The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

The fat man nodded grimly. “And she was loyal to until the end. Never did tell us anything much.”

  The oily man scanned their surroundings. “Virgil, do you think we could take the baron out? There’s lots of trees for cover, you know. One good arrow and we could remove him forever.”

  Virgil shook his head. “Sir Ralph said to just spy on him, not kill him.”

  “But think on it,” the other insisted. “We’d be doing John a favor. If we take out de Lohr now, he won’t have to worry about him anymore. We’ll be heroes,” the other said enthusiastically.

  Virgil looked doubtful, but he knew his friend to be smarter. “I don’t know, Roy,” he said. “What if we make John angry?”

  “How can we make him angry for doing him a favor?” Roy demanded, then turned and crawled back through the underbrush to the belongings they had brought. “See here. A crossbow. I am a good aim with it.”

  Virgil scratched his head. “You will take out the baron?”

  “With the first arrow,” Roy bragged, motioning to his neck. “The mail is weakest there.”

  Virgil thought and thought. Mayhap Roy was right. He imagined the wealth and titles that would be bestowed on him for helping rid John of an archenemy. The more he thought, the better he felt about it.

  “All right,” he said. “But from a distance. And we run like hell after the baron is down, for I do not want to go up against any of those knights of his.”

  Roy nodded firmly. “The horses are tied up in the glen. A perfect getaway. Then we can return to London and tell Sir Ralph what we have done.”

  Virgil nodded, scratching his verminous head while Roy loaded the crossbow and took an extra arrow. Then, together, they snuck into the trees for a prime vantage point, confident in their loyalty to their prince.

  They would be heroes.

  *

  The ceremony was over. Rebecca’s father still lay in the dirt, weeping like a child. Dustin, sniffing and sobbing, watched as the priest tried to give the man a few words of comfort, but he was unsuccessful in convincing him to rise. Christopher’s arm tightened around her as they stood there silently.

  After several long minutes, Dustin could stand it no longer. She lowered the handkerchief she was holding, unaware when it fell to the ground.

  “I must comfort him,” she whispered to her husband, moving away from him and to the crumpled figure in the dark dirt.

  Christopher and the knights stood silently as Dustin knelt beside the man. They could hear her soft voice, soothing and even, as she spoke to him, trying to persuade him to rise. And they could also hear the man refusing, lamenting loudly to whatever gods would listen as to why his wife and daughter had been taken from him. The more the farmer cried, the calmer Dustin became, until eventually she was able to convince him to get up and return with her.

  Christopher watched his wife’s gentleness, amazed that such a firebrand of a woman was capable of it. As she helped the stricken man to his feet, Christopher bent over to pick up the kerchief that she dropped.

  As he straightened up, he heard a faint high-pitched whistle and knew exactly what it was before he even saw it. He had no time to react at all before the whine grew deafening and behind him, David let out a loud grunt and slammed to the ground in a crash of metal and bone.

  The knights were in action before David had even hit the ground. The farmer be damned, Christopher pulled his wife to him and shielded her with his big body, moving her out of the trees and towards his destrier. Leeton and Edward had David each by an arm, dragging him free of the wooded area and back to the horses in the open field. The de Velt twins and Jeffrey were already mounted with swords in hand, spurring their destriers in the direction the arrow had come from.

  The peasants who had attended the funeral were screaming and running for their lives. David, hit in the shoulder, was still able to control his own destrier as Leeton helped him mount. Christopher, having no idea who their attackers were, was desperate to get Dustin back to the keep. He thrust her at Leeton.

  “Get her and David back to the keep and stay there,” he ordered. “Edward, to me!”

  Before Dustin realized what was happening, she was mounted in front of Leeton and, along with David, racing back to Lioncross.

  The last glimpse she caught of her husband was of him astride his massive white destrier, huge sword in his equally huge hand, tearing off in the direction of the trees.

