Medieval Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  He nodded and turned away to regain his seat underneath the massive oak tree. Without hesitation, Summer followed and deposited herself next to his outstretched legs. He crossed his ankles, smiling at her awed expression.

  “You find that surprising?” he asked. “Surely you did not believe yourself to be the only individual who has ever suffered from such an affliction?”

  She blinked in thought; in faith, she’d never considered such a concept and after a moment, she shrugged. “Sometimes I feel as if I am,” she said softly. “B-but, I suppose, now that I think on it, it would be selfish of me to consider that God saved this imperfection for me alone.”

  He laughed softly, displaying a row of even white teeth. The right side of his mouth was far more pliable than the left, the cheek moving stiffly, and even within the dim illumination of the moonlight Summer could see three fierce scars, in parallel succession, gracing his chiseled cheekbone and disappearing into his hairline. She found herself wondering what animal could have caused such scars.

  “I would hardly call it an imperfection where it pertains to you, my lady,” he said, his laughter fading as he interrupted her train of thought. “For certain, I have never seen such magnificence.”

  With a shy smile and a fierce mottle of red flooding her cheeks, Summer forgot all about his lopsided grin and lowered her gaze, staring to her lap and listening to his soft chuckle, casting him another coy glance when he continued to snort. As Antony once again moved from her grasp and onto his master’s massive legs, she realized she was growing quite comfortable with the presence of the beast’s gentle master.

  “Is your mother still living, my lord?” she asked, attempting to divert the focus from her reddened face.

  “Nay, she is not,” he replied, without sorrow. “My mother passed away several years ago. And yours?”

  “She died shortly after my b-birth,” Summer answered, also without sorrow. “My father tells me I resemble her a great deal.”

  “Then she was a beautiful woman,” Bose said sincerely.

  Summer nodded in agreement to his assertion of her mother’s grace, coming to feel comfortable enough that she could look the man in the face without averting her gaze shyly or uncertainly. Above their heads, the owl hooted again and Antony paused in his busy inspection of Bose’s leg, looking into the darkened branches of the tree. Summer watched the ferret and Bose watched Summer.

  “He is most threatened by the owl,” she said. “Mayhap we should return him home.”

  “’Twill be my pleasure to escort you safely back to Chaldon,” Bose replied, then paused a moment to eye her strangely beneath the silver moon. “Tell me, my lady; was there a reason why you were loitering about the knights’ camp this eve? Considering how protective your family is, I can hardly imagine they let you wander about the encampment alone.”

  So much for her fading blush. Her cheeks ignited with color again and Summer lowered her gaze yet again, toying with the grass beneath her hand. She did not want to tell him why she was here, running from her family.

  “I shall answer your question, my lord, if you will answer m-mine,” the golden orbs came up from the grass, ensnaring him within their power. “Why did you wish to speak with me after the melee?”

  “To ask for your favor. Now, why are you wandering alone amongst the shelters?”

  “Do you still wish for my favor?”

  He cocked an eyebrow, aware that she was deliberately attempting to evade his question. “Without a doubt. Unless, of course, the reason why you were lingering about the tents is because you were waiting for your lover to appear.”

  She frowned. “Ridiculous. I do not have a lover.”

  He sat forward, away from the trunk, resting his arm on a propped knee. “If you give me your favor, there are those who would believe that I am your lover.”

  He watched as Summer rose to her feet and fumbled with the sleeve of her gown. Abruptly, a blur of white was dangling from her fingers. It took Bose a moment to realize she was extending a kerchief.

  He was on his feet faster than he could ever remember moving. Summer smiled, a bashful, beautiful gesture, as his timid fingers came up to clasp the delicate material.

  “’Tis my handkerchief,” she said quietly. “It is all I have at the moment that I may offer as a favor.”

  Gently, the kerchief fell from her fingers and into his grasp. His expression laced with wonder and pleasure, he brought the small token to his nose and inhaled deeply.

  “God’s Beard,” he groaned before he could stop himself. When Summer’s expression washed with concern, he struggled to explain his reaction. “It… it smells wonderful, my lady. The essence of roses, I believe.”

