“He is dead,” he said quietly. “Henry is now our king. Long live the king.”
“Truly?” Maxton said, sounding both surprised and relieved. “John is no more?”
William nodded, feeling his age at that moment. “Truly,” he said. “He is gone. The man with many sins is, even now, standing before God to read over the events of his life and I am quite certain that God will not be merciful in John’s case. At least, I hope not. And I hope that all of those people John has sinned against are standing there in judgment, ensuring that John’s stay in hell will be a long and miserable one. But Peter made sure of one thing.”
Heads turned in Peter’s direction. “What is that?” Maxton asked.
William looked at Peter, too. “He made sure that Jax de Velt was one of the last men spoken of in that chamber,” he said. “If John’s spirit still lingers, he heard the name. He knows that his offense against Jax is one of the things that brought him to a painful end. That, my friends, is the true measure of vengeance. It does not seem right that Jax had to be sacrificed in order to save England from her king, but he was certainly one of the last nails in John’s coffin. For that, The Dark Lord should be proud. And so should his family.”
Maxton, a smile playing on his lips, looked at Peter in approval. “For Jax,” he muttered.
“For Jax,” the group responded.
They were fateful words, words that sank deep into the souls and psyches of the Executioner Knights. Their most important mission yet had succeeded and, now, they had a new task ahead of them – ridding the country of the French king and healing broken bonds. Their fight wasn’t over yet. But at least now, they saw peace on the horizon. England had a great deal of healing to do in general but, with time, peace would come.
But for now, their task was over and that very night, they left Newark together, never to return. When Peter finally arrived at Ludlow a few days later to an extremely pregnant wife, that was exactly what he told her.
Peace will come now.
In her arms, it did.
EPILOGUE
Two months later
Ludlow Castle
Snow had kept them inside for two days.
Liora could hear the hissing and fussing as she entered the small hall of Ludlow, one that she and Peter used when family visited, like they were now. It had turned into an all-purpose room because they had so many people visiting for the holidays, so there were women near the hearth while men sat a little further away, talking and drinking. As Liora entered the hall, her gaze fell on Dustin, Christin, Brielle, and young Rebecca over near the hearth, sewing on what looked to be a large, patchwork coverlet, while Christopher sat with his infant daughter sleeping in his arms, surrounded by Peter, Alexander, and Peter’s younger brothers Curtis and Richard.
But that’s not where the hissing was coming from.
That was coming from her father as he sat in a warm corner on the opposite side of the hearth, a swaddled infant in his arms and several young boys at his feet, including Asa. She paused a moment, watching her father carefully hold his new grandson with one arm while holding out a hand to prevent Asa, Myles, Douglas, and Westley from hurting each other with tiny pieces of kindling they’d found in the wood box. Worse still, Christin’s eldest child, two-year-old Andrew, had an enormous stick that he was trying to use on Westley.
It was juvenile bedlam in the hall of Ludlow and, all the while, Haim was speaking softly and steadily to the group of rioting little boys.
“… and the candles burned for eight straight nights even though there was hardly enough oil for them,” he said. “It was a miracle from God.”
“But tell us about the Maccabees, Papa!” Asa said, trading kindling blows with Douglas. “Tell them how fierce the Maccabees were, fiercer than any knight!”
“Was not!” Douglas shouted.
“Was too!” Asa fired back.
Douglas charged Asa and down they went, rolling around on the floor of the great hall as Liora rushed up and pulled her brother off her husband’s little brother, holding Asa and Douglas by their ears. The boys whined and squirmed, trapped by those pinching fingers.
“No fighting in my hall,” she said to them both. “What will baby Matthew think to see his uncles rolling around on the floor, fighting like common fools? You are setting a terrible example for him. He must have uncles he can look up to and be proud of.”
Asa’s face was contorted in pain as his sister pinched his ear. “But he said –!”
Liora tugged on his ear. “Enough,” she said. “If you cannot behave any better than a wild puppy, you can go to bed early. Is that what you want?”
Asa frowned. “Nay.”
Liora let go of the ears. “Then sit down, both of you, and listen to Papa Haim tell you of the Maccabees,” she said. “And no more fighting.”
With that, she collected all of the wood that was being used for swords and made the boys sit down and pay attention to her father, who was cuddling his sleeping grandson. Matthew Christopher Henry Haim de Lohr had been born about six weeks earlier, a big baby who had come quickly in the early hours of a cold, icy morning. He had come so quickly, in fact, that Dustin and Christin, who had come to Ludlow to be present for the birth, had delivered him before the midwife could arrive. Peter had been so overwhelmed by the swift birth that Alexander had been forced to ply him with wine until he could regain his composure but, in the end, he had a fat, healthy son and a wife who had breezed through the birth.
He couldn’t have been more grateful.
Even now, he could see Liora over with her father and brother, scolding the boys as Haim tried to protect them. It brought a smile to his lips.
“Haim has the patience of Job with those boys,” he said, chuckling when Liora wagged a finger at her father. “He’s been entertaining them for two days, God bless the man.”
