Winter of Solace (The Executioner Knights Book 5)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Halt!” the boy demanded. “Who goes there?”

  “Your father.” Caius came to a halt as the boy pointed the stick at him. “Where is your mother?”

  The boy jabbed the stick at him. “You will call me Sir Rupert.”

  “As you wish.” Caius’ black eyes glimmered with humor. “Sir Rupert, where is your mother?”

  Rupert Edward d’Avignon was a brilliant boy with his father’s good looks and imposing size. At five years of age, he was already big and strong, but his personality was purely his mother’s. He was strong-willed and opinionated, but sweet and imaginative. Caius had never been able to bring himself to discipline the boy, even when he threw his father’s boot down the garderobe chute, or put an old bucket on his younger brother’s head in an attempt to make a great helm. That wasn’t bad in and of itself, but he’d secured it with leather strips he’d tied so tightly that he nearly choked little Atticus before his father could use his dagger to cut the strips.

  Rupert had always been their bold, brave boy.

  Cheeky, too.

  “Mother is my captive,” Rupert said imperiously. “If you’ve come to save her, then you’ll have to fight me.”

  Caius put up his hands to show he had no weapons. “There must be an easier way to secure her release, Sir Rupert.”

  “Nay,” Rupert barked. “Fight me or else.”

  Caius thought on his options at that point. He sighed dramatically. “I would not presume to tangle with you, Sir Rupert,” he said. “May I at least see her?”

  Rupert considered his father’s request. After a moment, he gruffly motioned his father to follow him. Caius followed his son down a little path and into a larger, rockier area beyond. There were stone steps to the right, leading up to a big, flat rock where the boys liked to play King of the Castle. With the mist, there was a blanket of wet covering the stone steps as Rupert pointed to them.

  “She is up there,” he said. “But you cannot go and get her. You have to talk to her from down here.”

  Caius lifted an eyebrow at his son before turning to the keep. “Em?” he called.

  As soon as the sound left his lips, two young boys suddenly appeared at the top of the rock, just at the top of the stone steps. Caius grinned up at Atticus d’Avignon and Calix d’Avignon, aged four and almost three years, respectively, as they appeared with big sticks in their hands. Emelisse suddenly appeared behind them, wrapped in a cloak against the mist.

  “Greetings,” she said, a wry smile on her lips.

  He grinned broadly. “And to you, my lady,” he responded. “I see you’re being held hostage.”

  She lifted an eyebrow at Atticus, who was nodding his head vigorously. The kid had big dimples and grinned at his father quite devilishly.

  “It appears that way,” she said, rubbing her swollen belly. “What are you going to do about it? I am growing weary.”

  Caius just shrugged. “Rupert says that I must fight him.”

  Emelisse sighed. “Then hurry up about it,” she said. “Calix and I need our naps, but Rupert is standing in the way.”

  Caius looked at his eldest son. “Do you hear that?” He pointed towards Emelisse. “Your mother is tired and needs to lie down. Can we move this fight to another day?”

  Rupert shook his head. “Nay,” he said decisively. “If you want her, you have to fight me for her.”

  Caius sighed dramatically, though it was good-natured. “As you wish.”

  He moved for Rupert, but the boy suddenly squealed and ran off. This brought Atticus and Calix down the slippery stairs, much to Emelisse’s horror. At eight months pregnant, she wasn’t moving very fast, so she gripped the stone outcropping as she made her way down after the boys, all the while calling to them to slow down. Caius, seeing this, diverted himself from Rupert to go and help Emelisse down the stairs, but he was intercepted before he could get to her. Atticus and Calix ran right into his legs.

  Someone hit him in the groin with a stick and he grunted, doubling over as his sons proceeded to attack him. But his pain was short-lived as he grabbed both boys and began growling like a bear, tickling squirming little children. Calix, not quite three, couldn’t defend himself very well and began to cry. He found himself back in his mother’s arms as Caius took on Atticus and Rupert.

