CHAPTER FIVE
“We were stripped of our knighthood,” Mathias said steadily. “We were told never to pick up arms again. We were never told that we could not compete in tournaments.”
Justus was beside himself. As the storm raged outside and sunset turned to night, he stood in the middle of the warm, smoky stall he shared with his two sons and listened to the eldest spout nonsense. He was truly at a loss for words.
“Have you gone mad?” he hissed. “You cannot compete in the tournament!”
“Why not?”
Justus threw up his arms. “Because you are no longer a knight and only knights can compete!”
Mathias shook his head. “I am a warrior,” he said in a tone that suggested no debate. “That can never be taken from me. I have had my titles and lands removed, but not my heart. I can compete and I can win.”
Justus stood there with his mouth hanging open. He finally shook his head, twitching-like, as if his entire body was in an uproar. “Where has this come from?” he demanded, his gray hair swishing back and forth. “Since January one year ago, you have been quiet and obedient. You have never as much as lamented your fortune, Mathias, although if anyone had a right to, you did. Sometimes I wondered if you even cared. Now you want to do something foolish and reckless that could land us all in the Tower? I do not understand you!”
“It is not foolish and reckless.”
“It is!”
As Justus told Mathias just what he thought of the man’s inclination to compete in the coming tournament, Sebastian was listening, too. He had been since he had heard his brother’s wild idea. He was all for doing something disobedient, but he was frankly surprised that his brother was. Mathias was usually so dutiful. He began to suspect why his brother wanted to compete and further suspected that the lovely Lady Cathlina de Lara had something to do with it. He had begun to suspect his brother’s attraction to the woman earlier in the day but now it was all but confirmed. It was amusing, really. He’d never known Mathias to care about a woman, any woman.
“Mat,” he interjected as Justus worked himself into a fit. “Do you recall that knight who passed through here about six months ago, the one that died while we were repairing his armor?”
Mathias turned his full attention to his brother. “The one stabbed in the tavern brawl?”
“The same.”
“What about him?”
Sebastian came out of the shadows, unfolding his big arms as he looked at his brother. “We still have all of his possessions,” he said quietly. “Do you recall that we kept them because no one came forward to collect them?”
A light of understanding came to Mathias’ eyes. “I do indeed.”
Sebastian faced his brother seriously. “Father is correct. If you really do want to compete, you cannot do it as Mathias de Reyne,” he said. “But mayhap you can do it as Sir Chanson de Lovern. We have everything he left – his shield, most of his armor, his joust equipment. We even have his saddlebags that contained letters regarding the death of his father, the Earl of Banbury.”
Mathias’ features registered the brilliance of his brother’s suggestion. “I remember,” he said. “Where are his items?”
“Up in the loft, I think,” Sebastian said, looking at Justus. “Isn’t that where you put his possessions, Da?”
Justus growled and began shaking his head. “I tried to sell them.”
Sebastian nodded impatiently. “I know you did, but you never managed to because no one could afford it,” he said. “The equipment is expensive and well-made, and there is plenty for Mathias to use and pose as Banbury’s heir.”
Justus threw up his arms again as if beseeching the heavens. “Now they are both mad,” he exclaimed. He looked pointedly at Sebastian. “You cannot do this!”
Mathias and Sebastian were quite calm about it. “Aye, I can,” Mathias said. “No one will know it is me. I will make sure of that. Sebastian, bring down all of that gear from the loft and let me take a look at it. As I recall, de Lovern was taller than I am but not as wide. We will have some adjusting to do.”
Sebastian went off in search of the stored items. Justus, meanwhile, was doing less ranting as the reality of what his sons were planning began to sink in. Now, he was becoming frightened. He knew what Mathias and Sebastian were capable of; he’d seen it too many times. Mortimer had depended upon that cunning and determination too many times to count. Aye, he knew what Mathias had in him. The man was a beast in disguise.
