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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Dustin, her beautiful face dark, sunk back into her chair as Marcus and Edward regained their seats. The whole day had been draining on her and it wasn’t even noon yet, she could not even fathom what the afternoon might hold.

  Dustin wasn’t mentally prepared when the marshal dropped his flag. Christopher and Sir Dennis stormed toward each other with a deafening roar, shafts leveling out, and Dustin tried to close her eyes but could not manage the action. She could only stare, frozen in her seat, waiting for what would happen next.

  Two glancing blows and naught else occurred. With the next pass, Christopher broke his shaft and took his brother’s as a replacement. As he handled the heavy pole, Marcus and Edward glanced at each other over Dustin’s head, silent words acknowledging that their liege was definitely favoring his left shoulder.

  The crowd’s feelings were rising and falling like waves upon the shore, and Dustin’s emotions with them. Every time Christopher made it through a pass unharmed, she whispered a prayer to God that his next one would be as successful. It was completely maddening and frustrating and she was so sick to her stomach that she thought she might vomit, but she didn’t want to leave the lists. As much as she was terrified to watch, she knew there was no other place she would rather be.

  At the other end of the field, Sir Dennis switched from his crow’s foot shaft to a spear-tipped one. Marcus saw the exchange and his body went stiff with fury.

  “Damnation,” he spit, then turned to see if Edward had caught the switch. Indeed, Edward had and his golden eyes were wide with apprehension. In the midst of their anxiety, Dustin suddenly shot to her feet.

  “He has got a dagger on the end of that shaft,” she gasped with realization. “He is going to kill Christopher with it.”

  Marcus grabbed her arms and set her down as the combatants took up position. But Dustin would not be so easily sated.

  “You must stop this!” she said frantically.

  “I cannot,” Marcus said quietly. “’Tis perfectly legal for Sir Dennis to joust with the spear-tipped shaft.”

  “Like hell!” Dustin shot out of her seat again, thrusting herself forward towards John and Ralph. “Sire, surely you will not allow your champion to compete with a blade on the end of his pole?”

  John looked amused with her terror. “My lady, ’tis painfully obvious that you have never been to a tournament before. Until a year or two ago, spear-tipped shafts were the only type used in a joust. The crow’s foot tip is very new.”

  Dustin looked back at the prince in disbelief, her eyes trailing to the field helplessly as the competitors prepared for their run. The field marshal raised his flag and with the drop, the destriers sprang into a rumbling gallop.

  Dustin could not move. It took all of her concentration to stand there and watch, her breath caught in her throat and her heart quivering in her chest as her husband and the prince’s champion raced toward each other at break-neck speed. Behind her, the crowd slowly rose to their feet in anticipation of what was to surely come.

  When it happened, it happened too fast for the human eye to comprehend. The shafts came down and suddenly there was a deafening noise; Sir Dennis went flying from his destrier as if unseen hands had thrown him. Dustin’s heart soared until she saw a split second later that Christopher, his destrier gored by the 12 foot shaft, went down hard enough to shake the ground. Dust and chunks of earth spewed into the air and before she could react, Marcus and Edward flew from the lists and were racing across the arena.

  Dustin was in shock. In fact, almost the entire lists were rushing onto the field. Even Ralph had jumped from the platform and was running toward the mass of people, all swarming around the two competitors. The arena turned into a boiling pot of knights and officials and she completely lost sight of her husband and his horse.

  The crowd in the lists was loud with their concerns, but Dustin could not hear them. It was as if she were locked in her own little world, her entire life hanging on what was happening out on the dirt in front of her. She tried to pick out her husband’s knights, any familiar head, but there were so many men in armor that it was impossible to single out any one person. She could hear shouting and see all sorts of movement surrounding her husband and his animal.

  “My, my,” Prince John was standing beside her, shielding his eyes from the glare of the weak sun as he gazed out on the field. “Quite a finish to an exciting bout. I do hope everyone is all right.”