  Atticus somehow had his father by the neck as Rupert held on to one big leg. The boy was wrapped around it as if he were holding on to a tree trunk. Emelisse, rocking the sleepy and weepy Calix, just stood there and shook her head.

  “I believe you are losing,” she told Caius.

  Atticus managed to knock his father’s Adam’s apple and he coughed as he shifted the boy’s arms.

  “It seems that way,” he told her as he lifted Rupert up by the ankles and listened to him yell. “But at least you are free of the tower. I am a willing sacrifice, my lady.”

  “My hero.”

  Caius grinned broadly as Emelisse moved in on the wrestling group and grabbed Atticus by the arm, pulling him off his father. Atticus hit the ground, tripped over Rupert’s foot, and fell to the muddy earth. Angry, he jumped up and tackled his brother, sending them both to the wet ground. Caius intervened before any punches were thrown, pulling the boys off of each other and sending each child in an opposite direction.

  “Enough,” he scolded gently. “It’s cold and wet out here and your mother must return to the keep. Move.”

  Rupert and Atticus obeyed, but they still had their big sticks and played swordfight all the way through The Gatehouse and down the rocky path. Meanwhile, Caius took Calix from Emelisse and held the sleepy boy as they began their mile trek back to the house. He collected Emelisse’s hand as they took the path back to the main road.

  “Do you feel well enough to make the walk back?” he asked her. “I can bring a palfrey up here if you wish to ride.”

  She shook her head. “I am well enough,” she said. “The walk will do me good.”

  “Tell me if you grow too weary.”

  “I will,” she said. Then, she eyed him. “Are you going to tell me who sent the missive you received this morning?”

  He glanced at her. “You saw that, did you?”

  She smirked. “We were just leaving for the mountain when it came. I saw the rider, but I do not recognize who it was from.”

  Caius shifted Calix as the boy lay his head on his massive shoulder. “It was from Warstone Castle,” he said. “Edward de Wolfe has passed away. I have been asked to attend a mass in his honor, but I do not want to go anywhere until this baby is born.”

  Emelisse was saddened to hear of the earl’s death, a man who had become their good friend. “That is terrible news,” she said. “We knew he was ill, but it did not seem too terribly.”

  “Apparently, it was worse than he wanted people to know.”

  She shook her head sadly. “He was a good man,” she said. “It is only a few more weeks until this child is born, but you should go to his mass. His eldest son is the new earl now, but as I recall, his sons are not terribly old.”

  Caius shook his head. “Robert is the new earl and he has seen twenty-one years,” he said. “He will make an excellent earl. I will send him my condolences as well as my support.”

  “That is a good idea,” she said. “Surely William will be attending his father’s mass. It was a sad day when he left us those years ago. I know you would like to see him again.”

  Caius held her hand as they moved down a particularly slippery part of the path. “I would,” he said. “But Edward wanted him to train at Northwood Castle and have the experience of an active border castle, and that is where he has been for the past six years. From all accounts, William has turned into a magnificent knight. Edward swore there has never been anyone like him.”

  Emelisse smiled at him. “He learned from the best,” she said. “He learned a great deal from you. Did the missive say when the mass would be?”

  Caius shrugged. “In two weeks and I want to be here when our child is born.
It’s our first girl.”

  She had to laugh at him. The man had been positive the child was a girl from nearly the moment of conception and it had been a running joke between them.

  “Still certain of that, are you?”

  “I am.”

  “Had your fill of boys?”

  He kissed her hand. “Nay,” he told her. “But I’m excited for my first daughter. I hope she looks just like her mother.”

  Emelisse laughed softly, watching Rupert and Atticus duke it out with their sticks up ahead. “Rupert is the spitting image of you. Atticus and Calix look like me, so mayhap the chances are that this one will look like you.”

  He squeezed her hand again, watching his sons play. “I hope not,” he said. “I’d much rather have a daughter with your features.”

  “I will settle for a healthy baby with ten fingers and ten toes.”

  “As will I, whatever the sex.”