“Mathias,” he said quietly, raging wouldn’t do any good so perhaps calm reasoning would. “Lad, if you are found out, you know what trouble this will be for you. Why risk it?”
Mathias was over by the enormous bellows, looking at a half-finished broadsword they had been working on for a local baron. It was a beautiful piece that the baron had paid handsomely for, but it wasn’t finished. Justus had the skill to make beautiful swords and this one was one of his finest works. Mathias pulled it from its cage and inspected it closely.
“I have been thinking,” he said, somewhat quietly. “Mayhap Sebastian has been right all along. Mayhap it is time to redeem ourselves. A tournament is a safe place to start. I will not be picking up a sword or bearing arms in the course of war. It is essentially a game of skill. With the money I win, mayhap….”
Justus was extremely interested. “Mayhap what?”
Mathias looked at him. “Henry de Beaumont is looking for men,” he said. “We can relocate to Scotland and fight those wars the Scots constantly fight. The money will help us redeem ourselves as knights and as men, and we can mayhap marry and have families and homes.”
Justus was astonished. “Marry?” he repeated. “Mat, you have never expressed an interest in marriage, ever.”
“I am interested now.”
Justus stared at him, mulling over his statement and remembering the very beautiful young woman Mathias had spent the afternoon with. Suddenly, it was all starting to make some sense.
“That girl?” he said. “Has she asked you to compete?”
Mathias frowned. “Of course not,” he said. “For all she knows, I am a smithy and nothing more. She has not asked anything of me.”
“But she has put ideas in your mind,” Justus pressed. “Has she spoken of marriage?”
Mathias put the sword down. “Da, she has not said or done anything,” he insisted. “But I would be lying if I said she has not made me realize what has been taken away from me. If my lands and titles had not been stripped, I could command a bride as fine as her, but in my current state… nay, she deserves more than a smithy. She deserves a man who can provide for her in a manner in which she deserves. With a wife like that, I could take on the entire world and win. She would make me proud again.”
Justus’ heart hurt as he listened to his son speak of things he hadn’t spoken of since that dark January day. He’d always suspected Mathias’ thoughts but to hear the man speak of them was heartbreaking. He’d lost so very much in a circumstance that had been both unjust and unfair, that had seen some men retain everything and some men lose everything. But it had been the way of things.
“You will regain what is yours again someday,” Justus said softly. “Alberbury Castle and Caus Castle will be returned to you as will the Westbury Barony, and you will once again be known as Baron Westbury, High Warden of the Northern Marches. When enough time passes, Edward will soften and you shall regain what is rightfully yours.”
Mathias was looking at the sword, half-finished, in its iron cage. “I do not share your confidence,” he muttered with sadness in his tone. “My mother was the sister of Roger Mortimer’s wife, Joan. When Mortimer and the king became at odds, I had no choice but to side with my family.”
Justus could feel the anxiety beginning. “You did what was expected.”
Mathias snorted. “I left my friends, my king… I sided with the usurper because he was my family.”
Justus’ jaw ticked as he watched his son, seeing the tension in the man’s body as he spoke. “Edward understands,” he insisted softly. “That is the reason he did not kill you when Mortimer was captured.”
Mathias’ jaw ticked as he looked at his father. “He did not kill me because he was my friend,” he said, his teeth clenched. “That fact, and that fact alone, was the only reason he did not put us all to the blade.”
Justus suspected that a year of remaining silent on the subject of losing his knighthood was about to come to a head. Mathias was working himself up and Justus hastened to ease the man.
“Tate and Kenneth and Stephen pleaded for your life,” he said quietly as Mathias began to pace. “They all love you, lad. You were spared because they understood your reasons for siding with Mortimer. It was not because you wished to see Edward dead. It was because Mortimer is your uncle by marriage.”
Mathias’ eyes flashed. “Wished the king dead or not, siding with Mortimer killed my knighthood. Edward might as well have put me to the blade. I was dead the day I swore fealty to Mortimer.”
