The Age of Knights and Highlanders: A Series Starter Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I’d rather see you hang for the traitor you are.”

  Suddenly, guards surrounded them. One yanked the dagger from Barrett’s hand. Another gently pushed Geoffrey aside. Two more dragged Barrett to his feet, screaming and cursing as they removed him from the field.

  The prince called Geoffrey over.

  Bleeding and in pain, he limped to his leader.

  “You fought bravely,” the prince praised him. “Unlike your opponent, you are a fair man. I thank you for defeating this traitor, Geoffrey of Kinwick. I won’t forget your courage. You are an honorable knight.”

  The prince leaned over and whispered in the ear of a man in dark robes. Then the stranger approached Geoffrey.

  “Come with me, good sir. I am Ellis, healer to the king. I will cleanse and stitch your wound. We can’t afford to lose good soldiers like you to those who cheat and betray our cause.”

  Geoffrey gladly went with the healer. He wanted the injury cared for quickly since he didn’t want to miss what happened to Barrett.

  Sometime later, after his leg was bandaged, the healer released him. “Stay off it as much as you can. Do you have a horse?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then I won’t worry about you marching on it.” Ellis gripped his shoulder. “You were brave to come forward.”

  “I thank you, Ellis.”

  Geoffrey left the healer and spotted Sir Lovel, who slapped him on the back.

  “You made me proud today,” the knight told him. “You fought with tenacity and skill. Come. Let’s make our way to the traitor’s execution.”

  As they walked through the camp, Geoffrey found the number of men present had doubled. That meant the Duke of Lancaster had arrived with the expected reinforcements. Barrett’s father, Lord Berold, had arrived with the duke’s reinforcements. He would witness his son’s execution.

  Geoffrey arrived in time to see Barrett being led to a hastily built platform.

  Fear showed on the guilty man’s face.

  But Geoffrey felt no pity for the criminal. Barrett had betrayed king and country and would suffer a just punishment.

  A hush fell as the Black Prince addressed the crowd. “Barrett of Winterbourne, how do you plead to the charge of treason?”

  No answer came.

  The prince repeated his question and still received no response.

  Edward repeated the query a third time, his face reddening in anger.

  “I will never admit to guilt. Never!” Barrett spit into the dirt, defiance radiating from his features.

  Edward’s murderous glare ended the traitor’s rebellious attitude. Barrett’s body began trembling uncontrollably.

  “I find you guilty as charged, you despicable coward,” the Black Prince declared. “I want your blasted head displayed on a stake. Let every man here witness what happens to a Judas who betrays my father and England.”

  The prince motioned to the knights that detained Barrett. They marched the prisoner to the block and forced him to his knees.

  In the end, the traitor did not go willingly. The guards had to hold him down. The executioner’s ax landed once and Barrett screamed in agony. The second blow silenced him forever. His head rolled from his body, caught in a basket held by a soldier standing guard at the base of the platform.

  The crowd dispersed. As it melted away, Geoffrey sensed someone staring at him. He turned and found Lord Berold.

  “You. You killed my boy.”

  Geoffrey remained firmly in place, his eyes locked on Berold’s. “Your son was a traitor, my lord. Death was the only acceptable punishment.”

  The earl stood silently for a long moment.

  Geoffrey knew no words could comfort this grieving father. He turned to go, but the earl latched on to his arm.

  “You will suffer a punishment harsher than death, Geoffrey de Montfort. Mark my words. I will bring you to your knees. You will beg for a quick death, but you will find no mercy, no relief.”

  Chapter 3

  England—November, 1356

  Merryn finished crushing the small plant with her mortar and pestle and wrapped the pressed leaves in a linen cloth. Lady Elia’s deep chest cough concerned her. Geoffrey’s mother had insisted it wasn’t serious, but Merryn wanted to bring the woman a remedy to vanquish the cough before it turned into something more severe. Elia would need to allow the cress to steep in hot water to extract the herb’s healing flavor and then drink it twice a day over the next sennight.

