The de Lohr Dynasty

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  The doors to the great hall were open as they rushed through. Daniel let go of Liselotte’s arm as she charged in and began calling for her father, shouting his name. There were a few servants in the hall, startled by her appearance, and two of the women ran at her, chattering in their native language and pointing to the fire pit. Liselotte ran at it and dropped to her knees as Daniel moved closer, dropping his saddlebags on the nearest table as he came around the side of the pit to see that there was something lying beside it, covered in a woolen blanket. He didn’t see until it was too late, until she tossed back the blanket, that it was Etzel, badly burned.

  Liselotte screamed and Daniel rushed forward, pulling her up from the floor so she wouldn’t be faced with the horrific sight. She tried to fight him for a brief moment but he held her fast, forcibly turning her head so she couldn’t see Etzel’s black and blistered face. A few seconds of struggle was all she could give and she burst into loud sobs, her face pressed to his chest as he held her tightly.

  It was a grim discovery. As Liselotte wept over her father, Daniel’s gaze drifted over the man. Only the top half of him seemed to be burned but it wasn’t long before he spied the dagger sticking out of his chest. Greatly puzzled, and greatly concerned that he was evidently viewing a murder, he looked at the collection of weeping and terrified servants standing around.

  “Who of you speaks my language?” he asked. “Do any of you understand what I am saying?”

  One woman, hunched over, with a ragged kerchief tied around her head, nodded. “Aye, m’lord,” she said in a heavily accented voice. “I understand you.”

  Daniel was relieved. “Good,” he said. “Tell me what happened to Lord Etzel and tell me quickly.”

  The woman choked as she tried to answer him swiftly, coughing, as she brought forth the words. “It was Sir Brynner,” she said, wringing her hands. “They argued and there was a fight. Lord Etzel fell into the fire!”

  All of the servants were weeping or sniffling by this point and Liselotte yanked herself away from Daniel, throwing herself down on her father before he could stop her. She groaned pitifully.

  “Papa,” she sobbed. “Please… do not leave me. You cannot leave me!”

  Daniel didn’t try to pick her up this time; he let her cry, her head resting on the lower part of her father’s body so she didn’t have to look at that terrible face. She was shocked and devastated, and rightly so. This happenstance was so very unexpected and Daniel struggled to stay on an even keel. For Liselotte and Gunnar’s sakes, he had to. With a heavy sigh, he returned his attention to the twitching servant.

  “You are certain that is what happened?” he asked quietly. “You saw this?”

  The woman nodded, turning to the other servants and speaking to them in their native language. The other servants, all four of them, began to nod their heads vigorously. Daniel didn’t have to be told what they had been asked. He knew. His fury began to grow.

  Brynner did it.

  Daniel didn’t know Brynner. He’d not yet met the man. Brynner was a member of this family that hadn’t been very willing to discuss him except to explain his disconnect from them.

  Now, Daniel was at a disadvantage; he knew nothing of the eldest son, the one who had evidently killed his father. There was a murderer loose at Shadowmoor and Daniel was determined to find the man and discover the truth of what had happened with Etzel. He had a difficult time believing a child would kill a parent but, then again, nothing about Shadowmoor was normal. This entire place seemed to be cursed one way or the other. He turned to the cowering servant.

  “Where is Brynner?” he asked.

  The female servant shook her head. “I do not know, m’lord,” she said. “We heard the scuffling and saw the fight. After Sir Brynner killed his father, he left the hall. I do not know where he went.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Not long, m’lord. Within the hour.”

  Daniel’s mind was moving a few steps ahead at this point; he was thinking of what he would do once he found Brynner. He was quite certain the man wouldn’t come with him peacefully, which meant he was going to have to force him. Having no idea of the size or skill of the man, he was determined to lay out his intentions before he acted. He needed a sword to capture him and rope to subdue him. Then he would need a place to store his prisoner while the situation was settled. But before he got too far ahead of himself, he moved to Liselotte, still weeping over her father.

