Page 73 of The Earl

The sullen look on his friend’s face reminded him of something he’d nearly forgotten in the chaos of the morning. Two nights prior, a messenger had arrived from Lord Brefton, who had been camped outside the city for more than a sennight.

A mercenary company had contacted him with an offer of assistance—a rarity given they did not typically concern themselves with politics. The messenger had refused to explain the reason for the offer but had said his master was none other than Bernard Lavallais.

Guy’s father.

Unfortunately, though he’d sent the company, his father had not accompanied the mercenaries.

“Do we need them?”

He knew the answer Guy sought, but Conrad could not give it.

“If we move forward with an attack, aye, we will need every man willing to fight for us.”

Guy’s normally jovial mood, already soured by the persistent banner, did not improve with the knowledge that he would be forced to fight alongside men sent by a father who Guy did not wish to be indebted to.

“They are here because of you,” he told Guy.

Conrad highly doubted the mercenaries cared about their cause. Or any cause. Coin was their usual motivation, and none was being offered here. Guy’s father had only sent help because of Guy’s involvement in the order.

“Any man who can convince a company of mercenaries to fight without payment does so out of love, however misplaced it might seem.”

“Love,” Guy scoffed. “Who is the man who stands before me?” He made to rejoin the others, all of whom were still loudly debating—although not refuting Conrad’s decision.

“One who has likely just sentenced us to death,” Conrad answered. “No invading force has taken London before without heavy consequence. And if we’re captured . . .”

They would be coming for Conrad first.

The others quieted, looking at him, but he had only the truth to give them.

“It appears London does not welcome us. As you know, the task ahead is all but insurmountable. But if we go home now, we forfeit all to the king. Some more than others, for he will surely seize every title and bit of land and property we possess. If we fight, ’twill not be an easily won victory, but at least we will have tried.”

He made sure all of them understood his decision. Satisfied, Conrad looked down at the banner once more. Still Lackland’s.

He pictured Cait then, lying atop him on their wedding night. He’d been right to insist on marrying her straightaway. Never had he possessed such a powerful motivation to fight. To win.

Conrad swallowed and then bellowed, “Who among you fights with me?”