Nunnery Brides: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Hector stood up, stretching his long legs. “What did you think of the discussion in there?”

  Now, the true crux of Hector’s visit was out. Alec suspected that the man hadn’t come to the stables simply to chew the fat, perhaps stewing about the conversation in the solar just as Alec was. It was something that concerned them both, as knights sworn to Patrick. Whatever was coming involving the lady, they would more than likely be involved. But Hector was a little more edgy about things while Alec, with his father’s disposition, didn’t particularly get worked up about things that he couldn’t control.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Of Uncle William’s reaction. What did you think of it?”

  Alec didn’t reply for a moment, still patting down the leg. “Do you really want to know?”

  “I do.”

  “You will not tell Uncle William?”

  “Nay.”

  Alec sighed heavily. “Then I think he was without compassion in the situation,” he said honestly. “Now we are to return that terrified woman back where she came from? I agree with Patrick – if we return her to the priory, it will only be a matter of time before the Swinton Clan comes for her again. God only knows what they will do to her.”

  Hector leaned back against the wall of the stall, crossing his big arms. “Uncle William has a point, Alec,” he said quietly. “She is not our problem.”

  “Patrick swore to protect her. Does his oath mean nothing?”

  “Of course it means something. But Uncle William was right when he said that Patrick had fulfilled it. He had protected the girl, removed her from the battle, and now he must return her home. I cannot believe the old nun expected Patrick to protect the woman for the rest of his life. That is unreasonable.”

  Alec shook his head. “An oath is an oath,” he said. “When we swore ours to the king and to God, did we give it a time limit? Of course not. Oaths do not expire.”

  “Then you believe Patrick should protect the girl indefinitely?”

  Alec shrugged, confusion in his manner. “I am not certain,” he said. Then, he looked up at Hector. “But I will tell you this – look at him when he watches her. It is my suspicion that he feels something for her and that is why he is so unwilling to forgive his oath. He is using it as an excuse.”

  Hector was intrigued. “An excuse for what?”

  “To keep her with him.”

  Now, Hector was doubly intrigued. “Atty is interested in a woman?” he asked. Then, he shook his head. “It is not possible. He is only interested in his path as a knight. God’s Bones, the man is heading to London to assume the position as Lord Protector to the king. That is all he cares about right now.”

  “Then why is he fighting so hard to keep the woman safe?”

  Hector didn’t have a swift answer for that. “Frankly, I do not know,” he said, hinting at exasperation. “But I do not see anything bizarre in his behavior.”

  Alec returned his attention to the horse. “Then watch him tonight as sup. See how he behaves with her.”

  Hector didn’t like the sound of that. “Uncle William will not be pleased,” he muttered. “You know he expects great marriages from his sons, and Patrick most of all. I believe he is hoping the man will find the daughter of a duke or a niece of the king when he goes to London.”

  Alec snorted softly. “And the bastard daughter of a Norse king is not good enough? She’s a pretty little thing, I will admit. Lovely, actually. But do not tell Katheryn I said that or she will box my ears.”

  Hector grinned. “Katheryn is much like her mother that way. That is why I chose Evelyn – a calmer, more sedate female.”

  “I like a woman with fire.”

  “You are very much like your father in that respect. He married a woman with enough fire in her to burn down half of Scotland.”

  Alec laughed softly, standing up from his horse and moving to gather the ingredients for the pack he would put on the horse’s leg. “Then what do we do, Hector?” he asked. “If Patrick will not take the woman back to Coldingham, what shall we do?”

  Hector shook his head. “Nothing,” he replied. “We are sworn to Atty’s command. His wishes are our wishes. If he wishes to keep the woman, then we will have nothing to say about it.”

  Alec shook his head slowly. “We are sworn to Uncle William as well,” he reminded Hector. “I agree with Atty in that the woman should not go back to Coldingham, but if he disobeys his father, who is ultimately our liege, we will be complicit.”

