The Dark Brotherhood: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Creed just looked at her and shook his head. “Marion de Witt is betrothed to Rory Burleson from Hexham because they are close neighbors. And I promise that you will not be an old maid.”

  Gaira came back out of the chamber she shared with her five other sisters, sneering as she fussed with the blue cloak on her shoulders. “And Romney Burleson has his sights set on Emma,” she taunted her sister. “She has the breasts of a woman and you are as flat as a board.”

  Cora turned red-faced. “I have so got breasts!” she thrust out her flat chest. “See? They are growing larger every day.”

  Creed put his hands over his ears. “Stop!” he roared, scaring the girls into silence. When he saw their wide-eyed expressions, he quickly regrouped. “Downstairs, ladies,” he said calmly. “Now, if you please.”

  “Dada, do you think I am as flat as a board?” Cora asked.

  Creed whistled loudly, pretending not to hear her. Receiving no answer from her father, Cora resumed sticking her tongue out at her sister but dutifully descended the stairs. Emma was right behind the battling pair while Moira, the five year old, was still fussing inside the large chamber. Creed stood in the door of the big, cluttered bower, watching his black-haired, blue-eyed daughter dig under her bed.

  “Moira, my love, we must go,” he hissed gently. “What are you doing?”

  Moira’s head came up. “My poppet, Dada. I cannot find her!”

  Creed set down the bags and cloaks in his arms and found himself on the floor, in full armor, searching under the bed for a doll.

  “If you cleaned some of the clutter out from under here, you might be able to find her more easily,” he told her.

  “Please, Dada!”

  Creed grunted as he was forced to stand up and move the bed aside in order to retrieve the doll. But Moira’s happy face soothed any irritation. He cupped her little head in his massive hands and kissed her cheek.

  “Happy?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Thank you, Dada,” she said sincerely.

  With his child in tow, Creed picked up the bags and cloaks once more and descended the stairs only to find the entry hall at the bottom empty. Holding Moira’s hand, he quit the keep and descended the exterior stairs into the bailey. There was an entire entourage of de Reyne soldiers waiting to escort the baron and his family to the nuptials of Sir Gilbert d’Umfraville. Oddly enough, the spoiled young lad had grown into a rather calm and handsome young man, so the nuptials were something of a joyous occasion.

  A soldier came running to him as he neared the entourage, taking the baggage from his arms and going to load it on one of the pack wagons. Creed approached the carriage that held his five daughters, two sons and two nurses and lifted Moira up into the cab. Making sure everyone was properly settled, he looked at Carington as she stood next to the carriage. Their eyes met and he smiled.

  “Ready?” he blew out his cheeks in a heavy sigh.

  She nodded wearily. “Finally.”

  “Do you want to ride with me for a little way?”

  She looked into the cab, already seeing that Cora and Gaira were not getting along. They tended to be the most aggressive pair and she shook her head sadly.

  “I’d better not,” she said. “I canna leave the wolf pack alone for too long. They might eat each other.”

  “Can I at least take Rossalyn? She loves to ride with me.”

  Carington shook her head. “She stays with her sisters. I dunna like her on that snappish charger and ye know it. ’Tis no place for a young lady.”

  His looked disappointed, yet resigned, as he pulled her into his arms. His dusky blue eyes were soft on her. At thirty-one years of age, she had hardly a line on her face. She was still as beautiful as she had been when he had first met her at nineteen and there were no words strong enough to describe his adoration for her. He worshipped her.

  “I have said it before and I will say it again; the girls act just like you,” he murmured, bending down to kiss her tenderly. “You only have yourself to blame for their wild streak.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, her body filled with the fluid warmth she associated with her husband. Something about the man filled her, comforted her, like nothing else. He was her rock.

  “Then it is my duty to ride in the cab and keep the beasts at bay,” she murmured. “I’ll not be far away if ye need me.”

  His lips were on her ear. “I always need you.”

  She smiled, feeling him kiss her ear, her cheek. “Which is why we’ve had seven children in twelve years.”

  He pulled back, grinning, and released her. “Complaining?”

  She shook her head slowly, her emerald eyes filled with reverence. “Never.”

  He began to close up his helm in preparation for mounting his warhorse. Carington watched him proudly, gradually distracted by the squabbling in the cab. Forced to look away from her beloved husband, she glared at her tussling daughters.

  “Cora,” she snapped. “I am going to sit in that cab between ye and Gaira for the entire ride to Prudhoe and so help me, if either one of ye utter a harsh word, I’ll tan yer hides.”

  Cora and Gaira immediately shut their mouths, their eyes wide at both their mother and father. That lasted about two seconds until Moira decided she was chilly and yanked the traveling blanket off of Gaira. That started the avalanche all over again and Creed stuck his head into the cab.

  “Ladies, please,” he said softly, reaching out a massive mitt to still the tussling hands. “If you behave yourselves, I promise that when we arrive at Prudhoe, I will take you into town and buy you all something very pretty.”

  The girls squealed with excitement. “Me, too, Dada?” Annabella wanted to know. Being the only obedient girl in the bunch, she didn’t want to be left out of the bribe.

