“By me,” he said. “You want le Bec? I will turn him over to you.”
Lewis’ worst fears were confirmed. He began hissing at Kenton, shaking his head. “Nay, my lord,” he said through clenched teeth. “Youmustn’t!”
Kenton ignored Lewis as four or five Conisbrough soldiers made their way over to him, wandering amongst the capturedWarwick soldiers. By their expressions, it was clear they were wary, looking at Lewis and the enormous knight who was lying beside him. The soldier who seemed to be in charge scowled.
“Where is le Bec?” he demanded.
Kenton peered up at the soldier, a seasoned man, bearing a tunic of yellow, blue, and red, which were Edward’s colors. He could see the shields and lions. Before he could open his mouth, however, Lewis spoke.
“Here,” he said quickly. “I am le Bec.”
The warrior bearing Edward’s tunic looked at Lewis, his brow furrowing. “You?” he repeated in obvious disbelief. “You are an old and broken fool. You are not le Bec.”
Lewis geared up to argue but Kenton spoke, more loudly, which positively killed his aching head. “He is not but I am,” he said. “Tell your commander that Kenton le Bec wishes to speak with him.”
The group of Conisbrough soldiers was much more inclined to believe that the massive knight with the head wound was Kenton le Bec. In fact, their expressions held varied degrees of surprise and pleasure with a fair amount of hatred mixed in. The soldier bearing Edward’s tunic crouched down next to Kenton, looking him over thoroughly.
For a moment, no one spoke. The soldier on his knees next to Kenton seemed to be drawing it all in, the sheer size of the man, digesting the image before him and coming to realize that he believed him. The knight was older, which they knew le Bec to be, and the equipment they had stripped him of had been expensive and well-used. Aye, it was easy to believe this injured man was who he said he was. The more the soldier looked at him, the more pleased he became.
“So you are the great Kenton le Bec,” he said rhetorically, though not impolitely. “You have a good deal of courage admitting it.”
Kenton stopped trying to lift his head; there was too much pain and he was bound so tightly that he couldn’t get his balance even if he could sit up. So he lay there, gazing up at a man who would just as easily kill him as speak with him. Kenton had never felt so vulnerable in his life.
“Not courage,” Kenton sighed. “I am being practical. You are going to beat the information out of my men, anyway, so I am saving you the trouble. Tell your commander I wish to speak with him.”
The soldier’s gaze lingered on him. There was still a chance that the knight could be lying but there were those that knew Kenton le Bec on sight; Saxilby, who had been wounded in the battle, claimed to be one of them but the man was unable to move because of a bad gash to his back and hip. The soldier presumed he could discover if the big Warwick knight was being truthful easily enough.
“I’ve a better idea,” he said, motioning to the soldiers who had accompanied him. “We will take you to him.”
Four men reached down to lift Kenton up as one of them unshackled his ankles. If they wanted him to walk, he couldn’t do it with his feet bound. Kenton bit off a groan of agony as he was lifted up, fighting off the pain and dizziness that swamped him. He couldn’t stand on his own so the Conisbrough soldiers nearly completely supported him as Kenton tried to gain his bearings. It was clear that he was in terrible shape.
It was a status that didn’t go unnoticed by Kenton’s men and they began to protest the treatment of their brave commander. Lewis in particular was very concerned.
“Be careful with the man,” he demanded. “Can you not see how badly injured he is? Take care with him!”
Around him, other men began to shout, louder than before. Soon, an entire chorus arose, demanding that the Conisbrough soldiers be cautious with le Bec. Kenton, hearing their cries,labored through the swaying and nausea, trying to stand on his own feet. The voices in support of his condition infuriated him.
“Enough!” he roared at his men. “You all bellow and whine like old women! Shut your mouths allow me my dignity!”
The men instantly ceased their protests, which told the Conisbrough soldiers that, indeed, the big knight they were dragging away was a man of respect. More than that, he had given an order that was instantly obeyed. Only a man in command would require such obedience and it was clear that his men loved him. That was blatantly obvious. That being the case, the soldier in command slapped the colleague who was holding Kenton up by the right arm.
“Be careful with him,” he said pointedly. “He has a bad wound to the head. Where is the surgeon?”
One of the four men supporting Kenton spoke. “Last I saw he was in Saxilby’s tent,” he said. “Are we taking him there?”
The soldier in command nodded firmly, eyeing the bruise on Kenton’s forehead. Now he, too, was inclined to be careful with the man now that the realization of his identity was confirmed by dozens of prisoners, men who were clearly subservient to him.Kenton le Bec in the flesh,the soldier thought. If he were to admit it, he was a bit awed. He never thought he’d meet such a legendary knight, a man among men in the annals of the battle for the throne. Aye, he was awed, indeed.
“We are,” he finally said. “I think there are a few people who would like to meet him.”
The last Kenton’s men saw of him, he was being dragged off towards a cluster of tents set up on the south side of Manchester and there wasn’t one man in witness who didn’t have a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. They all knew why le Bec had revealed himself because le Bec knew, as they did, that sooner or later, the Conisbrough men would try to beat le Bec’s identity out of them. They had all been resolved to resist but Kentonhad other ideas; he wasn’t about to let his men take a beating protecting him. That wasn’t how Kenton le Bec operated.
Heroics often went beyond mere battlefield behavior. Heroics were in the character of men and in their sacrifices.
Kenton had sacrificed his safety for the sake of his men.
Now, all his men could do was pray.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN