Noble Line of de Nerra Complete Set: A Medieval Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Val plowed into the group, using his big right fist when he wasn’t using the sword in his left hand. If one wasn’t flying, the other one was. He wasn’t exactly sure why there was such a big fight going on when they were only searching for one man, so he made his way through the crowd until he came to one of his sergeants.

  “What is happening?” he demanded, ducking when one man took a swing at his head. He retaliated by kicking the man in the gut only to punch him in the face when he doubled over. “Who are all of these men?”

  The sergeant had a nick on his shoulder, bleeding through his mail and tunic. “There was a contingent of soldiers inside, breaking their fast,” he said. “They did not take kindly to the fact that we burst in from the rear and threatened them.”

  So it was a group of men unrelated to their fugitive. “Damnation,” Val hissed. This was a complication they hadn’t needed and he had to get the situation under control. “Try to calm everyone down. Spread the word amongst the men to try and calm these men down rather than fight them. Is that clear?”

  The sergeant nodded, avoiding a sword that was aiming for him and trying to talk to the man rather than respond. As Val pushed his way back through the fight, he caught sight of Mayne just inside the door of the tavern, tossing a limp body outside. Val didn’t know what happened and he didn’t ask, but he was heading in Mayne’s direction when he caught a glimpse of someone on the road, running for the livery. A second glance showed a man heavily armed, in well-worn mail and a tattered tunic. It was just another soldier until Val caught a glimpse of the man’s red hair peeking out from his helm.

  Red hair!

  Val veered away from Mayne and the roiling mass of fighting men, pushing his way through and bursting free, heading in the direction of the livery. With his men tied up fighting a group of unhappy soldiers, Val realized he would be the only one to confront the knight who had just dashed into the livery. He was running so fast that he didn’t even notice McCloud and the young woman, still standing where he had left them at the mouth of the livery. Val burst into the stable and nearly crashed into the knight who had just claimed his blue roan warmblood.

  “Hold,” Val said steadily, his broadsword poised but not raised, at least not yet. “I have a question before I permit you to leave, if you will indulge me.”

  The knight turned to him, his pale face flushed. Noting Val’s broadsword, he immediately unsheathed his weapon.

  “Get out of my way,” the knight growled.

  Val remained cool. “Give me your name and I will consider it.”

  “Get out of my way!”

  Val didn’t budge. He could see the man was vastly nervous, for his upper lip had beads of sweat on it and his breathing was coming in heavy pants. He could see the man’s facial hair, reddish-blonde in color, and the red curls were spilling over his shoulders from beneath his helm.

  But it was the eyes… something in the eyes bespoke of rage and fear. Val knew he had to treat this situation very carefully if he wanted to accomplish his goal. The punishment of this man, this murderer, was Lord Horsham’s right, but if the knight moved against him, Val would be forced to defend himself. He didn’t want to kill him. Therefore, he had to be smart about the situation.

  He took a deep breath, his mind working quickly.

  Be clever!

  “Alas, I cannot,” he said, more calmly. “My name is de Nerra. I am the Itinerant Justice in this area and I am hunting for a man who is due a fortune. I am told he had red hair and a blue roan horse. I only wish to give this man the money, so could this man I seek possibly be you?”

  It was a manipulative way to not only lower the knight’s guard, but to, perhaps, even cause him to give his name. Val was brilliant in that sense. As he watched, the fear in the man’s eyes flickered with confusion.

  “A fortune?” he repeated. Then, he shook his head firmly, struggling with his horse’s saddle in order to cinch it up. “Nay, I am due no money.”

  “But you fit the description,” Val insisted, lowering his sword so he could prove he wasn’t a threat. “Your red hair and your horse’s color fit the description perfectly. I received an edict from a lord to the north, in Alton I believe, who swore that his nephew was due money. His name was de Wyck.”

  The knight came to a halt, looking at Val with wide eyes. He was torn between suspicion and glee; Val could see it in his eyes. The knight knew very well that he wasn’t due any money but the mention of his name had him questioning that knowledge. Did he, in fact, have an uncle he knew nothing about? A rich uncle? Seeing the indecision, Val sought to press his point.