  The conversation faded for a moment as Rupert and Atticus grew bored with their sticks and began jumping in muddy puddles. Emelisse watched them get absolutely filthy, knowing she was going to have to wrestle a pair of little boys into a bath when they reached home. But it didn’t distress her; wrestling little boys was all part of the fun of life at Hawkstone these days.

  “You know what I was thinking?” she asked softly.

  He glanced at her. “What is that, sweet?”

  She watched the boys kick water on each other. “I’ve been thinking I’d like to name our daughter something Alice would like. She has been such a great friend and I would like to honor her somehow.”

  He squeezed her hand, knowing they were venturing onto a somber subject. Alice and Hallam, happily married all of these years, had not been successful in having live children. Alice had given birth twice to dead daughters, something that had been tremendously upsetting to everyone.

  But Alice had been strong; so very strong, as Hallam had wept in secret. Caius knew because he had seen the man break down. Emelisse has effortlessly given birth to three boys, and now the imminent birth of a fourth child, and Alice had been thrilled for her friend every time. She had even attended the births, helping the midwives, and it had been Alice who had told Caius each time that a son had been safely delivered.

  Alice and Hallam had turned out to be a wonderful couple and the most generous, giving friends Caius and Emelisse could have asked for.

  At the moment, however, Alice was pregnant again and it was more than likely her last chance. She was into her fourth decade now and the pregnancy had been extremely taxing on her. The midwives had put her on bedrest and that was where she had been for seven long months. As Emelisse actively attended not only Hawkstone, but Richmond when they were in residence, Alice had been forced to remain in the keep of Hawkstone, on the floor of private chambers she shared with Hallam, in the hopes that this child would live.

  It was something Emelisse prayed for daily.

  “I think honoring Alice is a very nice thing,” Caius finally said, not wanting to bring the tears that usually came from Emelisse when discussing Alice. “I am sure she will be delighted.”

  “I know she was going to name one of her babies Alix,” she said. “I would like to name our daughter after a child she hoped would live.”

  “I think it would be a sweet gesture. You must ask her when we get back.”

  “I will.”

  Above, the thunder rolled and Rupert and Atticus began jumping up and down, yelling in delight. Emelisse watched the boys, her mind wandering to the coming baby, to the future. Life as Lady d’Avignon had been so grand that she often wondered what she had done in life to deserve such happiness. Caius had been the model husband, a man she had grown not only to love deeply, but to respect greatly. For two people who had suffered such a traumatic introduction to one another, their married life had been anything but traumatic.

  It had been perfect.

  Her life was perfect.

  There were times, of course, when she thought about those first few days of their acquaintance. She thought of her father and brother, who now slept for eternity next to her mother in the churchyard at Whitchurch, and how they would have loved Caius. It had been Emelisse’s greatest regret that they never got to meet him, but she had always believed they were watching down upon her from above. They could see how happy she was.

  They could see how much she was loved.

  In the weeks to come, Alix d’Avignon never materialized. A massive little boy was born on the same day as Edward de Wolfe’s funeral mass, a black-haired son who was supposed to have been a blonde-haired daughter.

  Sebastian d’Avignon was a big, fat baby and the apple of his father’s eye. All the brothers were enamored with him, as was his mother, who was secretly glad that he had been a boy. She loved looking at the little face, a mirror image of Caius, and happily enough, one month after little Sebastian was born, Alice finally delivered a healthy son.

  They named him Caspian.

  When The Britannia Viper was sent north to mediate the trouble with Winterhold and Hawkstone, none of them could have ever imagined how rich, how full, their lives would become. Alice and Hallam were finally allowed to experience their own love story, but for Caius and Emelisse, it had been something more.

  Far more.

  Theirs was a love story that passed on into legend – The Britannia Viper, The Damsel, and the magic of Mynydd Adar that lived on. And, The Roden Twins, which were finally returned.

  The legend of love, of a mystical mountain, and of two big diamonds that would last forever.

