Super Summer Set of Historical Shorts

by Laurel O'Donnell

  The ship docked, and Claude made his way to the boarding plank to disembark.

  “The docks are crowded today, my lord,” said his squire, carrying Claude’s travel bag over his shoulder as they headed down the pier. Sandwich was a major port of trade and one of the Cinque Ports along with New Romney, Dover, Hastings, and Hythe. Claude’s father was the Baron of the Cinque Ports of Hastings, but he resided in Winchelsea now that Hastings was too silted up for ships to dock. A storm eight years ago ruined the harbor, and took many lives as well as dumped half of Castle Hastings into the sea. His father had a hard time coming to terms with the fact he had lost his prestigious castle to an act of God.

  Heartbreak was no stranger to Claude’s family. Claude’s sad and lonesome childhood and his mother’s stories of watching her mother burn at the stake were things that haunted him yet. He wished he could forget them forever.

  “Do you see your mother?” asked Felix, stepping around two dockworkers hauling a trunk from a nearby ship. Fishermen carried poles and bait buckets, loading them onto their small vessels that bobbed up and down in the waves. Ships of all sizes filled the harbor, flying the flags of nobles and even foreign lords that arrived there for trade.

  The slips closest to the dock held the smaller fishing vessels and flat-bottomed cogs that could sail right up to the docks to unload. The larger trade ships that needed deeper water so as not to be marooned, anchored further out and the occupants took shuttle boats to the pier.

  “Nay, I don’t see her,” said Claude, scanning the pier and the many people that ranged from sailors, fishermen, and nobles, to dockworkers and even beggars. A baker carrying a tray over his head sold loaves of brown bread. An old alewife followed in his steps with her husband, pushing a cart with buckets of ale, a ladle, and some wooden cups. A lame man sat on the edge of the pier begging, talking with a fishmonger who kept busy shucking a bucket of oysters.

  The sounds and smells of the sea and the salty summer breeze filled Claude’s nostrils bringing back memories of the first time he visited England. He was a skinny, insecure, and angry boy back then. He had changed much in the past eight years, and his father was to thank. John Montague took Claude as his squire and trained him for two years before Claude decided he could no longer stay in England. He’d continued his training in France with his mentors and advisors while ruling over his new demesne at Stonebury Castle.

  Claude was a knight now, not just a scared boy. Would Rose notice? And would she even care?

  In the distance, he saw his father’s ship, The Poseidon, docked next to Lord Conlin’s ship, Lady Bellacose. Lord Nicholas Vaughn’s ship, The WindStorm, was there as well. His father was a good friend to the other Barons of the Cinque Ports, being very close with Lord Conlin de Braose of Sandwich and Lord Nicholas Vaughn of New Romney. Claude missed these men as well as their families. They had been kind to him and his mother and accepted them with open arms. He felt an ache in his chest and wondered now if he’d been wrong in staying away so long.

  “Father’s ship is docked, so my family must be here already,” Claude told Felix.

  “Did you ever discover why your parents wanted you to come to Sandwich instead of meeting with them in Winchelsea?” asked the squire.

  “Nay. The missive didn’t say, although I suppose it has something to do with my sister Charlotte’s birthday. My father is a close friend of Baron Sandwich as well as Baron Romney. Perhaps they are throwing a celebration here because Briarbeck Castle has the most space.”

  “Claude, Claude!” shouted a woman from the crowd.

  Claude turned his head to see his mother waving her hand over her head. It had been nearly six months now since his mother last visited him in France with Claude’s sister, Charlotte, and his Uncle Lucio. Since Claude refused to return to England, his mother came back to France to visit at least twice a year.

  Claude’s father, John, stood next to her with little Charlotte perched like a bird on his shoulders.

  “Brother,” he heard Charlotte call out, clapping her hands and smiling. The little girl was so excited to see him that she tried to stand up and almost fell.

  “John, put Charlotte down. That is no way to treat a young lady,” said Claude’s mother, Celestine.