  Five years ago, she’d promised Geoffrey that she would watch over his parents during his absence, never dreaming they would be separated for so long. Merryn had grown from a child of ten and three into a woman while the war against France dragged on. In constant prayer, she asked the Blessed Lord to keep her beloved safe from harm.

  She missed him more with every passing day. He’d been her confidant for as long as she remembered. Their betrothal had brought happiness to them both. Merryn longed for the day they could live together as husband and wife.

  Recent news from London revealed that the Black Prince had led his troops to victory at Poitiers, demolishing the French army and capturing many prisoners. Even the king of France was now in English custody.

  Merryn hoped it meant a long break in the war. France would need time to raise the ransom asked for their king’s return.

  As she left the room off the kitchen where she prepared and stored her herbs, Merryn headed toward the stables. She’d never understood the point of battle. Why couldn’t the king be happy with what he had instead of spilling blood for land across the sea? England was a vast, beautiful country. Edward should be thankful that he ruled such a bountiful land.

  She knew to keep such thoughts to herself. Women weren’t expected to have an opinion—especially regarding politics. But her curious nature caused her to be interested in the world around her. And with both her father and mother dead and buried, she managed Wellbury as well as any man, despite her youth.

  Merryn longed to see her brother, Hugh, who fought with King Edward in Scotland. She hoped Hugh would return soon and choose a bride. Her brother would make a fine father and husband.

  Wellbury needed children running through its halls again. With Hugh’s return, she could leave the care of their ancestral home in his capable hands and move to Kinwick once she married.

  At the stables, she asked a stable boy to saddle her horse. She mounted Destiny with his assistance and he wished her a good day.

  The early November day proved overcast and damp. Merryn was glad she’d chosen to ride and not walk since rain might fall soon. Her horse galloped across the meadow, taking her favorite shortcut to Kinwick. She spent many hours in this meadow and surrounding forest, gathering herbs and flowers. Merryn had first come here with Sephare, the healer at Wellbury. Sephare had passed on her knowledge of herbs and plants to Merryn and taught her which ones could be used to cure various ailments.

  Merryn took the lessons to heart. Her reputation as a knowledgeable healer grew every year.

  She reined in Destiny and came to a halt as she approached Kinwick. The castle’s beauty always moved her. One day she would serve as its mistress. Pride swelled within her. Kinwick and its surrounding lands had some of the best farmland in the south of England. It would be a privilege to live there as a de Montfort.

  Though many betrothed girls moved from their own family homes to live with the family they’d marry into, her father and Lord Ferand decided against that action. Merryn’s mother had died in childbirth when Merryn was three years old. The men thought it best for her to remain at Wellbury during Geoffrey’s absence abroad and use her woman’s touch to help maintain the estate as she grew older.

  The skies darkened. Before Merryn could nudge her horse on, she heard hoof beats approaching in the distance. A rider topped the hill and stopped. She would know him anywhere. His profile. The way he sat on his horse.

  Geoffrey had finally come home.

  Her heart sang as she heeled her mare forward.
Destiny took off like the wind, bringing her closer to her beloved.

  “Merryn!”

  She heard her name and watched him gallop toward her. Her heart beat fast. Would he be the same? Would he still care for her? She’d adored him since she was a child. The sweet memory of their kiss had sustained her these past five years.

  They reached one another. He leapt from his saddle as she dropped her reins. Before she could dismount, he grabbed her waist and pulled her from her horse.

  His mouth crashed down on hers, with hunger and longing. In desperate need. Merryn wrapped her arms about his neck. He parted her lips with his tongue and plunged in, his mouth dominating hers, his arms tightening about her.

  Her knees weakened as he left her breathless. Suddenly, he swept her off her feet. His mouth never left hers as he twirled round and round, joy evident on his face.

  Merryn grew dizzy.

  Geoffrey finally slowed and broke the kiss. He set her back on her feet. He gazed at her so lovingly, she knew nothing had changed.

  Except it had.