  Children of Caius and Emelisse

  Rupert

  Atticus

  Calix

  Sebastian

  Alix

  Jasper

  * THE END *

  AUTHOR’S AFTERWORD

  I rarely do an afterword but, in this case, I wanted to mention something. I really hope you enjoyed Caius and Emelisse’s tale, but I wanted to mention something that I didn’t want to put in the Author’s Note, so as not to give anything away.

  There is much of a young William de Wolfe in this story and I wanted to point out something of interest – the name of his sword. The Eye of the Wolfe, in fact, was the original title for William’s novel, The Wolfe. It was named after his sword – The Eye of the Wolfe. An all-seeing, all-knowing sword with (literally) the power of life and death.

  But things change, and the focus of The Wolfe evolved, so I never mentioned the sword in the story because the focus was on several other things – William, Jordan, secondary characters, and a million other points of reference, so I gave up on bringing the name of the sword and the sword itself to the forefront. It took a backseat. However, you saw a sword with a “starring” role in Lespada. If you’ve not yet read that book, make sure you do.

  Back when I created these stories, I was enamored with swords named Excalibur and Joyeuse (Charlemagne’s sword). I still am – as you can see, I gave Caius’ sword a name, too – Negotiator. Next year, I have an entire series planned out with each story named after the sword of the knight – Annihilation, Absolution, Destruction, etc. Should be fun!

  I sincerely hope you enjoyed Caius and Emelisse’s story. Remember to read all of the Executioner Knights:

  By the Unholy Hand (Maxton of Loxbeare)

  The Mountain Dark (Kress de Rhydian)

  Starless (Achilles de Dere)

  A Time of End (Alexander de Sherrington)

  Winter of Solace (Caius d’Avignon)

  Lord of the Shadows (Sean de Lara)

  Lord of the Sky (Kevin de Lara)

  (and coming soon)

  The Splendid Hour (Peter de Lohr)

  Other novels associated with the Executioner Knights are:

  Godspeed (Dashiell du Reims)

  High Warrior (Bric MacRohan)

  Rise of the Defender (Christopher de Lohr, Edward de Wolfe)

  Steelheart (David de Lohr)

  The Wolfe (William de Wolfe)

  Happy Readi
ng!

  Please enjoy an excerpt from By The Unholy Hand.

  ~ MIHI CREDE ~

  (TRUST ME)

  Year of Our Lord 1199 A.D., The Month of August

  Near the convent dedicated to St. Blitha of the Order of St. Dominica

  North of the city walls, Bishopsgate

  He loved her.

  He said he loved her and that made this happening a right and true thing, consecrated by God. If God was love, then Rhyne de Leybourne was possessed by the Holy Spirit, and all things fine and good in the world.

  He said he loved her.

  She had believed him.

  It had been soft and dark and quiet in the sod barn where he’d taken her, just to the east of St. Blitha where she served as a pledge. Dumped there was more like it, deposited by a greedy aunt who wanted nothing to do with her wealthy niece. She wanted the girl’s money, though.

  That made it okay, in her mind.

  But there were those who had cared for the niece. Rhyne did, in fact. Or, at least he told himself that. The truth was that he loved her money, too, and he wasn’t so willing to let it go. It had taken him so very long to discover where her aunt had sent her. When he finally located her, all he could speak of was his longing for her, and she in turn declared her longing for him. He’d come for her now and would make everything right between them, as he’d promised.

  But first, he would demonstrate his love for her so there would be no doubt in her mind that he was sincere.

  She’d been by the gently bubbling stream just outside the abbey walls, drawing water for the wash, when he’d come up on his shiny brown stallion. It wasn’t unusual for her to be outside of the abbey walls because that’s where the main water source was, so when he pulled her to the sod barn, no one noticed.

  No one even looked for her.

  At first, he had been gentle, and their hugs of joy had been innocent. But that innocence was short-lived when he pinned her against the stable wall and his mouth began to wander, his tongue invading nearly every orifice on her head. She’d resisted at first, fearful of this very intimate attention, but he had ignored her resistance as he continued to speak of his love for her. His passion rose to frenzied proportions and his tenderness soon turned rough.