The de Lohr Dynasty

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Marcus lifted an eyebrow as Dustin shot to her feet. “Richard and David?” she repeated, agitated. “I do not want to see them.”

  “Mayhap so, but they are here nonetheless.” Marcus put up a hand to calm her. “Why don’t you go upstairs and change into one of your new surcoats? That would please me.”

  “Nay!” she yanked away from him, toppling the game board. “I do not want them here, either of them. They are to blame for my misery and I hate them.”

  Marcus stood up. “Calm down, honey,” he said softly. “You shall only have to see them a moment and then never again. I promise I shall keep them away from you.”

  Edward did not like the wild look to her eye. All of the healing that had occurred with Marcus over the past week was rapidly slipping away.

  “Richard killed Christopher,” she said pointedly. “He is responsible for everything that has happened.”

  “Be reasonable, Dustin,” Marcus said steadily. “Christopher served Richard of his own accord; no one forced hm. He is not the first man to die in the service of his king, and he certainly won’t be the last. Richard is not responsible in the least and I am sure his grief is great. Chris was his dear friend.”

  She eyed Marcus with doubt and agitation, knowing his words made sense but not wanting to admit it. She had to blame someone for her husband’s death, and Richard was the most obvious target.

  “I hate him,” she seethed. “And I am going to beat David to a pulp if he sets foot in my keep.”

  Marcus never did ask what had happened between Christopher and David, but at this moment he decided to find out. Dustin was obviously very angry with her brother-in-law.

  “What happened between Chris and David that you should hate him so?” he asked her.

  She jutted her chin out, turning away from him. “He accused me of horrible things and we fought. Christopher banished him from Lioncross.”

  “You fought?” Marcus repeated with mounting disbelief. “Do you mean that you actually exchanged blows?”

  “I slapped him and he slapped me back,” Dustin replied. “Christopher was going to kill him, but he exiled him instead.”

  Marcus shook his head. “What did he say to you that was so horrible? I know for a fact that David adored you, Dustin. What happened?”

  She looked him in the eye. “He accused me of being your whore and of bearing your child. So I hit him.”

  Marcus was almost physically impacted by the statement. Edward watched him as he tried to keep his steady demeanor, but it was apparent he was shocked. After a moment, the veins on his throat throbbed.

  “Then David does not set foot in this castle,” he said in a low voice. “I shall run him through if he tries.”

  “You will have no choice,” Edward informed him. “He comes with Richard, and Richard will gain him entrance. You cannot go against our king.”

  Marcus glared at Edward; he did not like the way this was going already. He could not take Dustin with him tomorrow as planned if Richard were here, and he did not want David near her, yet Edward was correct in that he had no power to deny him entrance to Lioncross.

  Muttering a curse, he turned away. Horns sounded on the wall outside and they knew that the army’s arrival was imminent. The huge outer gates were already swinging open.

  Marcus turned to Dustin. “Honey, go upstairs. Wait for me there.”

  Dustin turned immediately and quit the room. Edward and Marcus exchanged glances before proceeding out into the foyer and onward to the bailey.

  As they expected, David and Richard entered the courtyard side by side. Slightly behind them rode Sir Philip de Lohr, and a host of other distinguished knights that had come to pay their respect to Lady de Lohr. Edward and Marcus were stunned; they thought that only Richard and David and a few vassals were coming, when in fact, the army that had come with them was made up entirely of knights that had served with Christopher in the Holy Land. Marcus recognized every man he lay eyes upon, as did Edward, and they swapped awestruck gazes.

  The courtyard was full of men in full armor and regalia, and even then the party still spilled out of the gates and down the road. The men-at-arms were astonished at the show of support for their liege; they, of course, had always known the baron to be a great man. But they could not imagine that the whole of Richard and his court respected him as much as they did. It was an awesome sight to behold.

