THE CENTURION
A Medieval Romance
By Kathryn Le Veque
Lords of de Royans series
© Copyright 2019 by Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
EPUB Edition
Text by Kathryn Le Veque
Cover by Kim Killion
Edited by Scott Moreland
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook, once purchased, may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or borrow it, or it was not purchased for you and given as a gift for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. If this book was purchased on an unauthorized platform, then it is a pirated and/or unauthorized copy and violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Do not purchase or accept pirated copies. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work.
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Kathryn Le Veque Novels
Medieval Romance:
De Wolfe Pack Series:
Warwolfe
The Wolfe
Nighthawk
ShadowWolfe
DarkWolfe
A Joyous de Wolfe Christmas
BlackWolfe
Serpent
A Wolfe Among Dragons
Scorpion
StormWolfe
Dark Destroyer
The Lion of the North
Walls of Babylon
The de Russe Legacy:
The Falls of Erith
Lord of War: Black Angel
The Iron Knight
Beast
The Dark One: Dark Knight
The White Lord of Wellesbourne
Dark Moon
Dark Steel
A de Russe Christmas Miracle
The de Lohr Dynasty:
While Angels Slept
Rise of the Defender
Steelheart
Shadowmoor
Silversword
Spectre of the Sword
Unending Love
Archangel
Lords of East Anglia:
While Angels Slept
Godspeed
Great Lords of le Bec:
Great Protector
House of de Royans:
Lord of Winter
To the Lady Born
The Centurion
Lords of Eire:
Echoes of Ancient Dreams
Blacksword
The Darkland
Ancient Kings of Anglecynn:
The Whispering Night
Netherworld
Battle Lords of de Velt:
The Dark Lord
Devil’s Dominion
Bay of Fear
The Dark Lord’s First Christmas
Reign of the House of de Winter:
Lespada
Swords and Shields
De Reyne Domination:
Guardian of Darkness
With Dreams
The Fallen One
House of d’Vant:
Tender is the Knight (House of d’Vant)
The Red Fury (House of d’Vant)
The Dragonblade Series:
Fragments of Grace
Dragonblade
Island of Glass
The Savage Curtain
The Fallen One
Great Marcher Lords of de Lara
Lord of the Shadows
Dragonblade
House of St. Hever
Fragments of Grace
Island of Glass
Queen of Lost Stars
Lords of Pembury:
The Savage Curtain
Lords of Thunder: The de Shera Brotherhood Trilogy
The Thunder Lord
The Thunder Warrior
The Thunder Knight
The Great Knights of de Moray:
Shield of Kronos
The Gorgon
The House of De Nerra:
The Promise
The Falls of Erith
Vestiges of Valor
Realm of Angels
Highland Warriors of Munro:
The Red Lion
Deep Into Darkness
The House of de Garr:
Lord of Light
Realm of Angels
Saxon Lords of Hage:
The Crusader
Kingdom Come
High Warriors of Rohan:
High Warrior
The House of Ashbourne:
Upon a Midnight Dream
The House of D’Aurilliac:
Valiant Chaos
The House of De Dere:
Of Love and Legend
St. John and de Gare Clans:
The Warrior Poet
The House of de Bretagne:
The Questing
The House of Summerlin:
The Legend
The Kingdom of Hendocia:
Kingdom by the Sea
The Executioner Knights:
By the Unholy Hand
The Promise (also Noble Knights of de Nerra)
The Mountain Dark
Starless
A Time of End
Contemporary Romance:
Kathlyn Trent/Marcus Burton Series:
Valley of the Shadow
The Eden Factor
Canyon of the Sphinx
The American Heroes Anthology Series:
The Lucius Robe
Fires of Autumn
Evenshade
Sea of Dreams
Purgatory
Other non-connected Contemporary Romance:
Lady of Heaven
Darkling, I Listen
In the Dreaming Hour
River’s End
The Fountain
Sons of Poseidon:
The Immortal Sea
Pirates of Britannia Series (with Eliza Knight):
Savage of the Sea by Eliza Knight
Leader of Titans by Kathryn Le Veque
The Sea Devil by Eliza Knight
Sea Wolfe by Kathryn Le Veque
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. You will notice that some series have the same books; that is because they are cross-overs. A hero in one book may be the secondary character in another.
