Medieval Romantic Legends
Kathryn Le Veque, Sarah Woodbury, Emma Prince, Elizabeth Rose
The Gorgon
Copyright © 1996, 2014 by Kathryn Le Veque
The Lion of Wales
Copyright © 2011 by Sarah Woodbury
Highlander’s Redemption
Copyright © 2014 by Emma Prince
The Baron’s Quest
Copyright © 2015 by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contents
The Gorgon
by Kathryn Le Veque
The Lion of Wales
by Sarah Woodbury
Highlander’s Redemption
by Emma Prince
The Baron’s Quest
by Elizabeth Rose
The Gorgon
A Medieval Romance
Kathryn Le Veque
Copyright © 1996, 2014 by Kathryn Le Veque
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Printed by Dragonblade Publishing in the United States of America
Text copyright 1996, 2014 by Kathryn Le Veque
Cover copyright 1996, 2014 by Kathryn Le Veque
Kathryn Le Veque Novels
Medieval Romance:
The White Lord of Wellesbourne
The Dark One: Dark Knight
While Angels Slept
Rise of the Defender
Spectre of the Sword
Unending Love
Archangel
Lord of the Shadows
Great Protector
To the Lady Born
The Falls of Erith
Lord of War: Black Angel (also related to The Dark One: Dark Knight)
The Darkland
Black Sword
The Wolfe
Serpent
Scorpion (Also related to THE QUESTING)
The Lion of the North
Walls of Babylon (also related to Great Protector and Beast)
The Whispering Night
Netherworld
The Dark Lord
Devil’s Dominion
Unrelated characters or family groups:
The Gorgon (Also related to Lords of Thunder)
The Warrior Poet
Guardian of Darkness (related to The Fallen One)
Tender is the Knight
The Legend
Lespada (Also related to Lords of Thunder)
Lord of Light
The Questing (related to The Dark Lord, Scorpion)
Beast (related to Great Protector, The Dark One: Dark Knight)
The Dragonblade Trilogy:
Dragonblade
Island of Glass
The Savage Curtain
The Fallen One
Fragments of Grace
Lords of Thunder: The de Shera Brotherhood Trilogy
The Thunder Lord
The Thunder Warrior
The Thunder Knight
Novella, Time Travel Romance:
Echoes of Ancient Dreams
Contemporary Romance:
Kathlyn Trent/Marcus Burton Series:
Valley of the Shadow
The Eden Factor
Canyon of the Sphinx
The American Heroes Series:
Resurrection
Fires of Autumn
Evenshade
Sea of Dreams
Purgatory
Other Contemporary Romance:
Lady of Heaven
Darkling, I Listen
Time Travel Romance:
The Crusader
Kingdom Come
Note: All Kathryn’s novels are designed to be read as stand-alones, although many have cross-over characters or cross-over family groups.
Novels that are grouped together have related characters or family groups.
Series are clearly marked. All series contain the same characters or family groups except the American Heroes Series, which is an anthology with unrelated characters.
There is NO particular chronological order for any of the novels because they can all be read as stand-alones, even the series.
For more information, find it on Amazon in A Reader’s Guide to the Medieval World of Le Veque.
Chapter One
The Month of May, Year of Our Lord 1235
Chaldon Castle
Dorset, England
The sultry August heat was manageable this day. As the sun broke the eastern horizon, the lush English countryside embraced the coming day with open arms. Not only was the advancing day glorious of weather and promise, but the inhabitants of the gentle hills of Dorset were anticipating this day with excitement.
In faith, the day itself could have been wrought with storms and foul weather and still it would have been a grand morn. For on this day, a long-standing celebration was preparing to mount and nothing could dampen the spirits of peasant and noble alike, fine blood and common lines readying the stronghold of Chaldon Castle for the activities of the approaching gala.
The mighty stronghold of Chaldon guarded the road between Dorchester and Weymouth and was being prepared as a new bride for her husband. Proud banners of du Bonne red and white streamed from the mighty battlements, snapping in the steady ocean breeze. The constant hint of salt-air was heavy upon the fortress, licking man and beast alike with dampness as they went about their duties.
Just outside of the open fortress gates lay the field of celebration, a margin of meadow that had been prepared for the events of competition. A large bank of lodges had been constructed to accommodate the noble visitors that would be gracing Chaldon this day, and already a small army of peasants had constructed their vendor’s shacks and stalls to provide refreshment between contests.
In the enormous keep of Chaldon that housed the reigning Constable and his family, all was not as sunny as the day appeared. The object of the pending celebration was not the least bit pleased at the moment as he tripped over the clutter of his bower.
“God’s Blood,” the young man spat. “I cannot find anything in this place.”
A smirking face appeared in an adjoining door, features similar to those of the cursing young man. “Temper, temper, my young lord,” he cautioned. “You’ll chase all of the young women away with your foul temper and nasty disposition.”
