All Things Merry and Bright: A Very Special Christmas Tale Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Indeed, we are.”

  “The rest of them cannot hold a candle to us.”

  “Well said. We are kings.”

  Dane began to laugh, followed by Trenton. They snorted and laughed at each other, so very happy to be in each other’s company again. Their parents had married when Trenton was nine years of age, and Dane was eight, and they’d spent their entire lives together, fostering and training together. It went against the natural order for them to be apart but, unfortunately, it was necessary at this point in their lives. Therefore, spending time together, especially at the holidays, was particularly precious.

  “Where is Mother, by the way?” Dane asked as the laughter died down. “I thought she would be here to greet us.”

  Trenton’s smile faded, as well. “She will be,” he said. “Father has not been eating, so she is up in their chamber trying to entice him into taking some nourishment. I am sure she will be down shortly.”

  Father has not been eating.

  That killed Dane’s mood immediately. He was thinking heavily on heading up to his parents’ chamber when a crash distracted him and everyone else in the room. He turned to see Boden and Gage on the floor of the hall, having wrestled themselves right onto a bench that broke beneath their weight. As the two of them went at it, with Cort and Matthieu standing over them, Dane shook his head.

  “Thank God Willie isn’t here,” he said. “Where are the Wellesbournes, anyway? I thought they would be here.”

  William Wellesbourne, or Willie as he was called, was the rambunctious youngest son of the House of Wellesbourne, family to the House of de Russe. The patriarchs, Gaston and Matthew Wellesbourne, had been friends for decades, closer than brothers, and Trenton had even married Matthew’s eldest daughter in Lysabel.

  Therefore, when there was any great de Russe gathering, it was a sure bet that the House of Wellesbourne would be there. But not tonight, and Dane was rather surprised by it.

  “They should be here in a day or two,” Trenton said. “Matt has caught a chill that has settled in his chest, and Aunt Alix will not let him travel until he is well again. Given Father’s condition, neither Aunt Alix or Mother wanted to chance Matt giving Father whatever infection he has.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” Dane said. “I cannot recall a Christmas we have not spent with Uncle Matt. I sent Willie home to ride escort with his father to Deverill for the holidays, you know.”

  William served Dane at Shrewsbury and in spite of his boisterous nature, he was a fine knight whom Dane depended on. Matthew had sent his wild son north to serve Dane and hopefully grow up in the process, and it had worked for the most part. At least, it had worked until he came within range of Boden and Gage, and then he turned into a naughty seven-year-old child again.

  But it was all part of his charm.

  “Willie would do well to remain at Wellesbourne Castle with his father for now,” Trenton said. “How has he been at Shrewsbury?”

  “He has moments when I want to take a club to him. Then he has other moments when he is fine, reasonable, and strong.” Dane sighed as he watched Boden and Gage roll around on the ground, fighting. “Part of me hopes Willie, much like Boden and Gage, never loses his wild streak. It makes family reunions so much more interesting.”

  Trenton snorted. “God,” he groaned. “Remember when it was just us? Remember when things were peaceful and quiet before our parents decided to have wild animals as children?”

  Dane looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “We were never peaceful and quiet, Trenton,” he said. “Remember when we were fostering at Oxford and we stole an old nag to ride north to Yorkshire? That was not a peaceful nor a quiet venture.”

  Trenton couldn’t stop laughing. “Remember the traveler we stole from?” he asked. “I stole the rabbit he was cooking, and you stole his pants so he could not run after us. Mother tried to beat us for it when she found out.”

  Dane was chuckling. “Ungrateful wench. We did it to help her.”

  “She did not appreciate our efforts.”

  “Father did.”

  The laughter faded almost immediately. It was difficult to speak of Gaston and not feel a stab of sorrow, for either of them. Dane finally spoke on the subject that had been weighing on him so heavily, fearful to speak of it as if even mentioning the subject somehow made it far more real.

  “I stopped at St. Denys on the way into town,” he said. “I saw Father de Tormo. He says that Father hasn’t been to church in quite some time.”

