Boot falls were suddenly in the doorway and due to the fact that David had a woman on his head, he couldn’t see who it was. Fearful it was one of John’s men, he suddenly shifted so that he ended up flipping the guard in his arms over so that he was now in the dominant position. The action caused the guard to lose his grip on the woman, who scrambled to her feet now that she realized she was free.
Without the encumbrance of skirts covering his head, David could see that, indeed, one of John’s soldiers was in the doorway and when he saw David, he charged with a yell. David, now on top of the guard he was wrestling with, yanked the guard up to use him as a human shield as John’s soldier charged them both. The guard in David’s arms took a sword to the gut meant for David and David let go of the guard long enough to lash out a big fist and catch John’s charging soldier in the face. The soldier fell back, face shattered, and the guard with the sword to the gut fell to the floor dead as David leapt to his feet, grabbing his own sword a few feet away.
There was blood all about the room with two dead men and furniture smashed on the floor. David turned to the woman, who was standing fearfully by the door at this point, but she suddenly ran off, fleeing him as he chased after her.
“Lady!” he called. “Lady, wait! Do not go outside!”
The woman wasn’t listening. She was a little thing, and very fast, and she raced down the steps and out into the darkness where she had last seen her father and sisters were. David was on her heels, taking the first two steps of the staircase before planting his buttocks on the banister and sliding all the way down to the bottom in a swift, slick motion. It was a much faster way to descend the stairs but by the time he got there, the woman was already out in the ward beyond.
As David barreled out of the building, he could see Lyle several feet away with his arms around the woman. There were also several bodies on the ground but there didn’t seem to be any more fighting going on. The skirmish was oddly still. David was still holding his sword defensively, blood smeared on his face from his bloody nose, as he made his way cautiously into yard. He could see le Bec and Marion in the darkness, instructing David’s men to gather their wounded.
“David!” Lyle called over to him. “You have my thanks. I am indebted to you for saving my daughter!”
He was indicating the woman in his arms and David pointed at her with his sword. “Is she well?” he asked.
Lyle nodded, greatly relieved. “She seems to be.”
David simply nodded, his gaze moving over the blond figure being smothered by Lyle, before his mind moved to his wounded soldiers and away from the woman he’d just saved. His thoughts were moving on to the prince and his cohorts, and what more havoc they would wreak that night.
“I would suggest you retreat to your rooms and not try to leave this night,” he said to the earl. “It is not safe for travel. Consider it in the morning if you must but for now, take your daughters back inside and bolt them in. Put your men out in the corridor on watch and do not let anyone up those stairs that you do not know. If you need assistance, send one of your men to me or to Chris. We will come.”
Lyle was still holding the young woman tightly, looking at the carnage around them. “It is like this with all of Richard’s supporters this night,” he said, dread in his tone. “I have been fortunate and I pray that others are as well.”
David was looking around, too, watching as his soldiers helped the two of his men who seemed to have been wounded. He nodded wearily. “As do I,” he said. “I am on to check on William Marshal and others, including Derby and Bath. I fear what may have befallen them this night. Oh… and, my lord?”
Lyle paused to look at him. “What is it, David?”
David lifted a pale eyebrow. “Reconsider leaving Windsor altogether,” he said. “Now, more than ever, we must band together. If we do not, we weaken, and John will succeed gaining ground against Richard. Send the women away if you must, but now is not the time for you to leave.”
Lyle knew that but he was concerned with his daughters. Still, David had a point. “I will consider it,” he said.
That wasn’t good enough for David. “There is a tournament on the morrow,” he said. “That is when we must show John his attempts to weaken us have failed. He must know that he cannot defeat Richard’s supporters. You must be there.”
Lyle understood the logic behind that. It was why he had come to London in the first place, to attend the tourney in support of the king. Even though it was John’s tournament, it was essential that Richard’s presence was heavily felt and now, with the king rumored missing, it was more important than ever. Reluctantly, Lyle sighed.
“Very well,” he said. “I will be there.”
With a curt but reassuring nod, David fled. Lyle watched the man go, still hugging his daughter, who had been struggling to pull herself together. She was a strong lass, but still, the events had shaken her. Now, she stood quietly as she watched the powerful young knight and his men move off into the darkness. They were heading back to the middle ward, back to where some of Richard’s supporters had been lodged. She sniffled.
“Who was that, Papa?” she asked.
Lyle watched David walk away until the darkness swallowed him. Then, still clutching his daughter, he went to the carriage and opened the door, ushering out the younger pair.
“That was David de Lohr,” he told her. “You will remember that I have spoken the name. His brother, Christopher de Lohr, is the king’s champion and, mayhap, the most powerful knight in the realm right now. He and his brother have recently returned from the Holy Land and John is not pleased by this. He was hoping that Christopher and David would never return.”
Two young women, heavily wrapped in expensive cloaks, climbed from the carriage as the earl’s men began to gather around them, collecting baggage, preparing to move the earl and his family back into their lodgings for the night. Even though the battle was over, the sense of fear had not left them. The group was moving swiftly, back into the old residence block. They were determined to make it back inside as de Lohr had instructed, to safety, until John and his assassins had their fill of whatever blood they were seeking and crawled back into their dark and savage holes for the night. Quickly and quietly, they moved.
