Medieval Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

Finally left alone by the three over-protective brothers, Bose was reluctant when it came time to return Summer to the lodges. As the gray clouds lightened with the rising sun, the heralds sounded the first trumpet of competition to indicate the games would commence shortly. Dutifully, with obvious affection, Bose returned his betrothed to the lodges and cast her a saucy wink as he returned to his men.

  “Oh, Summer,” Genisa sighed dreamily as Bose thundered back across the field. “I am so happy for you, darling, truly. Bose will make a wonderful husband.”

  Rosy-cheeked and deliriously happy, Summer nodded faintly as she watched her betrothed leave the lists. “I can hardly believe the truth of the matter. It’s as if… as if I am living a dream.”

  Genisa observed her sister-in-law closely, noting the absence of her usual severe stammering. Stephan had made mention of the fact earlier that morn, amazed with the concept that Bose had seemingly eased his sister’s stuttering speech. True to her husband’s word, Genisa had been aware of Summer’s improved articulation from the very moment of their morning salutation and from that point in time, Genisa realized that the youngest du Bonne sibling had matured before their very eyes.

  “I know how you feel,” she responded belated to Summer’s dreamy declaration. “For months after I married Stephan, I would stay awake at night simply to watch him sleep. As if I was afraid I would awaken in the morning and realized his presence to have been a dream.”

  Summer smiled, turning to her lovely sister-in-law and knowing Stephan’s feelings had been much the same. “You love being married.”

  Genisa laughed softly. “I love him, Summer. As you love Bose.”

  Summer met the woman’s bright blue gaze a moment, feeling the wonder and magic of new sensations grip her. Like nothing she had ever known before. “In three days I have lived a lifetime,” she murmured softly. “My one regret is that Bose will take me to live at Ravendark, away from my family. ’Twill be difficult to reside in his home and not my b-beloved Chaldon, unable to share my future happiness with those I love.”

  Genisa’s smile faded and she touched Summer on the arm, an affectionate gesture. “I felt much the same, Summer. You forget that I have seven younger sisters who cried hysterically when Stephan took me away. I was uncertain about life at Chaldon, too, until I met a shy young lady who soon became my very best friend. You must trust that you will find a wonderful new way of life at Ravendark, darling. Have faith in the joy of your destiny.”

  Summer absorbed the wisdom of the words coming from a usually dense and silly young woman. In the past three days, she had come to know much about Genisa du Bonne that she had never suspected to exist. A depth to the woman seldom, if ever, seen. After a moment, her broad smile returned.

  “You are sounding more like my brother every day,” she said, placing her gloved hand over the warm appendage clutching her arm. “I shall m-miss this wise woman I have come to see over the past few days. A woman I should like to know better, I think.”

  Genisa chortled again, wondering when next she would see her beloved sister-in-law after Bose de Moray whisked the lady away to the distant keep of Ravendark.

  “There will be time enough,” she replied, noting the heralds had cleared the lists and were preparing to announce the first bout. “I suspect your wedding to Sir Bose will not be for a few weeks yet. By that time, you may be so utterly weary of my newly-discovered wisdom that you’ll be ready to leave Chaldon and never look back.”

  “I doubt it,” Summer, too, noted the activity of the heralds with mounting anticipation. “However, when next I return home, I should expect to see an heir in your arms. I have waited two years for you to produce a child and I refuse to wait any longer.”

  Genisa shrugged faintly, her smile fading. “When God decides to bless us with a child, I shall be entirely joyful,” after a pause, she sighed pensively and her smile faded completely. “I do not think Stephan has recovered from my miscarriage last year. He was convinced I carried a son.”

  Summer’s smile faded as well, remembering the pain of Genisa’s failed pregnancy like a stab to her heart. She remembered her brother crying for hours by the darkened hearth in the grand solar, cursing God for the death of his child in one breath and thanking him for the spared life of his wife in the next. Summer recollected his pain, recalling Bose’s anguish along a similar subject as well. Stephan had merely lost his child; Bose had lost his entire family.