  Trenton nodded, but it was a gesture made with a heavy heart. “That is true,” he said. “De Tormo has been coming to Deverill for the past several months so Father does not have to exert himself.”

  Dane sighed. “He is not going to live much longer, is he?”

  Trenton didn’t say anything for a moment. When Dane turned to look at him, he was blinking rapidly, as if blinking back the tears.

  “It is possible,” he finally said. “I cannot even bring myself to think on it. I see him every day, Dane. Now that I command his armies, I am with my father every single day and I have seen a steady decline over the months. His hair is grayer, his footsteps slower… I honestly do not know how much time he has left, but it is not much. How long can you remain here at Deverill?”

  Dane shrugged. “As long as I wish, I suppose,” he said. “I have left my second in command, Dastan du Reims, in charge of Shrewsbury. You met Dastan when you visited last year.”

  Trenton nodded. “I did,” he said. “A competent man.”

  “One of the best,” Dane said. “I feel confident leaving him in command while I spend time here with Father. Truthfully, I am afraid to leave now, afraid that I will never see him alive again.”

  Trenton grunted. “That is a very real fear, with all of us.” He suddenly caught a glimpse of something behind Dane. “Ah. Mother is here.”

  They both turned to see Remington de Russe emerging from the stairwell that led to the upper floors of the keep. A gorgeous woman with copper curls pinned at the nape of her neck, she looked far younger than her years. Seeing Dane, her first born, had her rushing in his direction with her arms open. The pair came together in a fierce hug.

  “Dane,” Remington said with satisfaction. “You have finally arrived. I have been waiting all week for you to come, and now you are finally here. It is so good to see you.”

  Dane kissed his mother’s soft cheek, pulling back to look into her sea-colored eyes. It was the face he’d always known, perhaps a little older, a little more lined, but no less beautiful. Dane knew he had the most beautiful mother in all of England.

  “It is good to see you, too,” he said with satisfaction. “You are looking well.”

  Remington smiled broadly. “As are you, my son, the duke,” she said, her gaze drifting over him as if reacquainting herself with the little boy she’d known, the man he’d now become. “I am so proud of you, Dane. You cannot know how full my heart is. The whole family is so very happy and thrilled for you.”

  Dane smiled. “I’ve not seen you since it all happened,” he said. “It seems like so long ago, but it has only been two years now. I have written to you since then but, somehow, it is not the same to write. It has been ages since we have had a nice, long talk.”

  Remington’s smile faded as she patted her son on his stubbled cheek. “It has,” she said. “And you are correct; it is not the same for your father to come and tell me of your life at Shrewsbury, and it is not the same for Trenton to tell me nearly the same thing. I have wanted to go north to visit you, many times, but your father does not wish for me to travel without him, and he cannot travel these days. So… I was waiting for you to come to Deverill to tell you how proud I am of you and how much I love you.”

  Dane kissed her hands, feeling emotional about the reunion with his beloved mother. Her pride meant everything to him, and he didn’t realize until this very moment how much he’d missed her. Until Gaston had come into her life those years ago, it had always bee
n just Dane and his mother for the most part, but her sisters had also been part of that equation. They had lived together at Mt. Holyoak Castle in Yorkshire, a property that still belonged to Gaston, but one Dane hadn’t seen in years. He had been born there. But it wasn’t his home.

  Deverill was.

  “I love you, too,” he said. “I have missed you so much. I have missed Father, too. Is… is he awake that I might at least greet him?”

  Remington tried to smile but she couldn’t quite manage it. “He has gone to sleep,” she said. “The physic has given him poppy powder for the pain in his throat, and it always makes him sleep. You will see him in the morning. I know he wants to see you very much.”

  Looking into her eyes, Dane could see the agony there. Gaston was her whole world. Certainly, the woman had children and grandchildren, but those did not replace a husband, and Gaston and Remington were closer than most. They had a relationship that men could only dream of, and as worried as Dane was about his father’s health, he knew his mother was far more worried. Dane couldn’t help feeling even more worried as he looked at her.

