MEDIEVAL EVER AFTER
KATHRYN LE VEQUE
KEIRA MONTCLAIR
EMMA PRINCE
BARBARA DEVLIN
COPYRIGHT
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
The Savage Curtain Copyright © 2010, 2014 Kathryn Le Veque
Rescued by a Highlander Copyright © 2013, 2015 Keira Montclair
Highlander’s Reckoning Copyright © 2015 Emma Prince
Demetrius Copyright © 2016 Barbara C. Noyes
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Dragonblade Publishing
The Brethren of the Coast Badge is a registered trademark ® of Barbara Devlin.
Cover art by Kim Killion
THE SAVAGE CURTAIN
KATHRYN LE VEQUE
TITLES BY
KATHRYN LE VEQUE
MEDIEVAL ROMANCE
THE DE RUSSE LEGACY
The White Lord of Wellesbourne
The Dark One: Dark Knight
Beast
Lord of War: Black Angel
The Falls of Erith
THE DE LOHR DYNASTY
While Angels Slept (Lords of East Anglia)
Rise of the Defender
Spectre of the Sword
Unending Love
Archangel
Steelheart
GREAT LORDS OF LE BEC
Great Protector
To the Lady Born (House of de Royans)
LORDS OF EIRE
The Darkland (Master Knights of Connaught)
Black Sword
Echoes of Ancient Dreams (time travel)
DE WOLFE PACK SERIES
The Wolfe
Serpent
Scorpion (Saxon Lords of Hage – Also related to The Questing)
Walls of Babylon
The Lion of the North
Dark Destroyer
ANCIENT KINGS OF ANGLECYNN
The Whispering Night
Netherworld
BATTLE LORDS OF DE VELT
The Dark Lord
Devil’s Dominion
REIGN OF THE HOUSE OF DE WINTER
Lespada
Swords and Shields (also related to The Questing, While Angels Slept)
DE REYNE DOMINATION
Guardian of Darkness
The Fallen One (part of Dragonblade Series)
UNRELATED CHARACTERS OR FAMILY GROUPS
The Gorgon (Also related to Lords of Thunder)
The Warrior Poet (St. John and de Gare)
Tender is the Knight (House of d’Vant)
Lord of Light
The Questing (related to The Dark Lord, Scorpion)
The Legend (House of Summerlin)
THE DRAGONBLADE SERIES (Great Marcher Lords of de Lara)
Dragonblade
Island of Glass (House of St. Hever)
The Savage Curtain (Lords of Pembury)
The Fallen One (De Reyne Domination)
Fragments of Grace (House of St. Hever)
Lord of the Shadows
Queen of Lost Stars (House of St. Hever)
LORDS OF THUNDER: THE DE SHERA BROTHERHOOD TRILOGY
The Thunder Lord
The Thunder Warrior
The Thunder Knight
TIME TRAVEL ROMANCE (Saxon Lords of Hage)
The Crusader
Kingdom Come
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
MULTI-AUTHOR COLLECTIONS/ANTHOLOGIES
With Dreams Only of You (USA Today bestseller)
Sirens of the Northern Seas (Viking romance)
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 in A Reader’s Guide to the Medieval World of Le Veque.
FOREWARD
The battle of Halidon Hill was fought during the second Scottish War of Independence near Berwick-Upon-Tweed, Northumbria, England. It is an interesting and particularly brutal chapter of history when the entire city of Berwick, held by the Scots, was under siege by the forces of Edward III. The city’s defenses were placed under the command of Sir Alexander Seton, a Scotsman loyal to the underage King David II, son of Robert the Bruce.
Although Seton led a strong defense, it was a long and bloody conflict that finally forced the Scots to ask for a temporary truce. King Edward agreed to this providing that Seton supplied hostages. Seton did, one being his own son, Thomas. There are conflicting reports that he actually supplied two sons. There was a deadline on this truce, however, and when the Scots refused to surrender the city at the deadline, Edward began hanging the hostages in full view of the city walls. The first one hanged was young Thomas Seton, said to have been somewhere around fourteen years of age. His father and family watched him die.
This event, and many others, culminated in the battle of Halidon Hill, which was a decisive English victory. Berwick surrendered the following day on July 20, 1333.
This is a tale of a love story set within the chaos of a city fallen. In every hour of darkness, there is still hope.
THE SAVAGE CURTAIN
CHAPTER ONE
July 20, 1333 A.D.
Berwick-Upon-Tweed, Northumberland, England
Against the black of the moonless sky, the fires lingering from the siege could be seen. The last dying embers of the battle blended into the smoky haze that hung heavy in the air. All was oddly still as the inhabitants of the city returned to what was left of their homes; some were ravaged while others were untouched. The citizens had been out in force for most of the day, helping each other, as the city of Berwick tried to resume a sense of normalcy. But that sense was a long way off.