Christopher, with a sleeping baby on his chest, smiled at his daughter-in-law and her father. “He’s had Matthew since he arrived,” he said. “The man is a fool for a baby.”
Peter and Alexander looked over at him, laughing. “Says the man with a baby against his chest,” Peter said. “Admit it, Papa. You are a fool for babies, also. We all know it. Admit it. It will be liberating for you.”
Christopher peered down at his sleeping daughter’s face. “Women do not know how to raise children,” he said. “I am the one who molded my children.”
“I am going to tell Mother you said that.”
Christopher fought off a grin. “She already knows,” he said. “Do not trouble her with such things.”
Peter and Alexander continued to laugh as Peter poured Alexander more wine. “That is why my brothers are so wild,” he said. “Look at them – fighting like scrapping puppies and now we have Asa, the Maccabee, in the middle of them.”
“Am I wild, Papa?”
The question came from Curtis, Christopher and Dustin’s eldest son. He was on the cusp of manhood, an intense, intelligent boy who had never had the wild streak that his younger brothers had. He was his father to the bone, in personality and looks, and Christopher smiled at his second-eldest boy.
“Nay, not you,” he said, looking at his other son, Richard, seated next to Curtis. “Or Richie. You two are exactly like me and I do not have that naughty streak in me. Your younger brothers are your mother to the core. That is why they are so wild.”
Hearing that, Peter and Alexander continued to snort as Christopher blamed his lively boys on their mother. “Do you want me to go over and make them behave?” Curtis asked.
Christopher shook his head. “Nay, lad,” he said. “Liora is doing a fine job. She can put more fear into them than you can, especially to her own brother.”
“Asa told me he wants to be a knight,” Curtis said.
Christopher looked over at the boys now sitting on the floor, listening to Haim as Liora stood over them to make sure they behaved. “I would take Asa into battle without question,” he said. “The boy has a fighting spirit, bu
t Haim wants him to become a goldsmith, so I am keeping my opinions to myself.”
Peter was the one to respond to that statement. “That is wise,” he said. “We’ve already taken Haim’s daughter. I think he is fearful that we will take his son as well and I do not wish to do that.”
Christopher wasn’t hard pressed to agree. “That is true, but Asa has a restlessness about him that may be trouble when he gets older.”
“That’s what Haim said.”
Christopher watched Asa fidget as his father told stories. “You are to be commended, Peter,” he said. “You are doing your best to embrace Liora’s family and even now, Haim is teaching your brothers about the Maccabees. By teaching them about Jewish traditions, he is teaching them tolerance and by knowing Asa, they will come to understand a boy who is being raised differently than they are. That is never a bad thing.”
“True,” Peter said. “I’m only sorry that Liora’s mother could not come.”
“Why not?”
Peter shrugged. “She does not approve of this marriage,” he said. “Haim does not speak of it, but Liora has said that her mother does not approve. It saddens her, of course, but mayhap time will ease that stance.”
“Time and grandchildren,” Christopher said. “I’ve not known a woman yet who can stay away from her grandchildren, so give her time. She will accept it, eventually.”
“Haim did,” Peter said. “He told me that he would never come to Ludlow and bring Asa, but a grandson changed that.”
“A grandchild can change many things. Meanwhile, Liora has us. All of us.”
Peter chuckled at his father before rising from his chair and heading over to Liora, who was still standing over the boys who were becoming increasingly twitchy. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she smiled up at him, putting her fingers to her lips for silence as Haim spoke of the Maccabees and their victory over Antiochus. He made their victory sound quite thrilling, and the twitchy little boys were lured into a good story about a victorious battle. But that fragile peace was shattered when Asa found a small piece of wood that had fallen from the kindling and began to poke Myles with it.
After that, another brawl erupted and Liora gave up.
Taking her son from her father, she and Peter headed up to their bedchamber so she could feed the baby, but mostly, it was just so they could spend a few moments alone. They’d had family at Ludlow for almost a week solid because of the looming Christmas holiday and it was a wonderful time of year, with family and warmth and laughter, but sometimes the young couple with the new baby simply wanted to be alone.
They stole away for just that chance.
Their chamber was warm from the fire in the hearth and an iron bank of tallow candles gave off a warm, comforting glow. Peter held his son as Liora settled in a chair near the hearth, unfastening the ties on her bodice so she could nurse the baby. With an engorged breast exposed, she put the child on the nipple, and he began to feed eagerly. Peter stood over them, watching the sweet scene.
Liora heard him sigh.
“What is the matter, my angel?” she said, looking up at him.
He shook his head, taking a knee beside her chair, his head on her shoulder as he watched her nurse their son.
“Nothing is the matter,” he said, pushing his big finger into his son’s fist and being rewarded with a tight grip. “In fact, there is nothing on this earth that will ever be the matter again. Look at what we have, Lee-Lee; a healthy son, a beautiful home, people who love us. When I ducked into your kitchen yard last year, I could have never imagined this would be my life just a short year later.”