  She nodded, her smile returning with relief. “My b-brother bought me the perfume on a trip to London last year. The merchant told him that it had been Princess Eleanor’s f-favorite fragrance.”

  “Princess Eleanor?”

  “King John’s daughter, Eleanor, b-before she married Lord Simon de Montfort. Apparently, Lord Simon preferred his wife to wear gardenia and she relinquished her roses to please him.”

  He gazed at her a moment, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “The man was a fool. There is surely no finer fragrance.”

  She blushed pleasingly; in fact, the faint pink cast had hardly left her cheeks since his appearance. But her uncertainty was gone, so much so that he felt very comfortable and very bold when he gently took her hand in his massive gauntlet, bringing it to his lips for a tender kiss. He simply could not help himself.

  Nor could Summer help the wild surge of excitement that fired through her body. The only men who had ever kissed her had been her brothers, chaste kisses to her forehead or hand. But Bose’s kiss, as simple a gesture as it was, spoke of untold passion. Her heart was thumping painfully against her ribs.

  “M-M-My lord,” her stammering was noticeably worse due to her quivering nerves. “T-The hour grows late. I should return to the keep before my b-brothers come looking for me.”

  He smiled, feeling her hand trembling against his fingers and experiencing the resurgence of sentiment within his heart that he had once believed deeply buried.

  “As you say, my rose lady,” he kissed her hand again. Collecting Antony into one hand, he tucked her palm firmly into the crook of his elbow. “I am forced to agree with your suggestion that we return to the keep. I should not want your brothers to find us out in the wilds, alone. Certainly, their punishment would be severe.”

  Summer’s knees were shaking so that she could hardly walk, but somehow she managed to follow his lead. “M-My b-brothers are afraid of you,” she said, unable to keep the quiver from her voice. “T-They…t-t-they…”

  He smiled, knowing it was his kisses that had affected her speaking manner and enormously pleased with her reaction.

  “Slow yourself, my lady,” he said calmly, continuing their casual walking pace purely to maintain a level of normalcy about them. If she were to notice that he was unconcerned with her stammering, it might ease her embarrassment and help her regain control of herself. “Relax and take a deep breath. There now, that’s good. One more. Better?”

  Summer nodded, maintaining her deep, even breathing; she had been horrified with her worsening condition until she realized Bose wasn’t the least bit concerned. In fact, he was willing to help her through her difficulty. After several moments she looked to Bose with appreciative eyes.

  “T-Thank you,” she said softly. Bose swore the small hand about his elbow tightened. “You are very patient.”

  He smiled his faint, lop-sided grin. “As I told you, I have experience with your sort.”

  She cocked an eyebrow, sensing his jest. “Is that so? And what sort is that?”

  His smile broadened and he handed her the ferret. “The right sort, my lady. The right sort,” when she smiled faintly, his free hand closed over the small fingers clutching his elbow. “By the way; you never did tell me what you were doing in the knight’s camp.”
/>   Her smile broadened as she watched the grass pass beneath their feet. “W-Waiting for my lover.”

  “You said you did not have a lover.”

  Her golden orbs found the silken kerchief, still tucked within the folds of his massive gauntlet. As Antony demanded to be set loose into her hair, she put the animal to her neck and reached out, tugging at the white fabric peeping from beneath Bose’s armored glove.

  “I suppose I do now.”

  He met her gaze. “I suppose you do.”

  Chapter Six

  “Good God, Summer! You gave him your favor?”

  It was just after the dawn of a new morning. Seated before three very angry brothers, Summer maintained her courage.

  “I did,” she said, gazing defiantly into Lance’s blazing blue eyes. “We shared a very nice conversation and when he asked for my favor, I gladly gave him my handkerchief.”

  “And he gave you that… that hairy rat as a token of his esteem?”

  Antony, hovering in the folds of Summer’s unmade bed, was intimidated by the loud voices and angry gestures. As small black eyes peered from beneath the bedrug, Summer looked to the tiny creature as if to apologize for the uproar.