The city walls were in shambles, mostly to the west and southwest where the English had been able to gain ground for launching their massive siege engines. They had also come by way of the sea, battering the city from the east. Day and night, the bombardments from King Edward’s forces came strong and steady. There was a seemingly endless supply of Englishmen with which to harass the increasingly weary city. For an entire month, the siege had raged. Now, it was finished.
The aftermath of the siege and surrender was beyond horrific. There were bodies in the streets and the stench of blood mingled with smoke from the dying fires. The Scots holding the city had long since surrendered, fled or died, and the English now filled the city like a great Anglo tide. They crashed upon Berwick’s threshold on their mighty warhorses, pouring through gaps in the walls or through the burn
ed gates that had stood strong and proud throughout the siege. Like the mighty hand of God, the English had swept back the savage curtain to reveal the battered and dying city beneath.
At midnight, the smoke from the crushed city was still fresh and pungent. Dogs could be heard barking on occasion or a child crying in the distance but, for the most part, it was eerily still. Edward’s advance forces had already moved into the city to secure the strategic points, one being Berwick Castle on the banks of the River Tweed. The castle had become the central command post as groups of English combed the city to secure it for the arrival of the king.
And arrive he did, like a conquering Caesar. Edward was not a pampered king; he had been fighting most of his life and was a warrior before he had been a monarch. Astride his massive Belgian charger, he thundered into the city with a retinue of advisors and senior knights, all of them battle born and bred. Carrying torches through the battered streets, they made their way to Berwick Castle.
Banners flapped in the brisk wind and torches blazed as they thundered down the dark avenues. The castle was well fortified with hundreds of English troops as the king and his entourage arrived and the group made its way into the great hall. Fighting men were everywhere, some sporting impressive battle wounds, as Edward sought the one man in particular that he knew to be heading the room. The Earl of Carlisle, his most faithful subject, had secured not only half the city personally, but the castle as well. Edward’s pale eyes sought out Sir Tate de Lara, the commander of his forces.
He was not difficult to locate; Tate had seen the king arrive in the hall and was making his way towards him. De Lara was a big man with the dark coloring of his Welsh mother, the illegitimate son of Edward I and uncle to the current king. He met his nephew in the middle of the smoky, dim hall.
“Sire,” he greeted amiably. “You will be pleased to know that the entire city has been secured. Patrols are reporting in from all corners of the city and I am told all things are well in hand. Berwick is finally ours.”
Edward seemed older than his twenty-one years; this siege had seen more than its share of hardship and he was already missing some friends in death. He was greatly relieved to see a healthy and sound de Lara, the man he depended on more than any of his other generals. He shook the man’s hand thankfully.
“Praise God,” Edward muttered, feeling his fatigue but unwilling to show it. “I could have not have done this without you.”
De Lara smiled wearily. “I had a good deal of help.”
Edward shook his head at the man’s modesty. “You, as always, are the catalyst for men to show their true strength.” He eyed the group of unfamiliar faces lingering near the hearth; there were women in the mix and he knew them to be hostages. He nodded his head in their direction. “Seton, I presume?”
De Lara’s storm-cloud colored eyes drifted to the group huddled near the blazing fire. “Indeed,” he replied. “The man and his family. Would you interrogate them tonight or wait until morning? It has been a long day and I am sure you would like to rest.”
Edward waved him off. “I have waited a long time for this moment and I shall not be put off by something as mundane as my exhaustion,” he began to walk towards the group. “Where is Pembury?”
De Lara followed. “He went out to secure the posts for the night personally. He should be back momentarily.”
Edward focused on the hostage group. “Does he know what you and I have discussed?”
De Lara shook his head with some dissatisfaction. “He knows that he will be made commander of Berwick once the city is secured,” he made sure to speak pointedly to the king. “Beyond that, I thought it best that you tell him his destiny.”
“I told you to do it.”
“He will take it better coming from you.”
Edward glared at de Lara as they came upon the hostages. But it was a brief scowl, unnoticed by the group before him. Edward was quickly composed into the emotionless, somewhat haughty, monarch as his gaze moved amongst the unfamiliar faces. An odd hush fell upon the room as the king finally confronted his opposition face to face.
“Who is Alexander Seton?” he demanded.
The man standing in front of the group bobbed his head slightly. “I am he.”
Edward’s gaze fixed on the man; he was older, as he knew he would be, nearly bald but with a powerful body beneath the tartan and mail. Sir Alexander Seton had led the defenses against the English, holding the city of Berwick for several months before finally being forced by the decisive English victory at Halidon Hill to surrender.
The king planted himself in front of Seton, continuing his scrutiny; there was a good deal of confusion in his expression as if trying to figure out a great many things. Without warning, Edward balled a fist and struck Seton firmly on the jaw. The older man went reeling as the women in his group shrieked.
