Saxilby glanced at him in puzzlement as he poured his wine. “The great Kenton le Bec would make a fine husband for any woman,” he said. “Are you sure you would not consider lifting a sword for Edward? My daughters all have vast dowries. It would make you very rich.”
Kenton shook his head, trying not to laugh. “Would you really marry one of them off to a man you just captured?”
“Possibly. I have five daughters, le Bec. Capturing their husbands may be the only way I am able obtain husbands for them all.”
Kenton couldn’t help the laughter now. “That is unfortunate, my lord,” he said, “but as I said, I would not make a good husband. Even though I am not married nor betrothed, I am afraid my heart does belong to someone. I suppose that sounds strange coming from a man such as myself, but it is the truth. You will have to look elsewhere for a husband for your daughters.”
Saxilby’s gaze lingered on him, a sort of appraising sense of amusement in his expression. “Then you are a romantic, le Bec?” he asked. “I find that astonishing. Does this poor woman have a name?”
“If she does, you will never hear it from my lips.”
Now it was Saxilby’s turn to laugh. He downed his second cup of wine and poured himself another. “That is wise,” he said. “But you were correct when you said women are strange creatures. They are, indeed.”
Kenton sensed something more to that statement as Saxilby came to him and refilled his cup. He eyed the older man, waiting for him to elaborate, but Saxilby remained silent. Kenton drank deeply of his wine.
“Now that I am your captive,” Kenton said, shifting the subject, “mayhap you can tell me what will become of me now.”
Saxilby nodded. “It is your right, I suppose,” he said, his gaze lingering on Kenton. “Tell me, Sir Kenton, if you were in my position, what wouldyoudo with a prisoner like yourself? A warrior of such high regard?”
Kenton lifted his dark eyebrows in thought. “I would lock me up in the safest place possible, I suppose,” he said. He cast a long glance at Saxilby. “I could possibly ransom me. Or I could send me to Edward as a prize.”
Saxilby snorted. “You would not execute you?”
Kenton shook his head. “I would be more valuable alive than dead.”
Saxilby could not disagree. “That is exactly what I was thinking,” he said, stroking his chin. “It would be a travesty to execute a knight of your caliber. Moreover, I am sure Edward wishes to speak with you. He is a great admirer of yours.”
“That is flattering.”
Saxilby simply lifted a cup to him, as if saluting him, and turned around to rummage for some food to eat. There was a tray nearby with remnants of an earlier meal and the man went to pick through it. Kenton watched him, thinking that the entire conversation had been far too casual. Jovial, even. He couldn’t help wonder if there was an ulterior motive to Saxilby’s hospitality although he really couldn’t think of what, possibly, that might be. Would they try to probe him for information on Henry and Warwick’s movements? That was very likely and Kenton braced himself for that possibility. But before they moved to interrogate him, Kenton had a few things he wanted to know.
“May I ask a question, my lord?” Kenton finally asked.
Saxilby was picking through some stale cheese. “You may. But I reserve the right not to answer.”
“Fair enough.”
“Then ask.”
“You laid siege to Babylon Castle two weeks ago,” Kenton said carefully, watching the man for his reaction. “You fled, defeated, but then now you came to Manchester where I happened to be. You came as an army prepared to engage, as if you knew where I was. What made you come to Manchester? And how did you return so strong after so recent a defeat?”
Saxilby managed to find a few edible bits and brought them over to share with Kenton. “You handed us our defeat at Babylon, did you not?”
“I did.”
“You and the weather.”
“Thank God for all of that snow.”
Saxilby snorted ironically. “God had nothing to do with it,” he said, handing Kenton one of the less-stale pieces of cheese. “Tell me where Warwick is and I will tell you about Babylon and Manchester. Warwick is in Yorkshire, is he not?”
It was a fair question and, Kenton supposed, no great secret. Warwick never made his movements secret. But more than that, Kenton wanted very much to know how Saxilby knew where he was, or how he had happened upon him. He was very curious and increasingly concerned about Babylon now that Edward’s forces knew Kenton was no longer there to protect it. Therefore, he was inclined to give a little information in order to receive some.
“He is in Yorkshire,” he said, although he didn’t say exactly where the man was. “The last I saw the man and his army, he was heading west.”
“Wherein Yorkshire?”
Kenton shrugged. “Your spies could probably tell you better than I could,” he replied evenly. “He said something about Wakefield but that could have easily changed. He could have headed to Leeds or Beeston. He has supporters there, but you probably already know that.”