  “He said that Antony liked me b-better,” she replied evenly. “And I could hardly refuse his generous gift.”

  Standing by the lancet window of his sister’s bower, Stephan gazed over the tournament field without emotion. As the day emerged bright and clear, the final touches to the joust barrier were being completed by the carpenters and the lodges were being readied for the second day of guests.

  His thoughts, however, were far removed from the arena below. He was concentrating on his sister’s first display of rebellion, the harsh words to his wife that had reduced the woman to tears. Oddly enough, he wasn’t angry. Summer was a bright, intelligent girl and it was only natural that she desired more of a public life once she had sampled a taste. But the fact that her desires seemed to center around Bose de Moray was disturbing to say the least.

  “I told him to stay away from you,” Stephan muttered, his tone far more relaxed than his youngest brother’s. He moved his attention away from the window and back to his sister. “Did he tell you that I asked him to stay away from you?”

  “Nay,” Summer shook her head; although he was outwardly calm, Stephan’s temper was legendary. And he had a knack for holding a grudge as well. Combined, the two factors frightened her more than Lance’s wild raging and Ian’s brooding silence. “He said that he asked to speak with me, but that you had denied him.”

  Stephan stared at her a moment before returning his focus to the field below. “Is that why you ran off last night? To be with him?”

  Summer gazed at her brother a long, heady moment. “Nay, Stephan, I did not. I ran away last night because your wife and our father greatly embarrassed me in front of Sir B-Bose. It was purely coincidental that he found me later on, seated beneath Grandfather’s oak tree.”

  “You were at Grandfather’s oak tree?” Lance repeated incredulously. “Good God, Summer, that’s located in the heart of the knight’s camp! What on earth were you thinking, girl?”

  “I was thinking to be alone, Lance!” she shot back, her composure slipping. “It’s p-perfectly acceptable for me to be alone, wherever or however I chose!”

  “Not in an encampment full of knights,” Lance jabbed a finger at her. “And what about that, anyway? Did you and de Moray do anything other than talk? Or, mayhap, did he pick up where another knight left off?”

  Summer bolted from her chair, furious and insulted. “How dare you accuse m-me of… of… damnation, Lance! You k-know me better than that!”

  Stephan pushed himself away from the window, placing himself between his two siblings. “Lance did not mean to infer that you were… God’s Blood, Lance, apologize for your slanderous statement,” he frowned at his youngest brother. “Whether or not you meant to accuse your sister of wanton actions, your statement was uncalled for.”

  Ruddy-cheeked, Lance sighed heavily and turned away. “I did not mean it the way it sounded, Summer,” he said, his voice taut with emotion. “It’s just that… Good God, we spent hours searching for you last night, looking in all of the usual places. We stayed clear of the knight’s camp simply because we knew you would not venture into the heart of such an establishment. And then, when you finally decided to return from your wanderings, you went directly to bed without a word as to where you had been. It was frustrating to say the least.”

  “And frightening,” Ian put in, his tone even and relaxed. Where Lance could splinter the walls with his shouting, Ian, like Stephan, scarcely raised his voice. “We were worried for you, love. We’d been searching for hours when next we realized, one of the sentry’s informed us that you had returned under de Moray’s escort. Since you went directly to bed and refused to speak with us, we spent the entire night tossing and turning, wondering what had happened. Can you see our point, Summer?”

  Her anger somewhat cooling with her middle brother’s manner, she was nonetheless hurt by Lance’s implication. “Nothing happened, Ian. Sir B-Bose was a perfect gentleman.”

  Stephan eyed his sister a moment, carefully scrutinizing her defensive, emotional demeanor. “Let’s start at the beginning, sweetheart. After you ran away from Genisa, where did you go?”

  Summer shrugged, tearing her hostile gaze away from Lance and moving toward the long, latticed windows overlooking the eastern wall. “I wandered until I came to rest under Grandfather’s oak. Sir B-Bose found me there and we had a wonderful conversation.”

  “Then he knows about your speech?”