  Claude smiled as he approached them. He missed this type of banter since his isolated life without a father had been very quiet, indeed.

  “Charlotte is going to get hurt,” Celestine continued.

  “Wife, you worry too much,” grumbled Claude’s father, leaning over and giving his wife a peck on the cheek. “Besides, Charlotte wanted to watch for Claude.”

  “You tend to forget she is not a boy!”

  “Mother,” said Claude, hurrying to embrace his mother in a hug. He kissed her on each cheek.

  “Claude, mon fils. Tu es un bon chevalier,” said his mother, reverting to their native tongue, telling him he was a fine knight. “Ça fait trop longtemps que je t’ai vu.”

  “Je tu ai vu il y a moins d’un an. Ma mère, ne pleure pas!” Claude assured his mother it had been less than a year since they’d last parted and that she should not cry.

  “My lord,” said Felix, clearing his throat. The squire’s eyes darted over to John who was scowling at them. Felix leaned in and spoke in a low voice. “I thought you said not to speak French since your father doesn’t like it.”

  “That’s right,” said John, overhearing him. He took Charlotte off his shoulders and gently lowered her to the ground. “You two are not in France anymore. Speak English when you are on English soil.”

  “Haven’t you learned the language by now, Father?” asked Claude with a smile. “Or is it too hard for you?” he teased.

  “I have tried to teach him, but he is as stubborn as an old goat,” complained Celestine, putting her hands on her hips. “Every other noble in the country can speak French. But your father has it set in his mind that he doesn’t need to know it.”

  “Every other noble has wasted valuable time that could have been used in learning fighting skills instead.” John stepped forward and extended his arm. “Claude, I’ve missed you, Son.” He pulled Claude to him and gave his son a manly slap on the back. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve grown into a man. You have muscles that weren’t there last time I saw you.” He stepped back and perused Claude with a proud smile. Then he swatted at Claude’s head. “I am glad you no longer have that long hair in your eyes like a girl.”

  It had been nearly three years since Claude had seen his father. Claude and John had been inseparable when John first found out he had a son. He pushed hard to make up for the fifteen years he’d missed in Claude’s life. Claude enjoyed the attention at first, but then he started feeling smothered. He also had an extremely hard time being around Rose and not being able to have her as his own. He’d left England, upsetting his father who took it as a personal blow after all the hardships he’d been through. John eventually forgave Claude for leaving but had only visited him a few times in France in the past six years.

  “If you had visited our son in France more often, it wouldn’t be this way,” Celestine reminded her husband.

  “Celestine, you know I have been busy with handling the new port of Winchelsea, as well as overseeing the construction of my new castle. Besides, Claude could have visited me here, yet he didn’t. And you know I don’t like to go to France unless I’m sent there by the king.”

  “Why not, Father?” asked little Charlotte, looking up with big blue eyes.

  “Because your father almost died there,” Celestine told her, reaching down to pull her daughter closer.

  John rubbed his shoulder that had at one time been shot with an arrow right before he was thrown from his horse and was left dangling off the edge of a cliff in France.

  “Who tried to kill him?” asked Charlotte in a squeaky little voice filled with concern.

  John faked a cough, shaking his head, warning Celestine not to tell the child that Celestine had been the one to almost do
him in.

  “Charlotte, come here,” said Claude, bending over and holding out his arms. Charlotte ran to him and he scooped her up, holding her in one arm as he tickled her with the other. Claude had been fifteen years old when his sister was born. He had lived most of his life as an only child. Charlotte laughed and pushed Claude’s hand away and then reached out and mussed his hair.

  “She’s a real feisty one, isn’t she?” asked Felix with a chuckle.

  “She gets that from her mother,” said John. Celestine playfully hit John on the shoulder. He slipped his arm around her waist and turned and headed for the horses. “Let’s get back to the castle for the celebration.”