  “Will you please come with me to see if we can settle this matter?” he asked. “I am told it is a great deal of money. If it were me, I would certainly want to find out if I had a fortune coming. But mayhap you are wealthy enough that you do not need any more money?”

  That was a ridiculous question considering the state of the knight’s clothing. The horse, as fine as it was, was even wearing well-repaired tack, tatters of once-fine regalia. It was, therefore, clear that the knight had no money. Val was counting on that fact, with the lure of money being enough to force the knight to trust him.

  “De Wyck,” the knight finally mumbled. “Who is this lord?”

  Val shook his head. “I do not recall,” he said. “The name is on the edict but I do not recall. All I know is that the lord is north, towards Alton. Do you have relatives up there?”

  “I do not.”

  “Is your name de Wyck?”

  The knight paused. “It is possible,” he said, “but I have no uncle to the north.”

  “But you fit the description I was given. Clearly, someone knows of you.”

  The knight eyed him. “Is that why you are here in Whitehill? Searching for me?”

  “Indeed. I’d heard rumor of this blue roan and sought to locate you.”

  It wasn’t exactly a lie. In fact, it was very close to the truth. The knight opened his mouth to reply but he was interrupted when Mayne came charging into the livery in the company of several soldiers. One look at Val standing next to a knight with red hair and a red beard was all he needed to continue his charge with heavily-armed men at this side, all of them rushing towards Val and the knight.

  It was an ambush. Instantly, the red-haired knight went into defensive mode, grappling for the broadsword at his side. Val knew that he had to prevent the man from producing the weapon because he, personally, would be the first target. Therefore, Val’s sword came up as fast as he could possibly move it, the tip of it coming to bear on the face of the red-haired knight.

  In that instant, everything seemed to come to a blinding halt.

  “Move and I shall drive this blade through your eye,” Val hissed. “Drop your weapon. I will not tell you again.”

  The red-haired knight looked at Val with a mixture of terror and fury but, to his credit, he did as he was told. He let go of the hilt of his sword and the weapon slid back into its sheath.

  “Who are you?” the knight hissed. “What do you want of me?”

  Val never took his eyes off of the knight’s face but he could see in his periphery as the blue roan was moved away and Mayne appeared, coming up behind the fugitive from justice. As Mayne and a pair of soldiers grabbed the knight and began to strip him of his weapons, Val stood back and watched.

  “Lord Horsham has something to say to you,” he said, watching a look of disbelief ripple across the knight’s features. “You murdered his son. He wants his vengeance.”

  The knight’s pale face turned red with anger. “Then all of that about a fortune….”

  “Was a lie.”

  “It was to keep me here until your men arrived!”

  “Possibly.”

  Mayne threw the knight onto his face, down into the muddy floor of the livery as he tied the knight’s hands behind his back with hemp rope. With the suspect subdued, Val turned away from the scene and headed out of the livery to see what had become of the battle in fron
t of the tavern. He was feeling smug in his accomplishment, pride in a job well done. He had his man. As soon as he emerged from the stable, he could see that the tavern battle had essentially come to a halt although there were still several men out front, including his own, who were talking and pushing each other about. But at least they were no longer fighting.

  Relieved to see that the skirmish had died down, he looked off to the north to see if Calum and Kenan had been faced with similar obstacles when raiding the tavern they were charged with. He could see men milling around in the distance, out in the road, but he couldn’t really tell what was going on. Given that Val had accomplished his goal, he sent one of his soldiers to The Peacock and the Flame to call off Calum and Kenan. As he stood there and watched the man run off, he heard a quiet voice behind him.

  “Wherever you go, trouble follows,” McCloud said quietly. “It has been a long time since I have seen the tempest that you bring about, Val. It reminded me of days of old.”

  Val turned around to see McCloud and the young woman standing a few feet away. He’d completely forgotten about them. There was a smile on McCloud’s face, which caused Val to smile in return.