  Genisa caught a glimpse of Summer’s dour expression. “Do not worry for us, darling. I did not mean to imply that Stephan still aches with regret for what could have been. He’s quite happy and there will be more….”

  Summer shook her head, fighting off the gloom that intimidated her soul. “I k-know,” she whispered. “It’s just… Bose lost his wife and son in childbirth. I c-c-cannot imagine what would have become of S-Stephan had he lost you, as well.”

  Genisa noticed the return of Summer’s stammer as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. When she was calm and content, the stammer was noticeably less. But when her sentiment or feelings flared, the stutter returned like an evil addiction. Digesting that particular bit of observation, Genisa endeavored to push the gloom of death out of the conversation.

  “Fortunately, he did not,” she said with forced courage she did not feel. Speaking on the subject of failed pregnancies, especially her own, greatly depressed her. “As for you, my newly betrothed darling, I expect the next time you return to Chaldon that it would be with a child in your arms as well. Mayhap our children will grow up together.”

  Laboring to cast aside her darkened mood, Summer smiled weakly. “Mayhap,” suddenly, she emitted a soft giggle. “I t-told Bose of my plans to name our firstborn son Kermit.”

  The depressing atmosphere instantly vanished as Genisa joined Summer in her laughter. “Sir Kermit de Moray! What a wonderful name!”

  “He hates it.”

  “So do I! What a wonderfully horrid name!”

  Summer and Genisa screamed with laughter, drawing the attention of few in the lodges. When Summer suggested the name Percy for Stephan’s first-born son, Genisa laughed so heartily that she nearly hyperventilated. Chortling and snorting as their good humor made a bold returned, the two women were unaware when Edward and another figure approached, claiming the chairs made available by hovering servants.

  Summer’s laughter was cleaved as a foul-smelling odor swept her, followed shortly by a warm body seated indecently close. Turning with shock to the source of the warmth and smell, she was immediately confronted with small blue eyes and a pock-marked face.

  Breck smiled lasciviously. “Greetings, sweetling. How delicious you look today.”

  Stunned and instantly angered, Summer indiscreetly moved her chair away from him. “I will thank you for not sitting so c-close to me, my lord. Since our encounter last eve, I would b-believe our contact to be ended.”

  “Ended?” Breck’s eyebrows rose in conjecture, looking to Edward seated far over Summer’s shoulder. When the man did not respond to his queried expression, Breck returned his attention to his newly betrothed, laughing softly in disagreement. “Our association has not ended, sweetling. It has only just begun.”

  Disgusted and unnerved, Summer struggled not to pinch her nose in obvious repulsion to the man’s smell. “My future husband says it is ended. P-Please leave before I am f-forced to summon him.”

  Breck sat back in the chair, making himself comfortable and eyeing Summer with a good deal of indifference. “Summon de Moray if you feel it necessary. But I have the law and the church on my side and may do with you as I please.”

  Summer eyed the man, her anger and disgust melding into a wide mass of confusion and mounting apprehension. “W-What are you talking about?”

  Breck looked lazily to his dirty nails, selecting the proper finger to chew. “Ask your father. ’Tis his right to tell you, after all.”

  That statement brought a blow of terror slamming into Summer’s abdomen. The moment he brought
her father into the conversation, the general confusion and fury felt for the repulsive knight transformed into a premonition so sinister that she could barely comprehend it. Turning toward her father, she fixed the fat man with her awesome golden gaze.

  “What would you tell me, Father?” she asked.

  Amazingly, Edward was not drunk this morn. In fact, he appeared rather clear-eyed and alert as he met his daughter’s gaze. He matched her expression a long moment before looking away, his eyes wandering over the colorful lists.

  “You are officially betrothed, Summer,” he said. “To a man of my choosing.”

  Summer’s heart did a wild dance against her ribs as she fought to control her breathing. “I know. B-B-Bose informed m-me last eve that you gave him your permission that we might b-be wed.”

  Edward turned to her then, a flash of anger and defiance in his faded blue eyes. “The man you speak of caught me at a disadvantage last eve, as I was completely drunk with fine wine and unable to ponder the necessary factors relating to such a decision. With Ian as his accomplice, I could do little more than agree for fear of my life.”

