England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Gallus,” Chad muttered, kissing the man loudly on the cheek. “Thank you for coming. I have a new daughter. She is beautiful. Have you seen her yet?”

  Gallus wiped the slobbery kiss off his cheek. “I have not,” he said, eyeing Daniel, who was shaking his head in resignation at Chad’s drunken behavior. “I should like to congratulate you, Papa. I bring my wife’s best wishes as well.”

  Chad grinned broadly. “I am a papa now,” he said, looking to his father. “Do you hear? I am a papa just like you.”

  Daniel fought off a grin. “Aye, just like me,” he said. “Sit down before you fall down.”

  Chad pushed himself in between Gallus and Maximus, shoving the brothers apart. “She is a beautiful lass,” he said. “She has red hair like her mother. I think she is going to look like my Aless. I have the most beautiful wife in all the land. Don’t you agree?”

  Gallus looked at Chad, finding it very difficult to be angry with the man. Chad was a man with a true and noble heart; he knew that. They all did. And if he bedded the woman he loved before he married her, was it really Gallus’ concern? Of course it wasn’t. But in his defense, Gallus’ only concern had truly been for Alessandria. Knowing how his uncle and cousin had treated her, he felt compelled to stand up for her.

  But it was a ridiculous stance. He knew that. Now that he sat with Chad and saw the man’s joy, he knew it was ridiculous. He, therefore, sighed heavily to Chad’s question and lifted his cup.

  “She is a de Shera,” he said, forcing a smile. “Of course she is beautiful. And I am pleased that she has found the love of her life in you. I could ask for nothing more.”

  Chad was back to kissing him again and Gallus fended him off. “She is my heart and soul,” Chad said, putting his hand over his chest as Gallus stood up and went around the other side of the table to sit next to Daniel. “My Aless… she is the most wonderful woman in the world. I was so fortunate to have found her. Thank God for Henry’s terrible determination to hold her hostage. I would have never met her had I not been told to go to Newington Priory. It was destiny!”

  “Aye, it was destiny,” Gallus agreed from across the table. “Had it not been for you, Henry surely would have taken her. She would have found herself married to someone else, more than likely.”

  That brought Chad’s ire. “I would have found her and killed the man!”

  “How would you have known?”

  That brought Chad to a halt. He cocked his head, trying to reason through his alcohol-hazed mind. “You have a point, dear Gallus,” he said. “I would have never known. I would have been forced to marry someone else and my beautiful daughter would not have been born. It would have been tragic.”

  Maximus, still sitting next to Chad, put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You needn’t fear,” he said. “You found her and she is yours.”

  Chad nodded, stealing Maximus’ cup and taking a long drink from it. “She is mine,” he declared. “She has been mine since the beginning. Since the moment I took her from Newington, she was mine. I knew she was mine the moment I saw her sitting in the tub in the knight quarters, trying to keep that silk dress over her body to protect her modesty. She was hiding all of that beauty from me.”

  Gallus and Maximus looked at him in shock. Daniel, given what they had only recently discussed, could see what they were thinking. He put out a hand to catch their attention.

  “It is not as he makes it sound,” he said, his voice low. “Henry’s men were in the keep so I had Chad take her to the knight quarters to hid her from the Six. Unfortunately, there was a fire whilst Aless was taking a bath and Chad and the other knights were forced to put it out. She was caught in a less than desirable position but my wife was there the entire time. Nothing unseemly happened. It was simply… unfortunate.”

  Gallus and Maximus understood somewhat but Chad was smacking his hands on the table. “Nothing unseemly happened,” he repeated his father’s words rather exaggeratedly. “But she was mine even back then. I knew it. We fled to Lady du Bexley’s home and I told Lady du Bexley that she was my wife. I did not want Lady du Bexley to think ill of my Aless.”

  Gallus was looking at him from across the table, his gaze intense. “If you told Lady du Bexley that Aless was your wife, then I am assuming the two of you shared a room.”