  “Leese,” he said quietly, taking a knee next to her and putting a gentle hand on her back. “I am so very sorry for your father, but I need your help. Please, sweetheart, it is important.”

  Liselotte was in the throes of grief over her father’s death. “He cannot leave me,” she wept. “He cannot!”

  Daniel felt as if he were being incredibly cruel for not allowing her time to grieve, but the truth was that he very much needed her assistance. He put his hands on her arms, pulling her up from her father.

  “He is gone but I am here,” he whispered. “Do you hear me? I am here, Leese. I will not leave you. But I need your help. The servants say that your brother did this and I have never seen the man. If I am to find him, and find out if he really did this, then I need your help very much.”

  Liselotte sniffled, wiping at her wet face as her gaze fell on her father’s blackened face again. Her composure threatened to crumple.

  “I cannot believe he would do such a heinous thing,” she hissed, shock evident in her tone. “But if I am completely honest, I am not all that surprised to hear of this. Brynner has been so horrid and foul these past years. But something must have happened, Daniel. Somehow, my father must have said something to incite him. Brynner is mean and sullen, but he is not usually violent, at least not with his family. He usually stays away from us.”

  He was listening to her carefully, trying to figure out what kind of opponent he would soon be facing. “Then you are saying a mad rage must have come over him.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Do you defend him, then?”

  She shook her head, her features crumpling once more. But she fought it. “Nay,” she said. “I do not defend him. I am simply saying that something must have provoked him enough for him to kill.”

  Daniel let go of her arms, putting his hand on her face to comfort her. “I need help to find him,” he said. “I do not know him on sight so you must tell me what he looks like. I would know….”

  He was cut off by a collective gasp from the servants, who suddenly scattered into the shadows. Daniel whirled around to the hall entry only to be faced with a man entering from the bailey outside, the light illuminating him from behind, making him look dark and mysterious. Based on the terrified reaction of the servants, Daniel could only guess that the elusive Brynner l’Audacieux was making an appearance, and his survival instincts took over. The enemy had shown himself and Daniel mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

  His own survival was the first thing he considered. His saddlebags, including his broadsword, were over on the table to his right, about a dozen feet away. He could get to his sword quickly if he needed to but he didn’t want Brynner to get to it first. Therefore, he quickly moved away from the fire pit, towards his possessions. He came to a halt next to them, facing Brynner as the man came into the light.

  It wasn’t a monster before him, as he was coming to imagine from what he’d heard and seen, but simply a man by all appearances. Brynner l’Audacieux had his sister’s bronze hair and his brother’s blue eyes. He wasn’t particularly tall, and he was somewhat slender. He was dressed in rags, just as the rest of Shadowmoor was, and he focused suspiciously on Daniel with dark-circled eyes. He pointed at him.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  That question was rather telling because Daniel had fleetingly wondered if Brynner had heard of his arrival to Shadowmoor. He wondered if the man had heard anything at all, this man who kept himself sequestered from his family. From his question, it was proba
ble that he’d not even heard about him. That made the element of surprise on his side to a certain extent. He was, therefore, careful in his reply.

  “My name is de Lohr,” he said.

  Brynner was expecting more of a response and his eyes narrowed, perhaps with some irritation, when nothing more was forthcoming. His attention shifted from Daniel to Liselotte, who was standing over the body of Etzel.

  “I have been looking for you,” he said to his sister. “Where have you been?”

  Liselotte was trembling with rage. She pointed at Etzel. “What have you done?” she demanded. “He is dead, Brynner! What did you do?”

  Brynner’s jaw flexed, obviously displeased at his sister’s tone of voice. “He tried to kill me,” he said emotionlessly. “He charged me with the knife. I assure you that I did not intend to kill him, but that is what happened. I was defending myself.”

  He said it so callously and Liselotte emitted gasp of disbelief. “Defending yourself from him?” she said, outraged. “He would never have tried to kill you, Brynner! You are lying!”

  It was very clear that Brynner didn’t like her response. His face reddened. “You will never say that to me again,” he growled. “Do you understand me?”

