Behind the Chain Mail (A Look Behind the Series): Legendary Bastards of the Crown

by Rose, Elizabeth

  Rook is my fighter and very rebellious. He was fun to write because he is afraid of nothing (but failure) and never backs down. He knows what he wants and he is going to get it one way or another. One of the things he decides he wants is Calliope, the young lady who has stumbled into his underground lair.

  Calliope Duval is five-foot-four, has green eyes and long, blond hair. She has a good heart and is always trying to help others that are not as fortunate as her. This girl is usually very positive and a ray of light in a dark world.

  I have always loved the name Calliope and decided to use it on this heroine. Calliope is the personification of light while Rook is darkness. Rook has lived in darkness so long that I knew it was going to take a woman who was filled with light and goodness to pull him out of his dreary ways.

  One kiss from Rook and Calliope knows she has found not only her challenge but also the man she wants to marry. She is attracted to him because he is mysterious as well as very dangerous.

  Calliope has a good heart, but she isn’t without problems of her own. She holds many secrets, one of them being that she is sneaking out of the castle and helping Rook in the catacombs. If discovered, she or Rook or both of them could lose their lives. Still, it is a risk she feels is worth taking.

  Let’s talk about catacombs for a moment. How creepy must they be? Long, narrow, underground passages with stone sarcophaguses and dead bodies buried beneath the earth. They even stacked the corpses in the walls at times. It is always dark and chilly with water dripping down in spots from the earth above. Lanercost Priory, where Rook lives, is a real place that had been ransacked by the Scots back in the 14th century. In my story, the underground passages lead all the way to Hermitage Castle across the border. Hermitage Castle is a real castle in Scotland and in my Legacy of the Blade Series it is taken over by my made-up clan of the MacKeefes.

  While catacombs were ideal places for hiding out, they could also be used for other purposes as you will find out in the book.

  A raven hopped around atop the sarcophagus of a dead noble, cackling so loudly she Calliope sure it was going to gain the Demon Thief’s attention. With the fissure of light coming from one of the stone walls, she could see the bird’s slightly curved beak and its beady, little dark eyes. The stone lid of the tomb had the face and body of a noble carved into it. The image of the dead knight had closed eyes and held a stone sword against his chest. Behind it was a large, wooden crucifix rising up from the dirt floor.

  The raven cackled as if it were laughing at her. Then it hopped atop the cross, using it as a perch. She approached and tried to shoo it away with her hand, but all it did was flap its wings and squawk louder as it vacated the perch and continued to explore the top of several more tombs.

  “What is that?” she asked softly to herself, studying the streak of light coming from an opening in the rock up ahead. It looked like it led to a hidden room. This hadn’t been here the last time she’d come through the catacombs. She needed to see what it was.

  Her curiosity urged her forward without hesitation as she was drawn toward the light. Without making a sound, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her dagger hanging from her belt. She gripped it tightly, holding it forward, letting it lead the way as she ventured closer and closer to the hidden room. Her heartbeat quickened. Who or what would she find inside? Hopefully, it was just Brother Everad who lived here with the Demon Thief. Then again, Everad hadn’t mentioned a hidden room. He’d only told her to stay away. That made it clear to her that this had to be the Demon Thief’s lair. A shiver like icy fingers ran up her spine.

  While the catacombs were dark, morbid, and filled with death, this room looked to be light, warm, and full of life. That confused her because when she’d heard from Everad that the Demon Thief lived in the crypts, she pictured him as some monster that thrived on flesh and blood and would shrivel up and die if he ever came into the light.

  Ignoring her common sense that warned her to retreat, her desire to know more about this mysterious, dangerous man gave her the courage to move forward.

  The raven shrieked from behind her, almost as if it were warning her about walking right toward her imminent death.

  Reaching the humongous stone that had been moved aside, she realized there was a wooden door hidden behind it. Opened a little, she could see furnishings inside the chamber. With her dagger clutched in one hand, she leaned forward and pressed one eye up to the crack to get a better look. Oddly enough, it seemed more like the chamber of a noble than the abode of a killer. Silently and cautiously, she reached out her shaking hand, her fingers skimming the gnarled wood of the door. It felt thick and dense and took more than just a slight movement of her wrist to push it open further.

  Just one better glimpse of the room and she’d be on her way, she told herself. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and her mind scolded her for being so stupid. Still, she did not retreat. Bravely stepping one foot over the threshold, she took shallow breaths as she pushed the door open a little more.