The frowning man slugged his fist into his smug companion’s chest, lacking any power to the blow. “Shut your mouth, Ian. Where in the hell is my hauberk? I cannot find the thing anywhere.”
Ian, at least a head taller than his testy younger brother, maintained his smirk as he kicked through a pile of clutter on the floor. “Here it is, lover. Do not fret so.”
The younger man snatched the mail hood from his brother, scowling fiercely. “God’s Blood, I’d rather get dressed by myself. Go and bother someone else.”
Ian snorted humorously, ignoring his brother’s demand for solitude and moving for the suit of armor against the broad stretch of wall. Two young squires sat against the cold stone, polishing the armor furiously.
“There is no one else to tolerate me,” he said, examining a recently-cleaned greave. “Stephan is with Genisa, probably mounting her for the fourth time this morn, and Summer has been in her solar since dawn, demanding to be left alone. She swears this gala to celebrate your knighthood will drive us
to the poorhouse.”
The cross young man grunted as he fumbled with his mailed protection. “I did not ask for a party. ’Twas at father’s insistence.”
Ian returned the greave to one of the young squires and moved to stroke the crafted hilt of his brother’s sword.
“Be glad he insisted on celebrating your knighthood at all, Lance,” his voice was somewhat subdued. “Stephan received a new sheath for his broadsword. I received a handshake.”
Lance glanced to his middle brother, two years older and sixty pounds heavier. Much larger than any of his siblings, he was a mild-mannered lout with a wicked sense of humor. It was a quick wit that Lance had missed terribly when the man had been knighted two years ago, leaving his youngest brother to finish his training alone.
Stephan, Ian and Lance du Bonne had fostered together at Shrewsbury Castle on the Welsh border, far from their coastal fortress of Chaldon. It was an unusual move to keep siblings together to foster, but the three had insisted. The three men had lived together, practiced together, and protected each other from the brutal realities of a careless world. They were a fearsome trio with an unusual reputation of family unity. Some had even wondered if the brothers were able to work one without the other.
But they somewhat disproved that theory when Stephan was inducted into the knighthood at twenty-one years of age; Ian and Lance functioned quite well when Stephan returned to Chaldon. Four years later, Ian received his spurs and also found his way home, leaving young Lance alone at Shrewsbury to finish his training. As the gallery of critics awaited Lance’s failure, the lad proved them wrong and honorably earned his knighthood.
In a sense, the festivities planned for this day were in celebration of the du Bonne brother’s reunion, not merely the recently attained pair of golden spurs. The three were looking forward to a future of tournaments, leisure and exhilarating adventure.
At this moment, however, Lance could not consider the future beyond locating his boots. As Ian lingered against the wall, continuing his inspection of the squires’ handiwork, Lance fumbled about in his cluttered chamber like a huffing bear.
“Damn… I cannot find a damn thing!” he grumbled, managing to locate one boot but not the other. After a moment, he stood tall and shook his fists in frustration. “How is it that everything I need is missing?”
Ian shook his head, moving away from the squires and into the center of the room. “Mayhap if you cleaned the chamber, you could find what you are looking for.”
“Enough from you, swill-brain,” Lance snarled, crowing with triumph when he caught sight of his other boot. Falling to the mussed bed, he pulled on his footwear. “Stephan said that Genisa was finishing my new tunic. He should have brought it to me by now.”
Ian pursed his lips wryly. “I told you that he is most likely with his wife, driving himself into her lovely body until he dies. In fact, I should be so fortunate to warrant such a death.”
Lance eyed his brother a moment, his irritation fading as he gazed into the familiar features. “You are still quite fond of Genisa, are you not?”
The mirth in Ian’s eyes faded as he averted his gaze. “She is my brother’s wife.”
Lance rose from the disheveled mattress to collect his hauberk. “You’ve been in love with her since you met her. Two years ago, I believe.”
Ian refused to look at his brother. “I never told you that.”
Lance put his head through the mail hood, moving for the open door. Holding out his arms, Ian took the silent request and helped his brother don the remainder of the heavy mail.
“You did not have to,” Lance’s voice was quiet as he adjusted the protection about his shoulders. “I can see it in your eyes every time you look at her. I can only imagine that the feeling for her blossomed when you first met her upon returning home from Shrewsbury two years ago. Summer swears that you have never looked at Genisa with anything other than love in your eyes.”
The mood between the brothers du Bonne was reversing; where Lance had been irritable and sullen only moments before, Ian was now taking on brother’s characteristics.
“Our little sister does not know everything.”
“Aye, she does. She has wisdom beyond her years.”
Ian scratched his blond scalp, uncomfortable with the subject of his lovely sister-in-law. If truth be known, Summer was right. And so was Lance. But he would not admit the truth, not when he loved Stephan far more than his beautiful wife. A sweet fantasy was Genisa and nothing more.
Moving away from his brother, he pretended to busy himself with his Lance’s armor. He was eager to change the subject.