  Liselotte wouldn’t back down; her grief was flooding out of her. “Then tell me why you killed him!” she shouted. “Tell me what really happened!”

  Brynner didn’t give her the benefit of a reply; he simply charged her and Daniel, startled at the swift movement, charged after him. He came up behind Brynner before the man could get to Liselotte and grabbed him from behind, throwing one arm across his throat and the other behind his head. As Brynner struggled, surprised and outraged by the move, Daniel growled in his ear.

  “One wrong move and I shall snap your neck,” he snarled. “You were going to strike her, weren’t you? Weren’t you?”

  Brynner tried to wrestle against Daniel, who was substantially bigger and stronger. “This is… none… of your affair!” he grunted. “She is… my sister and… mine to do with… as I please!”

  Daniel squeezed harder and Brynner started to turn red. He was in a bad way. “Wrong answer,” Daniel hissed. “She is not to be touched by the likes of you. Do you understand me? Another move in her direction and I will remove your head from your shoulders. Are we clear?”

  Brynner was being choked but not strongly enough to cause him to pass out; just hard enough to cause great discomfort. “Let me go!” he demanded. “I am the Lord of Shadowmoor now and you will release me!”

  Liselotte looked at Daniel, started by the realization. It was true. In fact, with Etzel gone, Brynner was now the Lord of Shadowmoor. At that moment, a great deal changed. No longer was it Etzel and Liselotte and Gunnar trying to get by, living a hand-to-mouth existence like everyone else at Shadowmoor. Now, the drunkard was lord of the fortress, a man who would have sold his own mother if it meant supplying him in drink. The worst possible liege was now in charge of a fortress that was already one step above death.

  God help them all.

  “Daniel,” she said softly. “Release him. Please.”

  Daniel eyed her for a long moment before complying. When he released Brynner, however, he kicked the man in the back of the knees, causing Brynner to stumble several feet away before catching his balance. That gave Daniel enough time to collect his broadsword and he held it in his left hand, an obvious message, as he moved to Liselotte’s side. He faced Brynner.

  “Now,” he said. “My name is de Lohr, as I said, and you will be punished for causing your father’s death. I do not believe that he tried to kill you first.”

  Brynner was several feet away, rubbing his neck. “I do not care who you are or what you believe,” he said. “Shadowmoor is mine now and you will leave it immediately. You have no power here.”

  Daniel snorted. “That is where you are wrong, little man,” he said. Usually so congenial, Daniel’s manner became very deadly, very quickly. “You will answer for your father’s death and I will make sure you are punished. As a prisoner, you cannot rule. It is forbidden by the laws of the land, which means the fortress passes to the next male in the family. Your younger brother is now Lord of Shadowmoor.”

  Brynner looked at him as if he were mad. “By what authority do you presume this?”

  Daniel’s eyes gleamed. “By the authority of the king of England and by the authority of my uncle, Christopher de Lohr, who is the Earl of Hereford and Worcester, and High Sheriff of the Marches. I will bring his justice to Yorkshire to rule on what you have done. Your father was a good man, without violence, and for some reason you sought to silence him. You have admitted it.”

  That seemed to give Brynner some pause. “De Lohr?” he repeated. “Christopher de Lohr is your uncle?”

  Daniel simply nodded. Brynner, trying to gain some semblance of control over the situation now that the great Christopher de Lohr had been brought into the conversation, jabbed a finger at him.

  “He has no power here,” he said. “The man belongs on the Marches. That is where his jurisdiction is.”

  Daniel cocked an eyebrow. “His seven-thousand-man army says that he has jurisdiction anywhere he pleases,” he said. “I have sent him a missive and he will be here very soon. Until that time, you will be confined to the vault. I’ll not have your sister and brother threatened by a murderer running loose.”

  Brynner could see that Daniel was serious. He had no idea what a de Lohr was doing here, or why he was taking charge of Shadowmoor, but the man’s presence seriously disrupted his plans for Shadowmoor and for his sister.