Liora smiled as she gazed down at her blond-haired, blue-eyed son. “Nor I,” she said. “You do realize that I never thought I would see you again after the first time.”
“I know,” he snorted. “Asa tried to chase me away.”
“It did not work.”
He started laughing. “Was it supposed to?”
She shrugged, grinning at him as he kissed her nose. “I am glad it did not,” she said sobering. “It’s funny, truly. I think on what we had to do in order to marry…”
He cut her off softly. “What you had to do.”
She looked at him pointedly. “What we had to do,” she said, more firmly. “I realize I had to surrender one religion in favor of another, but I truly do not feel like I surrendered anything. I still celebrate the things I have always celebrated, now with my father in our hall, teaching your brothers about the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah. But now, I celebrate Christmas as well, and Martinmas, the festival days of all of those saints I still cannot remember. I feel as if I am richer now that I ever was. Does that make sense?”
Peter nodded, putting his big hand on his son’s head, dwarfing it. “It does,” he said. “I feel the same way. I never knew about Purim or Yom Kippur, but I do now. I know a lot of things now.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “I told my father once that I always felt different because I was his bastard, but as it turns out, that was a good thing,” he said. “Being different has made me into the man I am today and it has made an unconventional marriage with you much more possible. But it’s more than that – it has made me more open to things that are different, I suppose, and I hope to convey that to our children.”
Liora nodded, looking at the baby suckling against her breast. “I hope that having a mother who was born Jewish makes them more accepting of differences,” she said. “Jews have known great persecution in the past, but mayhap understanding our differences will be a greater path to peace. Truthfully, since young Henry took the throne, I feel as if those days are behind us. Days of trouble, I mean. You never did tell me what you did during those months you were away, and I swore I would not ask, but the day you returned, things changed. I feel as if we have you to thank for the dawn of this new day.”
Peter kept his gaze on his son. He had made a vow never to tell Liora where he’d spent those months, and what he had done, because that wasn’t something he wanted to share with her. In fact, she’d never even heard the term Executioner Knight from him. He’d never mentioned it, but he knew that someday, he would. Someday she would understand just how involved he was in The Marshal’s spy ring, but not now. There was large part of him that wanted his new wife to think he was noble and strong and relatively innocent, not a man who had killed a king.
Even if it had been for the just and right cause.
But he would tell her everything when the time was right.
“Things are not entirely peaceful,” he said after a moment. “We are still chasing the French from our lands. The mercenaries, too. Uncle David managed to chase them away from Canterbury and most of the allied castles, like Uncle Marcus’, held against the mercenary army, but there is more work to do. We are having to flush all of them back to where they came from, so the time of total peace is not here yet, but it will be. Men like my father, Jax de Velt, Juston de Royans, William Marshal… they have given their entire lives so that, eventually, we will know peace.”
“When does your father plan to pay his respects to Lord de Velt?”
“In the spring when weather permits, I am sure. I may go with him.”
“I think he would like that.”
“I would like to pay my respects to de Velt, too. He has meant a lot to our family.”
Liora switched the baby to the other breast, holding him close as she looked down into his little face, her thoughts moving from Jax de Velt to the child she held in her arms. There was no moment more perfect than this – her husband, her baby, her everything.
“I knew when I married you that you were an elite knight and fighting was your vocation,” she said softly. “Your father told me it would be a life unlike anything I was used to, and my father told me, as well. Do you know that it was the first time I did not listen to my father?”
“I hope you do not regret it.”
She looked at him, her big, strong husband. Handsome and wise, he was everyt
hing she imagined he would be and her life with him was everything she had ever hoped for.
“Sometimes I feel as if I am living a dream,” she said. “Do you remember when we walked in the meadow, the first real conversation we ever had?”
“I do.”
“Do you remember that I told you that we could not become friends?”
“I remember that very clearly.”
Liora smiled at him. “I am very glad you did not listen to me.”
Peter put his arms around her, pulling her close, his lips against her head. “So am I, sweetheart,” he murmured. “So am I.”
In Liora’s arms, little Matthew suckled contentedly, never knowing how close he came to never being born. But the heart of an Executioner Knight is a determined thing indeed, as Matthew’s mother discovered. A heart determined to love, to protect, and when necessary, kill for the common good. On this night, with the snow falling softly and a hall full of people, Peter and Liora were of one heart and one soul as they enjoyed their first holiday season with their son, the legacy of two religions, of one love, and of one hope.
It was the dawn of a new generation and a new de Lohr legacy. For the bastard son of an earl and the daughter of a jeweler, theirs was a love story of legend.
* THE END *
Peter and Liora’s children
Matthew
Annalise
Madelaine
Aaron
Ethan
Gabriel
Jared
Nathan
Elisabeth
The Executioner Knights:
By the Unholy Hand
The Mountain Dark
Starless
The Promise (also Noble Knights of de Nerra)
A Time of End
Winter of Solace
Lord of the Shadows
The Splendid Hour: The Executioner Knights Book 7 Page 36
