The de Lohr Dynasty

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  “De Lohr is out to destroy me, isn’t he?” John murmured, moving another piece. “Why else would he be here as Richard’s eyes and ears.” Suddenly, he stopped in mid-movement and looked at Ralph. “Do you believe it possible that Richard sent him here to kill me?”

  “An assassin? ’Tis possible, I suppose, but knights as righteous as de Lohr are not keen on premeditated murder.” Ralph countered the prince’s move. “Nay, de Lohr is here to spy on you and report back to your brother. With him distracted in the search for his wife, ’twill be much harder for him to spy on you.”

  “Sweet Jesus, what would we do without lovely little Lady de Lohr?” John murmured, moving his queen. “My brother unknowingly undermined his own mission by ordering de Lohr to marry the woman. Who would have known that he would have fallen in love with her?”

  “How could he not?” Ralph moved his knight. “Check.” “She’s a thoroughly delectable piece of meat, not unnoticed by Burton or any other man who sees her.”

  John sat forward, studying the board. “Which one of our loyalists holds the most fortified castle?”

  Ralph thought a moment. “There are several, my lord,” he said. “The trouble is de Lohr commands all of the crown’s troops, which total thousands of men. Were he to use the force and attack the hold where his wife is being held, he could easily destroy the fortress and our vassal with it. Nay, sire, if we abduct her, we must hide her until the time is right to use our leverage.”

  “Hide her where?” John, irritated he was losing, demanded.

  Ralph sat back in his chair, drumming his fingertips against each other as his elbows rested on the arms of the chair. “Wales, Ireland, Scotland, France. Anywhere but England.”

  John looked thoughtful for several moments. He may have lost the game, but he had not lost the fight. “I have a holding in South Glamorgan, in Wales. I saw it once; a Godforsaken, miserable piece of dung. St. Donat’s Castle sits on the coast among sharp cliffs and sheer mountains, a gloomy depressing place that is said to be haunted. The caretaker is a member of the family that built the place and I obtained the castle. ’Twould be a perfect place to keep Lady de Lohr while her husband frantically scours England in search of her. He’d never think to look in Wales, do not you agree?”

  “Absolutely, sire,” Ralph agreed. “Especially with winter coming, who would want to brave south Wales? We could keep her there comfortably for months.”

  John was suddenly not so angry that he lost the game. His hard brown eyes found Ralph. “Make it so, Ralph. And no mistakes this time.”

  Ralph nodded. “Trust me, sire. Lady de Lohr is as good as ours.”

  *

  Dustin waited patiently while her husband conversed with the stable master, looking about the stables with interest. Christopher had his back turned to her and she wandered a few feet away, watching the people and the children, hearing the dog’s bark and the horse’s bray.

  Absently, she began to wander slowly, noticing everything and smiling shyly when a groom would give her a bow or a nod. She stopped for a moment to admire a particularly beautiful black gelding, trading a few words with the groom before continuing on, completely forgetting about her husband. She was filled with the stables and the smell of horses and hay.

  She rounded a corner and paused to study the reddest chestnut she had ever seen when suddenly she heard tiny little squeaks, like pathetic whimpers. The sounds grew louder and she followed them, mounting a ladder to the hay loft curiously. It was there she found the source of the sounds, three tiny pups flailing about in the hay.

  She cried out softly and crawled across the dried grass, taking the first friendly puppy she came upon and cuddling him sweetly. His brothers, seeing movement, stumbled toward her.

  She studied the pups, noting from their teeth and eyes that they were five or six weeks old. She cradled a short-legged blond puppy, while his siblings were black with white and all brown, respectively. It was no time before they were crawling all over her, snagging her surcoat with their sharp baby claws and she was thoroughly delighted. She wondered where the Mama dog was. The straw was dented and a little dirty, and the pups were thin. She decided that the mother must have abandoned them and the pups were obviously too small to find their way down from the loft. As she cuddled and cooed, she heard her name being shouted loudly.

  “I am here,” she called out.