  He reached out and touched her dark head. “Of course, honey. All of you.” He looked back at the three squabblers. “Agreed?”

  “Agreed, Dada,” they said in unison.

  Creed stood back from the cab and winked at his wife. He was not sure if he believed the girls but he had to try; he hated to see their mother punish them and he knew from experience that she would. Carington just pursed her lips at him in disapproval.

  “Ye spoil them, Creed,” she admonished softly.

  He took her elbow and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I treat them like I treat you.”

  Carington had no snappy reply to that. She allowed her husband to help her into the cab, receiving a tender kiss from him as he departed. The last she saw of her husband was as he made his way back towards the head of the escort.

  Creed was smiling as he made his way to his warhorse. Life was good and there was no reason not to smile. Furthermore, he was thinking of Ryton this day, so many years after the man’s death at Hexham. Every time he returned to Prudhoe, he thought of his brother. He wished the man could see him now.

  A conversation lingered in his mind, one he had reviewed many times over the years as one daughter after another was born. He could just see Ryton’s reaction to six daughters; the mere thought always made him laugh. He knew what Ryton would have said.

  Creed, you’re a saint.

  He was not a saint. But he had certainly found heaven.

  * THE END *

  THE DARK LORD’S FIRST CHRISTMAS

  A Medieval Romance Short Story

  By Kathryn Le Veque

  Author’s Note

  We’re going to call this “How Jax found the true meaning of Christmas!”

  Consider this tale an extended epilogue to The Dark Lord. The story is a cross between A Nightmare Before Christmas and It’s a Wonderful Life. When a man who has never known the milk of human kindness tries to integrate into a world that is alien to him, anything can happen. He wants so badly to please Kellington, but things like forgiveness and gratitude just don’t register much with him – with sometimes hilarious results.

  This story takes place six months after the end of The Dark Lord and Kellington is pregnant
with their first child. This is such a new world for Jax and it was a delight writing about him, as he has evolved, six months down the road. There’s even a Christmas carol about it, which follows the traditional theme of Christmas carols in that some of them were kind of depressing. Some of them even talked about eating pigs with mustard, and so on. Weird, I know, so Jax’s carol follows along those lines.

  This is a short story (shorter than you’re used to), but a fun one. I sincerely hope you enjoy this little Christmas treat.

  Love,

  Ajax’s Lament: 12th century – Christmas Carol

  Deep inside my weary bones

  An emptiness I’ve never known

  Confusion has me, far and wide

  For Christmas joy has seen to hide.

  From me, it hovers beyond my grasp

  This bliss of season, that does not last

  Then, upon me came a joy

  A season’s light

  A holy boy.

  An Angel found me in the snow

  Who I was, he did not know

  He had love in life I’d never seen

  A simple lad

  But as rich as a king.

  I returned home a joyful soul

  To my wife, whom I love so

  We live in peace and love, you see

  That season of joy

  Now lives in me.

  Part One: For Christmas Joy Has Seen To Hide

  Pelinom Castle

  December, 1180 A.D.

  “Where are you going?”

  She was caught.

  Standing in the snowy kitchen yard on a cloudy day that was so cold even the ground itself was frozen, Lady Kellington Coleby de Velt paused as she heard her husband’s voice. She’d been trying to avoid him, and his men, by leaving through the postern gate in the kitchen yard, but she should have known better. The man had eyes and ears everywhere, watching every move she made. At times, that wasn’t a bad thing and she didn’t mind, but when she wanted to leave the castle undetected, it was problematic.

  Like now.

  She stopped and faced him.

  “Cutting boughs,” she said casually. “Do you wish to accompany us?”

  She was indicating her maids, four of them, and her dear friend, Lavaine. Lavaine and her new husband, a knight whose name was Njordul Crosby-Denedor but was known only by Denedor, had come to visit for the Christmas season, mostly because Kellington had been ill with her first pregnancy and her husband thought the visit of a friend might cheer her up.

  It had.

  It had also motivated her to get out of bed when the physic told her to stay put. Kellington had never been one to remain idle and to stay in bed left her feeling useless and unhappy. Jax had tried to entertain her, as much as he was able, but the truth was that this was all new to him. He’d never had to think of anyone other than himself up until a few months ago, so this venture with a new wife and a child on the way was quite alien to him. The man simply had no idea what to do.

  But he did know one thing – Lavaine’s visit was causing Kellington even more restlessness, counterproductive to what he’d been trying to attain. It was why they all found themselves out in the frozen kitchen yard in what was becoming a standoff. Ignoring the women with his wife, his focus was only on his beautiful, blonde-haired angel and doing a slow burn in the process.

  “Nay,” he said after a moment. “And you shan’t be going with them, either.”

  Kellington knew that would be his response and she was prepared. Sir Ajax de Velt, her husband of several months, was an attentive and caring husband, a most important statement considering who he was…

  The Dark Lord.