  Her entire body vibrated with need. His kisses had awakened something within her.

  “I thought you’d never come home,” she said breathlessly.

  “I thought I’d never be here.” He laughed. “But I am.” He pulled her close.

  Her breasts pressed against his broad chest. They seemed so sensitive beneath her smock and kirtle.

  Warmth flooded her as she rested her cheek against his chest. Finally, Geoffrey pulled away.

  “I am home for good, my love. And I have so much to tell you.”

  “What? Tales of war?” Killing did not interest Merryn, but she sensed his need to speak of it. “Tell me,” she urged, wanting to be supportive.

  “You should have seen the action at Poitiers. Our archers fired arrows in a dizzying shower at our enemy.” His hazel eyes lit with excitement. “They couldn’t penetrate the invincible French armor, so they went for the flanks of the horses.”

  She stiffened. “They shot the horses?”

  “Aye, in their flanks. We stopped their cavalry charge that way. As their horses fell, so did their battle lines. It devastated their troops. The French bastards never penetrated the protective hedge we used to our advantage.”

  It saddened her to think of so many slaughtered animals, as well as the men.

  “Our infantry decimated them after that in fierce combat. Our infantry moved in. Combat proved fierce. The Black Prince’s strategy counted on a large reserve of soldiers concealed deep within a nearby wood. While Englishmen attacked from the front, these hidden soldiers circled around and attacked the French from the sides and their rear. The Dauphin and two of the king’s other sons fled, while King Jean and his son, Philip, remained and fought.”

  “We have heard that King Jean was captured. That he will be held for ransom in London.”

  “Aye, indeed.” He kissed her hard. “’Tis why I’m here. The war is over.”

  Joy filled her. “And we can marry now?”

  He grinned. Though he was a battle-hardened man full of experiences she might never understand, he had come home, to her.

  “As soon as possible, my love.”

  Geoffrey captured her mouth with his again. Merryn returned the kiss with enthusiasm. She never realized when the rain came.

  Chapter 4

  Merryn danced around her bedchamber with joy, wearing her new silver smock. ’Twas her wedding day. It marked a new life, being joined with the man her father had chosen as her husband. She tamped down the grief that passed through her suddenly, knowing her father would not be present to witness the happy occasion. Instead, she thanked Christ Almighty that Geoffrey’s parents, Lord Ferand and Lady Elia, were still alive to celebrate with them.

  Geoffrey’s father frightened her at times with his gruff manner, but Lady Elia had mothered her from the time she was small. She looked forward to living in their household and being a daughter to them.

  Geoffrey had arrived home taller and more handsome than she remembered. His dark hair, still thick, curled at the nape of his neck. She would play with it tonight. Run her fingers through it. Touch his hard, muscled body. Join with him so that they became one.

  She understood love play. The old healer had taught her not only about using herbs to heal but also what passed between a man and a woman. Merryn knew her heart would show her the way so that she would please her new husband. Already, his kisses filled her with need.

  Tonight that need would be satisfied.

  A knock sounded at her chamber door. Tilda entered carrying the midnight blue cotehardie Merryn would don for the nuptial mass. It was the first time she had seen it.

  “Oh, it’s lovely, Tilda. I thank you for every stitch you made.”

  The servant nodded curtly, but Merryn saw the tears glistening in the older woman’s eyes. “Let’s get you dressed, my lady.”

  Merryn raised her arms and allowed Tilda to slip the cotehardie over her head. The silk garment rippled like water.

  The servant smoothed the material. “Blue is for purity.”

  The gown matched the blue garter she wore on her leg, another symbol of bridal purity. She’d shown it to Geoffrey, who’d teased that her sapphire-colored eyes would turn green once they’d wed, since green was the color of love.

  Remembering his words caused her cheeks to heat. She had daydreamed about Geoffrey so often. Yet, upon his return, his kisses were nothing like the ones they’d previously shared. They told her how much he desired her. In the two weeks before their wedding, they’d shared many kisses. Merryn had already learned much about how pleasurable kissing could be.

