Katharine’s hazel gaze lingered on her shattered son. Then the wise old eyes moved to Simon, who visibly stepped back from the woman. If looks could kill, then he would be a dead man.
“I told you to leave his wife alone,” she muttered. “You did not listen to me.”
Simon stood his ground. “I told you why.”
Davyss’ head shot up, his wet eyes accusing at his mother. “You knew what he was planning?” he demanded. “You knew and you did not tell me?”
Katharine lifted a thin eyebrow at her son. “Be still,” she hissed, returning her attention to Simon. “You and I will come to terms before I leave this room or you will leave more than your share of blood on the floor. If you want a valuable hostage to ensure de Winter support, then you could have done much better than Lady Devereux.”
Simon’s expression flickered with uncertainty. “What are you saying?”
“Me, you fool,” she snapped. “You will take me and release Davyss’ wife.”
Davyss closed his eyes and hung his head again as Simon staggered. “I will not,” he gasped. “You… you are….”
“More valuable than that young woman by leaps and bounds,” she jabbed a finger at him. “I carry the wealth of the de Winter empire, you idiot. She carries nothing but my son’s affections. You will release her immediately and take me instead.”
Simon stared at her. Then he walked away; he had to. Katharine was a tiny woman but her presence was overwhelming him until he could hardly breathe. He paced several feet away and came to a halt, turning to face the pair. Davyss was still hanging his head, sniffling now and again as he stared at the floor. Lady Katharine stood next to her son, more powerful at that moment than the mighty Davyss de Winter could ever hope to be.
“And if I do not accept your offer?” Simon had to ask.
“Then Davyss withdraws his support, as do all of the de Winter allies. You will lose at least five thousand men. If this does not concern you, then by all means, do not agree to my terms.”
Simon’s jaw tightened. “Do you actually think to threaten me?”
“Absolutely.”
Simon was furious but he stopped short of reacting violently. It was clear that he knew he was cornered. He finally shook his head, almost comically, lifting his hands in resignation.
“And just what am I supposed to do with you?” he wanted to know. “You will not go where I want you to go. You will stay locked up in Hollyhock and absolutely nothing will change.”
Lady Katharine shrugged her bony shoulders. “Replace my personal guard with men of your own choosing. Confine me to my own home with your men as my jailers. There is no shame in that arrangement, for either of us.”
Simon rolled his eyes. “Ridiculous,” he spat. “You will go to Eleanor.”
“I do not like your wife.”
“She does not like you.”
“I will not go to her. I will stay at Hollyhock.”
Simon couldn’t believe the ridiculous terms. “You are my hostage yet you dictate the terms of your captivity?”
“I do. And you will agree.”
Simon just shook his head, frustrated and defeated. “I do not believe I am getting the better end of this deal.”
Lady Katharine didn’t say a word. She hobbled over to him, her cane clicking against the floor, before suddenly lashing out with the cane and knocking Simon on the side of the head. The man went tumbling as Davyss bolted to his feet and put himself protectively between his mother and Simon, who was now struggling to get off the floor. But the world was rocking so he stayed on his arse, gazing up at Katharine with a baffled expression. She glared daggers at him.
“You are getting the services of Sir Davyss de Winter,” she snarled. “You are by far getting the better end of this deal and you will not forget it.”
Simon wouldn’t.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
May 1265 A.D.
Norwich Castle, Norfolk
“What have I told you?” Davyss was wagging a finger in her face. “You are not to run about and tire yourself. I thought I was clear.”
Devereux gazed up at her husband, properly contrite, but it was only for show. She shifted the basket of blooms to her other hand, grasped the finger that was wagging at her, and kissed it.
“I am not exhausting myself,” she insisted calmly, turning away from him and continuing along her way. “I feel fine.”
Davyss followed her, watching her shapely backside as she walked. To look at the woman from the back, one would never know she was pregnant. But when she turned around, she had a belly as big as a pumpkin.
He sighed, making faces as he followed her through the enormous garden at Norwich. When she stopped to cut more flowers, this time big fat pink blooms, he firmly pulled the basket from her arm.
“At least let me carry this,” he fumed, watching her smile. “You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met; do you hear?”
She grinned up at him, truly radiant in her pregnancy. Her cheeks were round and rosy, her eyes bright. Davyss had never seen her more beautiful and he fell in love with her more deeply with every day that passed. He sighed with exasperation and kissed her, continuing to follow her as she did exactly as she pleased.
The day was sunny, the weather remarkably mild for this time of year. The spring flowers had been blooming like mad for the past week and Devereux had cut bushels of them. There were flowers in every room of the castle. Although Norwich was a functional military garrison, it was starting to look more like women had taken over every inch of the place. Between Lucy, Frances and Devereux, female traits of flowers, fresh rushes and fine furnishings were everywhere.
But Davyss didn’t particularly mind. He was simply glad to have his wife with him. The past year had been particularly difficult with de Montfort’s rule and Henry’s captivity, but Davyss had stayed bottled up at Norwich with his wife, leaving only when he was summoned by de Montfort. Even then, he left Devereux closely guarded, terrified that Simon would betray him again and take her. But Simon had Lady Katharine, the solitary reason why he had not made another try for Devereux. Lady Katharine ruled Simon more than God did.
