Royal Feud

Chapter 1 England December 1154 Lord Ishton, the king will see you now." Devlin followed the servant through the crowded hall, trying to ignore "L the buzz of the courtiers' chatter flapping against his ears. He mounted the stairs, making a conscious effort to hold himself back and not outpace his guide. The interminable waiting had shredded his patience, and he was anxious to finally discover why the king had summoned him to Palatine Castle. When the herald announced him, Devlin bowed low to his sovereign. Henry dominated the chamber, even though he was not physically imposing. Just the reverse, in fact. The short, stocky king was simply and carelessly dressed in loose-fitting gray breeches and a yellow woolen tunic, as if he had just returned from hunting. This was the first time Devlin had seen Henry, who had been crowned in October after the death of King Stephen. Straightening, Devlin narrowed his eyes as he met Morefy's glance. The earl's corpulent body was draped in a deep red tunic, decorated with rich, intricate embroidery. One would think he was the king and not Henry, Devlin thought. The smug expression on Morefy's face gave him pause. What lies had the earl been feeding the king? He should have known his neighbor would be behind the king's unexpected demand for his presence. Devlin lifted an eyebrow and gave Morefy a mockingly polite nod. He scanned the rest of the solar, noticing several other noblemen in attendance. “Ishton, Morefy has made some very serious accusations against you." Henry paced the room. "Morefy, repeat what you just told me." He waved his hand toward Devlin. "Thank you, your Majesty." Morefy's unctuous, toa voice caused Devlin to tighten his hands into fists. "Ishton beat my youngest son to within an inch of his life. It took Percy almost three months to recover, and he still walks with a pronounced limp, Ishton acted in a fit of uncontrollable rage, without any provocation. Ishton is clearly a danger to the peace and stability of the Mersted Valley. Your Majesty, I humbly request that you confiscate Ishton Castle and lands and give them to Percy as recompense for the harm Lord Ishton did to him." Henry paused near a table set at the side of the solar and picked up a white knight from a chessboard, tossing it idly from one hand to the other as he moved toward Devlin, "Ishton, what say you to these accusations?" "Sire, I came across Percy abusing the young daughter of one of my villeins. He had severely beaten the girl. I do admit that I then thrashed Percy, but I only used the same amount of force he had used to subdue the girl. When I left him, he was able to walk and to ride back to Morefy Castle on his own. The girl was not so fortunate. She died two days later." "Well, Morefy," Henry drawled as he paced to the table again, carefully setting the chess piece down. He picked up a black knight as he advanced toward Morefy. "Seems to me your son's beating is just recompense for the death of Ishtons villein. I see no cause for any action on my part." "Your Majesty." Morefy's voice was smooth and silky, but Devlin could detect by the twitching of his fleshy jowls that his enemy was not so sanguine about his case now. "This is not the first time Ishton has harmed my sons or my property. His knights have trampled my fields, his villeins have stolen my sheep, and he killed my best hunting dog. His vicious falcon almost gouged out the eye my eldest son, Gerald." Henry paced back to the table, tossed the piece he held on to the chessboard, and continued his wandering path around the chamber. Devlin felt the king's sharp gray eyes on him. "What say you to these accusations, Ishton?" "Sire," Devlin spoke softly, making a conscious effort to rein in his anger, "my knights rode through Morefy's fields to retrieve the horses his knights had purloined from me. My villeins did not steal Morefy's sheep but were simply reclaiming their own animals taken by Morefy's men. Morefy's hunting dog was on my land, terrorizing my people, so I was forced to dispose of it. And as for my falcon, she was retrieving the game she had brought down, which Gerald was trying to poach." Henry completed another circuit of the room, reaching the side table again where he picked up the white queen. As he twirled the queen in his nimble fingers, he paced into the center of the solar, between the two men. "Morefy, whence comes your title and lands?" Henry c****d his head slightly to his right shoulder. "Your Majesty, King Stephen granted me the title of earl and the license to build my castle." Henry turned to look at Devlin. "And you, Ishton?" "Sire, your grandfather, King Henry the First, granted the Ishton lands and title to my great-grandfather." "I have been informed by my advisors that this feud between Morefy and Ishton has been going on for years. The feud will end now," Henry said, the look on his freckled face unyielding. "Morefy, you have a daughter of marriageable age, do you not?" "Aye, I do, your Majesty." Morefy shifted his weight. "Ishton, you will wed Morefy's daughter on Twelfth Night. In this way the two warring families will be made into one peaceful family." Henry made his pronouncement as he paced back to the table and set down the queen. Devlin clenched his jaw to keep back the protest he longed to utter. How could he marry the daughter of his enemy? What possible chance would either of them have to make a forced marriage work? "Wyham." "Aye, Sire." A middle-aged man who had been standing quietly at the side of the chamber stepped forward with an easy grace. Wyham was tall and lean. The gray hair at his temple framed his patrician face and contributed to his suave, distinguished appearance. "You will travel back to Ishton with the baron and witness the marriage between Morefy's daughter and Ishton." Henry picked up a knife from the side table. "Morefy," he said, pointing the knife at the earl, "you will provide a dowry for your daughter." Morefy's flaccid, florid face turned even redder when Henry named the figure. "Aye. your Majesty," he agreed. The earl glared at Devlin, his rage and enmity unmistakable.