  “We shall cross that bridge when we come to it, I suppose.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Are you coming into the hall soon?”

  “Aye. Tell my wife so she does not fret.”

  Hector left the stall, heading back to the keep where his wife and children were. As his long strides made haste towards the great hall, Alec’s words were beginning to weigh upon him.

  Watch Patrick at sup tonight. See how he behaves with her.

  It was an interesting prospect and one that surprised Hector, for Patrick had been the target of some very fine marriage offers that he had summarily refused. In fact, he had refused a marriage contract to Moira Hage that had nearly split the family in half. Now, of all the past situations, he found a woman he had interest in who was probably the most undesirable marriage prospect that Hector had ever heard of.

  The bastard daughter of a Norse king? A woman that Clan Swinton was evidently after? Hector had to admit that the entire situation had him baffled. He would, indeed, watch Patrick tonight. If he saw even a hint of the man showing interest towards the woman, he was going to pull Patrick aside and slap some sense into him.

  Trouble was, Patrick would slap back. Therefore, Hector shouldn’t be the one to do it. But William, if he saw where his son’s attention was focused, wouldn’t hesitate to throw a slap that Patrick would have to accept.

  Aye, it was going to be an interesting evening.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The regalia of the great hall of Castle Questing was something on an entirely new scale of splendor and pageantry. It was pure majesty.

  Living in the ascetic world of Coldingham, Brighton had never seen anything like it. The enormous great hall was built against the family apartments, splayed across the inner wall with a pitched roof and long, slender lancet windows. One side of the hall had two levels of balconies, made of polished wood, and across the ceiling hung the banners of the House of de Wolfe, the House of Hage, and the House of de Longley, who was William’s liege.

  The floor, usually packed earth in great halls, was lined with stone, which was kept very clean in accordance with Lady Jordan’s wishes. There were rushes about, but only on the edges of the room, and fresh straw was sprinkled liberally under the three enormous feasting tables in the room. The tables were now laden with great baskets of bread, tubs of butter, and bowls of fruits and cheeses.

  It was to be a joyous meal with the unexpected arrival of Patrick and his sisters, and the tables were festively arranged accordingly. Brighton had never seen such festivity, as if she had traveled from earth and entered an entirely new world, one of warmth and excitement and prosperity. It was clear from everything she had witnessed that the House of de Wolfe was quite prosperous, down to the pewter salt cellars on the tables that were fashioned in the shape of a little castle with the de Wolfe crest on them, a stylized wolf’s head.

  After having spent a few hours in her very own chamber, assigned to her by Lady Jemma, Brighton was quite excited for the coming meal. She was supposed to have rested during her time in the chamber but she found that she could not. The window of the chamber faced towards the gatehouse and the noise from the bailey drew her attention, so she’d perched herself at the window, curiously watching the happenings as soldiers and servants went about their duties. It was a new place, a new experience, and she wanted to see everything.

  The sun had set and the battlements of Questing were lit up by what seemed to be a thousand torches, giving o
ff golden light into the dark night. From her window seat, she watched a soldier work with a young dog, training it to be a good guard dog, but the dog wasn’t cooperating. It made her smile because the dog was no more than a puppy, long-limbed and shaggy, and it wanted to lick and play. More often than not, the soldier gave in to the joyful dog and let it kiss him.

  In truth, she had been content to watch the activity of the castle forever but that time came to an end when a little servant appeared with warmed water and an offer to help her dress before sup. Brighton had been given a travel bag by Katheryn and Evelyn but she truthfully hadn’t looked inside of it; it had been brought up to her chamber before she’d arrived with Lady Jemma. Between her and the little servant, they pulled out everything in the satchel and laid all the garments out over the bed.

  The red silk and blue damask had made it into the satchel, carefully rolled up to minimize the wrinkles. The soft lamb’s wool gown had also made it into the satchel, as had two linen shifts. There was a pair of hose and ribbons to tie them with, as well as a small bronze mirror, a hair comb, and pins for the hair. There was also a small piece of white soap that smelled of lemons. Upon closer inspection, Brighton could see yellow pieces of lemon rind in it.

