A Very Medieval Christmas: A Medieval Romance Novella Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Dane was at a loss. Watching his father as the man played with his grandchildren was the most dumbfounding thing he’d ever seen. Nothing the man had said made any sense to him but, clearly, something had happened.

  For a brief and wonderful moment, Gaston de Russe’s health had returned.

  He was the man they all remembered.

  “A blessed Christmas, Lady de Russe.”

  Father de Tormo was walking up on the group, trying not to slip in the snow. He opened his mouth to say something more when he caught sight of Gaston standing in the center of a group of frolicking children. Eyes wide, he pointed to him.

  “What… Sweet Mary, what is he doing?” he gasped. “I thought he could not leave his bed!”

  Trenton and Dane were shaking their heads in unison, hardly able to grasp the sight. They reflected the priest’s shock and then some.

  “He says someone visited him last night and gave him a potion,” Dane said. “He said the man identified himself as being sent by me, but I sent no one.”

  “God,” Trenton groaned, hand to his face. “Is it possible he has gone mad? Is it possible that he has simply lost his mind?”

  By this time, Cort had joined the group as they all stood there and watched Gaston with his grandchildren. Cort came up to his mother and put his arm around her shoulders.

  “He’s possessed,” Cort said flatly. “He must be. Yesterday, he had not the strength to move but today, he is standing and playing? He is possessed, I say!”

  Remington wasn’t sure how to respond. She was so worried that she could hardly stand it, but Gaston didn’t look like he was in any distress. In fact, this was the man she knew from years ago, the strong and healthy husband, and that realization brought tears to her eyes. Now that she was over the shock of his appearance, something was abundantly clear to her – something miraculous had, indeed, happened, and the warmth of an overwhelming feeling of faith washed over her like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Not a religious woman, it was something Remington had never felt before. Choked with emotion, she could barely speak.

  “Nay,” she breathed. “He is not possessed.”

  “But – how?” Cort demanded.

  Remington could only shake her head. “You know I have struggled with my faith,” she whispered. “My prayers have never been answered, so when your father became ill, I did not bother with prayer because I knew I would be ignored. But… but at this moment, I have never felt faith more strongly or purely in my life. Mayhap, I am living a dream. Mayhap, we are all living a dream for, certainly, this is what I see when I dream – I see Gaston as I remember him. I see him as he is meant to be. I do not care what has happened to him, or why he has suddenly regained his health, but I am not going to question it. Mayhap that is what is means to have faith and, today, I am full of it. Blindly full of it. I am going to enjoy every moment and be grateful for it.”

  With that, she went to her husband as he stood in the center of their grandchildren. When he saw her coming, he opened up an arm to her and she went to him, collapsing against him as he pulled her into an embrace.

  It was enough to drive Dane and Trenton to tears.

  “Is this really happening?” Dane finally asked, deeply moved. “God, I prayed for this moment. When I lit the candle yesterday at St. Denys, this is exactly what I prayed for. And that physic that my father spoke of? Was it possible that he dreamed the man, like some kind of miraculous healer?”

  “Miraculous healer?” Cort repeated. He hadn’t heard what Gaston had said about the situation, so this was new information to him. “He said he dreamed of a physic?”

  Dane nodded. “He said someone came to him last night and told him that I had sent him, from Shrewsbury, presumably. But I sent no one from Shrewsbury.”

  Cort’s gaze lingered on his brother a moment before returning his attention to his father. “Did he describe the man?” he asked.

  “He said he was dressed in white, tall and blond.” Dane suddenly paused as a thought occurred to him. “In fact, I saw such a man yesterday as I was leaving St. Denys. Father de Tormo, did you see the man? He came into the church after I left.”

  Father de Tormo nodded without hesitation. “I did, indeed, see him,” he said. “In fact, I thought he was you because as I came back into the church, he was standing by the candles, where it was shadowed. I did not get a good look at him at first. He asked where Gaston de Russe lived and I directed him to Deverill Castle.”

  As Dane looked at the priest curiously, Cort spoke. “A man in white was here last night,” he said. “I did not think much of it until you mentioned him, but I was checking the posts this morning and the sentries from the night watch told me of the man in white who had left just as they were sealing the gates. They called to him and told him to come back, but he disappeared into the night.”

  Dane was starting to piece things together. “So the man who went to St. Denys last night came to Deverill and told my father that I had sent him,” he said, looking between the priest and Trenton. “Why? Why would he do that?”

  The more Dane and the others pondered the situation, the more Father de Tormo had an outlandish idea occur to him. He was a priest; his life was built on faith. He’d seen so much strife in this world, but he’d also seen the good of it. He’d seen many, many people light prayer candles, but had he actually seen prayers answered? He thought so. What had he told Dane last night?

  Your love for the man will cause God to hear you loudly.

  Perhaps, that had been true. Perhaps, he’d been more correct than he realized. In looking at Gaston this morning, de Tormo was willing to go on that faith.

  “Dane,” he muttered, his gaze on Gaston. “Did your father’s mysterious physic have a name?”

  Dane nodded. “He said his name was Raphael.”

  De Tormo’s breath caught in his throat. “The archangel of physics and healing.”

  Dane looked at him curiously. “What did you say?”

  De Tormo looked at him. “I said that Raphael is the archangel of physics and healing,” he said. “Mayhap, God listened to your prayers, after all. It would be easy to doubt such a thing. But considering that your father is on his feet and looking better than he has in years, you may want to consider that God, in fact, heard your prayers and He answered them.”

  Dane looked at the man in shock. It would have been simple to discount him, a fantasy of a zealot. But somehow, given what he was seeing before him in his father’s healthy stance, Dane couldn’t think of any other explanation, either. Oddly enough, what de Tormo said made a hell of a lot of sense.

  “My father told me that Raphael said I had sent him,” he said. Then, his eyes widened. “I summoned him with my prayers?”

  De Tormo smiled; he couldn’t help it. “It is as good an explanation as any,” he said. “They say that Christmas Eve is when angels walk the earth. Mayhap, we have been witness to such an event. In any case, we should not question it. We should rejoice and give thanks that your father has lived to see another day.”

  Dane, Trenton, and Cort couldn’t have agreed more. As de Tormo headed over to greet Gaston, the three of them watched as the priest was pelted by some well-aimed snowballs. It was a great mystery to them all, perhaps the greatest mystery they had ever faced. But as de Tormo said, it was not up to them to question why. Perhaps a miracle had, indeed, occurred and they would, indeed, give thanks and rejoice that their father lived to see another day.

  In the years to come, the children of Gaston de Russe, Dane and Trenton included, would speak of that Christmas Day when their father was given the greatest gift of all – a true and righteous miracle that all of the physics in London couldn’t explain away. Gaston’s cancerous throat had somehow gone into remission, and no one seemed to know how or why.

  But Dane and Trenton knew.

  It was a matter of a little faith… and, perhaps, a wish upon that bright and shining Christmas star on a night when angels walked the earth.

 
; 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?”