There is NO reading order except by chronology, but even in that case, you can still read the books as stand-alones. No novel is connected to another by a cliff hanger, and every book has an HEA.
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.
For more information, find it in A Reader’s Guide to the Medieval World of Le Veque.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Kathryn Le Veque Novels
Author’s
Note
Map
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
About Kathryn Le Veque
AUTHOR’S NOTE
It’s another classic Le Veque novel that I never thought would see the light of day!
We first met the hero and heroine of this tale in BlackWolfe, as an older married couple at the marriage of their youngest daughter, Alys. It was a brief glimpse, but now I’m so excited to tell the story of how Torston de Royans and Alyx de Ameland actually met.
And what a story it is. Fasten your seatbelts because it’s going to be a bumpy ride!
This novel actually has very special meaning to me. I wrote it well back in the 90s and it was the novel that wrangled me my first agent. I was so thrilled! She had me make a few changes to it, however, one of them being the title – she changed it to “Sacred Splendor”, as was the (drippy-romantic) style of titles back then. “The Centurion” wasn’t romantic enough, I was told. That may be, but it was the title I wanted to keep – and now, the story is presented as it was meant to be – with its original title intact.
Huzzah!
One of the fun things about reconstructing these old stories (or sections of them) is seeing how much my characters have matured, meaning that when I was much younger, I wrote about very young characters – heroines were eighteen (some younger, but in keeping with current times, I made sure they were of legal age) and heroes were, at most, in their early thirties. I remember when I actually wrote, for the first time, a hero who was forty, that seemed like old age to me at the time. Ha! No longer. Now, as a “mature” adult, main characters I create nowadays are in their forties and fifties. I’ll bet you didn’t realize that!
That being said, I kept the original ages of these characters because I think it’s important in staying true to the original storyline. The heroine is very young and the hero is young enough to be my son. If I gave birth at ten years of age. Heh. Seriously, they’re younger than I would make them if I was writing this story for the first time, but even so, they are mature for their ages, except our heroine is a little naïve. But that’s okay – the hero is there to help her along.
He’s quite a hero.
This book also tackles something I’ve rarely tackled before except for one other time in a novel called Godspeed – senility in an elderly character. Research shows us that there were a variety of mental illnesses in Medieval times that were caused by, and attributed to, a variety of things – demons, spells, bad water, you name it. There was no understanding of mental illness, nor was there any help for it.
Back to our hero, Torston de Royans – he’s the grandson of Juston de Royans from Lord of Winter. I really love the de Royans family, my favorite hero being Weston from To the Lady Born. All of them big, blond, and handsome. All of them skilled to the bone, very great knights. What’s not to love? We also get a very brief glimpse of William de Wolfe and Paris de Norville at the end because, if you recall from reading The Wolfe, The Lyceum was mentioned as an ally to Northwood Castle. If you haven’t read The Wolfe, I would suggest you do!
I think this is one of the few books where I don’t have any weird names in it so that you need a pronunciation guide. Everything is pretty straightforward. But there are places that really do exist – like Makendon (I made it a castle) and Luckenburn (I made it a tower). The Lyceum, of course, is fictional, but I set it near Byrness village way up in the wilds of Northumberland. Look it up on Google maps!
Get ready for the knights in shining armor and the baddest of baddies. It’s one heck of an old-school Le Veque novel.
Read on!
Hugs,
CHAPTER ONE
In Dextera Dei
“God’s Right Hand” House of de Royans Motto
Year of Our Lord 1240 A.D.
Northumbrian Borders
“Alyx!”
The only reply came from a hawk, riding the drafts high overhead. A man in armor drove his warhorse though the foliage of the forest, the dampness around him smelling of earth and mold. But he ignored the tang in his nostrils, his soft brown eyes roving the greenery that seemed to be cloying, secretive. As the sounds of the distant battle intensified, so did his sense of urgency.
“Alyx, answer me!”
The hawk seemed to be following him, mocking his cries. If Torston de Royans had possessed a crossbow at that moment, he would have taken fiendish pleasure in spearing the bird. But his pleasure would have to wait as the warhorse plunged down a ravine, stumbling through the heavy bramble. Leaping deftly over a log, the beast struggled up the opposite side of the gully.
“Damnation, Alyx, can you hear me? Answer!”