  Claude was surprised by the crowd on the docks today. There were also plenty of ships in the harbor. He put Charlotte on the ground and held her hand as they walked. “Is there a trade fair going on?” he asked his father.

  “Nay, why do you ask?” John answered over his shoulder.

  “I can’t believe how crowded it is on the port of Sandwich today.”

  “They’re here for the celebration,” John told him, helping Celestine to mount a horse and then mounting one as well. “Claude, we brought a horse for you. Charlotte can ride back to the castle with you, but your squire will have to walk.”

  “Felix, meet us at the castle,” said Claude, lifting his sister up into the saddle.

  “Aye, my lord,” said Felix with a nod. “I will make certain your things are transferred to the castle from the ship.”

  Claude pulled himself up behind Charlotte. “My, Charlotte, I had no idea you were so important that all these people are coming to celebrate your birthday.”

  “I’m going to be eight,” Charlotte announced.

  “Yes, I know,” said Claude, turning the horse.

  “Claude, wait.” His mother rode to his side. “I think you have the wrong impression why I’ve called you to Sandwich.”

  “The missive said you wanted me here to participate in the celebration and that Charlotte was looking forward to it. I figured you were talking about her birthday.”

  “I did say that, but it wasn’t just Charlotte’s birthday I meant.”

  “It wasn’t?” Claude chuckled. “Well, I know it’s not your birthday, and neither is it Father’s, so what do you mean? I don’t make a journey to England for anyone unless they are important to me.”

  “That’s right,” said John. “That is why your mother sent for you even though I told her it was a bad idea.”

  “What was a bad idea?” asked Claude, feeling a knot forming in his stomach. Somehow, he knew he wasn’t going to like the answer. “What is it we are celebrating?”

  “Hello, Claude,” came a voice from a horse and cart that pulled up next to him. Claude slowed his horse and turned around. His eyes fell on Lady Rose sitting inside the cart next to another woman who was driving.

  “Rose.” His voice came out barely above a whisper. Instantly, he became tongue-tied and didn’t know what to say. His heart sped up, and the pounding of his pulse in his ears grew deafening.

  Here was Rose, no longer a young girl like when he’d left her. Instead, she was a curvy, beautiful woman. Her long, blond hair was pulled back in a braid, and her bright blue eyes twinkled in the sunlight as she smiled at him. Dressed in a burgundy velvet gown, she looked like a princess with the metal, jeweled circlet on her head.

  “It is such a surprise to see you,” she told him, sounding very pleased. Her voice was soft and sweet, just how he’d remembered. “This is my nursemaid, Evelina,” she said, nodding toward the woman next to her, but Claude wasn’t looking at anyone but Rose.

  Finally, Claude found the words to speak. “My mother sent me a message to come to England. She told me she would not take no for answer. I am here for the birthday celebration,” he told her.

  “I didn’t think you’d come since you never even sent a missive when my brothers Dunmor and Harry were born.”

  A little boy popped his head up over the back of the wagon seat. Big, brown eyes stared at him in question.

  “I’ll bet you’re Harry,” said Claude. “Where are your brothers?” Claude only knew one of Rose’s brothers. When he trained as his father’s squire for two years, Rose’s brother, Torrence, had been born to her father and his new Scottish wife, Isobel.

  “Yes, this is Harry, but he is shy and doesn’t talk to strangers,” Rose explained. “Today is his birthday, and he is four years old.”

  It didn’t feel right to Claude when Rose referred to him as a stranger, but he realized that was precisely what he was. He had left when Rose married Toft, never having the courage to return. It had been too hard to watch Rose being in love with Toft when all he ever wanted was for her to be in love with him.

  “So, it looks as if there is a double birthday celebration after all,” said Claude, holding tighter to his sister as she squirmed and almost fell out of the saddle.

  “Aye, my parents are back at the castle preparing for the feast,” Rose informed him. “They will be happy to see you after all this time. Toft is there, too. My husband will be anxious to see you again as well. We are all happy you finally came back to England.”