  Christopher didn’t answer for a minute, marching into the stables with the rage of the devil. “Where?” he boomed.

  “Up here,” she answered, looking down. He was directly below her.

  He heard her voice and looked up, seeing her through the slats and the hay. “What in the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Dustin, you know better than to wander off.”

  “Come to the ladder,” she said softly. “And hold up your hands.”

  “What?” he scowled, putting his hands on his hips.

  “Please, Chris, just come to the ladder,” she said, picking up all three pups. “Hold up your hands.”

  With a snort of annoyance, he came around and mounted the first step of the ladder, holding up a hand as requested. Dustin scooted to the edge of the opening and handed the first puppy, the black and white one, down into his mailed glove.

  “Christ,” he hissed, clutching the puppy quickly to him so he would not drop it. “What is this?”

  She put her feet on the top rung of the ladder, holding two puppies in one hand. “I found them up here. Their mother must have abandoned them. Aren’t they cute?”

  “Delightful,” he said dryly, noticing that she was trying to descend the ladder with one of her hands occupied. “Hold, lady. Give me those mongrels before you fall and break your neck.”

  Carefully, she handed the other two down to him and quickly descended the ladder; gently taking back the pups she had given him. He continued to hold the black and white one, eyeing it critically.

  “And what, I am afraid to ask, are you planning to do with these rats?” he asked sternly.

  She turned her wide, innocent eyes to him. “Keep them, of course. I miss Caesar so much, and holding them helps ease the pain a little.”

  He bit his tongue. Every negative word he was about to say simply slipped away and he could not deny her. Exasperated at her, and at his own weakness, he put his huge hand on her back and guided her from the stable.

  “Where will they sleep? Surely not in our bed,” he said.

  “Nay, I will make them beds of their own,” she said, rubbing noses with little blond puppy. “I think I will call this one Alex, in honor of Alexander the Great. And this one,” she nuzzled the brown puppy with the long legs, “I will call Cabal.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “King Arthur’s dog? A sound name, though he does not look deserving enough.”

  She pursed her lips at him in irritation and gazed fondly on the little black and white mutt cradled in her husband’s massive hand. “And that one, I will name Harold.”

  “After King Harold, no doubt,” he muttered, then looked at the wriggling little pups. “Al, Hal and Cab. What a trio.”

  He snickered as she protested strongly, though not without cracking a smile. “You will not call them that,” she demanded. “You will call them by their proper names.”

  He ignored her, lifting the pup he held against his chest so he could look at the little black-and-white face. “How goes it with you, Hal? Do not think to overrun my house like that vicious beast disguised as a cat does. You will know your place or I will have roast dog for sup.”

  “Do not say that,” Dustin admonished, laughing loudly when Harold licked Christopher’s nose. Christopher, goaded by her laughter, kissed her soundly on the lips and smeared puppy saliva on her cheek. Dustin giggled, licked her lips, and returned the kiss. Christopher almost forgot about the dog and pulled her to him with his free hand, his lips sweetly invading hers. They were about to become even more involved when someone shouted his name.

  They looked up to see Edward approac
hing, smiling but puzzled as he came up on them.

  “What is this?” he pointed at the pups.

  “Dogs, Edward, or are you truly that ignorant?” Christopher said sarcastically. “My wife has acquired three new pets, God help us.”

  “Charming,” Edward sniffed. “So you have been here playing with puppies while Baron Sedgewick and Lord Darby demand you fight them both? They refuse to take us on of lesser rank.”

  Christopher made a face. “Damn, I was hoping they would occupy themselves elsewhere this morn,” he said. “I wish to take my wife into London.”

  “So take her.” Edward was thrilled to see that Christopher and his wife were getting along again. He had been concerned for them. “I shall simply tell the baron and the earl that you cannot be found.”

  Christopher glanced at Dustin’s eager face. “And so I shall,” he said, handing the pup he was holding over to Edward. “Take this canine and his brothers to Marcus. Tell him to feed them or something, at least until we return.”

