Border Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Diamantha had shed tears for her late husband but they had fortunately been short-lived. They had what they had come for – the great questing for Robert Edlington’s body – and she was satisfied. Thankfully, she didn’t ask to see Robert’s corpse because once she saw the tunic, both she and Cortez agreed that it was better to remember Robert as he was, a big and powerful knight. Cortez, along with Keir and the other knights, assured Diamantha that the corpse was indeed Robert, so with six men identifying her husband, Diamantha saw no need to personally identify him. Their word was enough, and Cortez was deeply thankful.

  As he sat and collected his thoughts, and pondered the great secret of Robert Edlington’s true passing that six knights had sworn to take to their graves, the rabbit got loose from Sophie and the little girl squealed. Snapping out of his train of thought, Cortez got up and went after the rabbit, finding it hiding under the bed and delivering it back to Sophie for safekeeping.

  Meanwhile, Diamantha had taken Robert’s tunic and carefully rolled it up, putting it into the barrel that made anything stored in it smell like cinnamon. She stood there a moment, gazing down into the barrel.

  “What did you do with the rest of Robert’s possessions?” she asked Cortez.

  He had made his way over to the table and the bowl of cold water. He splashed some on his face. “In addition to the tunic, we came across his sword, most of his armor, and one of his saddlebags,” he said. “All of that will be stored on the wagons. I asked Drake to see to it. Why?”

  She shrugged, still looking down the barrel. “I want to make sure we preserve them for Sophie,” she said. “It is something of her father that she can have. I think it is important.”

  Cortez agreed. “We will put them away for safekeeping and she can have them when she comes of age, mayhap to give to her own son.”

  Diamantha liked that idea. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “When did the priests think they would be finished with Robert’s coffin?”

  Cortez splashed more water on his face, drying it with a piece of linen nearby that was there for that purpose. “More than likely today,” he said. “I will go to the church later and check their progress. Once Robert is settled, there is no reason to delay returning home. I would like to before the heavy snows fall.”

  Diamantha agreed. She began rearranging the barrel as Cortez finished dressing and headed out into the common room. He wanted to meet with his knights to make preparations for the return journey. As emotionally draining as yesterday had been, he awoke this morning feeling a great sense of relief – relief that their journey had ended and relief that they had what they had come for.

  Still, he couldn’t help feeling some guilt and sadness over Robert’s final demise. Perhaps he would always feel some guilt for it. But he, like the others, prayed that Robert was finally at peace. Perhaps God would take pity on the man and not condemn him to Purgatory for his actions. God was a man, after all. Perhaps He would understand.

  His knights were at their usual table near the entry door of the tavern and he made his way over to them, listening to Keir and Michael deal him a few insults for sleeping late. Cortez grinned and slapped Keir on the shoulder, good-naturedly, as he sat down to bread and warmed-over stew. As he began to eat his first real meal in days, the door swung open and young Peter appeared.

  “My lord,” the squire said. “You had better come.”

  A sense of concern shot through Cortez as he swallowed the bite in his mouth and rose to his feet. “What is it?” he demanded.

  Peter merely waved him on. “Come and see, my lord.”

  The young lad bolted from the room, leaving the knights to follow. Everyone was wrought with curiosity and some apprehension as they made their way to the area outside of the tavern, with Peter pointing down the road to the southwest. It was clear this day with the rains having cleared out, but a touch of winter was in the air. It was very cold and breath hung in great foggy clouds as they all tried to see what Peter was pointing at. Cortez’s eyes were no good at a distance but Keir’s were. A slow smile spread across his lips.

  “Andres,” he finally breathed.

  Cortez wasn’t surprised. “He said he would catch up with us,” he said, great satisfaction in his voice. “But do I see two riders?”

  Keir nodded as Drake came up beside Cortez. “It looks like your father,” he muttered.

  Cortez sighed heavily. He didn’t want a battle on his hands, not today. After yesterday, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready for another emotional battle so he braced himself.

