Fathers and Sons

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Yet the terror of it wouldn’t.

  Even though she was feeling sequestered, Lyssa was glad for the safety of the tower room. There were two heavy doors that Colchester would have to go through in order to get to her, and both of those doors were bolted from the inside. She had sewing to keep her occupied and a wide view of the bailey, so she could see everything going on down below. It wasn’t as bad as it could be.

  Sitting by the window on the morning after the attack, she had seen Rickard down below as he’d left the complex in the early morning and then returned not an hour later. She didn’t know where he’d gone but he’d left alone and returned alone. She’d rather been hoping that he would have returned with his brother, who had promised to visit her today.

  Truly, that was all she could think about.

  He’d promised to come today. Lyssa was, therefore, counting the seconds as they passed along, so slowly it seemed, because Garret still hadn’t made an appearance by mid-morning and the seconds were dragging by, the most recent one dragging more slowly than the previous. Lyssa was working on the skirt of a gown for the duchess, a beautiful purple silk that required concentration, but she had difficulty giving it the focus that it needed. Twice, she’d had to pull out stitches that had been put in the wrong place because she hadn’t been paying attention. Her mind simply wasn’t on her task and the wait for Garret was more than she could bear. Her tall, handsome knight had yet to show, and his gentle voice and soothing manner were taking her focus away from her sewing.

  Near noon, however, the wait was interrupted.

  A knock on the first of the two barred doors startled her, causing her to stab herself in the finger. Licking away the blood, Lyssa set her sewing aside and stood up, going to the barred door of her chamber and listening against it, trying to hear into the room beyond and the door to that chamber that someone had knocked on.

  As she listened, apprehensive, there was another series of knocks, but they weren’t forceful. They were rather quiet, in fact, so quiet that she unbolted the tower room door and made her way to the other door with caution. Putting her ear against it, she listened for a hint of whoever was on the other side.

  “Lyssa!”

  It was a woman. Juliana, she thought, so Lyssa quickly unbolted the door and yanked it open. Juliana was, indeed, standing on the other side but so was Tristiana. Hastily, they entered, and Lyssa shut the door behind them and bolted it.

  “I-I am so glad to see a friendly face,” Lyssa said. “I-It has been quiet and lonely this morning. W-What is happening on the outside?”

  Tristiana took her by the hand and pulled her into the tower room. Juliana brought up the rear and closed the door behind them. Only then did Tristiana speak.

  “I heard of your misfortune, sweetheart,” she said, hugging Lyssa with her big belly between them. “How do you fare this morning?”

  Lyssa smiled at her friend. “I-I am fine,” she assured her. “J-Just a few scratches, but nothing that will not quickly heal. H-How is Rickard’s son this morning?”

  She put her hand on Tristiana’s stomach, giggling, as Tristiana made a face; Rickard went around telling everyone that the baby was his child, as if his wife had nothing to do with it.

  “He is busy kicking me to death,” Tristiana said. “But I do not wish to speak of the child. I wish to speak of you; is it true, Lyssie? Did Colchester really attack you?”

  Lyssa lost her good humor although she knew Tristiana was only asking out of concern. Tristiana was older than most of the ladies, save Rose, and she was very motherly and nurturing. She removed her hand from the woman’s pregnant belly.

  “H-He did,” Lyssa said, trying not to become distressed as she spoke on something she was trying to forget. “H-He found me in the garden when I was alone and he commanded that I break my fast with him. W-When I refused, because I was doing as the duchess had instructed, he told me that I would do as he commanded. H-He… he touched my breast and when I pushed his hand away, he slapped me. I-I fell backwards into the roses.”

  Tristiana was greatly distressed. “Beast,” she hissed. “The man is a beast. He did the same thing to Eleanor and Rosalie, last year before you came to us. The duchess sent both of them away, but now you… oh, Lyssie, she will send you away, too. I know it.”

  Lyssa nodded. “I-I hope so,” she said. “I-I cannot remain here.”

