The Splendid Hour: The Executioner Knights Book 7

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I cannot tell you how grateful I am that we had a few moments to speak,” he said. “I am very sorry that it must come to an end.”

  Liora was still smiling up into his handsome face. “Sabbath is beginning,” she said. “It was all the time I could spare.”

  “And you were most gracious to do so,” he said. He hesitated a moment before continuing. “Demoiselle… as I told you earlier today, I will be heading back for the Marches very soon, to a future of uncertainty, and this time with you has been some of the better time I have ever spent. Any hour with you is a splendid one.”

  Her smile softened at his sweet words. “You are very kind to say so.”

  “It is not kindness I give you, but truth,” he said. “You have indeed given me something to remember when the days and nights are dark and dismal. But I was hoping… and mayhap it is a foolish hope… to see you again before I go.”

  Liora looked at him with much less resistance than she’d displayed earlier, but it was still evident. “Why?” she finally said. “I told you that we can never be friends. What we are doing now is greatly frowned upon. We should simply part and remember a few pleasant moments well spent.”

  He was nodding even before she finished. “I know,” he said. “But I do not want this to end. Demoiselle, if you were a lass from a good Christian family, I would be speaking to your father at this very moment about courting you. You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met before. You’re wise and bright, and beautiful beyond measure. I have alluded to his before, but now I will state it plainly. I want to call upon you, Liora, daughter of Haim. I want to come to know you better.”

  Her eyes widened as he spoke and by the time he was finished, she was backing away. “You cannot,” she said, clearly upset. “Sir Peter, you…”

  “Please – just Peter.”

  She sighed sharply. “Sir Peter, what you ask is impossible,” she said. “You know it is impossible. It is my fault for agreeing to see you again. I should have never done that because it has given you hope where there is none. What you are asking can never be.”

  He watched her move away from him. “Will you answer one question for me?”

  She was several feet away, but at least she’d come to a halt. “I do not know until I hear the question.”

  “That is fair,” he said. “Then here is the question – do you find anything attractive about me?”

  Her eyes widened again. “That is a bold question.”

  “Answer it. Please.”

  She was shaken, off-balance. She began moving away from him again. “I will not answer it,” she said. “You have no right to ask it and I will not answer it.”

  He watched her as she took more steps away from him. “Then I will not ask it again,” he said. “Clearly, I am the only one who feels any attraction between us and I am very sorry if I have made you uncomfortable. That was never my intention. Liora, I wish you a good life. You deserve the best of everything, for always, and I hope you find a husband who will worship you as the goddess you are. And I hope you will remember me with pleasant thoughts and not aversion. Forgive a man who was so smitten with you that it overwhelmed his common sense.”

  With that, he walked past her, heading for the livery where his horse had been stabled. It was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. He simply kept walking, feeling disappointment as he’d never felt in his life. He knew she was right; what he was asking was impossible. But Peter simply didn’t believe in the impossible. If there was a will, there was a way, but she had to want it, too.

  Clearly, she didn’t.

  He was simply going to have to accept it.

  He gathered his horse at the livery but as he emerged from the stable, he saw Liora standing near the corral. Surprisingly, she had followed him, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what she had to say. She had already been quite clear. He paused a moment, his gaze lingering on her, before going to meet her.

  “Can I be of further service?” he asked neutrally.

  Liora was looking at him with those eyes. The woman could positively hypnotize with them. “I…” She paused, swallowed hard, and started again. “You asked me a question and I will be honest with you. When I first saw you, I thought you looked like an archangel. You look as if you have just stepped out of the halls of heaven and to think someone like you should pay attention to someone like me… I still cannot grasp such a thing. Nay, Peter, you are not the only one who felt the attraction between us. I feel it, too. I feel it greatly. But you are a Christian knight and I am not meant for you.”

  Her words restored his soul. At least, most of them did. “Please,” he murmured. “Let me speak with your father.”

  She shook her head. “He would only send you away. It would not do any good.”

  “May I at least take the chance?”

  She was greatly torn. “It is not that simple,” she said. “We are from two different worlds and…”

  He cut her off. “And I am perfectly willing to learn about yours,” he said. “I am willing to do what it takes so that I may see you again. I will…”

  She put her fingers over his mouth to silence him. Peter couldn’t help it; he grasped her wrist and kissed those fingers. Soft, warm, gentle fingers.

  It was enough to set him on fire.

  “Please,” she whispered, trembling at the feel of his lips against her flesh. “Go home and think rationally about this. I must think, too. If you are very serious, then I must speak to the rabbi about this before you can speak with my father. People in my culture do not court simply to pass the time. It is with a purpose in mind.”

  “Agreed. It is done with a purpose in mind.”

  Her eyes widened when she realized what he meant – marriage. It was absolutely shocking but completely, utterly wonderful. And pure madness, were she to think on it. None of this made any sense.

  He didn’t make any sense.

  But she was coming to like that about him – this impetuous, sweet, golden boy.

  “I do not know how this is possible,” she said, growing animated. “You have only just met me. How can you even suggest such a thing?”

  “Because I know what I want. I do not need a week, a month, or a year to decide. When it feels right to me, that is all I need.”