  Sensing a hard change in Cortez’s demeanor, Drake leaned into him. He knew what had the man on edge.

  “Andres would not have brought your father with him if the man was still full of venom,” he said in a low voice. “But to be safe, I will go sit with your wife.”

  Cortez nodded faintly as Drake headed back into the tavern. As the rest of the knights stood there, the two great chargers heading up from the southwest drew closer and closer. Andres and Gorsedd came clearly into view and Cortez, feeling very edgy, moved forward.

  “Stop right there,” he told them. “Father, if you have come here to further denounce my wife, know that I have no patience for it. You can turn around and go home. Today is not the day to push me.”

  Andres held up a hand to signify his peaceful intentions. “Greetings to you, too, brother,” he said somewhat wryly, noting Keir standing next to Cortez. His face lit up. “St. Héver, you ugly beast! How did you come to be part of this ragtag group? And is that Pembury? Good God, two ugly beasts in one place. I’ve never been so happy in my life!”

  Keir grinned, as did Michael, but neither one of them responded. There was still the unanswered statement from Cortez. Uncertainty filled the air as Cortez took another step towards them.

  “Answer me,” he said, looking mostly at his father. “What are you doing here?”

  Andres gave his brother a droll expression. “Can we at least dismount?”

  “Nay.”

  Andres sighed sharply. “Cortez, we came to find you,” he stated the obvious. “Father and I had many serious discussions after you left and he has come to see the error of his ways. Old prejudices die hard but Father agrees that your wife should not be held responsible for the actions of her ancestor. He has come to make amends. Now, can we dismount?”

  Cortez was looking at his father now. “Is this true?” he asked, considerably less hostile. “Did you come to apologize?”

  Gorsedd looked rather ragged and pale, sporting several days’ growth on his face. “All I have is my family,” he said, rather simply. “You must understand that I spent my youth listening to stories of de Velt’s atrocities against my grandfather. I had grown up hating the very name. Your wife… she comes from that family but she did not commit the crimes. Forgive an old man for living in the past and for letting old prejudices cloud his thinking.”

  Cortez couldn’t help but think of what he’d been told. Father’s mind is going. Maybe in flashes of insanity, he would forget his apology and relive the old hatred. He couldn’t help but be wary.

  “You are forgiven,” he said quietly. “But I am not entirely sure I can trust you around my wife. She is the most important thing in the world to me, even over you.”

  Gorsedd appeared genuinely remorseful. “Will… you at least allow me to apologize to her?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want my son back and this is the only way he will return.”

  That was probably very true and for that fact alone, Cortez was willing to believe that his father would behave himself. His family was the most important thing to him and he would do what was necessary to preserve it – perhaps even put aside an old hatred. Still, time would tell, but for the moment, Cortez was willing to agree. It was his father, after all, and he had missed him. He would like nothing better than for these wounds to be healed. He looked at Andres.

  “Do you believe him?” he asked.

  Andres nodded. “I w
ould not be here if I did not,” he said, his gaze softening on his brother. “Give the man a chance, Cortez. Please.”

  Cortez could feel himself relenting. “Very well,” he said after a moment. “Dismount your horses and come inside. I will have Peter take your mounts to the livery.”

  A collective sigh of relief went up as Gorsedd and Andres dismounted their horses. As Andres went straight to Keir, who tried to punch him in the nose as he had once promised to do, Gorsedd went to Cortez.

  The old man gazed up at his son. There were a thousand things he wanted to say to him but the words just wouldn’t come. At this point, actions would speak louder than words and he knew it. He had much to atone for. As the cold wind blew around them and the knights began to head back into the warmth of the tavern, Gorsedd dug into the pocket of his heavy cloak.

  “I have something for your wife,” he said. “Mayhap… mayhap in some small way, this will emphasize my regret at my behavior. I hope it will.”