  Rose referring to Toft as her husband was like a knife being plunged directly into Claude’s heart. He had no desire to see Toft, although he held nothing against the man. Nothing that is, except for the fact that he married the girl that Claude wanted for his own.

  “My lady,” said the nursemaid, Evelina, speaking ever so softly. She seemed to be hiding her face under the hood of her cape, and all Claude could see were shadows. “You shouldn’t be out here on the docks. Your husband will not be happy that you left the castle in your condition.”

  “Neither will your father be happy, Rose,” added John, turning and riding his horse back to join them. “You know how protective Conlin is about things like this.”

  “Things like what?” asked Claude, feeling shaken since it was apparent there was something they were all hiding from him.

  Rose smiled at Claude and rubbed her belly. “This is what they are talking about, Claude. I was the one who asked Celestine to summon you. But it wasn’t because of Harry or Charlotte’s birthdays. It was because I have been ill lately. My father and husband are leaving tomorrow to give their two weeks’ service to the king. I was frightened and wanted you here in their absence when I birthed my baby.”

  Claude’s eyes focused on the large swell of Rose’s stomach. She looked as if she were going to pop. He’d been so entranced by her eyes he hadn’t even noticed her belly until now. “Y-you’re pregnant,” he stammered.

  “Yes, I am. And after losing two babies in the past six years, my father is very worried I will lose this one, too. You remember that he has lost five children as well as a wife. Although he has three sons now with Isobel, I am his only daughter. I want more than anything to give him grandchildren, but I have to admit I am terrified that it might never happen.”

  Claude was surprised at hearing Rose had lost two babies and didn’t know what to say. “Nay, don’t be frightened,” said Claude, instantly wanting to comfort the girl the way she’d comforted him so many years ago.

  “I won’t be frightened anymore now that you are here, Claude,” she told him. “You are a good friend of mine. It broke my heart when you left England and didn’t return.”

  If only she knew he’d left because she had broken his heart in more ways than one.

  “My lady, please,” begged Evelina, very anxious to leave. “We need to get back to the castle, tout de suite.”

  Claude’s head snapped up at hearing the nursemaid speak French. She sounded different than an Englishwoman speaking his language. He heard something in her voice that told him she was from his homeland.

  “Are you from France?” he asked the girl. Her body stiffened, and she grabbed the reins of the horse tighter. She didn’t answer, and neither did she look at him.

  “Evelina is right, we shouldn’t be here,” said Rose. “I was so ex
cited to see you that we didn’t even wait for an escort. I wanted to meet you on the docks when you disembarked and had Evelina drive the cart. You look so different. You are . . . a man now, Claude.”

  Rose smiled at him and then nodded to her nursemaid to take them back to the castle. They sped away over the wharf leaving Claude staring after them, not knowing what to think.

  “I am sorry I didn’t tell you, Claude,” said his mother softly. “Rose asked me not to. She thought if you knew she was pregnant, you wouldn’t come.”

  That was the truth. Claude wouldn’t have set foot on English soil if he’d known Rose was pregnant. He also hadn’t heard until now that she’d lost two children before this. Then again, it was probably his fault since he purposely never asked about her, wanting to forget her. He had told his mother to never mention Rose’s name, and so she had respected his wishes and never said a thing.

  “Are you going to go back to France now, Claude?” Charlotte looked up at him with sad eyes.

  How could he leave her? He had to be there for his sister. Not to mention, now he felt as if he needed to be here for Rose as well. He couldn’t let either of them down. It was his duty as a knight, a brother, and a friend. Anger gripped his gut, but he held back the emotions threatening to spill forth. “Nay, of course not. I won’t leave, Charlotte,” he said, kissing his little sister atop her head. “I came for a birthday celebration, and that is what you are going to get. Just wait until you see the present I brought you.”

  “A present? For me?” Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh, Claude, give it to me now.”

  Claude chuckled. “Nay, my sweet, little sister. You are going to have to wait until the feast. I will not give you your present a minute sooner.”