  “And this… me… feels right?”

  He smiled. “You do. And that is why I want to see you again.”

  He couldn’t have been plainer, but still, she struggled with it. “Intermarriages are discouraged to say the least.”

  He kissed her fingers again and removed them from his lips. “Discouraged, but not impossible,” he said. “I want to speak to the rabbi, too. May I come with you? It is true that I do not understand about your culture, so may I come so that I may understand?”

  She closed her eyes, grunting softly at his gentle persistence. It was breaking her down. “Let me think about this tomorrow,” she said. “Please do not come around. Just let me… think.”

  “And then we will speak?”

  “Then we will speak.”

  He seemed satisfied by that, but he looked at her seriously. “I told you that I do not know when we are heading back to the Marches,” he said. “If it looks as if it will be in the next few days, I will be back sooner rather than later. Do you understand?”

  She nodded with regret. Not that she didn’t want him to come back, because she did. But she very much needed to think clearly about all of this. The handsome knight and his charming manners were overwhelming her and she needed to gather her wits without him hanging over her shoulder.

  Being with the man seemed to suck the wits right out of her.

  Peter winked at her and mounted his steed, indicating for her to head home. She did, but he plodded along behind her, making certain that she made it to Milk Street safely. When he saw her head towards her house, he whirled his horse about and headed to Lombard Street, which would take him out of the city.

  She had some thinking to do. Frankly, so did he.
The infatuation had turned into something else, something that could potentially get him into trouble, but he didn’t care in the least.

  Perhaps that was the biggest problem of all.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lonsdale House

  Built from white granite and gleaming like the heavenly halls along the blue ribbon of the Thames, Lonsdale House was a jewel in the de Lohr crown.

  Seated on a bend in the river, Christopher had designed the house so that all of the bedchambers and most of the living chambers had a view of the river. There was also a river gate so lord and ladies could anchor their river barges and visit, but there was still a great deal of security with tall walls and turrets for viewing. Nothing was left to chance.

  The Earl of Hereford and Worcester made sure his family would be amply protected.

  The front of the house faced the road that went all the way from London to Southampton. It was a well-traveled road and travelers greatly admired the great white-stoned de Lohr bastion, from its imposing gatehouse with the lion-head corbels to the four-story manse it protected. There were those in the inner circles who chuckled about the manse because it was well known that the de Lohrs already had a very nice London townhome called Bellham Place that David de Lohr, the Earl of Canterbury, had mostly taken over. Lonsdale was Christopher’s response to Bellham to show his brother that he could do it bigger and better. In response, David had added a massive wing to Bellham that was very nearly done.

  It was the battle of the building brothers on the outskirts of London.

  Evening had softly fallen on the day that had seen Peter and Liora walk near Cripplegate and Peter had made it back to Lonsdale with time to spare before the feast that night. After leaving his horse to be tended in the stables, he entered the massive, heavily fortified front door of the manse only to run headlong into Marcus and Alexander, who were standing before the hearth in the entryway, speaking softly.

  “Where have you been?” Alexander asked. “I’ve not seen you all day.”

  Peter wasn’t sure how much to tell them. In fact, he wasn’t sure he wanted to say anything in front of Alexander, as much as he loved the man. It would be one less person to tell him he was doing something foolish. Therefore, he tried to brush it off with a half-truth.

  “In London,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about having a new dagger made for Papa for Christmas. Where is the old man, anyway?”

  That was sort of the truth. He’d spoken about it before, in the past, but he’d not done anything about. He still hadn’t, but it was a good cover. In answer to his question, Alexander pointed towards the grand solar that had a view of the entire bailey.

  “In there,” he said, lowering his voice. “He has the documents from John for Fitz Walter to surrender Ludlow, Wigmore, and the other two.”

  Peter looked at him in surprise. “John actually did what he said he was going to do?”

  As Alexander and Marcus nodded, Marcus spoke up. “It seems that most of the major warlords received offers today. John is serious about holding up his side of the bargain to get us out of London.”

  Peter wasn’t naïve. He understood the greater implications of the move. “And he’s allowing his rebels to gain even more properties to fortify against him,” he said. “I wonder if he ever stopped to think about that?”

  Marcus snorted. “Probably,” he said. “But we know he has French and Teutonic mercenaries arriving in England, so I am sure des Roches is telling him that pawning off a few castles is not going to hurt his cause. And that is where he would be wrong.”

  Peter looked at the man. “And you?” he said. “What do you get?”

  Before Marcus could answer, Christopher was standing in the doorway of his solar. “I thought I heard you, Peter,” he said. “Come in here. I must speak with you. Marcus, you and Sherry come as well.”

  All three of them headed into Christopher’s solar, which was the last chamber in the entire manse that Dustin hadn’t been allowed to furnish. She’d had fifty-seven other chambers to furnish, including children’s rooms, ladies’ rooms, kitchens, a feasting hall, smaller halls, and on down the line, but when it came to Christopher’s solar, he’d drawn a line in the sand that she wasn’t allowed to cross.

  Therefore, the furnishing could be called spartan.