  Cortez was trying not to feel pity for his father but it was difficult. He loved his father very much and the rift had greatly upset him.

  “What is it?”

  Gorsedd pulled out a piece of cloth, carefully wrapped around something, and as he unwrapped the ends, Cortez could see flashes of silver beneath. The great silver collar suddenly appeared, whole and bright and beautiful as it had been the day it had been forged. It was magnificent beneath the cloudy, cold skies and Cortez couldn’t help but reach out to touch it. So many memories in that one collar.

  “The necklace,” he breathed. “You had it repaired.”

  Gorsedd nodded. “I did indeed,” he said, looking up at Cortez. “I hope your wife will accept this. Your mother would have wanted her to have it and, in some small way, mayhap this makes your mother a part of your marriage. She would have been so happy to know your wife, Cortez. With this necklace, I believe your mother is giving you her blessing. I hope your wife will wear it with honor and accept the apology of a foolish old man.”

  Cortez grinned. He put his hand on his father’s shoulder, giving the man a squeeze. “Let us go inside and ask her.”

  Gorsedd nodded, broke into a smile, and then fiercely hugged his son, who returned the embrace firmly. Finally, Cortez could feel warmth again and hope. He could feel so very many things, not the least of which was his father’s genuine regret and remorse. For them, so many things had come full circle and for life in general, the great questing undertaken those weeks ago was now at a close.

  Everyone had what they had come for; for Diamantha, it was Robert, and for Cortez, it was Diamantha. For Gorsedd… it was the understanding that life goes on and old family hatred should remain in the past. For Gorsedd and Cortez and Andres, it had no meaning. Life was good now and they intended to keep it that way.

  The great questing, to all concerned, meant something different to each and every one.

  EPILOGUE

  Sherborne Castle

  1313 A.D.

  “Great Bleeding Jesus,” Cortez grunted. “Is everyone not ready yet? It will be a three-day journey to the Marches and you know I wanted to leave on time. What on earth is the delay?”

  He was standing on the landing just outside of the great bedchamber he shared with Diamantha at Sherborne, watching his children scatter past him; two small boys, aged seven and four, ran down the staircase while three girls, aged twelve, ten, and nine years, ran into the chamber across from the master’s chamber and slammed the door. This level had two bedchambers, one belonging to him and his wife, and the other belonging to his daughters. But the boys had a chamber on the floor above and it seemed as if everyone was migrating in a great herd in front of him, in all different directions, and suddenly they were all gone except for one. Cortez called out to the last child remaining.

  “Rhodri,” he addressed his eldest. “Where is everyone going? Are all of your brothers and sisters ready to depart?”

  Rhodri de Bretagne was a very big lad, handsome and well-mannered, named for Gorsedd’s grandfather who had lost his life at the hands of Jax de Velt. He had been fostering at Blackstone Castle in Norfolk for the past four years and had only recently returned at the request of his mother, who had missed him very much. Moreover, the family was about to celebrate a milestone in their lives: the birth of Diamantha and Cortez’s first grandchild, Sophie’s son, and the entire family was heading to the Welsh Marches to visit Trelystan Castle, the seat of the great marcher lords, the House of de Lara. Sophie had married into the very big clan and the birth was cause for celebration for all concerned.

  In fact, Diamantha had wanted all of her fostering children home for this great event, so the keep of Sherborne was full of brothers and sisters who had not seen each other in quite some time. Therefore, it was a bit chaotic. But neither Cortez nor Diamantha cared. They were simply thrilled to have all of their children home again.

  “Father, the girls will not listen to me,” Rhodri said, sounding as if he was defending himself. “When I told them we had to leave, they yelled at me.”

  Cortez looked at his son, lifting his eyebrows drolly. “They yelled at you?”

  Rhodri nodded seriously. “Loudly,” he insisted. “They were loud.”

  Cortez shook his head and rolled his eyes. “And that frightens you?”