  “What about his hand?” Edward demanded, taking on Dustin’s puppies.

  “His other hand is fine, as is the rest of him,” Christopher said. “He is wasting the day by lying around like a weakling, so he can busy himself with these little maggots. This one is Al, this one is Hal, and this one is Cab.”

  Dustin rolled her eyes and pushed forward, shoving her husband aside. “This one is Alex, this one is Harold, and this,” she eyed her husband impatiently, “is Cabal. Make sure you tell Marcus and tell him I shall come for the pups in a few hours.”

  Edward was vastly relieved. If Dustin was speaking of Marcus, and Christopher was beaming like a fool, then things must be right in the world. He wondered if Christopher took his advice and apologized for his rashness; obviously, something had happened and he was thankful, for everyone’s sake.

  “As you wish, my lady,” he said, grasping the puppies awkwardly as he strode away.

  Once the dogs were gone, Christopher took her hand. “And now, we go to London.”

  The Street of the Jewelers was where every fine gold and silversmith in London kept shop. Christopher brought six trusted soldiers with them because he wanted his wife protected while he selected her gift alone, for he wanted it to be a surprise.

  Dustin, not one for jewelry, was not particularly interested in the wares displayed, but in more of the people and buildings. She watched fine women walk by, taking note of their surcoat or hair, then her head would whip around to study another individual. Christopher watched her with a great deal of amusement.

  “One more snap of your neck like that and your head will come free from your shoulders,” he remarked after she intently studied a man dressed in flowing black with an odd sort of cap on his head.

  “Who was that?” she asked, pointing to the man walking away from them.

  “A Jew,” he replied.

  Dustin turned once more to watch the man disappear into the crowd. “Oh,” she acknowledged with wonder. “I have never seen a Jew before.”

  He reined his destrier in front of a busy shop and Dustin rode alongside. He dismounted, moving towards her. She was too busy observing the people around her to notice that he held his arms up to her. She ignored him, though not intentionally.

  “Are you going to sit up there all day?” he asked with feigned annoyance.

  She grinned at him sheepishly and slid into his waiting arms. He held her just a bit longer than necessary, smiling at her. “This is the shop where I bought your wedding ring,” he told her. “Mayhap they have another ring to match.”

  She nodded as he took her arm and led her into the dark shop. The goldsmith, although busy with another customer, recognized him and waved enthusiastically.

  “Baron,” he said happily. “So good to see you again. How was it in Wales?”

  Christopher removed a gauntlet. “I was not in Wales, I was on the border, and it was acceptable. I have brought my wife; she wishes to purchase a ring for me like the one I gave her.”

  Dustin held up her hand and showed him the pretty gold band with five tiny diamonds. The man nodded firmly.

  “Ah, yes, I have something that will match quite nicely for you, baron, a very princely ring,” he said, rummaging through his wares.

  Dustin and Christopher watched him as he dug around and mumbled to himself. Suddenly, he drew forth a ring gleefully and thrust it toward Christopher.

  “Now there is a fine ring for a baroness, don’t you think?” he said.

  Christopher took the ring and scrutinized it closely. It was an exquisitely cut diamond, as big as a fair-sized pebble, set in a thin gold band so that the diamond nestled atop the band and caught the light brilliantly. He moved it around, noting the quality and color of the gemstone.

  “Give me your hand,” he told his wife.

  She held up her left hand and he slipped the band on her finger, placing it flush against her wedding band. It was a perfect fit.

  He examined the ring closely, turning Dustin’s finger from side to side. “I shall take it,” he said as easily as if he had just purchased a loaf of bread.

  Dustin stared back at the ring in awe. It was a magnificent diamond and the rainbows of colors that radiated forth from it were unimaginable. But it was also quite large and, she thought, gaudy. Although it matched the wedding band beautifully, she believed it looked sorely out of place on her hand with the chewed nails.

  “Christopher,” she said softly. “ ’Tis a lovely ring, but I am very happy with the band you gave me. Surely I do not need another wedding ring.”