  Summer sat forward in her chair, her white-knuckled hands gripping the arm rests. “You cannot possibly m-mean to insinuate that B-Bose and Ian threatened you. You are speaking of your own son.”

  “And I am speaking of a man who murdered his wife in order to obtain her dowry!” Edward roared. Slamming his hands against the heavy oaken chair, the entire platform vibrated with his fury. “There will be no wedding to de Moray, Summer. As of this day, you are officially pledged to Breck Kerry and I have the necessary documentation to prove it. Nothing Bose de Moray can do will ever break the contract enforced by the Holy Church.”

  Instead of flying into a hysterical rage, Summer stared at her father as if the man had completely lost his mind. All of the color drained from her cheeks, leaving her a ghostly shade of gray. As the rain continued to pour and the wind continued to wail, Summer rose steadily from her delicately carved chair. Her eyes, her expression, never wavered from Edward’s perspiring face.

  “You are mad,” she hissed. “I’ll n-never marry Breck, father. You promised Bose….”

  “A verbal sanction and nothing more. There was never any firm agreement between us.”

  “Ian was there. He w-witnessed the bond. If you go back on your word, I’ll never forgive you. Never.”

  Edward was unconcerned with his daughter’s feelings. The only matter of concern was the fact that she had been informed of her true betrothal and he suddenly felt the need for the soothing comfort of his fine wines. Motioning to his servant, the finely-clad man brought forth a lovely crystal carafe and began to pour. Handing the matching crystal chalice to his lord, the servant was abruptly covered with the burgundy liquid as Summer viciously slapped the alcohol from her father’s hand.

  “You will not ignore me!” she commanded, her fury rising in spite of her attempts to control it. Moving toward her father, she put herself between the startled servant and her equally startled sire. When she spoke, her voice was a hissing whisper.

  “You have ignored me your entire life, Father, but no longer,” she said. “When I was young, I liked to believe that you kept me safely shielded because you were concerned for my mental well-being. But as time and age has matured my wisdom, I have c-come to realize that you kept me isolated not because you loved me, but because you were afraid of what others would think of your flawed, defective child. Therefore, you kept me sequestered like a freak. Not shielded as a loved one.”

  Edward refused to meet her gaze, a peculiar shade of red mottling his cheeks. The heralds were ready to begin the bout, politely waiting for the signal from the baron that would commence their duties, but no signal had been forthcoming as of yet. The entire field hovered with anticipation and confusion as the games were unexpectedly delayed.

  “L-Listen to me and listen well,” she murmured. “I do not know what has c-compelled you to betroth me to a man you were determined to defend me against only two days ago, but know this; I do not recognize my b-betrothal to Breck Kerry. You gave your word to Bose, and Bose is who I shall marry. There is nothing on this earth that will prevent our union.”

  Edward’s reaction was one he would have reserved for anyone who had disobeyed his command, much less his daughter. Grabbing her by the arms in a surprisingly brutal display, he thrust her at the household guards maintaining watch in the stands.

  “Take her to the vault. Take her there until I decide what’s to be done with her.”

  The joust commenced.

  *

  “Ian!”

  The middle du Bonne brother heard the piercing cry, knowing the source of the delicious voice before he turned in the obvious direction. Genisa was racing across the trampled grass at the edge of the joust arena, all silks and hair and feet of fury. A lazy smile crossed his face at the sight of his sister-in-law as she rapidly closed the gap between them.

  “God’s Blood, Genisa, what’s amiss?” he asked casually. “You look as if you’ve seen….”

  “Summer!” Genisa nearly crashed into him as she came to an unsteady halt, gasping painfully for every breath. “Your… your father ordered her to the vault. Where’s Stephan?”

  Ian cocked a slow eyebrow; the most collected of the three du Bonne brothers, he was sluggish to excite or rouse even when the situation dictated immediate action. Quite simply, his character was difficult to disturb and Ian had learned a long time ago that calm heads often prevailed over panicked flight.