“Must we really leave, Papa?” one of the younger girls asked. “You only just brought us here. We have never been to Windsor before and I do not want to leave so soon!”
Lyle, who still had Emilie in his arms, looked at his daughter in horror. “Your sister was nearly ravaged, men were injured, and still you do not want to leave?” he scolded. “Are you truly so foolish?”
The middle daughter, at sixteen, hung her head sheepishly as soldiers hurried the family back into the building, back to the four rooms they’d been assigned when they arrived. There was no more talk at that point, only the desire to reach safety. Lyle managed to usher his three daughters back into the single chamber they shared, a rather small room but cozy. It was good enough for the three girls with a very big bed to sleep on.
Once the women were safely away, Lyle retreated to a sitting room to discuss the events of the night with his men and plan for their future at Windsor, if any. Lyle fortunately hadn’t lost any men in the attack but there were a few wounded, mostly gashes that were tended. As he talked, his men listened, and eventually they prayed, grateful for their lives that night.
It could have been much, much worse.
As the men prayed and talked in the antechamber, the three girls who were now back in their chamber were laboring to calm themselves after their harrowing experience. As Nathalie and Elise retreated to the big bed and hugged each other fearfully, Emilie lingered over near the window that overlooked the darkened lower ward.
Emilie….
A lovely girl with a little nose, small but curvy lips, and brown eyes of enormous proportion, she was very doll-like and porcelain in her appearance. She had a decidedly delicate façade but behind that angelic beauty was the heart of iron and a will grea
ter than that of the king himself. She had proven that only moments ago when John’s guards had tried to ravage her. She fought and kicked, and would not let them have their way. Emilie Adalind Letizia Hampton, in spite of her size, was nothing to be trifled with.
Along with the will of iron, she had steady nerves as well. She wasn’t easily rattled. As her sisters huddled together, frightened, Emilie simply stood by the window as she reflected on the events of the evening.
That knight….
Emilie lingered on the warrior who had saved her, a man she’d never seen before until that very night in the heat of battle. Of course, she’d heard the name de Lohr from her father, many times, as one of the greatest houses in England, but she’d never actually seen a de Lohr. They were elusive and legendary, these de Lohrs, mythical men like Arthur and Galahad. Not that she’d seen much of her savior in the darkness other than cropped blond hair and a lightning speed she’d never witnessed in any man. When he’d burst into the room where she’d been trying to evade John’s men, she’d caught an indication of that impressive flash of movement. Even in those quick actions, there had been something different about him. Mayhap even something intriguing. Too bad she’s run from him before she’d realized who he was.
David de Lohr. Odd how just a brief glimpse of the man was enough to peak her interest. Even in the midst of a mortal crisis, she had been drawn to something about him. Emilie had known her share of suitors and she’d even encouraged one. Or maybe even two. But there had also been the de Grez brothers from Rochester. Aye, she’d definitely encouraged them as well, so that would make at least four suitors she had encouraged. But she hadn’t been serious about them, much to their dismay. She’d never been serious about any man.
Until now.
Mayhap this night would see that particular opinion changed in the form of David de Lohr. Odd how so brief a glimpse, and in a violent situation nonetheless, has changed it.
In spite of the aggression they’d suffered that night, and in spite of the fear in the air, they weren’t leaving Windsor. There was a tournament on the horizon that her father had promised to attend in order to show support for Richard. David de Lohr would undoubtedly be there. He’d suggested sending the women away, but Emilie wasn’t going to let that happen. If David was attending, she would be as well. A power-mad prince wasn’t going to change that.
She wasn’t leaving.
Smiling, Emilie turned away from the window.
CHAPTER TWO
The next day
The morning dawned bright and clear, unusual for the time of year but very pleasing to the occupants of Windsor. There was a cool breeze lifting the banners about the tournament field as the grounds came alive with knights and servants, groomsmen and squires, all preparing for the exciting day ahead.
Christopher de Lohr had risen and bathed in the antechamber so as to not wake his wife. His squire and two other young boys sat in the corner polishing the rust from his armor. His wife’s monkey, George, ever curious, had followed Christopher into the room and sat perched on a chair as the baron bathed, screaming a monkey scream when Christopher flicked water at him and drawing laughter from the boys.
Christopher donned his breeches and heavy linen shirt, pulling on his boots, as one of Dustin’s maids brought the morning meal into the room, followed closely by David. His brother had brought his own squire and soon four boys sat in the corner polishing two sets of armor.
“How is Dustin?” David yawned, breaking apart a hunk of cheese.
“Still asleep,” Christopher replied, drinking a warmed mulled wine brew. “What about you? Did you get any sleep?”
“About an hour,” David replied. “Marcus probably didn’t sleep at all. He is devastated with his cousin’s passing.”
Christopher grunted in sympathy, sipping at his cup. “David, I made some decisions last night,” he said. “With the uncertainty of Richard’s future, I have decided to leave Windsor. I am afraid that last night was only a foretaste of what is to come.”