  It was a two-storied chamber, with a gallery above, shelves for Christopher’s maps and documents, and a stone hearth that had two great lions carved into it. The hearth was as tall as a man, an enormous thing, and the chamber itself was quite grand with the paneled walls and wooden floor, but there was a table in it, a couple of chairs, and that was about it. No rugs, no wall tapestries, no nothing. That solar was the butt of many jokes for the man who had spent a fortune to build it but refused to spend more money to properly furnish it.

  “Papa,” Peter said as he ended up sitting on the floor because Marcus and Alexander had the only two chairs in the chamber. “Will you please let Mama have more furnishings made for this room? I’m a grown man and I must sit on the floor like a child because you will not have enough chairs in here.”

  Christopher fought off a grin. “You are a child,” he said. “You are my child. And sitting on the floor is good for your bones.”

  Marcus and Alexander started to chuckle. “Just admit you are too cheap to spend the money,” Marcus said. “I’ve known you most of your life. You were always miserly, but it is no more readily apparent than it is now. For the love of God, Chris, buy a few more damned chairs.”

  Christopher was over by the table, eyeing the documents that the king’s messenger had brought over earlier in the day. “Nay,” he said flatly. “I do not want men to come into this chamber and be comfortable. I want them to feel edgy and unwelcome.”

  Marcus cocked an eyebrow. “Well, they do,” he said. “You have accomplished your goal.”

  Christopher looked up from his table. “That is not true,” he said. “You are still here.”

  In response, Marcus kicked out his legs and settled back on the chair like he was going to sleep in it. Christopher couldn’t help but grin at his cheeky friend as he returned his focus to the documents on the table.

  “Peter, I thought you might like to know that I have the document instructing Fitz Walter to turn control of Ludlow over to me,” he said. “I will send you to Ludlow with this document to present to him. Or would you rather I go with you?”

  “I can go,” Peter said. “I am capable of standing up to Fitz Walter should he resist, but I intend to take a thousand men with me. Will you spare them?”

  Christopher nodded. “I can,” he said. “But I would feel most comfortable sending Sherry and mayhap Maxton with you just to make sure Fitz Walter doesn’t kick about it. He’ll be less apt to do it when he’s faced with more than one Executioner Knight. When Ludlow is secure, then the three of you can go over to Wigmore and follow the same process.”

  “Have you decided who you intend to put in command of Knighton and Risbury?” Peter asked.

  Christopher nodded. “Cassian will make a fine commander of Knighton,” he said. “Remember that Jax has five castles along the Welsh Marches that are still his properties, so having Cassian at Knighton will further ally us with his father, securing the border even more than it already is. And Addax will do very well at Risbury. He is a brilliant commander and an excellent communicator.”

  “I’m curious, Chris,” Marcus said. “Addax and Essien are clearly not indigenous to England and I’ve not seen them in many years, but I would assume they get along with everyone. If you are going to put Addax in command of a garrison, I would guess that he has been well-accepted by all?”

  Christopher knew what he meant. The Kitara princes had dark hair and eyes and lacked the pale skin that was prevalent to those with Norman or Anglo heritage. They spoke with an accent whose origins were from their native language, something that made them different from the traditional English knight. But he nodded in response.

  “Absolutely,” he said.
“It does not matter that they were not born here. They have proven themselves time and time again, and The Marshal has even used them as part of his spy ring because they are quite cunning, especially with women. I cannot count the number of women Essien has seduced. That is why they came to England, you know. They were serving a great Flemish lord but an angry father forced their liege to send them away, if you get my meaning.”

  Marcus grinned. “Essien was always a silver-tongued devil, even as a lad,” he said. “Addax, too, but he had more sense than his younger brother had. Mayhap I shall travel back to Lioncross with you so that I may see them before I head north.”

  “Come along if you wish,” Christopher said. “You have a property to inspect, too, do you not?”

  Marcus nodded. “My offer came this morning,” he said. “John is proposing to gift me with Selby Castle, a small castle outside of Leeds. I seem to recall that it is in a terrible state, so it may not be as big as Wigmore or Ludlow, but it comes with a good deal of land and several villages. It is quite lucrative. I can reinforce it and make an excellent garrison out of it.”

  “One more castle to hold against John.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I fear we are going to need it, especially in the north.”

  Marcus nodded slowly. “More than you know,” he muttered. “Chris, de Velt and de Bourne, and de Longley have been in discussions with the King of Scotland for his support against John. Did they tell you this?”

  Christopher nodded. “I knew of it,” he said. “Jax mentioned something about it. But I’ve not been told if that alliance is firm.”

  “Did de Velt tell you that he is willing to return Berwick to Alexander in exchange for his support against John?”

  Christopher’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “He’s not told me that,” he said. “I expect him and the others later this evening and we shall most definitely discuss it. Berwick Castle, you say?”

  “John is willing to bargain with properties and so are we.”

  Peter sat on the floor, back against the wall, listening to his father and Marcus discuss the coming crisis. While John was still at odds with the rebelling warlords, he put on a public face of negotiation while secretly, he was bringing mercenaries to England’s shores. Or not so secretly; the warlords knew what he was doing and they were preparing with properties John himself was giving them, apparently now with the added support of the King of Scotland.