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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “She is quite hearty, I assure you,” Deborah answered. “She has taken me many places without incident.”

  He frowned doubtfully but didn’t argue. Instead, he moved closer to Dustin. “Leeton has instructions to stop and allow you two to rest come morning, but sleep no longer than a few hours. I want you back within the safety of Lioncross as soon as possible.”

  She nodded, curling her gloved hand around his great mailed one. “Why the urgency, Chris? We cannot even sleep the night and leave when dawn breaks?” She nodded her head toward Deborah. “I worry for her health; she is not as strong as you or I.”

  He raised an eyebrow, but she could feel his hand gently squeezing her own. “You ask me that now? You have known for a while now that you would be leaving come nightfall.”

  “I know, but the urgency to leave Windsor seems to be gaining. It didn’t seem quite so pressing this morning, even after the earl attacked me.” She lowered her voice. “What is so wrong that we must leave in the dead of night?”

  “I must leave tonight if I am to rendezvous with John’s forces before he can reach Tickhill,” he said. “I will not leave you here alone, even for a night. When I leave, you leave. Simple enough?”

  “Aye,” she nodded, feeling foolish to question his wisdom. “When…when do you think you will be returning?”

  The pressure from his hand grew stronger. “I know not, sweet love. Within a month, hopefully, but I cannot know.”

  She gave him a sad, resigned smile. “Spring is coming. Lioncross is beautiful in spring.”

  “I look forward to it,” he said softly. “And you.”

  “I can only pray that this ugly business is over with quickly and you can return to me permanently,” she said. “Mayhap you will dispose of John quickly enough that…”

  A shout cut her off. “Chris. We await you,” David yelled.

  Christopher waved at his brother and turned back to his wife. Dustin braced herself; the time had finally arrived and she was trying hard to keep her promise and not cry, but gazing into his sky-blue eyes forced sobs into her throat. When he smiled sweetly at her, she blinked and fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “No, Dustin, do not.” He reached up and brushed the tears away. “No tears. I want to see you smile.”

  “I cannot.” she squeaked.

  He laughed softly and kissed her gloved hand. “I shall return as soon as I can, I promise. Know that you mean the world to me, wife. I shall always return to you.”

  She could only nod, afraid if she opened her mouth she would start bawling like a baby. He tried to release her hand but she held onto it tightly, her head bowed as she tried to compose herself.

  “It is time to leave, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I have to go.”

  She nodded again, swallowing down all of the tears and sadness she was feeling. “I know I just wanted to tell you…tell you that I love you.”

  He winked at her and kissed her hand again, pulling his fingers away more firmly this time and she had no choice but to let him go.

  He took a couple of steps away and Harold danced around him eagerly. He frowned at the dog.

  “Dustin, I cannot take this mongrel with me,” he said sternly. “Control him, would you?”

  She sniffed, forcing herself to be brave as she focused on the wriggling dog. “He wants to go with you. Why cannot you take him?”

  He eyed her reproachfully. “Dogs do not go into battle. Call him to you so that I might leave.”

  “Harold won’t get in the way, Chris,” she said. “You have been taking him to the practice field with you; he likes the excitement of battle.”

  “Dustin, I will not be responsible for Hal being gored on the battlefield,” he said, picking the chunky dog up and put him in front of his wife. “Take him.”

  Dustin gripped the fat mutt in front of her, struggling to hold him as he twisted and fought. He eventually plunged from the horse and raced back across the courtyard to where Christopher was preparing to mount up. She saw her husband say something to the dog, point at her, and then eventually give up when Harold refused to cooperate. He mounted his steed and motioned to David, reining his horse in Dustin’s direction as David shouted orders.

  He thundered over to his wife as Harold raced beside the animal, very careful of the hooves that were as big as he was. Christopher swung past Leeton and relayed his orders, and immediately the column of men were set in motion. Hercules lurched forward as Christopher reined his destrier beside her.

  Dustin didn’t say anything, content to gaze at his powerful face. His eyes roved over the two moving armies, scrutinizing every man and bellowing to his officers when he detected an anomaly. Although they had just begun to move, she could tell by his manner that for all purposes, he was already at war.

  It made an awesome sight, over a thousand soldiers moving out in the falling snow, countless torches lighting their way. The courtyard was alive with dancing shadows and shouting men as the rhythm of the march picked up, with the armor and swords jingling in synchronization.

  Dustin was very warm in spite of the freezing temperatures, and was actually feeling some of the excitement that was in the air. And it was excitement, not fear or apprehension as she would have expected on a battle march. These men were seasoned, trained soldiers, preparing to do Richard’s work by defending him against his raging brother. The confidence she sensed around her served to boost her failing spirit and she knew these men gained their assurance from her husband. She gazed at him, pride filling her.

  He sensed her eyes on him and turned to her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  She shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. “No reason, husband. Am I not allowed to look at you whenever I please?”

  “You are, provided that you tell me why you are smiling,” he answered.

  Her smile twisted with mock irritation. “Did you tell me not five minutes ago that you wanted to see me smile? Now I am smiling and you demand to know why.”