  Brynner didn’t like being told what to do. He had never liked taking orders, even when he had been a knight. In his mind, no man had any power over him, so Daniel’s words were outraging him in the worst possible way. Feeling bullied and threatened, he made one last effort to overcome de Lohr and his demands. He wasn’t going to surrender without a fight.

  “You have no power here,” he snarled. “I have no idea who you really are. You could be lying about your name and lying about summoning a de Lohr army. You are a usurper as well as a liar. Shadowmoor, and all within her, belongs to me and I will defend that right until the death.”

  Daniel flashed the sword. “I would recant that if I were you.”

  Brynner was growing increasingly infuriated that his words were having no impact on Daniel and with that fury, came recklessness.

  “I have allies, too,” he said. “Did you think you were the only man capable of summoning an army? I can summon an army in a day that will come here and cut your head off. Get out of here while you still can!”

  Daniel gave him a rather droll expression. “That is fairly bold talk coming from a man who lives on the inside of a wine barrel, so I’m told,” he said. “Pray tell me, who these terrible allies are so that I might laugh when you are finished.”

  Brynner’s face was turning red again at the insult. “A nephew of King Henry,” he said. “I would like to see you laugh in the face of Lord Bramley. My sister belongs to him, you know. So does Shadowmoor so, essentially, you are stealing from him. He will have something to say about it.”

  Lord Bramley! Daniel didn’t dare look at Liselotte, but he heard her gasp. Somehow, someway, Bramley had gotten to Brynner. Is that why the man killed Etzel? Is that why the elusive Brynner was now suddenly in their midst, speaking of armies and making demands? Daniel wondered. Still, his manner remained cool. The conversation was growing interesting.

  “He is not the nephew of the king, no matter what he has told you,” he said calmly. “His sister is the bastard of King John. Roland Fitzroy has no relation to Henry at all, so whatever he has told you is a lie. How in the world did you fall into that man’s clutches? Everything he says is a lie.”

  Brynner blinked, clearly stunned by Daniel’s words. “How would you know about him?”

  Daniel shrugged lazily. “Because he is a fool,” he said in a calculated move. “Everyone knows he is a liar, but evidently, you do not. T
hat makes you a fool, too.”

  Brynner’s composure was slipping. His face was still red, fury bleeding out into his movements as he twitched, stumbling back to get away from Daniel and the man’s big sword. Now, he was starting to falter, to lose confidence, and struggling not to look as if he was. He knew Bramley only slightly more than he knew this man, de Lohr, which was really not at all. But de Lohr seemed to know about Bramley. Brynner’s composure was on a downward spiral.

  “You will be sorry,” he said, pointing his finger at Daniel. “You will be sorry you said such things about him.”

  Daniel cocked his head. “Go and tell him,” he said. “You have my permission to run and tell him everything. But when you go to him, know this; he shall not have Shadowmoor and neither shall you. The two of you can climb back into whatever pigsty you crawled out of because you are not welcome here. Now, get out of here before I kill you.”

  Brynner’s jaw flexed angrily. “I am not leaving my home.”

  Daniel raised the sword. “I will not tell you again.”

  Brynner shook his head, holding his ground, and Daniel suddenly charged after him, causing the man to bolt. He had no weapon, so to stand in the face of a man with a very big broadsword was suicide. There was no way to stand his ground. With Daniel in pursuit, and Daniel was very fast, Brynner flew out of the hall and raced across the bailey, heading for the great gates that were just starting to open because the wagon Daniel had borrowed to transport the grain was empty now, preparing to depart the bailey.

  Through the mud the men ran, causing people to scatter but then stand by and watch at a safe distance as a big blond knight with a big sword chased Brynner l’Audacieux through the bailey. Brynner, who usually didn’t move so fast, was running for his life, dodging people, and the wagon, before shooting through the open gates faster than he had ever moved in his life. He kept running even as Daniel came to a halt at the gates and watched him dash off down the moor.