  She should have called out and made her presence known since it could be Everad inside. But once she got a better look at the furnishings, she decided to stay silent. Everad may have gone down the wrong path when he teamed up with the Demon Thief but, needless to say, he was still a monk. No monk would be living like this. It would be best to take a quick look and leave without making her presence known.

  Three stairs led to a large four-poster bed with ornate designs carved into the wood. It perched atop a small dais in the center of the room. Long, purple velvet curtains hung from black iron rods around it, dressing the bed as if it wore a cloak of protection. Next, her gaze was captivated by a scene painted on a whitewashed wall just beyond the bed. She pushed the door open just a little wider, stopping in mid-motion and holding her breath as the rusty hinges of the door squeaked loud enough to raise the dead. When she was sure no one heard her, she stepped inside the room with both feet to inspect her surroundings. Her eyes scanned the area quickly to make sure no one was there. She released a breath of relief. The room was vacant.

  The difference in the warm, dry atmosphere of this chamber compared to the wet and dank passageways of the catacombs was amazing. One lantern and also a candle lit up the spacious area in a warm glow, enabling her to get a better look.

  Colorful woven tapestries lined the walls, giving a royal air to the surroundings. Thick wooden beams overhead opened to what looked like vents leading upward in small stone tunnels. She could feel fresh air brushing past her face. A little light from the sky came through the vents as well. The floor was made of wood and felt warm beneath her feet. So unlike the damp earth floors of the village huts.

  Candlelight flickered, causing shadows on the walls. When she smelled cinnamon and cloves, she realized it wasn’t a tallow candle made of animal fat that was commonly used. Instead, it was of the highest quality, made from scented beeswax. Beeswax candles were expensive and usually only used by nobles or the high clergy.

  She glanced back over her shoulder to the darkness of the crypt from which she’d just come. The bird had stopped making noise and she wondered where it went. Holding her dagger in front of her for protection, she padded across the floor toward the whitewashed wall with the mural on it. Calliope marveled at the fact that it looked like the painting was outlined in places by gold leaf.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, reaching out and slowly dragging her fingers across a colorful depiction of two knights jousting at a tournament. In the background of the scene was the castle. In the lists sat a few nobles and some men of the clergy. Oddly enough, she didn’t see the king in this painting anywhere. In front of the painting sat a wooden table and two chairs that were carved with intricate patterns and swirls, just like the posts on the bed. Most commoners sat on benches or stools, but these were chairs with backs on them. Her fingers ran over the intricate design, tracing the swirls up and down.

  Then she spotted a warrior’s chain mail tunic and weapons on another chair.
This had to be the abode of a warrior. The Demon Thief! Calliope’s eyes darted back in the opposite direction where she saw a basin of water atop a table near the door. She had been so mesmerized by the beauty of the chamber that she hadn’t noticed it when she’d first entered. Even from where she stood, she could see the water was red with blood. A shiver ran up her spine and she realized she’d made a mistake. She should never have entered. A sudden need filled her to get out of the room and back to the castle immediately where she would be safe.

  Hurrying back toward the open door, the toe of her mud-soaked shoe kicked something. Her gaze flashed downward to see the pieces of a chess game scattered across the floor.

  Curiosity gnawed at her insides and was the only thing that kept her from running. She hurriedly scooped up a piece with a pointed top, realizing it symbolized a bishop. It was made of a beautiful swirled marble of the finest quality. Her thumb trailed over the top of the jagged, broken stone that had chipped when it hit the floor.

  Before she had a chance to inspect it further, a hand clamped over her mouth from behind. She dropped both the chess piece and her dagger as her hands involuntarily rose to try to push the big hand away. She was pulled backward, hitting what felt like a hard chest as the sharp edge of a cold blade pressed up against her throat.

  “Make a move and I’ll slit you from ear to ear,” growled a male voice.

  Book 3. As we move on to the last book of the trilogy, life becomes complicated for the bastards. Especially for Reed, since he feels betrayed by his brothers and all alone. While a good portion of the story takes place in England, the setting also moves to the Highlands as well as on a ship at sea.

  Reed is six-foot-two, has bright, blue eyes and long, red hair. He is the most stubborn of all the brothers and also the most set in his ways. While writing the books, I also discovered that Reed was the hardest to handle. I never knew what to expect next with him.