  She cast her brother an impatient look, as if he were a simpleton. “Of course he knows. And he doesn’t care. His mother was stricken with the same affliction and he is perfectly comfortable with the fact.”

  Ian and Lance glanced to Stephan, the men exchanging various degrees of surprise. After a lengthy pause involving deeper deliberations and speculation, Stephan turned away from his mildly-astonished brothers to refocus on his sister. Stroking his chin in a thoughtful gesture, he labored to formulate a careful reply.

  “I see he told you something of himself then,” he said, watching her expression closely. “Did you learn much about him?”

  She sighed, her slender fingers toying with the wooden lattice as she gazed over the compound. “He spoke of his mother. We did not speak of much, truly.”

  Listening to her explanation, Stephan’s fears were somewhat allayed but not his fury. He had specifically asked de Moray to stay away from his sister; obviously, the man was unwilling to obey his request. Before the situation grew out of hand, it was becoming apparent that drastic measures would have to be taken to cleave any further contact.

  Drawing a deep breath for strength and courage, he moved toward his sister. “Summer, in spite of your pleasant contact with de Moray, I believe it best that you stay away from him. I’ll return the pet and collect your favor and….”

  She whirled on her brother, her calm deportment vanished as her eyes widened with immediate outrage. “You’ll do no such thing. I f-forbid you to control my life in such a manner.”

  Stephan sighed, struggling to keep his demeanor composed and caring. “I am not attempting to control you, sweetheart, merely protect you. You must trust that I know best in such matters.”

  “No!” she practically shouted. “You are not my f-father, Stephan du Bonne. If I want to bestow Sir B-Bose with a favor, then it is my decision and not yours.”

  Stephan’s jaw ticked faintly as his composure slipped a notch. “Father will agree with me and well you know it. Summer, you must trust me in these matters. I know far more than you when it comes to the trials of courtship.”

  “Who said anything about courtship?” Summer demanded. “I gave the man a k-kerchief, not a wedding promise!”

  “Listen to him, Summer,” Ian said quietly. “He’s only thinking of your best interests, love. We all are.”

  Summer looked
to her brothers. The flush mottling her cheeks deepened and her pretty jaw ticked wildly with emotion. Damn them! They were always trying to run her life, forcing her to their demanding will in every matter large or small. And as an obedient sister, she obeyed them implicitly.

  But not this time. She was determined to do as she pleased, if only this once. She liked Bose; he was kind and noble and chivalrous and she could hardly understand her brothers’ collective resistance to her interest. As she continued to gaze into their stern, if not somewhat compassionate expressions, her anger inevitably gained speed.

  “I thought you would be pleased that I f-found someone to tolerate my difference,” she said quietly, with thinly-reined fury. “Instead, you seek to isolate me from him as well. Will this never stop, Stephan? Will I not be adequate for any man?”

  Stephan’s expression softened dramatically. “God’s Blood, Summer, it’s not your inadequacy at all. You are perfect, sweetheart, truly. It’s Bose we are concerned with.”

  “W-Why?”

  Stephan stared at her a moment, noting her volatile emotions, feeling her shame and curiosity and anguish. Of course she resented his interference; he’d never given her a valid motive behind his brotherly concerns. Mayhap if she were to discover the basis for his objection, she would come to realize his earnest stance.

  “Do you remember yesterday when I mentioned that Bose de Moray possessed less than a desirable reputation?” he asked.

  Summer nodded firmly. “Aye. And I told you that I would not believe the slander, whatever it was.”

  Stephan maintained his gaze a moment before lowering his eyes, scratching absently at his chin. “Allow me to inform you what has been said before you make any rapid decisions. When de Moray came to the tournament circuit four years ago, it was rumored that he left his post as Captain of the King’s Guard under mysterious circumstances,” raising his somewhat hesitant gaze, he fixed his sister in the eye. “It was said that he killed his wife in order to gain her wealth. I am unaware of the circumstances, for the speculation is purely rumor. But as hearsay would have it, it is said that his wife was well and whole one day and dead the next. Immediately after her death, de Moray resigned his post and fled London. He hasn’t returned since.”