  Tristiana knew that but she was still saddened by it. Reaching out, she grasped the woman by the hand. “I know you have been kept in this room for your own safety, but we have come to tell you that Colchester rode from The Wix very early this morning,” she said. “He is not even here. Come outside and enjoy a bit of freedom until he returns.”

  It was tempting but Lyssa was uncertain. “A-Are you certain?” she asked. “I-I have been sitting by the window overlooking the bailey all morning and I did not see him leave.”

  Tristiana nodded. “Many of his men saw him leave, right at dawn. He is not here. You can come out until he returns.”

  Lyssa was feeling more comfortable now. “I-If Rose approves, I will.”

  “It is Rose who sent us to fetch you,” Juliana put in. “Come outside, Lyss. We are working in the garden today.”

  Lyssa wanted to but there was still some hesitation. “D-Does everyone know what… well, what has happened?”

  Tristiana was pulling her from the room. “Mostly,” she said truthfully. “Servants saw what happened and they told what they saw. Everyone feels very badly for you.”

  Now, Lyssa was embarrassed. “G-God’s Bones,” she hissed. “I-I do not want to be pitied.”

  Juliana was behind her, pushing as Tristiana tugged. “Would you rather hide in here for today?” she said. “Of course you would not. Come outside.”

  Between the tugging and the pulling, Lyssa had little choice. They made a stop at the chamber she shared with Juliana to change into a garment that was better suited for the sticky heat. She ended up in a woolen gown, short of sleeve, and made of very thin fabric that was dyed the color of lavender. It was a beautiful fit to her curvy figure. Juliana helped her braid her hair and, before they went out into the garden, they found another wicker bonnet for her to wear since Colchester had damaged hers.

  It was life back to normal, at least for the moment. Lyssa was feeling better and better, more light of heart. With Colchester away from The Wix, the entire manse had a feeling of lightness, free from the oppression that Jago seemed to bring down over it. When the man was in residence, it was a dark place where the inhabitants were tense. When he was gone, it was bright and cheerful, and The Wix was a truly beautiful place. It was astonishing how one man’s gloom could weigh so heavily on the place.

  How one man’s evil could cloud everything.

  But he was gone and Lyssa found herself out in the garden with the other ladies, back to picking violets as she had been the day before. The servants had been instructed to watch for the lord’s return and notify the ladies as soon as he was sighted, so she went back to work in relative peace. Soon, she was laughing with Juliana as the other ladies tried to keep Tristiana from working too hard. Tristiana shrugged them off, insisting she could work circles around anyone else. But when someone threatened to tell Rickard, Tristiana found herself sitting in the shade under a tree, sorting through the flowers in dejected silence.

  So much for working.

  Rose, of course, had been supervising everything. All of the duchess’ women, all seven of them, were in the garden while Grace remained in her private solar. She wasn’t one for the outdoors, or warm temperatures, and when Rose had last seen the duchess, the woman had been writing a missive to her father, Odo FitzHerbert. She seemed very distracted by it so Rose left her alone as she came out into the garden with the rest of the women, including her niece.

  Rose was glad to see that Tristiana and Juliana had managed to bring Lyssa out of hiding and into the sun. Not that she had any doubts, but she knew Lyssa might find it unnerving to be out in the same garden whe
re only the day before she’d been attacked. But Lyssa seemed to be happy enough, like a beautiful angel in her lavender-colored dress and pink cheeks. Truly, Rose was proud of the woman every time she saw her. But looking into that lovely face, she was inevitably reminded of the sister she’d lost.

  Autumn de Barenton had been older, wiser, and far more lovely than her sister. Rose adored the woman and her death this past spring had been devastating to her. Part of her blamed Autumn’s husband, Lysander du Bose, a man who had put a great deal of shame on his wife when he’d married her but had no intention of giving up the two mistresses he’d already had. Autumn found herself one of a trio of woman that Lysander took to his bed and when she bore the man a daughter, named Lyssa in honor of her father, it seemed that Lysander no longer had any use for her. His two mistresses had given him sons and that was all he cared about, so Autumn returned to England with her infant daughter and, as far as Rose knew, never spoke to Lysander again.

