in their veins, Grandfather. Help me bring Tom back before he is killed in some muddy field or strung up for a traitor.’ The words sickened her but she could not hide from the fate Tom was courting. She feared her mother could not survive another such tragedy. Or perhaps Bess feared for herself. ‘If Tom knew the King would pardon him he would come over to us,’ she said, realizing that she still gripped the now empty cup in
‘Then I have wasted my time,’ Bess said, standing.
‘Sit down, Bess,’ her grandfather said.
‘Why? I have work to do and our business is concluded.’
‘Sit down.’
‘Why, my lord?’ she said, the title all but spat.
‘Because I have not finished looking at you, girl,’ he said, patting the air with a hand. ‘How do you suppose to lure the young wolf back into the fold? And what will you do with him if you manage it?’
Bess held his eye and, deciding she had nothing to lose, sat back down.
‘You are a wealthy man, Grandfather.’
‘Wealthier than I appear,’ he admitted. ‘But I have found in times of war no prudent man should beat the drum about his fortune. Not unless he wants to piss his money away on muskets and horses for soon-to-be-dead men.’
‘I want you to buy Tom a royal pardon,’ she said, the very idea sounding preposterous now she had given it voice. ‘Such things must be possible. For a man of your standing.’
But to her surprise the old man did not laugh or scoff. He steepled his ringed fingers as Merrett came in with a leather pitcher and a chamber pot, which he tried in vain to place surreptitiously behind his lord’s chair before refilling his cup. Then he came to Bess but she shook her head.
‘I played the part in King James’s court,’ the earl said then, almost grinning. ‘Hell’s beast but there were some young blades back then.’ He drank. ‘Most are long dead now of course. But his son,’ he said into his cup, ‘his son is a different man. I know him not.’
Bess made to rise again but her grandfather’s hand bid her wait.
‘For all that His Majesty has requested me at court many times. You are not the only one who wants my money, Elizabeth.’ He pinned her with those deep eyes that must once have made women’s hearts flutter but now rested upon plump cushions. ‘You still have not told me why I would help you.’
‘You hold no sway at court,’ Bess said.
‘My money does,’ he riposted. ‘Money always commands an audience.’
This was true enough, Bess thought, and so she would answer him.
‘You would help me because perhaps you are tired of being alone,’ she said. ‘Or because you are old and doing good might ease your conscience before it is too late.’
The old man stood up now and picked a log from the basket by the hearth. ‘I have been alone a long time, granddaughter,’ he said, weighting the last word, ‘and am resigned to dying here …’ he glanced around the dimly lit room, ‘in this house.I want no part in the quarrel that has got men so excited.’ He shook his shaggy head. ‘The fools do not know what war is, for if they did they would not be so eager for it.’ He bent, placing the log in the fire with a trembling hand which he did not remove until the log was just as he wanted it. ‘I have seen war and have no appetite for it,’ he said, straightening and looking at her again, firelight playing across his face, bronzing his grey hairs and beard. ‘Should the rebels beat the King, gain their great victory and turn the world on its head, what would I care? Pray tell, girl. I shall be gone soon enough. I have no family whose place in this world I am bound to preserve.’
‘We are your family,’ Bess said, unsure if the old man sought her pity or her anger. ‘You cannot undo what was done long ago, but you
can
help me. Together we might, God willing, give my mother back her sons. Tom and Mun are enemies and should not be. Your blood runs in their veins, Grandfather. Help me bring Tom back before he is killed in some muddy field or strung up for a traitor.’ The words sickened her but she could not hide from the fate Tom was courting. She feared her mother could not survive another such tragedy. Or perhaps Bess feared for herself. ‘If Tom knew the King would pardon him he would come over to us,’ she said, realizing that she still gripped the now empty cup in
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