  They reached Lioncross in short measure, helping David into the keep with a nasty-looking spine protruding from his shoulder. David’s wound was not deep. The arrow had hit him in a weak spot in the armor, doing no more than embedding itself a couple of inches into the man’s soft flesh. Leeton had removed it easily while Dustin had cleaned and patched it up.

  Stripped to the waist, David was propped up with pillows as Dustin lay in a few stitches, cringing every time she stuck him with the needle. He did no more than smile at her and she was at a loss.

  “Does this not hurt you?” she demanded.

  “A tickle,” he told her, studying her features at close range. She had been quite elusive as of late and he was not surprised to discover she was even lovelier up close.

  She cocked an eyebrow, securing a stitch. “Somehow I doubt that,” she said.

  He turned a little, pointing to a large scar just below his rib cage. “Now, that one hurt. The scar is much smaller than the actual wound.”

  “What happened?” she glanced at it, a scar on an otherwise perfectly formed torso. Christopher had a slight matting of blond hair on his chest, but David’s was as smooth as a baby’s bottom and very beautiful. His arms were like thick oak branches.

  “A Saracen,” he said. “He caught me off guard, without my armor. But it was a good fight.”

  “How did he catch you without your armor?” she wanted to know.

  David cleared his throat. “I was well….I didn’t have any clothes on at all. I was… you see….there was this….”

  “You were bathing,” Dustin put in quickly, not wanting to know the rest. She had an idea of what he was about to say.

  “Aye, I was bathing,” he agreed rapidly, relieved. “What a bath.”

  She shot him a reproachful glance, returning to the next stitch. He smiled broadly, remaining silent as she finished mending the wound.

  “Christopher will be pleased to see that you were not badly injured.” She finally stood up, glancing at Leeton as he stood beside the bed. “Where do you think they could be? They have been gone a long time.”

  “They will be back,” Leeton said. He had sent one hundred men-at-arms to assist the knights when they had first returned to the keep and was confident that any trouble had been swiftly quelled.

  Dustin sat with David while Leeton went down to the bailey to check on the progress of the action. David insisted he was fine and able to resume a normal schedule, but Dustin had fits and demanded he stay abed. David complied reluctantly, knowing that Christopher would order him up as soon as he returned. Until that time, he was perfectly content to sit and gaze at his lovely new sister-in-law.

  “I still find it hard to believe your father did not marry you off before he left with Richard,” he said softly.

  She glanced up at him as she cleaned up the items used to tend his wound. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you are so lovely,” he replied. “Surely there were men beating down the door to marry you.”

  Dustin dropped her head again. “Idiots, all of them.”

  David grinned. “Including my brother?”

  Dustin sighed irritably. “He did not beat my door down,” she said. “My father simply handed everything over to him, including me.”

  “And that displeases you?” he pressed, although gentler.

  She slowed as she gathered the last of the cat gut and needles. “Why do you want to know this? It is of no concern to you.”

  “My brother is my concern,” he replied. “But if you do not want to talk about it, I understand.”
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br />   “Thank you,” she said, turning for the big wardrobe in the chamber to put everything away.

  He eyed her. “Christopher didn’t want to marry anyone, either. But he has reconsidered.”

  She busied herself at the wardrobe. “Is that so? Well, I care not. We are married whether either one of us wants to be or not.”

  He scrutinized her as she tried to ignore him. “Do you not like Chris?”

  She looked at him. “He is my husband.”

  “That isn’t an answer. Why do not you like him?” David persisted.

  She cocked her head, not as irritated as she had been earlier. “You are the prying sort, aren’t you? And I never said I didn’t like him. I do.”

  He grinned. “Good. He likes you.”

  She shrugged, pretending indifference when she was secretly gladdened with his words. Not knowing what to say, she finished putting everything away and then went about straightening up the chamber just so she wouldn’t have to sit and answer David’s questions. He was nosy and, being unsure of her feelings and certainly not wanting to share them, she pretended to be busy.