  “Trenton says he is not eating these days,” he said. “How is he, Mother? Please be truthful.”

  Remington swallowed hard; Dane saw it. Then, she forced a smile and reached out to Trenton, who was still standing next to Dane. She held both of their hands, her gaze moving back and forth between them.

  “When I met your father, God only knows, I was terrified of him,” she said. “Do you recall, Dane? The first time you met him was at the base of Mt. Holyoak Castle, when he was returning from a trip. I do not even recall what it was. But I do recall the look on your face when you first saw him. Do you?”

  Dane nodded, a smile playing on his lips even though there was a lump in his throat. “I do,” he said hoarsely. “I had never seen such a frightening man.”

  Remington’s smile grew. “Your aunts were terrified of him, also,” she said. “I cannot count the times your Aunt Jasmine fainted at the sight of him and your Aunt Skye would cower. Only Aunt Rory showed no fear of him. Whether or not that was smart, I do not know, but she showed no fear. Gaston always respected her for that, although he would not admit it. Her death those years ago in the ambush that took her life hit him harder than he cared to realize, almost as hard as Arik’s death hit him.”

  Dane remembered that incident, years ago, when his sixteen-year-old aunt, Rory, was caught in an ambush perpetrated by Gaston’s enemies. Also killed in the ambush had been Gaston’s dear friend and right-hand man, Arik Helgeson. Dane’s sister, Arica, had been named for the tall Northman as a way of keeping his memory alive.

  “I remember,” Dane said. “That was a very terrible time for us all.”

  Remington nodded, her smile fading as she thought on her long-dead sister with the flaming red hair.

  “Please do not tell your father what I am about to tell you,” she said as her eyes began to glimmer with tears. “I can tell the two of you, but I would not tell him because I do not want him to fret. I know your father will die before I will. I know he will leave me behind. But the only thing that gives me comfort is knowing that Rory and Arik will be waiting for him when he crosses over. He will close his eyes and go to sleep, and when he awakens, Rory and Arik will be there to greet him, keeping him company until I can join him. Although I do not want to lose him, at least I know he will not be alone. I am at peace because of it, and when Gaston takes his last breath, he will hear my voice in his ear, telling him that he has my permission to go.”

  Tears spilled over in Dane’s eyes and he lowered his head, quickly wiping them away. Trenton was less discreet; he didn’t even lower his head. He simply wiped at his eyes. But Remington wasn’t crying. She watched her eldest boys, two of the most powerful men in the realm. But to her, they would always be those little boys who liked to get into trouble. And they were boys who loved their father very much.

  Taking a deep breath to fight off the solemn mood, Remington squeezed Trenton’s hand and kissed Dane on the cheek.

  “Now,” she said firmly. “Let us not reflect on sorrow this night. All of my children are here and I want to rejoice. And your wife, Dane? I’ve not even met the lovely Grier yet. I am so anxious to know her.”

  Dane forced a smile, but it was difficult. His mother’s words had him shaken but he fought it. Taking her by the hand, he led her over to the hearth where the women and children were gathered, and where Grier still had Trenton’s baby in her lap. But a touch to the shoulder from Dane caused Grier to look up, seeing a woman at his side who looked a good deal like him.

  And with that, Grier handed the baby back to Lysabel and met her mother-in-law for the very first time. She was greeted sweetly and gently, and already, there was love and approval in the air. Within two minutes, Grier felt as if she’d known Remington all her life.

  It was magic.

  While Grier and Dane and Remington became acquainted, and the de Russe family gathered in the hall for a night of celebration and reflection, a visitor in an off-white cloak made his way into the gatehouse of Deverill.

  He’d come all the way from the village, walking in the snow. Once he entered the gatehouse, he was directed by the sentries to the great hall where other travelers had stopped to wait out the freezing weather. Deverill never turned away travelers in search of shelter, and especially not on Christmas Eve, so the man thanked the guards at the gatehouse and made his way to the great hall to wait out the storm that was gathering overhead.

  At least, that was what the guards at the gatehouse thought.