  Dustin could not even manage a retort. Her mind was like mud. Before she realized it, she was descending the stairs and making her way across the field like a woman hypnotized. She saw nothing, heard nothing, her focus entirely on where she last saw her husband. The honor guard that Christopher had left in charge of her broke rank and began to follow, wondering if they should prevent her from going any further. Yet they did not, instead, acting as an escort and shoving people out of her way as she went. Dustin didn’t even notice their assistance.

  Sir Dennis’ men managed to get him back on his feet. He was several feet to her right, quite shaken as he leaned on his comrades for support. Dustin snapped out of her trance long enough to stare him down with a look of completely loathing. He didn’t see her as he was helped from the field.

  She pushed into a crowd of knights and suddenly the legs of Christopher’s horse became visible through the crowd. Seized with anguish, she tried to shove her way further but was grabbed with large, firm hands.

  “Lady de Lohr.” It was an older knight, his visor raised and his face coated with perspiration. “I am Lord Lyle Hampton, Earl of Canterbury. Certainly there are better places for you to be than out here on a dirty field. Please allow me to escort….”

  Dustin jerked away from him roughly. “I would see my husband.”

  The earl eyed the sergeant of the escort as he grasped Dustin again, more firmly this time. “I understand completely, my lady,” he said gently, “but it would be much better if you wait in the lists to see your husband.”

  “Nay!” she screamed. “Let me go or I shall scratch your eyes out.”

  Lord Hampton, fortunately, was a man of even temper, having three daughters of his own. He was a friend of Christopher’s and also a friend of Christopher’s uncle, Sir Philip de Lohr of Lohrham Forest. Christopher had pointed Dustin proudly out to the earl before the competition, which was how the earl knew who the lovely lady was on sight. And he also knew without a doubt that she should not be here.

  “As you wish, my lady,” he said, holding her with an iron grip. “But it will have to wait. We must get you out of this dirt. Sergeant, your help would be appreciated.”

  The sergeant-at-arms gripped Dustin’s other arm and between he and the earl, were able to direct her back toward the stands. But Dustin would have no part of it and turned into a wild animal. She slugged the earl in the nose, drawing blood, before she turned like a banshee on the sergeant and kicked him in a weak point in the armor by his groin. Free for the moment, she grabbed her skirts and tore through the crowds of knights and men, knowing her greatest advantage was the fact that men in armor lack decent balance and are not quick on their feet. With enough shoving, she knew she could throw them off enough to reach Christopher.

  As she rounded a particularly tall bank of knights, she caught sight of Edward’s head and she screamed his name loudly. At the sound of his name, Edward whirled around and rushed to her as she moved toward him. He snatched her firmly around the torso and she twisted and punched him.

  “Let me go!” She fought Edward with every ounce of strength she possessed. “Where is Christopher?”

  Edward was having a devil of a time holding onto her. “Come on, Dustin,” he said, grunting when she elbowed him in the gut. “Let’s get you back to the lists.”

  “I will not,” she shrieked. “What happened to my husband? Is he dead?”

  “Nay, he’s not dead,” he said, getting a better grip on her when she relaxed a bit. Mayhap if he was honest with her she would stop fighting so much. As it wa
s, she had no idea what was transpiring with her husband and was understandably terrified. “He’s trapped under his horse, Dustin. They are trying to free him now.”

  As he hoped, she stopped struggling and instead strained around Edward to get a better look at what was happening.

  “Oh, Lord,” she whispered, seeing only seas of mailed legs. “Is the horse dead?”

  “Aye,” he replied quietly. “The spear went right into his chest.”

  “Is Christopher alright?” She turned her brimming gray eyes up to him. “Please tell me, Edward.”

  Edward could see her anguish. He loosened his grip and put his arm around her waist. “Come with me,” he said softly.

  He led her around the crowd and soon Christopher and his horse came into view. Dustin’s hands flew to her mouth to stop the sobs as she viewed the scene closely; the destrier, mortally wounded, fell sidelong into the dirt and trapped her husband’s right leg underneath thousands of pounds of horseflesh and armor. Christopher, helmetless, was supported by David and Leeton as dozens of knights and soldiers and grooms tried to truss the horse up with rope, enough so they could lift him off Christopher.