  Chad nodded before he even had time to think about the implications of his answer. “It was that night that I realized I loved my Aless,” he said sweetly, putting his hand over his heart. “I loved her then and my love for her has only grown. Are all men so fortunate, Gallus?”

  Chad didn’t realize that, around him, his father and Gallus and Maximus were adding up the situation, coming to suspect what may have happened at Lady du Bexley’s manor. The timing on the birth of the child was perfect and Daniel cast a long look at Gallus, wondering how the man was going to react. His answer wasn’t long in coming.

  “Not all men,” Gallus said. He decided to simply come to the point because Chad’s tantalizing hints were making him mad. He’d come all the way from Coventry to discover the truth, even if the truth really didn’t matter at this point. “Since you shared a room with my cousin, can I assume that you behaved properly, Chad?”

  Chad looked at him. He may have been drunk but he wasn’t a complete fool, at least not yet. Through the veil of drunkenness, it now began to occur to him what Gallus was asking and it further occurred to him that his parents were listening, too. It was a very personal answer Gallus was seeking but one that, Chad suspected, he already knew the answer to.

  There was no use in denying it.

  Chad and Alessandria had figured out fairly late in her pregnancy that the child had been conceived on that momentous night at Lady du Bexley’s manor. The baby grew big, very fast, and even the midwife had commented on it. But it didn’t occur to Chad that others might wonder about the timing of the baby as well. After all, his beautiful baby girl was born less than nine months after their marriage. Therefore, he supposed there was no use in denying the obvious. Men could count the months, after all.

  “I behaved like a man in love,” he finally said. “And Aless behaved like a woman in love. She loved me, then, too. Draw your own conclusions, Gallus, but whatever you think, and whatever outrage you may feel, know that my daughter was conceived in love. Not many children can make that claim. Not many parents can, either.”

  With that, he stood up and staggered back over to the drinking, singing knights, leaving a subdued table in his wake. Daniel, knowing that Gallus and Maximus had their answer regarding the child conceived before marriage, looked to the brothers.

  “Well?” he said. “He did not lie to you. He was honest. Are you satisfied?”

  Maximus looked at Gallus; it all depended on him. Gallus was the one with the strong will, the powerful sense of right and wrong, at times, sometimes ridiculously so. Certainly, Maximus had his own opinions and if he really disagreed with Gallus, the man would listen to him. Most of the time, he agreed with him. But in this case, Maximus would defer to Gallus. He had seemed to be the one, from the beginning, most willing to take up the defense of Alessandria. As the Earl of Coventry, that was his duty as well as his right.

  But Gallus was looking at Daniel, not oblivious to Maximus’ gaze. His expression was one of resignation, of acceptance.

  “He loves her,” he said. “If anyone understands that, I do. Love is the most powerful force of all, over kings and loyalties and even escort duties. You can read his love for the woman all over his face. Everything about him screams it. Aye, I am satisfied, Daniel. I apologize for ever questioning him.”

  The men were friends again and Daniel put his arm around Gallus, hugging him, as he went to pour them all more wine. All was well in their world, now with a new generation of de Lohr having been born. Liselotte, having watched the entire exchange, was full of relief and joy for her son as well as for her husband and the de Shera brothers. She knew that their motives had been true. Alessandria was very fortunate to h
ave so many noble men to watch out for her.

  More than that, she had a fiercely protective mother-in-law. As Daniel and Gallus and Maximus drank to baby Katrine’s health, Liselotte caught a flash of something she’d not seen in some time.

  Bare buttocks were flashing again.

  As fast as lightning, Liselotte leapt up from her seat and swiftly made her way over to the collection of knights where Chad was exposing his bare buttocks for all to see. She happened to pass by the hearth as she went and, quickly, snatched a fire poker that was leaning against the stone. With the iron rod in hand, she made her way over to the men who were now singing another bawdy tavern song about an old whore named Rose. Chad still had his breeches down but at the sight of his mother’s approach, the breeches quickly came up.