  In all, it was a very substantial collection and Brighton was touched by the generosity of Katheryn and Evelyn. The little servant helped her to change out of the green wool that she had worn on the journey and wash her limbs and face with the soap, before bundling her into the red silk gown. The dress was simple in construction, with long flaring sleeves and a flaring skirt, but the bodice was cinched up with a built-in corset that laced up her torso. The servant had to tie her into the thing, lacing her up so that her waist appeared very small and her full breasts fuller.

  When the servant held up a small, polished bronze hand mirror for Brighton to see her reflection, she’d never been so shocked in her life. The only time she’d ever seen her reflection had been in water or another reflective service, so the first time seeing herself as a true reflection was something quite astonishing. While she gawked, the servant went on the hunt for the comb.

  Brighton didn’t pay much attention to the servant as the woman combed her hair out and began to braid it; she was still fascinated by her own reflection, seeing the defined lines of her face for the first time. But she soon began to watch the servant as the woman made many small braids on the top of her head before taking the smaller braids and winding them into a bigger one. The result was a gorgeously elaborate hair style that draped over her right shoulder.

  As Brighton watched her transformation, it was somewhat overwhelming for her. She never knew she could look so lovely out of the coarse woolen robes prescribed by Coldingham. She’d always been cold, irritated, with dirty feet because of the inadequate shoes. Looking at herself now, she vowed at that very moment that she would never return to such a state. She liked being warm and clean and groomed, with soft clothing so her skin wouldn’t itch.

  She liked what the outside world had to offer. Perhaps she didn’t want to return to Coldingham, after all.

  Ever.

  At the dinner hour, Evelyn and Lady Jemma returned for her, fussing over her in the red garment and telling her how beautiful she looked. Unused to compliments, Brighton had flushed furiously, which delighted the ladies. Evelyn darted out of the room and returned bearing a garnet necklace set in silver, which she placed on Brighton’s neck because it had been the jewelry Hector had given her to match the dress that had formerly belonged to her. When Brighton took a look at herself in the mirror again, now with the lovely necklace gracing her throat, tears popped to her eyes. It was an emotional moment for the woman who had lived such a sequestered life.

  Taking her tears as joyful ones, Jemma and Evelyn escorted her down a flight of spiral stairs to the level below which was where the family slept. Katheryn was there, with Lady Jordan, and a herd of small children including little Lady Penelope. Jordan and Katheryn were trying to dress the children for dinner, cleaning off little dirty faces and hands, but the children were running about like wild animals, playing and screaming.

  Jemma jumped into the fray and began to swat naughty behinds, which made Evelyn leave Brighton’s side to protect her children from her frustrated aunt. But she managed to summon a servant before she went and asked the woman to take Brighton down to the hall, so Brighton went down to the great hall alone.

  And that was where she was as of this moment. The servant who had escorted her down to the hall had asked her to sit at the end of one of the feasting table and Brighton had obeyed. The servant then brought her warmed wine with bits of spice floating in it, which was delicious. She picked up a piece of tart white cheese from a platter on the table, chewing it as she drank her wine and inspected the banners along the ceiling. She was just coming to the end of the cheese when a body plopped onto the bench across the table from her.

  “Greetings, my lady,” Thomas de Wolfe said, his young face lighting up at the sight of her. “Are you really here all alone?”

  Brighton nodded. “I-I am,” she said. Then, she looked around to see if there weren’t more de Wolfe brothers around – like Patrick – but she could only see two more young men lingering over near the hearth. “Where is the rest of your family?”

  Thomas shrugged, calling a servant for wine before answering. “My father is in his solar with Atty and the others,” he said. “My sisters are upstairs, I think. Did you not see them?”

  Brighton nodded. “I-I did.”