Even so, Davyss had not been out of the political picture entirely. He and Roger Mortimer had been in constant contact over the past nine months, speaking of politics, of kings and of barons. Roger was a supporter of de Montfort but recent months saw his support wane. Davyss had sensed this right after the Battle of Lewes and was smart enough to capitalize on it. Now, it was Davyss and Mortimer who were allies. De Montfort had nothing to do with it.
Mortimer knew where Henry and Edward were being held captive and it was out of Mortimer’s mouth that a plot for release eventually sprang. Davyss had spent the past several months planting the seed of escape through conversations and innuendos, so when Mortimer finally discussed a plot, Davyss’ job was done. He would facilitate whatever Mortimer had planned. Even now, he was waiting for Mortimer to arrive at Norwich so they could begin their deed. Time was growing short.
Hugh, Andrew, Edmund, Philip, Lollardly and Nik were well briefed and awaiting Mortimer’s arrival as well. Nik had recovered from his near-mortal injury at Lewes with hardly a reminder except for the patch he now wore over his missing left eye. If one good thing had come out of his injury, it had been that he and Frances had drawn closer together and she was now three months pregnant with their first child. Nik was thrilled, as was Frances, but she had been so ill through the pregnancy that it was difficult for her to show much joy. Mostly, she stayed to bed and Nik spent a great deal of time with her.
But Frances’ pregnancy was completely unlike Devereux’s; in the month of November, Devereux had discovered she was with child again and Davyss’ joy had known no limits. However, he had insisted that she stay in bed almost immediately and it had been a six month battle to keep her in bed when she did not want to stay there. Lollardly, Davyss’ resident surgeon, had examined Lady de Winter and insisted she was perfectly healthy, but it wasn’t
good enough for Davyss. He didn’t want anything to go wrong and insisted that bed was where she needed to be.
His wife cooperated for the first three months but after that, she insisted that she felt fine and there was no reason to keep her supine day and night. Davyss divided his time between his duties and watching out for his wife as she went about her own, exhausting him to the point of frustration. Even on this fine and sunny day, he continued to follow her about as if afraid something horrible would happen the moment she was out of his sight.
“Davyss,” Devereux’s voice brought him out of his morose thoughts. “I have been thinking about something.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her, holding out the basket so she could lay the fat pink flowers down. “No doubt,” he muttered. “I am afraid to ask what it is.”
She smiled as she cut another stalk. “Why are you so irritable all of the time?”
“Is that what you have been thinking?”
She laughed. “Nay,” she turned to him. “But I have been wondering where you intend we should raise our son after he is born. Remember? We discussed this once. I told you I did not want to be traveling around like gypsies.”
He shrugged. “What is wrong with Norwich?”
She lifted her shoulders and turned around, picking at the next flower. “Norwich does not belong to you. I want to raise our children in a castle that belongs to you, some place that we will never be forced to leave or surrender. I was raised at Allington; it is my home. It will always be my home. I want our child to feel the same sense of security.”
He took the flower that she handed him. “I was raised between Wintercroft, Hollyhock and Breckland before fostering at Kenilworth. I did not suffer overly because I did not have a single place of residence.”
She put her hand on her belly, turning to him with a pout. “Little William must know the security and safety of one home.”
He fought off a smirk. “So it is William today, is it? What happened to Henry Thomas?”
She made a face at him. “I like William,” she insisted, turning back to the last flower. “I like the way it flows over the tongue; William. William. Still, I have always liked the name Titus.”
“What?” he rolled his eyes in disbelief. “My son shall not be named Titus.”
“Tiberius?”
“Nay.”
“Roland?”
“Silly wench,” he rolled his eyes again and took the last flower from her hand. “If you cannot think of a suitable name, I shall be forced to do it.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Is that so?” she sneered. “And just what brutally masculine name would you choose?”
He pretended to think as he took her hand with the intention of returning her to the keep. “My father’s name was Grayson.”
“I like that name but I do not want to name our son after your father. He will be forever confused with his grandfather.” She cocked his head. “What was Grayson’s father’s name?”
“Davyss.”
“Oh,” she thought on that a moment. “What about your mother’s father?”
“Hugh.”
She threw up her hands. “Do you de Winters go along naming the entire family after each other? Where is the originality?” she demanded to his chuckles. “My father’s name is St. Paul and our son will not be named St. Paul. It sounds as if he should go around performing miracles.”
Davyss’ laughter grew. “We still have time yet. Do not worry yourself over it.”
She grinned in spite of herself, allowing him to reclaim her hand, kiss it, and take her into the massive keep of Norwich.
Norwich was truly a massive compound. The keep sat on the top of a natural rise that was augmented by a giant motte, surrounded by a deep moat and separated from the rest of the castle by an enormous drawbridge. Devereux had never in her life ever seen anything so large; not even the Tower of London, which was enormous in of itself. Norwich sat like a huge sentinel surveying the countryside and could be literally seen for miles in any direction as if daring someone to try and breach it.