  David watched her work, surprisingly pretty and feminine for a woman who seemed rather rough. He could see the wall around her, the front she put up, yet the woman he had seen at the gravesite today had been completely open and vulnerable. She tried to be tough in front of everyone and David wondered if that still held true when she was alone with his brother. No wonder Christopher was afraid to lay himself open for her, even if he did like her. David had a feeling the woman could sting if she wanted to.

  As he watched her wipe at a table, they both heard a loud shout from the bailey outside, and Dustin rushed to the lancet window that faced the northeast side of the bailey. She could partially see the big gatehouse, now with its gates opening wide.

  “What is it?” David asked.

  Dustin turned around. “They are returning,” she replied, setting the needlepoint down. “I shall go see.”

  David almost stopped her, but refrained. It seemed to him that she wanted to go down to meet Christopher. As soon as she left, he got out of bed and went to the windows, gazing out over the bailey as the huge gates spilled forth men into the ward. He spied the knights, and saw that they carried a prisoner.

  Hastily, he went in search of his clothes.

  *

  Dustin stood in the open door of the castle, shielding her eyes from the sun that had suddenly decided to make an appearance from behind the clouds. She’d never seen so many soldiers in her bailey, all mobilized and ready to fight when in fact they were returning. She knew these men to be a mixture of Christopher’s loyal men-at-arms and men that her father had taken with him to the Holy Land, but under her husband’s direction, they seemed to be much more disciplined than her father’s troops had ever been.

  The knights, including her husband, were congregating over near the eastern wall of the keep. Leeton was there, and she could see him wrestling with a man that had been trussed up on the back of Max’s destrier. Curious, she stepped out onto the large stone step to get a better look.

  Christopher dismounted his destrier and moved around to the prisoner, now held between Anthony and Leeton. Without a word, he motioned for the man to be tied spread-eagle between the two six foot poles near the wall. The man yelled and screamed and begged, but he was no match for the knights.

  When the prisoner was secured, Christopher stood before him, his visor up and his eyes like blue ice. He stared at the man for several moments, enough to intimidate the hell out of him, and the man was visibly shaken.

  “Now,” Christopher’s voice was low and controlled, “I will give you another chance. Tell me who sent you.”

  The man was weak and afraid. “I…I told you that no one has sent us. We were simply robbers, my lord.”

  “Robber’s with a fine crossbow? Robbers bearing Prince John’s colors?” Christopher pointed out. “I think not. Why did John send you?” He knew the answer already, but he wanted to hear the reply all the same.

  “He didn’t,” the fat man insisted, spittle dropping from his pale lips. “We were, we are robbers.”

  Christopher’s face was impassive as he stared at the fat little liar. Brusquely he motioned to Anthony. “Strip him.”

  The prisoner wailed loudly, his pleas for mercy going ignored. Anthony and Jeffrey proceeded to strip the man nude, leaving his shredded clothing at his feet. Christopher crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Do not whip me, my lord,” the man begged, crying. “Please have mercy.”

  “I am not going to whip you,” Christopher informed him rather callously, glancing up to the gray puffy clouds that scattered in the sky. “Beg for mercy from the elements for they are your nemesis now.”

  With that, he turned on his heel and headed toward the castle. He was confronted by Dustin’s puzzled face as she stood on the top step to the structure.

  “Who’s that?” she wanted to know. “What are you going to do to him?”

  Christopher’s gaze was kindly on her. “That, my lady, is a would-be assassin, and I intend to do exactly as you see,” he replied. “A night in the cold ought to loosen his tongue.”

  Dustin gazed back at the prisoner, already shivering in the cool temperatures of the day. “You intend to freeze him to death?”

  Christopher removed his gauntlets. “Perhaps, but I doubt it will come to that. I expect him to be spilling his life story before the sun sets.” He returned his focus to his wife. “I hear my brother fares well. Where is he?”

  “Here,” David said, coming out of the castle, dressed once again in his armor. He rotated his shoulder gingerly. “A scratch.”

