In the Shadow of Midnight - By Marsha Canham Page 0,25
returned to Bloodmoor Keep to reclaim his name and honour, he had not known he would also be reclaiming a son, born a few scant months after he had left on crusade. The mother, a woman of incredible beauty and spine-chilling evil, had played mistress to both brothers and used the bastard child to further her own corrupt ambitions. Eduard’s early years had been years of cruelty and abuse, loathed by a dam who thrived on giving pain, tormented by a man who saw everything that had been noble and valiant in his dead brother growing to manhood before his hate-filled eyes. It was a wonder Eduard had maintained a grip on his sanity. An even greater wonder he had maintained a grip on his life when the Dragon and the Wolf had clashed in their final bloody confrontation.
The death of Etienne Wardieu had set Eduard free. The Wolf had accepted his son proudly and without reservations, but, realizing it was only a matter of time before the prince regent avenged the death of his pet dragon, Lucien had brought his family home to Touraine. There, because he preferred to be known only as La Seyne Sur Mer, Eduard had also, eagerly, severed all ties with the Wardieu and De Gournay names.
The Wolf and his beautiful bride had done everything in their power to erase the effects of those lost and lonely years, and indeed, Eduard had matured into a powerful man, an undefeated champion in the lists, a master with sword and lance whose courage and fighting skills were a source of bowel-clenching terror to enemies who saw him sally forth onto a battlefield or tournament ground. Moreover, he was content, despite Lady Servanne’s best efforts to turn him into a country noble, to continue serving his father to the utmost of his ability, to ride by his side and proudly bear the black and gold standard of La Seyne Sur Mer.
This uncompromising loyalty from the Wolf’s son as well as from his vassals and liegemen was one of the main reasons why the long and sinister fingers of King John had never been able to reach this deeply into the Aquitaine. As prince regent, John had allied himself with the Dragon of Bloodmoor Keep, and had been humiliated at the Wolf’s hand when forced to expose Etienne Wardieu as a usurper. Barely a month after the Wolf’s return to Touraine, John had declared the De Gournay estates in Lincolnshire forfeit due to unpaid scutage. On the Continent, however, he was forced to tolerate the Wolf’s presence at Amboise, both because of the size of Lord Randwulf’s private army, and because of his defensive proximity to the French border. Nevertheless, he rarely missed an opportunity to besmirch the Wolf’s name or remind his numerous admirers that the Baron d’Amboise had slain his own brother and stolen the dead man’s bride.
Another reason for John’s reluctance to do more than verbally assault the renowned knight was that La Seyne Sur Mer was still in the queen’s favour. It was Eleanor of Aquitaine who kept the Black Wolf leashed when he would have risen in support of Prince Arthur as successor to the Lionheart. Instead, it had been the black and gold pennants of Amboise that Arthur had encountered first upon his foolhardy attempt to lay siege to his grandmother’s castle at Mirebeau. It had also been to a black and gold war pavillion that the hapless prince had been taken upon his capture, for despite the Wolf’s disdain for King John and his genuine liking for the Duke of Brittany, he was first and foremost loyal to Queen Eleanor.
And so, by blood and sword, was Eduard FitzRandwulf d’Amboise. Though his heart had been with the young prince, he had ridden with his father to relieve the siege on Mirebeau, and, although the English king’s power was being eroded in Normandy, Brittany, and the Aquitaine, as long as Eleanor commanded the Wolf’s allegiance, the black and gold would continue to defend her borders.
Eduard was anxious to return to that defense. His temper was short and his patience lacking. He had practised with such zeal in the yards the previous day, there had been no un-bruised or undaunted men lining up to challenge him this morning. After a few lackluster rounds of archery—again with no wagers placed against him—it was the surplus of raw, unfocussed energy that had sent him prowling through the bailey and down into the village.