  “Calm yourself, love,” he admonished softly. “What do you mean by saying that Summer has been ordered to the vault? Who would..?”

  “Your father!” Genisa gasped, frustrated that Ian was refusing to take heed. “He ordered Summer to the vault when she rebelled against… against Breck Kerry.”

  Ian’s brow furrowed, his smile fading. “Breck? God’s Blood, what’s he got to do with this?”

  Nearing the heady edges of despair as a result of Ian’s lack of action, Genisa could hardly control her panic and irritation. “For Mercy’s Sake, Ian, we must find Stephan. Summer is in terrible trouble!”

  Growing increasingly concerned with the confusing situation Genisa was attempting to convey, Ian grasped his sister-in-law by both arms to calm and steady her. “Stephan is preparing for his coming bout. If Summer is in trouble, mayhap I should go and speak with father. Mayhap….”

  Genisa shook her head sharply, bordering on tears once again, Ian failed to take her seriously. Why did the man have to be so damn composed and stubborn? “Good Heavens, Ian, if you’ve ever loved me, you’ll go and find Stephan and tell him what’s happened. There is no time to lose with this meaningless chatter!”

  His warm manner and calm expression faded. Genisa met his gaze steadily, realizing he looked very much off-guard as the meaning of her words sank deep.

  “What… what do you mean?” he whispered. “If I have ever..?”

  She swallowed hard, laboring to ease both her panic and his awkwardness. “Please, Ian, I did not mean to sound trivial. I… I was simply attempting to motivate you. Summer is in trouble and….”

  “If I have ever loved you?” he repeated, ignoring focus of her apprehensive message. “Where did you ever get an idea like that?”

  Genisa continued to gaze into his eyes, feeling guilty that she had carelessly broached a subject she and Stephan had agreed long ago to be off limits. Staring into Ian’s face, she could see more than ever that it was true. It had always been true.

  “From you, darling,” she whispered, her respiration calming dramatically at compassion for Ian’s plight. Completely off the subject of Summer’s imprisonment, she touched Ian’s hand gently. “From the moment we met, I could see it in your eyes and feel it within your heart. But fear not, Ian; your secret is safe with me. No one shall ever know by my lips or by Stephan’s.”

  He visibly blanched. “My brother… does he…?”

  She nodded faintly, her soft fingers
silencing his lips. “It matters naught. He’s never faulted you your feelings,” as Ian fidgeted and cleared his throat nervously, completely removed from the commonly controlled man she had come to know and love, Genisa realized now was not the appropriate time to continue the exploration of such personal sentiment. When, or if, the time ever presented itself again, perhaps she and Ian could clear the air between them.

  But not now. There was a more pressing crisis at hand. “Go now,” Genisa removed her fingers, seeking to divert the knight’s unsettled attention. “Find Stephan. Tell him Summer’s been taken to the vault and he must go to her immediately.”

  Ian continued to gaze at her a long moment, wanting to linger within her presence, wanting to put as much distance as he could between them. In faith, he wasn’t at all sure what he was feeling; but the fact of the matter remained that Genisa knew his well-kept secret. And so did his brother. A fantasy that wasn’t his own any longer and he somehow felt ashamed.

  Turning on his heel, Ian went in search of his brother to tell the man of their sister’s apparent confinement and wondering if he shouldn’t apologize for his treacherous feelings in the same breath, expressing his sorrow for having coveted his brother’s wife.

  Or he could pretend the conversation never took place. For the sake of his heart, Ian liked that idea best of all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Stephan saw Bose’s figure before he ever saw the face. He knew he would be coming and in faith, Stephan was glad. He could not handle the situation alone. He needed help.

  “Get her out of the vault, Stephan. Now.”

  Bose was still several feet away as he issued the order. Stephan pushed himself from his leisurely position against the wall, moving forward to greet the man within the bowels of Chaldon’s darkened labyrinth.

  “Ian and Lance are with her and she is perfectly safe and comfortable,” as Bose came into the weak light, Stephan was not surprised to note his menacing expression. In fact, Stephan had never seen a more deadly countenance and he hastened to calm the man before he exploded into a fury of fists and steel.