  A man that, up until a few months ago, had lived a life of legend. Horrific legend. He’d spent the last several years conquering castles in the north in a scorched earth campaign that had struck fear into even the most seasoned warlords. There had been no honor in his actions; he’d killed men, women, and children just as easily. He made no differentiation. He’d ripped up the north until he’d come to Pelinom Castle, which he tore up as well until the daughter of the castle commander garnered his interest.

  She didn’t meet with a pole through her body, a slow death for all to see. She served a purpose at the very rich castle, for she was the chatelaine and understood the workings. He kept her on purely for that function but, quickly, it had developed into personal interest, and that personal interest turned into attraction.

  For the man who had never known the warmth of human kindness, it had been a distinct shock to realize he felt love.

  But it hadn’t been an easy road. He tried very hard to understand how his life had changed. He’d even sent his crew of bloodthirsty knights away, men known as the Titans. They’d gone back to the properties he’d conquered and Jax had even given them permission to use his army to venture forth and make new conquests, but he wasn’t part of it. He took his cut from the spoils of war, and the army still kept his name, but he’d remained at Pelinom with his new wife, managing his empire but not taking an active role any longer in the warfare aspect. It was the best Kellington could get him to agree to and, for now, she was satisfied. She had to be.

  Rome wasn’t built in a day.

  And sometimes, Rome wanted to revert back to its usual command and control mode, like now. Kellington took a long look at Jax as he faced off against her; an enormous man with enormous shoulders and arms, built and bred for battle. He had dark hair, the color of a raven’s wing, that fell to his shoulders, and a square-jawed face that was quite handsome. But his eyes were his most outstanding feature – they were basically brown, but he had a huge splash of green color in the right iris, making it appear at first glance as if the man had two-colored eyes.

  Devil’s Eyes, some would call it, which worked to his advantage when trying to subdue towns or castles or people in general. It was one of the most valuable scare tactics in his arsenal. Like now – Kellington was certain by the way he was glaring at her that he was trying to intimidate her into submission, too, but it wouldn’t work. He didn’t frighten her any longer. If anything, it was the other way around.

  “But it is soon to be Christmas,” she told him, hoping he would soften up. “The sky is becoming cloudy and I am certain we shall see snowfall tonight, so we are going to cut fresh boughs from the trees and bring them back to decorate the hall. It will be so festive and beautiful.”

  “Nay.”

  He was going to be stubborn about it. Not even a flicker of bending to her will. Moving away from her female companions, Kellington made her way towards him. She’d always been able to work magic with him if she pleaded a little. The man had absolutely no practice with women and, therefore, no defenses.

  She was counting on it.

  “We are simply going to go a little way into the trees and cut boughs, my pet,” she said softly, using her term of endearment for him. “I promise. I will not exert myself in any way. Lavaine and the others will carry everything. Please?”

  “Not a chance.”

  She frowned, finished with the sweet manner. “I have been forced to sit in bed for the past two months,” she said, unhappy. “I must get out. I cannot be caged any longer.”

  Now, his hard stance was starting to fracture. “You are confined to your bed for your safety and the safety of my son,” he said patiently. “You know this, Kelli. Do not make it seem as if you are being imprisoned against your will.”

  She was grossly frowning now, hormonal and annoyed. “I am not an animal to be penned up. I must get out into the air and breathe once in a while.”

  Jax could see a tantrum coming and he wanted to stave it off. His firm stance with her wasn’t working, which he had been hoping it would, and now all he was succeeding in doing was angering her.

  Women were odd creatures, indeed.

  “I deny you for your safety and the safety of my son,” he repeated. “Would you prefer that I not care?”

  Now, her defiant stance was wavering. “Of course
not,” she said. “But what harm will it do to go out and cut boughs for an hour or two?”

  He folded his enormous arms across his chest. “And even with your good intentions, what if you go out and strain yourself?” he asked. “What if you return today and you have injured yourself, and the physic tells you that our son may not survive because you wanted to walk about in the snow? How will you feel then? Would the boughs have been worth it?”

  She didn’t have an argument for that. Gazing up at him, her eyes began to fill with tears and he broke from his harsh stance, going to her and putting his arms around her. He really didn’t want to upset her, but he didn’t think she was being very reasonable. He held her tightly against him, his face in the top of her head, inhaling deeply the scent of the woman he loved so well.

  “I hate that I cannot do anything,” she wept.

  He fought off a smile as he turned her for the keep. “I know,” he said quietly. “But it is only for a little while. When my son is born, you can run amok in the snow however you please.”

  Kellington was sniffling, wiping her eyes as Jax practically dragged her towards the door into the keep.

  “But I want boughs in the hall,” she said. “It makes everything smell so nice and fresh. Will you go get my boughs?”

  He started to refuse, but she looked up at him and her watery eyes crushed his rising resistance. God, this woman made him feel like a fool at times. He sighed heavily.

  “I am not a woodsman, Kelli,” he grumbled.

  “Nor am I, but I was still going to cut some branches.”

  He looked at her as if she’d just made the most ridiculous statement in the world, but that was as far as it went. He didn’t fight her on it. He considered it time well spent if it would make her happy and keep her from going out and overexerting herself. He sighed again, but it all came out as an unhappy growl.