  “This was nothing,” he said with feigned arrogance. “You should have been with me last week when we captured a gang of outlaws who had been robbing travelers on the road between Holybourne and Ropley. That was quite a fight, I must say. They were not very cooperative.”

  McCloud laughed softly. “I remember now,” he said. “You are the law in this area. I had forgotten about that appointment until now.”

  Val nodded. “Indeed, I am,” he said. Now, the arrogance was real. “I have been the Itinerant Justice of Hampshire ever since I returned from France. There is not much that goes on in my jurisdiction that I do not know about. I am proud to say that I have made it a safer place for all, now with the capture of this murderer.”

  McCloud could see the pride in the man. That was the Val he knew, prideful and confident. “Is the invitation still open to sup?” he asked.

  Val nodded. “I would be hurt if you did not accept,” he said. Then, his gaze moved to the cloaked woman at McCloud’s side. “Your companion is welcome also.”

  McCloud looked at the woman standing next to him, reaching out a meaty hand to grasp her arm and pull her closer, as she seemed to be standing off on her own. “This is my daughter,” he said. “I have been rude not to introduce her to you but it did not seem quite proper in the middle of your fight.”

  Val grinned. “Now is the perfect time,” he said, his gaze lingering on the woman well hidden by the hood of her cloak. All he could see was her chin and part of her mouth. “My lady, I am Sir Val de Nerra. I am honored.”

  McCloud beamed at his child. “This is Lady Vesper d’Avignon,” he said. “I am returning her home from fostering, in fact. That is why we are on this road.”

  “Oh?” Val said, increasingly interested in the woman who didn’t seem apt to show her face. “Where did you foster, my lady?”

  Since he was addressing her directly, it would have been poor manners not to reveal herself and answer. A white hand with long fingers reached up to pull the hood away and Val found himself staring into the face of an exquisitely beautiful woman. Her dark hair was long and wavy, the front of it pulled away from her face, and big hazel eyes sat above high chiseled cheekbones and a bow-shaped mouth.

  “Eynsford Castle, my lord,” she said.

  Her voice was deep for a woman, but smooth and silky. Val rather liked it. “I know it well,” he said. “I know your lord, William de Eynsford. How long were you there?”

  “Since before my father went to France,” she said, looking at her father. “Eight years.”

  “I do not seem to recall your father mentioning he had a daughter in all the time we served together.”

  “It is easy to forget girl children.”

  McCloud snorted, a forced laugh. “I could never forget my daughter. You will have Val thinking that I am neglectful.”

  The woman didn’t reply. She simply looked at her father as if she saw no humor in his statement. Val couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her; the more she spoke in that deep, husky tone, the more he wanted to listen. He didn’t even notice that Vesper seemed to be looking at her father rather hostilely as McCloud gazed at his daughter with a mixture of anxiety and humor. It was an odd combination.

  Had Val had eyes for the situation at that moment and not Vesper in particular, he would have seen the mixed signals between father and daughter. But he didn’t. His inspection of the lady was cut short when his men emerged from the livery with the prisoner, heading into the corral where their horses were.

  “I am afraid that I must attend to some business at the moment, but please continue on this road until you come to a fork,” he said. “Take the fork to the right and that will take you directly to Selborne Castle. My mother is in residence. Tell her I have invited you both to feast with us tonight and she will make you comfortable.”

  “We shall look forward to it,” McCloud said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  Val smiled although it was clear he was distracted with his prisoner. He bowed briefly to them both.

  “I am eager to return home and hear of your adventures since I last saw you,” he said. His gaze inevitably moved to Vesper. “My lady.”

  With that, he excused himself, heading towards the corral where his men were gathered. McCloud and Vesper watched him walk away, a very big man with a brilliant smile. Confident, seasoned, he radiated power.

  He was a man with the world at his fingertips.

  He was also a man that Vesper wanted nothing to do with.

  When the big knight was finally out of earshot, heading back to his men and their struggling prisoner, the lady turned to her father.