  Dud was near the animal’s head and Marcus, his brow sweaty from exertion, was controlling the entire operation as he shouted orders loud enough for the king of Scotland to hear. Seeing her husband so helpless nearly drove Dustin over the edge.

  She was standing yards away from Christopher, watching the urgent actions of the men working furiously to free her husband. Had Edward not been holding her firmly, she was sure she would have slipped to the ground from sheer grief. She found herself leaning against him, her head against his armored chest. As long as she could see Christopher and see that he was alive, she could keep herself calm.

  “So this is where you went.” The Earl of Canterbury strolled up casually, a handkerchief to his nose. “I thought as much.”

  Edward glanced over at the earl. “What happened to your nose, sire?”

  The earl snickered. “Lady de Lohr and I were introduced,” he said, studying her lovely profile as she watched the rescue effort on her husband.

  Edward raised his eyebrows in horror but the earl waved him off, still chuckling. Together, the three of them watched the last of the rigging go around the destrier’s body. The task had been difficult and time-consuming due to the angle the horse had landed and also for the fact that the men had to dig trenches underneath the animal to run the rope through.

  Marcus tested the ropes himself and when he was satisfied, ordered the men to ready. Dustin tensed as the ropes were pulled taut, moving the beast inch by inch as David and Leeton grasped Christopher’s arms and tugged. In synchronization the men would pull at the horse as Christopher’s men attempted to slide him out from underneath the animal.

  It took several tries until finally, after a lifetime of torturous waiting, Christopher slipped free.

  *

  “I do not like the joust,” Elise said, tears in her eyes. “They frighten my families and they are violent and terrible. Two horses were killed! I want to go home!”

  Emilie had her arm around her younger sister, trying to comfort the girl as the men on the field worked to clear up the mess created by one competitor ramming his spear-tipped joust pole into the chest of the other competitor’s horse. One man had walked away but the other knight, a competitor who happened to be none other than David’s brother, was still pinned on the ground beneath his dead destrier.

  It had been a horrific accident that had sent many women fleeing the lists. Delicate female senses did not want to see that kind of carnage. But Emilie and her sisters and Lillibet had remained in their seats even as Christopher’s wife had fled the royal box to see to her husband. The girls had watched her run off but they had lost sight of her in the crowd. They had lost sight of their father, down on the field, and of Brickley, too. Now, they simply sat and waited for the field to be cleared, but their thrill of seeing their first tournament had been summarily doused. There was nothing wonderful or exciting about it.

  It was a blood sport.

  “I am sorry, sweetheart,” Emilie hugged her distraught sister. “Look, now; see Brick down on the field? He is helping rescue one of the men. It is not a bad thing to see our heroic knight in action, is it?”

  Nathalie, who was glued to the activity on the field, never took her eyes off Brickley in the distance as he worked to shore up the horse that was lying on the elder de Lohr brother. “He is helping them remove one of the dead horses,” she said. “The other horse fell on one of the knights. I can see that they are trying to remove the horse. Maybe they will cut its legs off so they can take it away in pieces!”

  Elise squealed in horror and started to cry as Emilie swatted Nathalie on the shoulder. “Was that really necessary?” she hissed. “Stop being so dramatic.”

  Nathalie turned to her sister and frowned. “It could happen,” she insisted. “You have never been to a tournament. You do not know how they remove dead horses. They are too heavy to carry all at once!”

  Emilie sighed heavily and was preparing to verbally lash her sister but Lillibet intervened. “I think it would be a very good idea to take Elise back to our apartments,” she said, spittle flying onto Nathalie’s arm. “Shall we go, ladies? Your father’s soldiers can escort us to the wagon to take us back.”

  Emilie and Nathalie immediately protested. “But the games are not over yet,” Emilie insisted. “There is still the mass competition to see and I do not want to miss it.”

  Nathalie was also shaking her head, vigorously, as she wiped the spit off her arm. “I do not want to leave,” she said. “It would be terrible if Brick were to win the coming mass competition and I was not here to see it. He carries my favor. It would be shameful if I left!”