  He snickered and shook his head, glancing off in the direction of a particularly loud shout before returning to his wife. Even then, he would only smile slyly at her.

  Dustin liked his smile, it was flirtatious and she responded with a coy look of her own. Their separation was a mere minutes away, but she wasn’t thinking on it. She was enjoying his mood.

  “How’s your horse handling these days?” she asked.

  He cuffed the horse affectionately on the neck. “He is doing much better. I think he will do very well on this campaign.”

  “What did you finally decide to name him?” she inquired.

  He shrugged. “I have been calling him ‘horse’. His trainer called him Brutus, a name I detest. You are good with names, think of one.”

  She looked closely at the animal, a magnificent silver dapple with a salt-and-pepper mane. “You were so intent on naming a son of ours Arthur. Why not name your horse Arthur?”

  “Your father would rise from the grave if I named a horse after him,” Christopher snorted. “Ah, well, think of a name while I am gone.”

  Dustin’s party passed under the portcullis first, and Christopher with them. When the entire column of troops had passed onto the road and turned northwest, Christopher took hold of Hercules’ reins and pulled his wife from the procession, waiting until it passed by them completely before speaking. Behind them, his massive army was passing through the gate and turning due north.

  He flipped up his visor, delicate flakes of snow touching his face as he gazed into the face of the woman he loved with all of his heart. He ached with loneliness already.

  “Leeton and Sir Nicholas will be joining me as soon once you are settled,” he said, his throat tight with emotion. “Max, Anthony and Jeffrey will be remaining with you at Lioncross. Obey them, Dustin, for I do not want to have to worry about you while I am away.”

  Much to her surprise, she found her tears were gone and replaced by a warm feeling of trust and love. Christopher seemed more dis
tressed than she did.

  “I promise, I will obey them,” she said with a saucy bat of her eyelashes. “Even if it kills me, I shall be agreeable.”

  Her courage soothed his own aching heart and he managed a smile. “If you are agreeable, ’twill be a small miracle. Now ride on and join Deborah, sweetheart. Take care of yourself.”

  She smiled beautifully, gathering Hercules’ reins. He wanted to see her smile, and she would oblige him. “Be safe, husband. Take care of Harold.”

  He glanced down and saw that the dog was indeed sitting politely by his destrier. He groaned. “Christ, Hal. What am I going to do with you?”

  “Feed him, let him warm your bed,” Dustin teased softly.

  Christopher reined his horse close to her. “You are the only one to warm my bed, wife. But I will feed him,” he reached out a massive gloved hand and swallowed up half of her head. “Give me a kiss.”

  Dustin almost unseated herself as she responded to him, the most loving kiss either one of them could remember.

  “Go,” he said. His throat was tight again. “Leeton is waiting for you.”

  Dustin turned Hercules around, throwing one last glance at Christopher. He waved at her, watching as she spurred her horse like a man and raced back along the column toward Leeton, waiting patiently by the road on his roan destrier. Christ, he felt as if his heart was being ripped from his chest, but he forced himself to tear his eyes from her.

  Slamming down his visor, he drove his destrier in the direction of his northward-bound army.

  RISE OF THE DEFENDER

  LONG LIVE THE KING

  PART 3

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Christopher and his mighty army were not in time to save Tickhill Castle from being consumed by John and his forces. Led by Sir Dennis and his band of mercenary generals, they were a surprisingly strong and disciplined army. The crown troops laid siege to Tickhill for nearly two weeks before retreating. John was anchored in deeply at Tickhill and Christopher reluctantly decided to pull back to a safe distance to anticipate John’s next move. Tickhill was lost for the moment and it was difficult for him to admit it.

  As Christopher knew, the army was not to stay at Tickhill. After establishing jail-like security in and around the fortress, the army banded together once again and moved northwest toward York. Christopher found himself chasing after the army as a mother after an unruly child. The mercenary army would attack every fortress in their path and the crown troops would be there to defend and repel, losing a few castles but saving more than they lost.

  It was frustrating and exhausting work. John was grimly determined to seize England castle by castle, hoping to shut off the north from the rest of the country; to conquer it keep by keep.

  Christopher knew the tactical planning to be Sir Dennis’. The man was a cunning soldier, if not a bit reckless. He had a huge army with voracious fighters that he used handily, moving from one castle to the next with incredible speed. Christopher had a devil of a time keeping up with them.

  February moved into March, and March into April. His thirty-sixth birthday came and went on the battlefield, the same day that Edward suffered a nearly mortal wound to the groin. The knight hovered one step above death for nearly a week before showing any improvement, so Christopher sent him back to Lioncross as soon as he was able to travel. Edward carried with him a special written message for Lady de Lohr from her husband. Christopher had slept the night before with the message clutched to him, knowing it would soon be touching Dustin’s own hands. He missed her more than words could express.

  Spring came and went, moving into summer and Christopher found himself in East Anglia outside of Norwich. He had relatives here but did not stop to visit. The justices had been sending him regular communication regarding Richard’s situation; a circumstance still unimproved. Richard was well and was still being held captive, and the justices were in the process of raising the ransom demand. All they asked of Christopher was to control John as best he could. More and more of Richard’s troops were coming home from the Holy Land every day and soon Christopher would have another army larger than the one presently under his command waiting at Windsor. With over four thousand men, he would surely destroy John and regain the seven keeps he had been unsuccessful in defending.