  Geoffrey promised her the best was yet to come.

  Tilda helped guide her feet into her new shoes and finished fussing over her by placing a circlet of gold atop her long, chestnut hair. The servant stepped back and studied her appearance.

  “You are a beautiful bride, my lady.” She wiped another tear away.

  “Are you sad to see me leave Wellbury, Tilda?”

  “You’ll be close by. Once we get your brother married off, we’ll see you more often.”

  “Did I hear something about my bride?”

  Merryn turned and saw Hugh smiling from the doorway. He’d returned to Wellbury two days after Geoffrey came back. The men had been thick as thieves, reliving stories of the war. She was happy that her brother would be present at her wedding.

  “You look most handsome, Hugh.”

  He approached and took her hands. “You, my dearest sister, are exquisite. Geoffrey is a lucky man.” He kissed her cheek. “You have a gentle spirit, Merryn. I hope the woman I marry will be the same.”

  Hugh’s intended died from a fever while he was away. He’d only met the girl briefly, so it did not surprise her that he seemed unaffected by her death.

  Before she knew it, Merryn found herself being led to the church. The minstrels guided her along the path as they played a merry tune. The people of Wellbury fell in behind her and were joined by those from Kinwick and the village beyond. She even recognized a few guests from Winterbourne, but didn’t see the Earl of Winterbourne among them. The last she’d heard, he hadn’t returned yet.

  Her father hadn’t liked the man and his absence did not bother her.

  As they approached the closed doors of the church, Merryn saw the priest standing in front of them. Ferand and Elia were to his right.

  But where was Geoffrey?

  He appeared suddenly and her pulse quickened. He’d tamed his thick locks by brushing them back from his face. His hazel eyes sparkled as she drew closer. His broad shoulders filled his dark green gypon and cotehardie to perfection.

  This glorious warrior would soon be her wedded husband.

  A fluttering swept through her as her heart pounded loudly. She stopped in her tracks in order to catch her breath.

  She wanted this man. Only him. For all time.

  Geoffrey met her and slipped Merryn’s arm through his. She appeare
d to him to be a little off-balance and he wanted to steady her. Then he escorted his bride-to-be the last few feet to Father Dannet and signaled his cousin Raynor to move closer.

  Raynor had proudly told Merryn the night before that he would serve as Geoffrey’s best man. Tradition held that the best swordsman stood by the groom to make sure a wedding would not be interrupted. Raynor had promised she and Geoffrey would find wedded bliss on his watch. Merryn saw Raynor surveying the crowd, taking his role as best man seriously.

  “Are you of age?” the priest asked them.

  “Aye,” they both replied.

  “Do ye have parental consent?”

  “Aye.”

  “And finally, are ye related in any way by law?”

  “Nay,” they responded.

  The priest nodded solemnly, satisfied with their answers. “We shall begin.”

  Geoffrey’s fingers entwined with hers as they stood next to one another, facing Father Dannet.

  The next part of the rite involved reading what the dowry involved. Church law required it to be read aloud for those witnessing the ceremony. Merryn had perused the tedious contracts years earlier. She was eager for the priest to complete this portion and continue the ceremony.

  “The coins?” the priest asked.

  Raynor handed Geoffrey a small bag. He turned the bag over to Merryn.

  “I give this to you, Merryn Mantel of Wellbury, to distribute to the needy. You shall do so as my wife.”

  He’d explained to her that once they joined in matrimony, she would be responsible for the financial management of his affairs if he was gone from Kinwick. His responsibilities would increase once his father passed and the title came to him.

  Merryn thanked Geoffrey and clutched the cloth bag in her left hand. His fingers again laced through those of her right.

  Father Dannet gave a short homily.

  She found her mind wandering to what their wedding night would hold.

  “It’s time to exchange your vows,” the priest said.

  Merryn faced her betrothed eagerly. Geoffrey was the most honorable man she knew. The words he would speak to her would bind them together for eternity.