“That was for forcing my hand,” Edward growled, daring the man to come back at him. “You made an agreement, Seton. The city was to surrender at the appointed date and you would still have your son. What possessed you to trade your son’s life for your stubborn pride?”
Seton rubbed his jaw, eyeing the passionate young king. “You would not understand, my lord.”
Edward was growing increasingly livid. “He was a child yet he behaved with more honor than those who call themselves adults,” he pointed a finger at Seton. “God damn you for forcing my hand against your brave son. God damn you for sending to death a young man who held out hope until the very end that his father would save him.”
De Lara was standing next to the king, his jaw ticking faintly as he watched the exchange; young Edward had spent most of his young life running from Roger Mortimer and his mother, so the man well understood a child’s fear and confusion when a parent refused to protect him. It was a painful subject made more painful by the death of Seton’s fourteen year old son, a lad that Edward had come to know during his captivity.
Seton had pledged his son as a hostage to ensure that the Scots would surrender Berwick should reinforcements not arrive in time, but the deadline came and went, no reinforcements came, yet Seton did not surrender. Edward was forced to execute hostages as punishment. Thomas Seton had died with a rope around his neck and hope in his heart.
“It did not give my father pleasure to watch my brother die.” A young woman standing behind Seton made herself known. “My father’s hands were tied; his commanders refused to surrender. Even if he wanted to submit to your deadline, he could not have. His men would not have obeyed.”
Edward’s focus moved from Seton to the woman behind him; she was short of stature with lush dark hair and eyes of the palest blue he had ever seen. She was a strikingly lovely woman even dirty and disheveled as she was. Edward’s attention fixed on the girl.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
Seton turned to look at the girl, his expression bursting with disapproval, but the young woman ignored him and stepped forward.
“I am the Lady Joselyn de Velt Seton,” she said with courage. “Alexander Seton is my father.”
“Then Thomas was your brother.”
She nodded, losing some of her confidence. “Aye,” she nearly whispered. “He was my younger brother.”
Edward cocked his head slightly. “I was not aware that Seton had two daughters.”
Joselyn nodded. “Maggie is my younger sister. I am the eldest of the Seton children.”
The king’s eyebrows lifted. Then he turned to de Lara with a knowing glance. “Joselyn,” he murmured, pronouncing it the way she had; Joe-zalyn. He looked back at the young woman. “How old are you, lady?”
“I have seen twenty-two years, my lord.”
“Who is your husband?”
“I am not married, my lord.”
Edward was shocked. “No husband?” he repeated, incredulous. “Why not?”
“She has been at Jedburgh Abbey,” Seton answered for her. “She has been living by the Augustinian code since she was eleven years of age.”
> Edward looked at the man as if he had lost his mind. “That,” he pointed at Joselyn, “has been meant for the cloister? Are you completely stupid, man? She would command a husband of such wealth and stature as you could not dream of.”
Seton looked at his daughter, who gazed back at him with some fear and, as de Lara thought whilst studying her, some chagrin. Before the conversation gained too much steam, a group of knights entered the hall and distracted the focus. Their voices were loud, the sounds of their weapons and mail reverberating off the old stone walls. Edward and Tate turned to the group, as did everyone else in the room. The muscle of the king’s forced had arrived.
“Ah, Pembury,” Edward grabbed de Lara by the arm and pulled him away from the Seton clan. He gestured to the group of incoming knights, now beginning to cluster around a massive table of food several feet away. “You will tell him now of his destiny. And mind that you leave out nothing.”
De Lara was obviously displeased with the command. “You had better ask where Seton’s other daughter is before I tell him. If you want the man to marry her, then….”
Edward shook his head. “Forget about Margaret Seton. We have a very lovely and completely viable prospect right here. He will marry Joselyn Seton before this night is through and secure the city with a marriage to the daughter of the defeated Scot commander.”
Tate couldn’t help it; he grunted with exasperation, running a weary hand over his face. Then he glanced at the Lady Joselyn, standing small but strong next to her father. She certainly was a lovely little thing. There was no use in fighting the king’s wishes; once the man’s mind was set, there was no deterring him. He sighed in resignation and turned in the direction of the knights now settling in.
“Stephen,” he called to the group. “A word, please.”
Stephen of Pembury separated himself from the group and headed in de Lara’s direction. He was an enormously muscled man standing eight inches over six feet and was easily taller than even the tallest man in the room, de Lara included. In fact, Pembury was a giant wherever he went. With his dark hair, chiseled features and cornflower blue eyes, he cut a striking figure of male virility and power, and had more than his share of female admirers. He was enormously strong, intelligent and obedient to a fault. He had been close friends with Tate for years and the cornflower blue eyes twinkled as he came upon his friend and liege.
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