David nodded. “That is wise,” he said. “Dustin shouldn’t be here with John and Ralph on the prowl. They came for her last night, you know. She belongs back at Lioncross.”
“She’s not going back to Lioncross,” Christopher said, noting the expression of surprise on his brother’s face. “David, when John goes through with his plans to seize the throne, and have no doubt that he will, Richard’s loyalists will be his first targets. Lioncross is too close to London to be safe for my wife.”
“So… what?” David wanted to know. “Where will you send her?”
Christopher took a healthy drink of his brew. “With Marcus to his home of Somerhill.”
David eyed him warily. “Chris, what are you talking about?”
Christopher sat forward, his expression grim. “David, John is raising a mercenary army and the justices believe he intends to forcibly seize Richard’s holdings, especially now that Richard is missing,” he said in a lowered tone. “Obviously, if that happens, you and I and all of Richard’s troops will move to halt him and civil war will ensue. I intend that Dustin should be as far away as possible, with Marcus, at Somerhill.”
“Marcus will not be fighting with us?” David demanded, his emotions running high as usual.
“With his arm useless? I would not allow it,” Christopher said.
“But you will allow him to protect your wife, to be with her day in and day out, while you defend Richard’s throne?” David hissed. “You may save your king’s throne, but you may also lose your wife in the process. Think on it, Chris. Marcus loves Dustin and in your absence, you know what could happen.”
“It will not,” Christopher snapped quietly, eyeing the squires in the corner. “Dustin is my wife and she loves me. I will have to trust them both, David. What else can I do?”
“Send her to Lohrham. Or to Bath,” David insisted. “Jesus, Chris, do not send her into the wilds with Marcus. You shall never get her back.”
Christopher sat back in his chair, his expression icy. “I have made my decision, David. I must do what’s best for my wife.”
David acted as if it was his own wife being sent away. “You are wrong.”
Before they could argue the subject further, the door to the bedchamber opened. The men turned to see Dustin, Christopher’s wife, standing in the doorway.
“You are back,” she said, her focus on Christopher. “I thought I heard your voice.”
“Dustin,” Christopher said as he got out of his chair. “You shouldn’t be up, sweetheart.”
She met him halfway, throwing herself into his arms. He hugged her deeply and then tried to swing her into his arms, but she protested with a grunt of pain.
“I am sorry,” he said gravely, lowering her back to the ground. “I did not mean to hurt you, sweet.”
“I am fine, really,” she said, but she was pale. Then she glanced over at David. “Good morn, David.”
Before David could answer her, Christopher lifted her gingerly. “Back to bed with you, lady. That leg requires rest to heal.”
Her brow furrowed. “The physician said it is not too deep and I do not feel like staying in bed. The tournament is today.”
“No tournament for you,” he said firmly, swinging her back into the bedchamber.
“But, Chris,” she protested, gripping his neck tightly to prevent him from laying her down on the bed. “My leg will heal. The physician stitched it and wrapped it tightly, and I can walk on it. I must get ready for the tournament.”
David listened to them argue, hearing Dustin challenge and complain and cajole in response to Christopher’s firm denials. When Dustin got mad and called him a less-than-ladylike name, David shot a reproachful glare to the gigglers in the corner. The sun rose steadily and the fight ensued, much to David’s amusement.
As he sat there listening to his brother’s wife rant, it occurred to him how much this woman had become a part of their lives. Not just Christopher’s, but his as well. It was as if she
had always been a part of their lives and he almost could not remember what it was like before she graced them with her light.
His infatuation with her had banked to respectful appreciation, but he had to admit he was fiercely protective of her when it came to Marcus. Mayhap it was jealousy, but whatever the case, he didn’t trust Marcus where Dustin was concerned and he thought his brother’s intention to send Dustin north with the new baron to be foolish.
The door to the bedchamber suddenly slammed shut with a resounding noise, rattling the utensils on the table before him. Even with the door closed, he could hear Dustin shouting and Christopher’s even responses. David took a last swig of wine and rose, going across the room to see how his armor was coming along. The squires, proud of their work, displayed the shiny pieces for him.
Something banged heavily in the other room and he heard Dustin yelling loudly. He couldn’t really make out her words, but whatever they were, they were angry. Casually, he held his arms out while his squire pulled his hauberk on, acting as if there was nothing unusual occurring at all. But the young squires had big eyes as the banging and shouting continued. David thought it all rather comical.
He finished dressing, including the tunic bearing Christopher’s colors. This was a newer tunic, made a few days ago when he had tunics made for Marcus, Dud and Trent. David wondered if Marcus would even be wearing colors today, even though he would be acting as Dustin’s escort. And he had no doubt Lady de Lohr was coming, although he pondered the question of whether or not she would award trophies.
Time was passing and they had to get to the tournament field to begin preparations. He knew that the other knights were most likely already there, but he hesitated to leave without Christopher. The fight coming from the bedchamber had grown suspiciously quiet and he suspected it was either because Dustin was crying or because Christopher was making mad love to her.
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 109