  Christopher raised an eyebrow. “That arrow hit you hard, little brother. Are you sure?”

  “It was not a scratch, it was a deep puncture.” Dustin frowned, angered that David had disobeyed her and gotten out of bed.

  David smiled. “Mayhap to you, but to me it is a scratch,” he said. “I am fine.”

  Dustin put her hands on her hips. “If you exert that arm, you are going to tear the stitches,” she pointed out. “Would it kill you to spend the remainder of the day resting?”

  “Probably not, but I do not feel like it,” David replied, turning to his brother and motioning toward the captive. “Who’s that bastard?”

  “One of John’s inept spies,” Christopher replied. “We killed the other one.”

  “There were only two?” David asked. “Not an army to ambush us?”

  “Nary a trace of an army,” Christopher replied. “Just the two fools. I suspect we will have more answers by dusk.”

  Dustin, annoyed that David was ignoring her and Christopher seemed to have forgotten she was there, stormed back inside the castle. David and Christopher, still looking at each other yet completely aware of her display of temper, smiled at one another.

  “She practically tied me to the bed,” David said.

  “Is it really a scratch? Should I take a look?” Christopher asked.

  “It is,” David insisted. “Look if you will, but you will agree with me. As it is, I have a training session I am late for over in the arena.”

  Christopher shrugged with resignation. “Very well, go to it. But if you tear those stitches, do not ask me to defend you from Dustin’s wrath. She shall have your hide.”

  David grinned. “She can have it.” When Christopher’s smile vanished, he put up his hands in supplication. “A jest! Jesus, Chris, where’s your sense of humor?”

  David shook his head and took the steps to the bailey, followed by the de Velt twins. Jeffrey had left to attend to his duties, leaving Christopher with Edward and Leeton.

  “He likes your wife,” Edward commented.

  “As my brother, I should hope that he would,” Christopher replied evasively, wanting off the subject. “Don’t you two have anything to do?”

  Leeton and Edward looked at each other, then shook their heads simultaneously. “Nay.”

  Chris
topher glared at them. “Then find something or I shall find it for you,” he said, his gaze trailing to the open castle door. “I will be inside.”

  He made his way to his rooms, passing by Dustin’s chambers to see if she were there. When she wasn’t, he went directly to his bedchamber and stripped off his armor and clothing, taking the time to wash himself from head to toe in the basin. As he washed, he was lost in thought. He knew for a fact that the man in the bailey was John’s plant, and he knew the arrow had been meant for him, or worse, meant for Dustin.

  Already John was starting his covert assaults and Christopher decided that the sooner he could get back to London and keep track of the prince, the better. He briefly debated as to whether or not to leave Dustin at Lioncross, yet he could not do that in good conscience. He would not be comfortable unless he was protecting her, and he would worry if she were left behind.

  He splashed water on his face, chuckling bitterly at himself. When he had arrived on English soil, the greatest worry on his mind was Richard’s throne and his own hide. Now with the added element of a wife he unexpectedly cared for, his problems were multiplied tenfold. Not only did he have to keep himself safe, but he had to worry over her as well.

  It wasn’t fair. He was entrusted with the most important mission of Richard’s reign and although it was inadvertent, the king had given him the added burden of Dustin Barringdon. He briefly wondered if Arthur hadn’t been a John loyalist and had planned the distraction all along, knowing Christopher’s fondness for beautiful women.

  He knew John to be clever and conniving. Christopher would have to be completely neutral in front of the prince when it came to his wife; otherwise, he knew she would be used against him. If John so much as suspected that he cared for Dustin in any way, then Christopher would be at a disadvantage.

  He grabbed a towel, wiping his face and neck, his eyes distant in thought. He had to be honest with himself, how on earth could he remain neutral in regards to his wife? He could not, and he knew that. He was damn possessive of her and for good reason, he liked her. And, more importantly, he hadn’t yet consummated their marriage. If someone else got to her before he was able to mark her….