  Lillibet, seeing that she would have a struggle on her hands with Emilie and Nathalie, backed off somewhat. But Elise was still upset, still sniffling in Emilie’s grasp. “I cannot leave you two alone,” she said, wiping her mouth when she spit upon herself. “But Elise clearly is not enjoying the games. She is too young to have come. It would be unfair to force her to remain.”

  Emilie hugged Elise again. “Then you must return her to the apartments,” she insisted. “Take a soldier with you and leave three for Nathalie and me. They will watch over us as we finish watching the games. Father is here, as is Brick. Nothing will happen to us, I promise.”

  Lillibet frowned. “It is not proper for me to leave you here without a chaperone.”

  Emilie sighed impatiently. “I am of age, Mother,” she said. “Please do not worry over us. The soldiers will protect us from harm. Make sure one of them finds Father to tell him you have left us in the lists so that he knows. He will keep his eye on us.”

  Lillibet sighed heavily, looking at Elise, who was obviously unhappy. The youngest daughter’s misery won over her dilemma about leaving the older girls without an escort.

  “Very well,” she said, unhappy. “I will return with Elise. But you will both promise me that neither of you will leave the lists without an escort. Will you swear this to me?”

  Thrilled that they were going to have a bit of freedom with Lillibet gone, Emilie and Nathalie struggled to keep from appearing too excited about it.

  “We swear,” Emilie said seriously. “Take Elise, now. The poor child is quite upset.”

  Lillibet still wasn’t sure about leaving the older girls but Elise was weeping softly and she sought to comfort the girl. Taking a soldier with her to head for the wagon, she sent a second soldier hunting for Lyle in the gang of men on the field to inform him that his elder daughters were alone in the lists. That soldier soon returned after delivering his message, joining the remaining two soldiers who were charged with Lady Emilie and Lady Nathalie’s safety. Considering how the games had gone so far, the men were on their guard. There seemed to be violence and death lurking about, as the joust had clearly proven.

  Eventually, the field was cleared of dead horses, in one pie
ce in spite of what Nathalie had predicted, and David’s brother was slowly helped to his feet. The crowd, seeing the elder de Lohr brother stand, began to cheer loudly for the man. Being helped by two of his men, Christopher de Lohr labored towards the royal box where the prince and the man with the hugely swollen face were waiting.

  But Emilie’s focus was on David, who had been charged with escorting Lady de Lohr back to the royal box. Evidently, she was to award the prize to her husband for his victory in the joust and Emilie could see, even from the distance, that Lady de Lohr was a wreck. Given what she’d just seen her husband go through, Emilie didn’t blame the woman, but her attention on Lady de Lohr was short-lived. Truth be told, she really only had eyes for David.

  He was such a handsome man and her heart swelled at the sight of him. Grimy and sweaty, and dirty from having lost a hard-fought bout to his own brother that had sent Christopher to his round with Dennis de la Londe, he had a firm grip on Lady de Lohr as he helped the woman back to the royal box.

  David stood proud and tall, unmovable and unbreakable, as if he hadn’t just seen his brother come within a hair’s width of death. He was standing firm against the horror they’d all just witnessed, the cheating and death and tyranny, even if his stance was only for the benefit of Lady de Lohr, who was truly broken up about the circumstances. Still he stood next to her, holding her elbow until she pulled away to award her husband a ribbon of valor.

  The prince had a few words to say before de Lohr was given his prize, a red brocaded ribbon held by his wife, and as Emilie listened to John speak to the crowd, she sword she could hear wickedness in his tone. His voice was medium-pitched, and unspectacular, but his words were odd. He congratulated de Lohr on his victory against de la Londe but he did it in a way that did not seem sincere. It was almost condescending, as if the words masked a distaste that ran deep. Perhaps Emilie was reading something into it; perhaps not. But she was certain she heard scorn.

  If David and the other de Lohr men heard it, they made no indication. It seemed that they were mostly concerned with getting the farce of an award ceremony over with and seeking treatment for Christopher’s injuries. Lady de Lohr, weeping, handed her husband the ribbon, a seemingly small and unworthy thing to do considering what the man had gone through to win, but the elder de Lohr took it from his wife proudly.