  Still, that didn’t stop Liselotte. She pushed through the group of singing, happy men, rod in hand, and Chad bolted away from the woman, begging her to spare the rod. But Liselotte didn’t listen; she chased him all around the room and out into the ward, where Chad finally made a break for the keep where his wife and daughter were lodged. It seemed like the safest place for him to go. Once Liselotte saw him head into the keep, she lowered the rod and headed back into the hall. But she couldn’t hide the grin on her face.

  When Alessandria heard, from her husband’s own lips, what had driven him out of the hall and back into her waiting arms, she laughed until she cried.

  And so did Chad.

  * THE END *

  SPECTRE OF THE SWORD

  A Medieval Romance Novel

  By Kathryn Le Veque

  Dedicated to those who have provided me with such great encouragement and support over the years – my husband, my family, and my dear friends who have watched me go through the process of turning a hobby into my life’s work.

  Thank you for encouraging me to reach for the stars!

  ‘Nothing in the world is single;

  All things by a law divine

  In one spirit meet and mingle.

  Why not I with thine?’

  ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley

  CHAPTER ONE

  Year of our Lord 1203 A.D., November

  Hyde House, London

  “Take her, du Bois.” The command was a staccato hiss. “Even as we speak, there are assassins on her tail. You should have been out of here an hour ago.”

  A massive knight with brilliant blue eyes was in motion before the command left the old man’s lips. In the dark corridors of the manor house with its mossy walls and cracked floors, he took the small lady by the arm and pulled her towards the stairs. Behind him, the old man who had issued the orders followed on their heels.

  “You must leave London this night,” he went on, almost tripping as he took the steps too fast. “I’ve arranged a safe haven for you in Ealing at Courtenay’s lodgings, but that is of course providing you can even make it there.”

  They reached the bottom of the steps, continuing back into the bowels of the neglected old house. There was a sense of urgency in the air, bordering on panic. The knight felt it, even without the elderly man shuffling along behind him or the snarling lady in his grip. But he was a professional, a knight born and bred. He would not allow the fear or panic to touch him. He had a job to do.

  “I can make it to Ealing, my lord,” he assured the old man in a tone that suggested no counter comment. “But your men must buy me some time. Just enough time to get her out of London is all I need.”

  “No promises, du Bois. Be on your way.”

  The old man followed the pair into the kitchen; the hollow chamber would have been pitch black had it not been for the torch the old man was carrying. As the knight grasped the iron latch that would lead into the kitchen yard where his charger waited, the old man reached out to grab him.

  “Rhys, listen to me,” the man’s eyes, yellowed with age, bore into him. “I realize this is sudden and I further realize that until a few hours ago, you had no knowledge of the political upheaval transpiring. But hear me and hear me well; this is a mission in which you must not fail. If you do not get this lady to safety, much will be lost. England will be lost.”

  Rhys du Bois gazed into the elderly man’s eyes as they reflected the torchlight. Hubert de Burgh was an old man now, having served his share of Plantagenet kings. He was the Chief Justiciar of England, wielding as much power as the king himself and this mission was no folly. As Rhys opened his mouth to reply, the front door to the manor house swung open, spilling forth a collection of men in wet armor. They brought torches with them and more weapons.

  Rhys’ first instinct was to go for his broadsword until he realized that he recognized the men. The group headed towards him, splattering rain on the floor and walls.

  “Rhys,” the big man in the lead spoke. “Why have you not left yet? We’ve already had two groups of assassins killed within a half mile of this place. You’d better leave right away and we’ll do what we can to cover your retreat.”

  “We were just leaving, my lord,” Rhys assured his liege. “The lady had a bit of a… delay.”

  The group of knights came to a halt. Two or three ran up the stairs with weapons drawn as a couple ran past Rhys and Hubert and the lady, throwing open the door and entering the soaked kitchen yard. Lightening flashed, showing their heavy broadswords poised and ready. They were looking for a fight, waiting.