  Thomas greedily snatched the goblet of wine from the servant as it came near. He slurped at it. “I have five brothers, you know, but I am the only one who is left behind at Questing. My brothers all have command of outposts along the border. Someday I’ll have command of an outpost, too.”

  Brighton thought that he sounded a little bitter about being the youngest de Wolfe male without any responsibility. “I-I am sure you will,” she said. “Where are your other brothers?”

  Thomas took another gulp of his wine. “Scott and Troy are my eldest brothers,” he said. “They are twins. Have you met them?”

  “I-I have not.”

  “Scott commands Rule Water Castle and Troy commands Kale Castle,” he said, chattering on in a cross between pride and disdain. As if he could do a better job than his silly older brothers. “They are not too far from here, at least not far enough that they cannot summon help when they need it. My brother, James, also commands a small tower called Wark Castle. It is closer to Northwood Castle but it sits right near the river where the Scots like to cross.”

  Brighton was listening with some interest now. “A-am I to understand that all of your older brothers have a garrison to command?”

  Thomas nodded. “All but Edward,” he said. “He serves Scott at Rule Water. Did you know that the Scots call it Wolfe’s Lair? Well, they do. All of the garrisons have names that the Scots have given them. Scott’s castle is Wolfe’s Lair, Troy’s is Wolfe’s Den, James has The Wolfe’s Eye, and Atty commands Wolfe’s Teeth. I am going to have my own outpost someday and call it Wolfe’s Ass because I shall shite upon the enemy!”

  He giggled hysterically at his own joke and Brighton couldn’t help but grin at the naughty youngest brother. She was coming to see, more and more, that he was a young man who very much envied and admired his older brothers. It must have been difficult being the youngest of so many great knights. But something else he’d said caught her attention.

  “A-Atty,” she repeated. “I have heard others call Patrick by that name. What does it mean?”

  Thomas snorted. “When he was a child, he could not say his name so he called himself Atty,” he said, grinning. “My mother likes to tell that story. So the family calls him Atty. You can call him Atty, too.”

  Brighton wouldn’t dream of doing that. Perhaps it was fine for the family, but not for a stranger. Somehow, she sensed that calling him that was something to be earned and she’d not yet done that, not in the least.

  “H-
he is Sir Patrick to me,” she said, watching the young man shrug and down his wine. “Have… have you lived here all of your life, then?”

  Thomas nodded, smacking his lips of the sweet wine. “I was born here,” he said. “But I shall go to Northwood Castle in the autumn to train with my Uncle Paris. My father and Uncle Kieran have taught me a great deal, but Uncle Paris will teach me how to be a great knight. I will squire for him.”

  He seemed quite excited. Brighton smiled. “I am happy for you.”

  Thomas smiled because she was. In fact, he was gazing at her quite intently. “Why did my brother bring you here?” he asked in a complete change of subject. “I heard him say that he saved you from reivers. What happened? How did they get you?”

  Brighton’s smile quickly faded. She didn’t really want to tell him the details of how she came to be in Patrick’s company. It wasn’t something she wanted to talk about at all, truthfully. She averted her gaze, turning to her wine.

  “It is a long tale,” she said. “Mayhap your brother will tell you. I do not remember most of what happened, in truth. Everything happened so quickly.”

  Thomas didn’t let up. “But he brought you here,” he said. “Why?”

  “That is not a question you should be asking.”

  Both Brighton and Thomas turned to see William approaching the table. Behind him, men were filtering into the great hall, as were women and children, having descended from the upper floor. The entry to the hall, in fact, was now crowded with people drifting into the hall as servants began to emerge with plates of steaming food. But Thomas and Brighton were solely focused on William.

  “Why?” Thomas wanted to know. “Is it a secret?”

  William sighed faintly, looking down at his youngest, and most curious, son. The lad wanted to grow up very badly, made worse by a gaggle of big brothers who were doing the very things he wanted to do. He put a hand on Thomas’ shoulder.

  “It is none of your affair,” he told his son. “You will not ask our guest such questions. It is impolite.”