The keep was cavernous inside. Davyss and Devereux had the master’s chamber on the fourth floor of the keep, a room that was probably as big as the entire House of Hope. It was monstrous. The soldier’s hall, or great hall, was situated on the second floor and covered more than half of the floor space while several smaller rooms, including a kitchen, knight’s room and garderobes, covered the rest of the floor.
As Davyss and Devereux entered the keep, Davyss handed the flowers off to Lucy, who happened to see them entering from the garden. As she happily skipped off with the flowers, he continued to carefully lead his wife up two flights of spiral stone steps to the fourth floor. Their chamber lay on the north side and he took her inside, hoping to convince her to rest now that her gardening was finished.
But Devereux had other ideas; once inside the chamber, she went straight for her massive wardrobe as Louie, the little orange dog, jumped frantically at her feet. She finally picked the little beast up as she opened up the wardrobe door.
“I would like to change my coat and go into town,” she informed him.
He eyed her. “Why?”
Her brow furrowed. “Because the last time we were in town, there was a new merchant from Brussels. Do you remember?”
He nodded and she continued. “He had fabric from Athens and all sorts of wonderful things. I want to see what else he has. Maybe he has new things that I have not yet seen.”
Davyss sighed heavily; it would do no good to deny her or argue with her, so he resorted to a tactic he had used much more as of late. He bargained.
“I will take you,” he said, “on the condition that you rest for a couple of hours first. Please, sweetling; it would make me happy.”
She gazed up at him, drinking in his handsome face. She didn’t feel like being particularly belligerent; not when he was trying so hard to be kind and gentle with her. The man had barely left her side for months and they were very much attached to one another, shadows that followed one another around in love and harmony. She couldn’t remember what her life was like before she met Davyss de Winter. She set the dog down and went over to him.
“Very well,” she kissed him sweetly. “If that is your wish.”
Davyss returned her kiss, putting his hand on her belly as he suckled her lips. There was something profoundly intimate and erotic about the gesture, feeling the life they had created together. He had been terrified to make love to her for the first three months but when Lollardly assured them that the pregnancy was secure, he had taken great delight in inspecting his wife’s changing body. Her gently swollen middle aroused him tremendously and he would turn her onto her side, facing away from him, and make love to her. All the while, he would hold her belly in his hands, feeling the fruition of their love. Never in his life had the act of sex meant more to him emotionally than physically. But it did with Devereux.
Even now as she changed out of her surcoat, his hands were all over her. She pulled the coat over her head, followed by the shift, leaving her in her pantalets and hose. Davyss gently pulled her pantalets off, followed by the hose, holding her from behind as his hands moved over her belly and breasts and his mouth feasted on her neck. He pulled his tunic off so their bare skin could touch, the warmth of attraction between them stark and strong. Bending his wife carefully over the foot of the bed, he lowered his breeches and entered her from behind.
Devereux groaned at his entry, sighing with contentment as he thrust carefully yet powerfully into her. His hands were on her rounded belly, holding the child gently as he made love to the mother, and in little time Devereux was climaxing in multiplicity as he continued to thrust. Davyss released himself into her body, his hands moving to her breasts, her shoulders, pulling her up and kissing her soft mouth as she arched her neck over her shoulder, surrendering to his seeking mouth.
When the kisses gently faded away, he went to one of the two massive wardrobes in the room and pulled forth another
shift for her, this one heavier and made of pale lamb’s wool. It was as soft as a feather. He handed it to her and she pulled it over her head, straightening it out around her growing body. He helped her straighten the bottom when her growing belly made it difficult to bend over. Louie, not to be left out, tried to jump and play under the hem of the long shift until Davyss chased him out. Offended, Louie went under the bed.
“Now,” he took her to the head of the enormous bed and pulled back the coverlet. “Lie down and sleep. I shall return to you in a couple of hours and we will go into town.”
She didn’t argue with him; in fact, given their heated encounter, she was looking forward to resting for a while. Snuggling down into the bed, she began to mutter as he covered her up.
“We must think of names that begin with the same letter as our names,” she sighed, her eyes drooping. “Can you think of any?”
He put an enormous hand on her forehead as if to still her thoughts. “Shhhh,” he whispered. “Go to sleep.”
She closed her eyes, already beginning to doze. “I cannot,” she mumbled. “Not until I… think of a name for…our… son….”
She was very nearly asleep. Davyss removed his hand from her forehead gently, so as not to disturb her, and very quietly collected the tunic he had thrown off in the heat of passion. Pulling it back over his head and making every effort not to wake her, he slipped from their chamber.
He could hear men and noise coming from the floors below. It was suddenly very loud as he descended the steps into the soldier’s hall, and for good reason; it was full of men. Some he recognized and some he did not, but those who were unfamiliar bore the colors of Mortimer.
Davyss moved through the crowd of soldiers looking for Mortimer himself. He had known the man to be on the approach and was rather perturbed that no one had bothered to tell him that the man had arrived. In fact, when he came across Hugh, he told his brother precisely that.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 137