  Dustin saw the men from her bedchamber window, her hate and agitation fleeing when she saw all of the knights that had accompanied the king. Without even being told, she knew that they had come to pay their respects to her for the loss of her husband, and all of her fortitude and mental stability returned in one fell swoop. Out of their love and respect for her husband, they had come to pay him homage and she would not disappoint. They wanted to see the Lion’s Claw’s wife, and see her they would. She could feel the reverence radiating from the army, the very deep admiration they held for Christopher evident and she was deeply touched. They would not see the crazy, dirty woman who had run mad with grief for weeks on end, nay; they would see regal, composed Lady de Lohr as befitting the baron’s wife.

  Dashing from the window, she bellowed for rosewater and a towel.

  *

  Richard, his tunic of scarlet with three fierce lions as clean as anyone had ever seen it, held up a hand in greeting to Edward and to Marcus.

  “Marcus, I thought you might be here,” he said. “Ever the faithful vassal to Chris, aren’t you?”

  Marcus nodded slowly. “Sire, our prayers were answered with your safe return.”

  Richard raised a heavy eyebrow and dismounted stiffly. “Indeed. Yet I come home to discord and chaos, even amongst my own ranks.” He removed his gauntlets and passed an eye over Edward. “De Wolfe, you are looking well. I understand you have been taking care of Lady de Lohr.”

  “In a sense, sire,” Edward bowed. “I am making sure Lioncross is running smoothly.”

  Richard nodded shortly then glanced over his shoulder at David. “Are you going to sit there forever?”

  David dismounted, his eyes guarded against Edward and outright hostile on Marcus. Richard was no fool; he could plainly read the distrust and animosity between his men. All of his joviality and good feelings fled.

  “Enough of this,” he snarled. “When we were together in the Holy Land, you men were inseparable. There were no stronger bonds anywhere in my ranks, and I return home to find everyone at odds. I shall not stand for it any longer. I heard rumor that Dustin Barringdon is the root of this problem, but I refused to believe it. Since when does a mere woman come between my knights of the realm?”

  The three men looked decidedly uncomfortable and Edward cleared his throat. “ ’Tis not that simple, sire, truly,” he said softly.

  Richard was impatient. “Then we shall discuss it later, but for now, I wish to see this woman on whom my kingdom hinges. Where is she?”

  “Inside, sire,” Marcus replied. “I shall retrieve her for you.”

  “No need,” Philip walked up on the small group, his faded blue eyes gazing over their heads at the front door to the keep. “She has come.”

  All eyes turned to see Dustin emerging from the door, and not a man who laid eyes upon her beauty dared to breathe. She was dressed in royal blue silk, Christopher’s color, the color that enhanced her gray eyes like nothing else. Her hair had been brushed within an inch of its life and pulled softly back from her face, revealing her true loveliness. Around her neck hung the huge cross Christopher had given her and those closest to her noticed color to her lips. She looked as beautiful as ever, her head held high as she paused at the top of the steps.

  Without introduction, the host of knights knew who she was. It was as if she possessed an aura about her that distinguished her from another mere lady. When she paused at the top of the stone stairs, waiting to be summoned forward to meet Richard, every man in armor dismounted and dropped to their knees, driving their swords into the dirt before them. It was a unified s
how of support and respect, a sea of mighty knights in armor displaying their undying devotion to the wife of their fallen Defender.

  Dustin was stunned at the swift, decisive movement of the collective group. There were so many of them that it was a truly awesome sight to behold, and her eyes widened in astonishment. Every man was on his knees before her, some with their faces turned toward her, some with their heads bowed reverently in prayer. Dustin’s chest swelled with pride, wishing Christopher could be here to see the show of force.

  A smile crept onto her lips, a smile of pleasure and genuine hope. She could feel the respect coming forth and touching her, silently enveloping her weary body and helping to heal the gaping hole in her heart left by her husband’s passing. Strange that it took no words, no magic, and no medicine to start the healing process. A simple gesture, mighty as it was, became the catalyst.