  But it had been a difficult existence to return to her family in shame.

  Lyssa, since the beginning, had been handicapped by her mother’s separation from her husband and a family name that didn’t mean much in England. De Barenton had some standing in England, but that wasn’t Lyssa’s name. It was why Rose had brought her to London to serve with honor, but that cycle of misfortune that seemed to dog Lyssa had struck again yesterday in the form of Colchester.

  And then came Garret de Moray…

  Rose prayed that the man was sincere in what he’d said. She prayed that he truly wanted to court Lyssa because it would be the answer to her prayer. A man as prestigious and well-positioned as de Moray would mean that Lyssa would live a life of honor for the rest of her days, wife to a great knight.

  It was more than Autumn du Bose could have ever hoped for her only child and, although Rose may have been wary of de Moray’s intentions at first, she’d had the night to think on the man and his chivalry towards Lyssa. Perhaps it was desperation that was making her more accepting than she would normally be, but something in her wanted to believe him. He said that he would return today to see to Lyssa’s health and also to discuss sending her to another house to serve, and Rose prayed that he was, indeed, true to his word.

  If he wasn’t, then they would soon find out.

  Therefore, she kept an eye out for Garret as she supervised the ladies in the garden, her attention turning frequently to the iron gate that led into the bailey, seeing men moving around in the dirt but not seeing the return of a certain knight. She’d seen Rickard once or twice but she didn’t want to pummel the man about the whereabouts of his brother. Rickard couldn’t control the man.

  Therefore, she waited on pins and needles, probably more anxious about Garret’s return than Lyssa was. At least Lyssa seemed moderately relaxed this morning. Rose was a wreck.

  Waiting for the man who would save her niece.

  *

  Garret couldn’t help but notice there was a rather unpleasant odor coming from him in the midst of the hot, humid weather. As he made his way through the gatehouse of The Wix, he was hoping the stench didn’t send Lyssa running.

  He had to laugh at himself. Of all the things on his mind these days, a sweaty odor was at the top of the list because women, as he’d been told, didn’t like manly smells. They liked flowers and sweet smells. He most definitely didn’t smell sweet. He wondered if he could get away with blaming the stench on his horse.

  Christopher and his army were still at Westminster when Garret had departed because he didn’t want to waste any more time in seeing Lyssa on this day. Therefore, he’d left before the army did, leaving Zayin behind to oversee things along with Rhys and Gart. He didn’t need Zayin along, anyway – this was one thing he preferred to do alone. He was eager to get to Lyssa, eager to tell her of her future at Lioncross Abbey but, more than that, he was eager to claim the woman. That was exactly what he intended to do – claim her, take her from The Wix, and never look back.

  He’d never felt strongly about anything in his life.

  Still, there was a part of him that was telling him what everyone else was probably thinking – that all of this was moving too quickly. He’d made a decision, and by all rationale, a far-too-quick decision that not only would he court Lyssa, but that he would marry her as well. Thinking back, it was as if the entire time from the moment he met her until this very second had all passed in a blur. He could remember bits and pieces of it, but not the scene as a whole. It had happened so quickly and here he was, preparing to take Lyssa away so that she could be safe. So she could wait for him to return for her and they could be married. God, it happened so fast.

  But nothing had ever seemed so right.

  The great gatehouse of The Wix opened to him, those two massive iron panels cranking open and yawning wide, like a great mouth opening. He directed his steed inside, into the bailey where men were going about their business as the sun headed towards its zenith. It was sticky, and warm, hence the smell Garret keep catching whiffs of. When a soldier approached him, he asked for his brother and was directed towards the barracks, which were near the stables.