  “You do, and now you have one,” he replied in a tone that she dared not argue with.

  Resigned to the rock that now hugged her finger, she gazed at it again, holding it in front of her and watching the colors as it caught the light and growing to like it better by the second. Suddenly, the jeweler let out a small cry and brought forth what he had been searching for. With great flourish, he handed it to Dustin.

  It was a horribly gaudy ring with a diamond on it as big as a bird’s egg. She turned her nose up at it and handed it back.

  “I want a man’s ring, not a woman’s,” she sniffed.

  “But this is a man’s ring, a baron’s ring,” the goldsmith insisted. “See the workmanship? The craftsmanship?”

  Dustin shook her head firmly. “I want a strong ring, solid and beautiful and simple. That thing is for the court dandy.”

  Christopher hid a smile as the jeweler began to sort through his wares again. Dustin stood on her toes, trying to see over the man’s shoulder as he shuffled about. He would hold up a ring to her and she would shake her head. The gaudier the ring, the harder the head would shake. Finally, desperate and down to his very last ring, he held up what he considered to be a grossly inadequate ring for a man of the baron’s status.

  She was pleased. It was a large, wide band of gold, strong and solid and perfect. It was exactly what she wanted, exactly like her husband. Christopher watched her face as she looked the ring over.

  “Are you pleased? Is this what you had in mind?” he asked.

  Dustin took the ring from the jeweler. “Take off your gauntlet,” she asked her husband.

  Obediently, he removed the glove and she slid the big ring onto his finger easily. She smiled and looked up at him. “It’s perfect. What do you think?”

  He looked at the ring. “I think my wife has very good taste.”

  She smiled broadly and he tapped her lightly under the chin before turning to the goldsmith. “It would seem that we are satisfied,” he said. “What is the price?”

  Dustin watched her husband’s hand. He held the gauntlet in his right hand, leaving his left hand bare as he bartered for the price of the rings and when he was satisfied, he paid the man with several gold coins. Dustin swallowed hard when she saw the exchange of money; her ring had cost him a great deal and she wasn’t even that fond of it. Yet, since it was a gift from him, she would treasure it.

  Purchase complete, Christop
her took Dustin out of the shop and into the faded late morning sun.

  “Would you like to look about?” he asked.

  She looked down the street, busy with hundreds of people. “Aye,” she replied. “Are there any bakers down there? I am hungry.”

  Perfect, he thought. She could occupy herself with food while he selected her gift. He feigned irritation at her. “You keep eating like you do and you are going to be fat as a pig,” he said sternly, although it was far from the truth. He liked to see her healthy appetite.

  She stuck out her lower lip in a pout. “And then you will not want me anymore?”

  He could not help but break into a smile, giving her a few coins. “Eat yourself sick. I have business to attend to.”

  He turned to his soldiers and gave them a few sharp orders, putting one of the men in charge. Dustin grinned at her husband as she walked down the street with her escort, noticing he hadn’t put his glove on yet. Even from where she was, she could see the wide gold band gleaming in the weak sunlight and she was immensely pleased. Selecting it had been much easier than she thought.

  She walked down the street with her guards, glancing here and there when vendors would call out to her, but shaking her head and passing on. She asked the soldier who was in charge where the baker’s shop was and he pointed to the junction where two roads crossed. Dustin truly was famished, for she had had no morning meal and the nooning meal was rapidly approaching. The streets were alive with people and things, and she was thrilled with the new sights and smells.

  On the corner was a man with a little monkey on a leash. Dustin had never seen a monkey before and was entranced at the little thing as it danced about and held out its little hat for coin. She laughed with delight when the monkey would take a bow after receiving a coin. The vendor, a thin man with bad teeth, politely answered her questions about the animal and gave her permission to pet the beast.

  The monkey was affectionate and soon curled up on Dustin’s lap as she stroked it tenderly. It was a tiny little thing with a beard that moved comically when the vendor gave it something to eat. Dustin forgot all about the baker.