  It was completely silent, the only sounds being the nighthawk that was riding a draft somewhere high above. The sun sunk lower in the sky and a faint breeze had picked up, but Dustin stood frozen to the spot as the knights of Richard’s realm paid mute homage to her fallen husband. Behind her, she heard sniffles and she recognized the source.

  “Gowen,” she said softly without turning around. “Get Christin. Hurry.”

  Frozen for a moment in time, she was entranced by the overwhelming support and continued to gaze back at the men until Gowen finally appeared at her side, holding Christin. Dustin took her daughter into her arms, murmuring softly and pointing to the bailey below, filled with hundreds of silent, powerful knights.

  The baby chewed her fingers, wide-eyed. Dustin took the steps, coming upon Edward and Marcus, who had kneeled with the rest of them. In fact, they had all kneeled, even Richard, and when she came upon him, he took her hand and kissed it genteelly.

  “Lady de Lohr,” he said hoarsely. “Am I to assume this is Chris’ daughter?”

  “Her name is Christin, sire,” Dustin answered.

  Richard rose unsteadily to his feet, alternately eyeing her and the baby. Finally, he held out his hands. “May I?”

  She handed the baby to him and the first thing Christin did was stick her finger in his eye. Richard laughed loudly and kissed the tiny fingers.

  “She is beautiful,” he responded, handing her back to Dustin. “I can see Chris in her face most definitely. Arthur would be proud, my lady.”

  Dustin nodded graciously, deeply pleased and in awe of the king’s presence. Richard’s gaze was open on her. “I came to meet you, Lady Dustin, and to extend my condolences on the passing of your husband.”

  “Thank you, sire,” Dustin answered softly.

  Behind him, Sir Philip rose from his crouch and smiled faintly at her, and Dustin instantly saw the family resemblance.

  “You must be Sir Philip,” she said. “Chris told me so much of you, I feel as if I have known you a lifetime.”

  “An honor to meet you, my lady,” Philip replied.

  Dustin glanced down at Philip’s side and saw David’s bowed head. Forgiveness filled her and she knew now that whatever had happened in the past, it had been foolish and ridiculous. She and David had always liked each other a great deal and the tiff had been a freakish event. She realized that now, for suddenly she realized everything with a clear, solid mind. Christopher was dead and she was forever altered, but life would continue and she was somehow stronger for it. Her strength was in the love they had once shared and for the character he had built in her through his devotion. She understood that now.

  She moved past Richard and Philip and touched the top of David’s head.

  “David,” she said softly. “Get up and greet your niece. It has been a long time since she saw you last.”

  He raised his head. His entire face was wet with tears. Dustin shushed him softly, encouraging him to his feet and then falling into his embrace. Against her, David let loose with his sobs as she whispered comfortingly to him. Forgiveness was more, and better, than he had ever hoped for.

  Not releasing David, she turned back to Richard. “Sire, we have refreshments for you and your party. Would you please come in?”

  Richard smiled at her and cupped her chin gently between his fingers. She gazed up at him, watching his face ripple with emotion. At thirty-eight years old, he looked much older and haggard from his tumultuous life.

  “I understand Chris found love with you, my lady,” he said softly. “I can see why.”

  She flushed, the first color to her cheeks in weeks. Passing Christin to Marcus, she took Richard’s arm and escorted him inside.

  As Richard and Dustin headed for the keep, David didn’t move. His gaze was on Marcus, as hostile and confrontational as ever. Marcus met his gaze, steadily, feeling the tension between them explode.

  “How long have you been here?” David finally asked.

  “Over a week,” Marcus replied steadily.

  David’s jaw ticked. “You couldn’t even wait until my brother was cold in his grave, could you?”

  Marcus didn’t want a fight on his hands, not with Christin in his arms, so he kept his manner calm. “It is not like that, David. Give me more credit than that.”

  David wouldn’t back down. “Then you can leave; now.”

  Marcus’ jaw ticked. “Not without Dustin. She is returning with me to Somerhill.