The hawk laughed at him; Torston was positive of that. Unable to restrain his frustration, he took a small dirk from the folds of his armor, where the knee protection met the thigh, and hurled it in the direction of the bird. He missed, and the hawk continued to laugh.
The warhorse stumbled over a toppled tree, hidden by the carpet of leaves. Hissing a curse, Torston continued to carve through the thicket, shouting into the trees and feeling his anxiety mount. Darkness was falling and his time was growing limited.
“Alyx, please!” He paused, still hearing the cries of the distant battle and imagining that they were growing closer. “I know you are frightened, but you must show yourself!”
The thunder of hooves caught his attention. Instantly, his broadsword was out of its sheath and held defensively as a knight came toward him through the trees. Torston lowered his weapon when he recognized the worn armor.
“Did you find her?” the knight called to him.
Torston let out a heavy sigh. “She’s nowhere to be found, I tell you. And what makes you think she’d be hiding in the trees with a battle waging just over the hill?”
The knight raised his visor, his bearded face coated with sweat and exhaustion. “Because her father said she had come into the forest to collect flowers. The female servants that accompanied her have returned, but Lady Alyx has not. She’s here, somewhere, hiding.”
Torston’s jaw flexed. “Lance, the battle is drawing closer. The Scots must come through these woods if they are to reach the sheep fields, which is their target. If they find Alyx before we do…”
“I know.” Sir Lance Brockenhurst held up a silencing hand. He, too, was desperate to find his liege’s daughter and enlisting the help of Sir Torston de Royans had been the first step toward success. When attempting to catch an elusive creature, one must be sure of the bait. “Keep looking, Torston. If she knows you are here, she’ll most certainly come out of hiding.”
“What if she’s already returned to Makendon?”
“Someone would have told us.” Lance pounded his thigh with frustration. “God help me, when I find the lass, I’m going to blister her behind. And I don’t care if her father is my liege!”
Torston scratched beneath his hauberk where the mail was irritating his flesh. “She could not have known the Scots had planned this day for a raid. These are her woods, Lance. She always spends time here.” He glanced around, determining where to resume his s
earch. “Do you think it possible that…?”
He was cut off by a startling yell. The warhorses bolted nervously as a group of woolen-clad men rushed from the trees, halberds and clubs wielded high. Lance’s sword was drawn as he spurred his warhorse to meet the incoming tide.
“I’ll take care of the Scots, Torston!” he shouted. “Go find Alyx!”
Torston did as he was told. Shouting Alyx’s name, he tore through the bushes, fighting the vines and branches that seemed determined to slow him. He could hear Lance’s grunts of effort and the clang of steel against steel, and it only served to fuel his urgency. If he didn’t find Lady Alyx before the Scot’s did, then the lady most certainly would be lost.
He pushed through a group of oaks and the sounds of battle faded. Torston was about to skirt down another small ravine when something caught his eye. Laying quite plainly on the bed of the forest was a kerchief. Dismounting, Torston snatched the material, his heart sinking as he inspected it. It was soft linen, embroidered with a gathering of happy butterflies. Something only a lady of standing would carry, and certainly something she would never leave behind unless she had been forced to.
“Damn,” he hissed.
Glancing around to determine the direction the lady had been taken, Torston clutched the kerchief to his breast like a macabre reminder of his failure. His failure, of course, was his inability to locate the lady before someone else got to her. He was already thinking of what to tell Winslow de Ameland of his daughter’s fate when a rustle of leaves caught his attention.
His body instinctively tensed. He reached down for the dagger he kept lodged in his thigh armor but remembered he had tossed it at the hawk. Strangely, the hawk was gone and Torston was glad the bird had sought its entertainment elsewhere. The last thing he needed was an obnoxious bird announcing his approach to the enemy.
The broadsword was unsheathed, leveled in front of him. The leaves rustled again and Torston strained to see through the bushes, wondering how many Scots were preparing to ambush him. His boots made soft crunching noises against the earth, a deafening sound to one whose intent was to be silent.
The leaves rustled again. But it was more than a shake; it was as if something had been dropped. Or thrown. Torston was focused on the bushes when a warm body rushed at him from the right, blindsiding him. Off-guard and off-balance, he twisted around and threw his shoulder into the figure. With a shriek, the person fell away.
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