  Because of his pale cloak against the snowy bailey, the guards failed to see the man as he moved for the keep, which was open this time of night as servants moved through not only the front entrance, but also through the smaller rear entrance, which would be left open most of the night so the servants and guards could come in out of the bad weather.

  The visitor in the white cloak moved easily towards the small rear entrance to the keep, disappearing before anyone ever saw him.

  Overhead, the clouds began to gather, but the bright and shining star remained strong.

  Part Three:

  The Stranger

  GASTON WASN’T ASLEEP.

  He should have been, and he knew his wife had give him a poppy powder prescribed by the physic, but he was fighting it. He knew that Dane had arrived because he could see the remnants of the Shrewsbury escort in the bailey down below. That was both the curse and the advantage of having windows that faced out over the bailey; he could see everything that was going on.

  And that had him restless.

  Even so, he was exhausted to the bone, which was ironic consider he didn’t do anything these days. He stayed to his chamber, he drank the warm milk his wife gave him and ate the pea soup with bits of pork fat in it that he liked. He pretended to be more invalid than he really was because it kept Remington with him longer, tending to his every need, and then he felt guilty because he could see the grave concern in her eyes.

  But the truth was that he was concerned, too.

  Whatever was tearing up his throat had moved into his lungs; he could feel it. He’d very nearly lost his voice and there were times when he coughed so hard that blood came up. The physic told him that was because the cancer had moved into his lungs, but Gaston swore the physic to secrecy on that. He didn’t want Remington knowing that because she had enough to worry over. Sometime soon, he was going to leave her with only his memory to keep her warm, and that was tearing him apart. He didn’t want to leave her and, these days, she had enough to worry over.

  Which was why he didn’t go running downstairs to see Dane. As if he could actually run. He hadn’t run in months; probably years. He knew the moment he went to the hall, Remington would be stricken with worry, and he didn’t want to cause her any undue grief. But he very much wanted to see Dane, and his other children, and his grandchildren.

  There were times when Remington would forbid the grandchildren entry into his ch
amber because they would jump all over his bed, but he would send Trenton to sneak them up the servant’s stairs when Remington was occupied elsewhere. Trenton had become his cohort in crime, but it had brought the two of them even closer than ever. His eldest son, who he’d been intermittently estranged from until last year, had become his closest friend.

  He was grateful for small mercies.

  So, Gaston stood at the window, watching the clouds gather overhead as a snowstorm threatened. It was Christmas Eve and, given his health, he wondered if it would be the last one he ever saw. That thought caused him to summon his courage about going down to the hall; he wanted to spend all the time he could with his family, even if moving and talking was a great labor for him. He didn’t want to miss anything. Remington would fuss at him, but he hoped she would understand why he was exerting himself.

  As he began to look around for his heavy robe to protect against the cold drafts of the castle, there was a gentle knock at the door.

  “Come,” Gaston rasped.

  The door creaked open and timid footsteps entered. Gaston had just found his robe, turning around to see a stranger enter his chamber. He eyed the man as he swung his robe over his shoulders.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  The man took another step into the chamber and closed the door. He was very tall, sinewy, with blond hair and pale blue eyes. He was quite pale, in fact, made more pale by the white-woolen cloak he wore.

  “My name is Raphael,” he said. “Dane has sent me. He says that you are ill, great lord.”

  Gaston grunted. “Raphael,” he repeated. “I have a grandson by that name. You are a physic, you say? Did Dane bring you with him from Shrewsbury? Never mind. The last thing I need is another physic.”

  Raphael took another step, coming nearer to the enormous bed as Gaston fussed with his robe. “Dane is quite worried for you,” he said, his voice soft and higher-pitched. “He says that you are ill.”

  Gaston eyed him before opening his mouth to speak, but he was overcome by a series of heavy coughs which shook his big body. He was forced to grab for a handkerchief, coughing into it because blood was coming up. The coughing was so violent that he ended up plopping onto the bed until the coughing died off. By that time, Raphael had come around the corner of the bed and was standing over him.