  David’s nostrils flared but he kept his cool because of Christin. “No,” he said flatly. “She is staying here.”

  Marcus did not reply, knowing that if anymore were said it could result in raised voices and frighten the baby. He simply turned away from David and started back toward the house when a knight nearby called out to him.

  “Lord Marcus?” The man stood up, taking a step forward. “I am Sir John de Monfort. I served with you and Lord Christopher during the siege of Acre.”

  Marcus nodded coolly. “I remember you. A fine knight.”

  The man nodded. “Thank you, my lord. I was wondering…the babe. She is Lord Christopher’s, is she not?”

  Marcus looked at the baby in his arms, who was still chewing furiously on her fingers. “The Lady Christin de Lohr.”

  The knight nodded faintly. Without another word, he approached Christin and fell to one knee, touching her little foot and bowing his head in a silent prayer. Abruptly, he rose and wandered off, but immediately behind him was another man to take his place. Marcus soon realized that the entire group of knights were falling into line to pay their respects to Lady Christin.

  David stood behind him as the knights filed past, some touching her foot, some gently touching her head, and simply others making the sign of the cross before her and murmuring a prayer. And still others placed small medallions in her little hands, bright objects for her to play with, which were undoubtedly expensive. Marcus was silent, protective, and deeply touched on Christopher’s behalf.

  Christin, being the good-natured baby that she was, thought all of it was great fun and cooed and babbled the entire time. She would grab the hair of the men who bowed before her or reach out and snag a piece of tunic. More than once Marcus had to pry her hands free of someone, to which she would scream baby talk and wave her wet hands angrily at him. More than once, she batted him in the face with her wet fingers, leaving damp streaks. But Marcus didn’t flinch.

  David, watching his niece with her developing personality, could not help thinking just how much like her mother she was. The more he watched her, the more he realized how very wrong he had been; except for the hair color, she looked nothing like Marcus and he, too, was beginning to see Christopher in her features. He only wished his brother were alive so he could tell him so.

  The knights camped in and around Lioncross that night, their bonfires sending eerie blobs of fire glowing into the blackness of the March night. Each man felt closer to the Defender, walking the very earth that Baron de Lohr had come to love so well.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  The first thing Christopher was aware of was dull, aching pain. And, Christ, he was so da
mn hot he could barely stand it. His mind was groggy and muddy but he gradually became aware of voices around him and he was immediately concerned he had fallen into enemy hands. He thrashed a bit but he was far too weak to do anything more. Gentle, strong hands were holding him steady.

  “Easy, my lord, easy,” came a male voice. “Stop moving about like that or you shall re-open your wound.”

  Christopher struggled to speak. “Who…where…?”

  “Shush, do not talk now,” the man said. “You have got to use all of your strength to get well. Could you take some broth?”

  Christopher opened his eyes a peep, his lids felt as if they weighed a hundred pounds apiece. His focus was all out of sync and he blinked several times to clear his vision. Two men and one woman slowly came into view.

  “Who are you?” he rasped.

  One man smiled slightly, a nice-looking man perhaps his own age. “My name is Rob,” he replied. “This lovely woman who saved your life is my wife, Marianne. Can you tell us your name?”

  Christopher cleared his parched throat and thought a moment; his mind was so muddled he could not seem to remember. “Christopher de Lohr,” he finally said. “How did I get here?”

  “My man brought you here,” Rob indicated a big, burly red-headed man standing next to him. “He found you in the trees after the battle for Gowergrove. You were as good as dead, but he brought you back anyway. Seems he took pity on you because you fought against John.”

  Christopher’s eyes opened wider, though they were red and crusty. His vision was a little clearer, but he was still so bloody hot. “How long… long have I been here?”

  “You have been unconscious for over two weeks, my lord,” Marianne replied, placing a cool compress on his head. “We thought you were dead until just last night when your fever broke. It has not gone completely, but it is certainly not what it was. How do you feel?”

  “Like I am dying,” Christopher croaked. “Two weeks?”