  “Why did you accept his invitation?” she hissed. “We must go home, Papa. We cannot delay.”

  McCloud’s gaze was on Val in the distance. “Nay, Daughter,” he muttered. “Not yet. Did you not hear the conversation? God has put us here, today, so that I could see my old friend, Val. This moment could not have been more fortuitous.”

  Vesper sighed heavily, hanging her head. “It is not fortuitous,” she insisted. “Why would you want to walk into the lion’s den? He is the law in this area. Or did you not hear him?”

  “I heard him.”

  “Then why must we sup with him?”

  McCloud took his daughter by the arm and, together, they began to walk out onto the road. They had no horses to transport them; horses were expensive and they had not the money to spare on them. The only horse they had belonged to McCloud’s son and Vesper’s brother, Mat, and he needed the animal for his activities.

  Unspeakably dark activities concealing a ghastly family secret.

  “You are not looking at this as a great moment,” McCloud said. “I firmly believe that God put us here, today, so that we could meet with Val. I have not seen him in two years and, suddenly, here he is right in front of us. This is the answer to our prayers, Vesper. You cannot know how I have prayed for… help with your brother.”

  Vesper shook her head. “It is not the answer to your prayers,” she said, coming to a halt and facing him. “And it is not help you ask for Mat, but absolution for his heinous deeds. Do you know why I am coming home, Papa? Do you even understand? It is because you and Mat have gotten yourself into a terrible situation that must be stopped.”

  McCloud tried not to look too remorseful, guilty at his daughter’s scolding. “Mat is doing what he needs to do in order that we should survive,” he said quietly. “I have told you that.”

  Vesper was growing angry. “You are not surviving,” she hissed. “What you are doing… Papa, it is horrific. We have had this conversation many times over the past week, ever since you came to Eynsford and revealed this horrible life you and my brother lead. Now, we must have this conversation again – are you so blind that you do not even realize that what Mat is doing is wrong?”

>   McCloud was having difficulty looking her in the eye now. “If you were starving, you would see things differently.”

  Vesper threw up her hands in frustration. “Are you truly so complacent?” she asked. “Do you truly not know right from wrong? Mat is killing in order to survive and he is going to be caught. You will be hanged with him because you do not stop him!”

  So she had spoken of the situation aloud, the truth behind the horrible family secret. It was painful to the ears, like a stab to the eardrums, but now it was out in the open; Mat is killing.

  Was it true that the House of d’Avignon had sunk so low?

  Truth be told, McCloud had been wrestling with the very same conflicts. He had for some time now, ever since he and his son began to starve and Mat, in order that they should eat, had taken to murdering men, women, and entire families in order to take whatever they had to bring home to his father.

  Simply put, Mat killed so that he and his father could survive.

  McCloud was complacent. Indeed, he was. But he was a sick, old man who was no longer worth anything with a small farm his family had kept for over one hundred years all dried up. The orchards no longer produced and the livestock had gradually been killed for food. Everything the d’Avignon family had stood for was gone now, as if it had never existed, leaving a starving man and son, as desperate as desperate could be.

  And Mat… poor, simple Mat… had never been smart enough or diligent enough to train as a knight. God knows, McCloud had tried. He’d sent his son away to foster only to have the boy sent home because he was dense. He had no skills, no way of learning anything that would elevate his status or create a future for himself, so he’d gone out one night in search of food and had ended up killing a shepherd who had been tending a flock of sheep. Mat had stolen one of the sheep, which had kept him and his father fed for almost a month.

  McCloud had been horrified by the event but his hunger had been stronger than his horror. He ate the ill-gotten sheep because it was all they had. But when there was nothing left but the hide, Mat had gone out again to seek food and had come across a farmer and his wife taking their produce to market. Mat had strangled the wife and bashed the husband’s head in with a rock, taking the cart of produce back to his father’s home. The produce went into the root cellar and the cart was used for kindling. The vegetables had lasted even longer than the sheep had, but once they were gone, Mat was forced to go out and procure food again.