“Speaking of Summer,” he said casually, “What are we going to do about our baby sister today? Has Stephan made any suggestions?”
Lance shrugged, aware of Ian’s bid to shift the subject. “I do not suppose there is anything we can do except be with her constantly. Summer should not be alone for a single moment, Ian.”
Pleased that his brother had taken the hint to change the topic, Ian nodded gravely. “Indeed. I do not suppose we could discourage her from attending the tourney altogether, could we?”
Lance snorted. “Not a chance. She has hardly been out of Chaldon as it is and, as with all young maidens, is eager to attend her first tourney.”
Ian let out a long, harsh breath. “So be it. We cannot discourage her from attending the festivities,” scratching his head again, he seemed to be regaining his good humor. “God help the idiot who is the first to criticize her condition.”
“Which is why one of us must be with her at all times,” Lance said firmly. “Under no circumstances must Summer be allowed to express herself.”
“You mean speak.”
“Aye, that’s exactly what I mean. We will do the speaking for her.”
Ian’s gaze was pensive as he watched his brother mill about the piles of disarrayed clutter.
“God’s Blood, Lance, what did she do before Stephan returned home from Shrewsbury six years ago?” he wondered aloud. “Who protected her from the ignorant rabble?”
Lance found the pair of protective inner gloves he had been searching for. “She was only three when I left home to foster and had not yet learned to speak,” he said. “By the time Stephan returned, she was eleven. Kermit, her childhood tutor, kept her sequestered in the solar most of the time, teaching her to read and figure mathematics. I suppose that is why the solar is still her favorite place; she can hide from the world within its shielding walls. It is the only safe haven away from those who would taunt her.”
Ian shook his head in disgust, moving to the lancet window. Unlatching the latticed grate, his gaze wandered over the brightly colored grounds below, inspecting the visitors that had begun arriving yesterday. Many more were expected during the course of the morn, for the tournament was scheduled to begin after the nooning meal.
“She still hasn’t recovered from the old man’s death, you know,” he said quietly, watching the du Bonne standards whip about in the brisk wind. “You were not here when he died last winter, hunched over his books in the solar. Father swore he’d never seen a more dedicated servant. But Summer viewed him more as the grandfather she never knew, not the aged steward with a blind eye.”
Lance fumbled with one of the soft woolen gloves, remembering the servant that Summer had been so fond of. He had been a man who had treated her with dignity and respect, ignoring her flaw because he had shared a similar affliction. The beautiful young maiden and the gnarled old man had shared a strong attachment and his death had hurt her deeply.
“Summer says she is going to name her firstborn son after the old steward,” Lance said after a pensive pause, still toying with the glove. “God help her husband with a son by the name of Sir Kermit.”
Ian snorted, his smile returning. “Little Kermy. How touching.” Unwilling to linger on the thoughts of his baby sister and her flaw, he refocused on the day at hand. “Would you hurry? I can see more guests on the horizon and whether or not you are th
e center of the celebration, I doubt they will be willing to wait for your lazy hide.”
Annoyance making a return, Lance scowled at his older brother. “I would have been ready this minute had my chamber not been so completely out of order. With all of the servants we have to cook and serve and clean, how can such a thing be possible?”
“It’s possible because you are a complete pig,” Ian said frankly, laughing when his brother shook his fist threateningly. As Lance opened his mouth to refute his brother’s assessment, a polished, familiar figure appeared in the doorway. The last of the du Bonne brothers had arrived.
“What’s so humorous?” Stephan du Bonne moved into the chamber with the grace of a cat, tossing his youngest brother the long-anticipated tunic. “God’s Beard, Lance, aren’t you finished dressing? The men-at-arms have already formed escorts and are awaiting our presence to lead them in guiding our guests.”
Ian snorted with amusement as Lance glowered. “I’ll be ready shortly,” Lance snapped without force, slugging his giggling middle brother in the arm when the man refused to silence himself. “I was waiting for my tunic.”
Stephan cocked an eyebrow; devilishly handsome with pale green eyes and beautiful reddish-blond hair, he was considered the most comely of the three brothers. He also possessed charm that had caused many a woman to swoon.
“It was finished last night,” Stephan said, moving to shove Ian away from the window so he could cast his own experienced gaze over the grounds. “Had you not been so drunk, you would have heard Genisa when she offered to bring it to your chamber. As it was, I attempted to deliver it to you after you retired but my knocking could not be heard over the grunts of pleasure coming from within the chamber.”
Ian laughed loudly as Lance scowled and turned away, laying the brilliant tunic on the jumbled bed. “I am sure that I wasn’t the only one filling my chamber with the sounds of pleasure,” he said sarcastically. “And speaking of Genisa, where is my delicious sister-in-law?”
Stephan was moving for the armor against the wall; the squires were nearly finished and the time was past to commence dressing his slothful brother. “Where else? She and Summer have perched themselves on the battlements to watch the influx of guests. It should be quite a spectacle.”
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