“You are too hard on yourself.”
Mathias’ jaw ticked furiously. “Nay, I am not,” he said, leaning on a post near the great and scarred anvil. “I am not hard on myself at all. The truth is that I should have been smarter. I should not have let family ties influence me to side with a man I knew had no right to rule England. I should have stayed with my king… and now see what my judgment has cost me.”
Sebastian picked that moment to enter the room, his arms full of equipment, but Justus held a hand up to still him. Mathias was letting loose his emotion and Justus didn’t want Sebastian interrupting something that was long overdue.
“This too shall pass,” Justus insisted softly, urgently. “The tides of politics change as frequently as the seasons. Soon, you shall have your life restored to you. Edward is wise, lad. You have friends in very high places. The name Mathias de Reyne means something. Your castles will be returned to you, as will your titles and lands. But it will not happen if you defy the king by bearing arms in a tournament or fleeing to Scotland to fight in their foolish wars. You must be patient.”
“I am patient,” Mathias roared in an uncharacteristic display of rage. “Da, I have worked my entire life to achieve greatness few men do. It was taken away from me, mayhap justly or mayhap not. In any case, I have been patient for these long months, watching other knights ride through this dirty little village and knowing my greatness far exceeded theirs once… God’s Blood, once… once I was the man all men feared. I want that back. Now, I see something I want very badly and all of those things I lost those months ago… I want it back, because I must have it in order to have her.”
So it was the girl. Now they had the crux of Mathias’ change of heart. Justus’ gaze lingered on his eldest a moment before turning to look at Sebastian.
The redheaded knight was still standing in the doorway, watching his older brother have a moment of weakness. He had heard most of the conversation. But, unlike his father, he was unwilling to talk Mathias out of competing in the tournament. He wanted to see his brother’s greatness restored, too, because if Mathias was great again, then he and Justus would be as well. Moreover, he wasn’t very good at dealing with emotion so it was better to move past it quickly.
“Here,” Sebastian pushed into the room and laid the equipment out on the hacked-up, sturdy work table that was nearly in the center of the stall. “This is all of it, Mat. There is almost a complete set of armor plus various smaller weapons, tunics, banners, and based on the missive regarding de Lovern’s father, we could have one of the priests at Lanercost Priory draw up a bill of Patins. You will need it to enter the tournament.”
Mathias, finished feeling sorry for himself for the moment, began rummaging through the armor and pieces of mail, all of which had been left by the unfortunate de Lovern. He could feel the familiar excitement filling his veins with thoughts of competitive combat and the thrill of the joust. It seemed like forever ago when last he competed.
“We will have to pay the priest well for his cooperation,” Mathias said as he held up the section of shoulder armor for inspection. “We will also have to create an entire lineage for Banbury. Da, what do you know of the Earl of Banbury?”
Justus was still entrenched in their conversation, his heart still heavy and his mood morose. “Not much,” he said, watching his boys rifle through the possessions of the dead knight. “I think he is related to Wallingford.”
Mathias’ head came up. “Viscount Wallingford? He fought with Edward. If I recall correctly, he was killed during the Despenser conflict. I was a fairly young knight at the time but I seem to remember hearing that.”
Justus nodded slowly; for some reason, he couldn’t look his sons in the eye. Perhaps it was fear for what they were planning on doing. Whatever the case, he kept his eyes on the table with the armor on it. “I believe so,” he said. “The Patins should have Wallingford on it somehow. I also seem to remember hearing there was a de Braose in the family.”
As the storm whistled outside and their three horses stirred restlessly in the nearby stalls, as the smithy stall also had a small stable attached, Mathias and Sebastian bent over the items to see what was serviceable. They began pulling things apart, organizing them, and eventually Justus joined them with a large lantern with oil from pressed fruit pits. Soon enough, he was looking through the equipment, too, to see what needed to be repaired before Mathias took his life in his hands and entered the tournament set for sunrise in two days.
They didn’t have much time.