  Rhodri stood his ground. “Sometimes they throw things, too,” he said. “Allegria threw a shoe at me yesterday. She is a very mean girl!”

  Cortez couldn’t help the wry expression. “Lad, do you realize you are quite a bit bigger than they are?” he asked, almost rhetorically. “You could have forced them to come.”

  Rhodri cocked his head. “Could you force them to come?”

  Cortez backed off, but not entirely. “Aye,” he said. “I can. Diamantha?”

  He called out to his wife who was inside their chamber finishing with the last of the packing. From inside the room, they heard her muffled reply.

  “What is it?” she called.

  “Sweetheart, can you please attend me?” Cortez responded politely.

  As he and Rhodri eyed each other, confident that the rebellious girls would soon be defeated, Diamantha appeared, her hands clutching a blanket for the new baby that she had been trying to pack. Her bags were nearly full, however, and it was taking a bit of effort. In the dimness of the landing, she smiled at her son first before turning to Cortez.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Cortez opened his mouth to speak but Rhodri interrupted his father. “I tried to tell the girls that we must leave and they yelled at me,” he said. “Papa wants you to tell them we must depart.”

  Diamantha lifted her eyebrows and looked at her husband, who merely nodded his head as if it were an entirely serious matter. Diamantha shook her head reproachfully.

  “And you cannot do this?” she hissed, holding up the blanket. “I am not quite finished packing the baby’s items.”

  Cortez lifted his shoulders. “They throw things.”

  Diamantha turned her head. She didn’t want her husband or son to see that she was about to laugh. “You are both bigger and stronger than they are,” she said, but she dutifully went to the door on the opposite side of the landing and rapped on it heavily. “Allegria? Isabella? Juliana? If you are not down in the wagon by the time I finish packing, and I am nearly finished, then I will take my hand to your backsides. Is that clear? Your father is coming in to collect your baggage, so you had better be prepared.”

  She could hear hissing and shuffling behind the door. Satisfied, she turned to her husband and eldest son. “There,” she said. “I have tamed the wild beasts for you. All you have to do now is go in and collect their bags. That should not be too hard, should it?”

  Rhodri looked embarrassed while Cortez merely grinned. “You are a marvel of womanhood,” he said, pulling her to him and kissing her cheek. “A goddess divine. A….”

  Diamantha put a hand over his mouth, grinning as she pulled away. “Enough flattery,” she said, looking at Rhod
ri. “Go upstairs and get your brothers, Rhodri. Cruz and Mateo are already packed. I finished up their things myself last night.”

  Rhodri pointed down the stairwell. “They are already down in the wagon, Mother.”

  She reached out and patted his cheek. “Thank you, my son,” she said, seeing so much of Cortez in that handsome little face. “Go to them. I will finish packing and meet you down there.”

  Rhodri turned obediently, heading for the stairs that led down to the ground floor of the keep and subsequently out to the massive bailey of Sherborne. Cortez stole another kiss from her and turned for his daughter’s chamber but a word from his wife stopped him.

  “Cortez, wait,” she said. When he paused and looked at her, expectantly, she continued. “Do you recall those years ago when we returned from Falkirk with Robert’s possessions? Do you recall how we discussed giving them to Sophie for her first son? Where did you store those items? I should like to bring them for her now.”

  Cortez nodded in both remembrance and agreement. “They are in my solar,” he said. “I put them in a chest. I shall have the chest put on the wagons.”

  Diamantha put the blanket aside. “Let me see what is in that chest first,” she said. “I never did look through everything when it was brought back. I… I suppose I did not have the strength. Did you ever look through his things?”

  Cortez shook his head, trying not to think back to that time, a time that had been so wonderful yet so terrible. It was a time that had given him a secret he had kept from his wife all these years. With time, the guilt of bearing it had eased, but it had never gone away completely. Now, with the mention of Robert Edlington, it threatened to return.