  Dismounting his horse, Garret began to lead the animal back to the stables but all the while, he found himself keeping an eye out for Jago, wondering how he was going to react if their paths crossed. As far as he knew, Jago knew nothing about him and Lyssa, and he assumed the man wasn’t aware that he’d been at The Wix the day before and knew about the attack on Lyssa. Not that it mattered in the long run, for all of this would be a distant memory once he took Lyssa from the gates.

  His eagerness to reach her grew.

  “Garret!”

  A shout stopped him and he turned to see his brother walking towards him from the direction of the two-storied stone barracks. Garret came to a halt and waited for his brother to catch up.

  “Did anyone miss you while you were gone?” he asked quietly.

  Rickard shook his head. “No one,” he said, looking around, “although the gate guards noticed, of course, but no one made mention of it. I did, however, discover that Colchester has left.”

  Garret was both relieved and curious. “Left for where?”

  Rickard lifted his eyebrow as if that was a question with many answers. “He evidently left The Wix before I left for Westminster, although no one told me that until I returned and asked for him,” he said. “My first thought would be that he would have gone to Winchester to see the prince, mayhap, but we did not see him there.”

  Garret shook his head. “I would have been told if he had arrived. Where else could he have gone?”

  Rickard shrugged his shoulders. “With Colchester, it is hard to say, but if I could guess I would say that he has gone whoring. The man likes to find bed partners in the taverns on the eastern end of town. Sometimes he stays away for days at a time while he quenches that lust within him that his wife refuses to sate.”

  Garret found that typical behavior for the man. “In The Levant, he kept a harem of captive Muslim women. Richard made him give them up when he returned to England.”

  Rickard eyed him. “That is not surprising,” he grunted. “In any case, he is gone and I do not know when we will expect him.”

  Garret scratched his head, turning his horse over to a stable hand when the man offered to take the beast off his hands. As the groom and horse walked away, Garret spoke.

  “If he goes to Westminster, then my knights know to watch for him,” he muttered. “Mayhap he will go to John when he grows weary of whoring. In any case, after what you told us about Colchester’s suggestion that the wrong man sits on the throne of England, we shall be vigilant of him.”

  Rickard sighed faintly, perhaps with some regret. “I am convinced now that he and the prince are involved together in whatever the prince has planned against his brother. Richard must be vigilant, more than any of us.”

  Garret nodded quickly. “He will be,” he said. “Chris is departing from London tomorrow morning and will take your information w
ith him. Everything you told us of your meeting with Colchester shall be carried straight to Richard’s ears. If he thinks his brother is loyal to him, evidence shall prove otherwise.”

  “Has the earl left for the ships yet?”

  “He was still at Westminster when I left, but he must reach the ships by tonight. They are only moored down the river, so they are not too far away.”

  Even though they were discussing a rather serious matter, as they had earlier when Rickard had come to Westminster to tell them of his conversation with Jago, he could tell that Garret was distracted. His brother’s attention was around the bailey as if he were looking for something, or someone, and Rickard knew who. He found it rather ironic that the man was involved in some of the most serious politics in recent years but it still wasn’t enough to hold his attention.

  Yet a certain young woman was.

  “Come,” Rickard said, patting his brother on the shoulder as he began to walk away. “Let us find your young lady. I know that is why you are here because it certainly wasn’t to see me.”

  Garret followed with a grin on his lips. “Is it that obvious?”

  Rickard rolled his eyes. “Christ, Garret, must you really ask that?”

  Garret laughed softly. “I do apologize,” he said. “But when you came to Westminster to tell us of your conversation with Colchester, I forgot to tell you that de Lohr has agreed to send Lyssa to Lioncross Abbey to serve his wife. That is really why I am here; to tell her the good news.”

  Rickard looked at him as they headed towards the big, walled garden. “Did you ask de Lohr if he would provide a haven for her?”

  Garret nodded. “Nearly as soon as he arrived at Westminster. As I told Chris, his arrival was most fortuitous, for many reasons.”

  They were approaching the big iron gate that led to the garden beyond. A humid breeze was blowing off the river, pushing the scents of flowers from the garden through the grated bars. They could hear voices beyond, female voices.