  With the heated summer months, the battles seemed to wane and eventually there was a strained standoff. John still held seven castles, but he had made no more advances, and the majority of his field army, including Sir Dennis, had retreated to Nottingham. The situation was at a stalemate, a state Christopher guessed would remain for a length of time while John rethought his strategy. At the beginning of August, he saw his opportunity to return to Lioncross for the first time in almost a year.

  With his troops taking a well-deserved break in London, Christopher set off for home. He and his five knights rode all day and all night, not pausing to rest, for they knew how eager their liege was to see his beautiful wife. And, in faith, they were eager for the coming rest they so very much needed.

  The humidity of August was bearable as he crossed onto his land, his stomach twisting with excitement to be closer to Dustin than he had been in six months. He wondered how she would react upon seeing him, for he had sent no word ahead. He wondered if she still loved him, or if she had forgotten about him altogether. The humidity of the day meant nothing to him as the late morning sun beat down on his oven-like armor. He felt nothing but relief as he rounded a crest and the mighty fortress of Lioncross loomed in the distance.

  David reined his horse alongside, smiling at his brother’s face. “Jesus, Chris, you look like you are seeing a ghost.”

  “I feel as if I am living a dream,” Christopher said quietly. “Christ, David, has it been so long? I cannot believe we have actually arrived.”

  “We have,” David said with a nod, gazing off at Lioncross. “I only hope your wife does not kill you for giving her the surprise of her life.”

  Christopher nodded in agreement, not replying as they drew closer to the village. Harold, racing alongside Christopher in his customary place, suddenly took off after a rabbit and Christopher whistled loudly to the mutt. The dog had been his constant companion throughout the campaign and the two were inseparable. He and David had taken to treating the dog like one of the family, feeding it from the table and letting it sleep in its own bed. Harold had become a kind of mascot, a tough little scrapper of a dog with a heart as big as England herself.

  Passing through the town, he saw that it had not changed a lick and was mildly surprised when the villagers recognized him and turned out to give him welcome. Pleased as he was, he did not acknowledge them. His mind, his attention, was on his fortress. Anticipation and excitement shook his belly until his hands quivered. He simply could not wait to take his wife in his arms and tell her how much he had missed her.

  Lioncross Abbey loomed before them, the squat and powerful walls embracing the oddly-shaped keep. Shouts went up on the wall of the fortress and the huge gates began to yawn before him. His men had seen him coming and had turned out en masse to greet their liege. He could not fight off the grin as his troops cheered him wildly as he passed through the gate, his eyes raking over his structure to make sure everything was as he had left it. Much to his pleasure, the fortress was as strong and solid as ever and he reined his horse to a halt in the middle of the dusty bailey.

  Max and Anthony rushed to him like eager children, welcoming him home with handshakes and claps. Christopher slapped Max on the side of the head, demanding his wife before any words of greeting were exchanged.

  “I should have known,” Anthony said. “He returns not to his fortress or his men, but to his wife who has been ruling us like Nero.”

  “Nero, did you say?” Christopher shrugged. “That sounds about right. Where is my little Caesar?”

  “In back with her garden,” Max replied. “She has spent nearly every day there and it thrives. Keeps that damn monkey with her, too, and that little blond dog.”r />
  Christopher whistled to Harold, who was immediately beside him. “Go find your mistress,” he told the animal, and it darted off as if it knew exactly what he was saying. He looked at Max again. “Did the cat ever return home?”

  “Aye, it did, and it sleeps with your wife, along with the other pets,” Max said. “You are going to have quite a fight on your hands trying to claim your rightful place in bed. But, in truth, the monkey has become rather fond of Edward and sleeps with him at times.”

  Christopher grinned and removed his gauntlets. “Where is de Wolfe?”

  “With your wife, I imagine,” Max answered. “He has hardly let her out of his sight.”

  “Good man,” Christopher said firmly, pushing past the group of them. “Make yourselves useful, men. I would see to my wife now.”

  Jeffrey exited the castle just as Christopher entered, exchanging words of pleasant surprise with him before pointing him in the direction of his wife. As Christopher ducked inside, Jeffrey descended the stairs and greeted the group of returning knights.

  “I see battle agrees with you,” he remarked, sizing up the familiar men, as well as unfamiliar men. “The baron looks healthy enough.”

  “The man is immortal,” Leeton sighed, leaning against his destrier. “But I am not. I want food and sleep, in that order.”

  The other knights agreed heartily, yelling for their destriers to be tended. With the horses taken care of, they were free to proceed into the castle and to the first decent meal in months. Max and Anthony were chattering like magpies, filling the returning warriors in on all of the happenings during their absence. The group of knights mounted the stairs, all running off at the mouth like children.

  “Was the baron surprised when you told him of his wife?” Jeffrey asked.

  Max shrugged. “We did not tell him. He will see for himself.”