  The big knight flipped up his visor, his sky blue eyes fixed on Rhys. “What delay?” he demanded softly. “This is no time for foolishness, du Bois. You must remove the lady immediately.”

  De Burgh cleared his throat softly, eyeing both Rhys and the cloak-covered lady. “It was not du Bois’ fault, Chris,” he said quietly. “They lady was… well, she was….”

  A portion of the cloak suddenly flew back and the figure beneath was revealed. Luscious golden-red hair was bunched up around her slender shoulders, the face of an angel evident in the weak light. She would have been an exquisitely beautiful creature had the countenance of her face not been so dark. Her dark green eyes flashed furiously.

  “I was locked in the closet,” she announced. “If those murdering blackhearts want to kill me, let them try. They shall have to get to me first. I was perfectly safe until de Burgh and his guard dog wrested me from my place of safety. And now they want to take me out into this horrific weather where all manner of creature can take aim to kill me? ’Tis lunacy!”

  Christopher de Lohr, the Earl of Worcester and Hereford, gazed at the angry little woman before him. He tried to keep his cool, knowing time was of the essence. Besides, having a wife with much the same flaming disposition gave him the practice of keeping his calm when faced with a furious female. Still, it was a struggle.

  “Lady Elizabeau Treveighan,” he greeted her calmly. “Allow me to explain the situation to you. You are in serious jeopardy. As the daughter of Geoffrey of Brittany and now the only surviving child that is not in captivity with the passing of your half-brother Arthur, you are the target of your Uncle John’s madness because you have been declared Arthur’s successor to the throne. Do you understand this, my lady?”

  Even angry, she was a delectable little doll. Her sweet face was scrunched with rage. “I do not want to be his heir,” she snapped. “What of Eleanor? She is Arthur’s older sister. Give her the throne; I do not want it.”

  “What you want is of no matter,” de Lohr replied evenly. “Eleanor of Brittany is, even now, a captive at Corfe Castle. If we do not remove you to safety, you too shall be either murdered or captured.”

  There was more fear in her features than true anger. “But Eleanor is the true heiress.”

  De Lohr sighed patiently. “But you are free. Eleanor cannot be Richard’s successor while she is bottled up in Corfe’s dungeons.” He took another step in her direction, an enormous man with an intimidating manner. “By virtue of the fact that you are not captive or prisoner and by virtue of the fact that you are Geoffrey’s sole remaining living child, you have been named successor. You must accept this and
I promise that we shall all get along much better.”

  She wasn’t happy in the least; her expression said so. “I would know who made this decision that I should take Arthur’s place and not Eleanor. Who on earth has the power to make this so?”

  De Burgh interjected. “I did, my lady,” he said softly. “While John lives, only madness shall rule in England. The country will not survive. We need a true and noble ruler, my lady. We need you.”

  The anger faded from her features, replaced by some trepidation. “But I am not a true royal,” she insisted, more softly this time. “I have not been groomed for this duty.”

  “You will be.”

  The way de Burgh said it made the statement sound as if there was no argument. Even de Lohr looked at him as he spoke the words; there was power and decision in them. They all knew the stakes. They were the opposition to the crown; this was treason of the highest order.

  Elizabeau knew it too and the more she thought on it, the more frightened she became. But she refused to let them see her fear. “If that is so, then why are you sending me out into the dead of night with only one man for protection?” she asked. “Every man under John’s belt is out to carve a piece of me.”

  De Lohr cocked a blond eyebrow. “You have been pledged to a nephew of Emperor Otto the Fourth, a marriage which will solidify the unity between the Holy Roman Empire and England. France will be boxed in from both sides with the Holy Roman Empire to the east and England to the West. The emperor’s troops will help us secure your throne once the marriage has taken place. Phillip’s power will be seriously limited and your Uncle John will be neutralized.”

  Elizabeau gritted her teeth impatiently. “I know all of that. But you still have not answered my question.”