  When I was writing the series, I saved him for last because, honestly, I didn’t know if I was going to like him, nor did I really know what to do with him.

  Reed is so different from his brothers. You will see him briefly as a child in Highland Spring – Book 1 of my Seasons of Fortitude Series. Since Rook lived underground and Rowen lived on the water, I made Reed’s home in a totally opposite place – the mountains of the Highlands.

  What I will say is that Reed had a mind of his own more so than his brothers and would not listen to a word I said – or wrote. He did whatever the heck he wanted to do. First off, the man acts, talks and dresses like a Scot, while his brothers embrace their true English blood. Reed always idolized their stepfather, Ross Douglas, who was a Scot through and through.

  Reed wants to be Scottish and believes that he is, even when he finds out the truth that his true parents were both English. He doesn’t care! He doesn’t want to change. Yep, the man caused me a lot of trouble while writing his character. He held the most vengeance toward their father, King Edward III.

  Reed travels with a red kite. This bird is a bird of prey somewhat like an eagle. I wanted each of the brothers to have a pet bird that, in one way or another, symbolized who he was. Therefore, the red kite symbolized Reed’s red hair and instinct to prey on others – the king in Reed’s case.

  The funny part about writing this book is that Reed is an Englishman pretending to be a Scot and his childhood sweetheart, who is the heroine of the story, Maggie Gordon, is a Scot pretending to be English. Go figure!

  Reed is the best out of the brothers at playing the game of chess. No one can beat him. And since no one has ever beaten King Edward (that the king knows of) I had to pair the two in a match at the end of the story. It is one of my favorite scenes because the chess game is played with live players. That is, the pieces of the board are actually people!

  Live chess games were a real thing back in medieval times. The game depicted the lifestyle of the times with kings, knights and clergy. The queen in a game of chess is actually the most powerful piece on the board. That should prove the power of women! After all, queens had a lot of influence over their husbands, even if men didn’t want to admit it. The pawns were the serfs and pieces that would be sacrificed easily, just like in real life.

  Sometimes the live games were even played to the death. However, in this story, that doesn’t happen. Thank goodness, right?

  Maggie Gordon is five-foot-three, has green eyes and long, ebony hair. She is very mature even from a young age and is a mothering type of person, always wanting to care for others.

  Ok, as I’m writing this, I realize now that I like to give my characters green eyes a lot. My sister told me that but I didn’t believe her. Oh well, that’s what makes my characters unique. Green eyes are a good thing in my opinion.

  Maggie has been forced to grow up quickly. Like the bastard triplets, she and her family were victims of the English king’s attack on their lands at Burnt Candlemas. She lost most of her family that horrible day. However, she manages to escape Scotland with her younger brother, Duff. She ends up raising him, being more like a mother to him than a sister. Finding refuge in England of all places, she secures a spot in the Granville household and lives her life now as an Englishwoman, leaving her memories of her true heritage and Scotland behind.

  This, I found interesting, because when Reed finds her again after many years, she has to delve into her heart to decide if she wants to continue ignoring her true heritage, or risk it all by going against the English who helped protect her and her brother.

  Maggie is a good match for Reed, and someone who can put him in his place. They already know each other from the past, so she knows what makes Reed tick. She also knows how stubborn the man can be, not to mention the stories she’s heard of who he has become. Just when she thinks she’s found a new life, Reed walks back into her life and challenges all her beliefs and decisions.

  It was late in the day, and Maggie should have been inside the keep celebrating her betrothal with everyone else. Instead, she sneaked away to walk the battlements with Summer at her side. They were both courageous women and didn’t like to be told what to do or where to stay. Maggie had yet to see the view from the battlements and it proved to be breathtaking. She peered over the parapet, the stone wall lining the battlement walkway, drinking in the beautiful glow of orange over the ocean as the sun set on the horizon. A cold breeze sent a shiver through her and she clutched her cloak tighter around her and pulled her hood over her head.

  “Did you see enough?” asked Summer, her teeth starting to chatter. Atop the battlements, they were exposed to the harsh elements. It was warmer in the courtyard with the castle walls blocking some of the chill. “I’m c-cold. Let’s get back to the keep. Rowen is going to wonder where we are.”

  “The men were well in their cups,” said Maggie. “It’ll be a while before our absence is noticed.” The great hall had been bustling with activity. The sound of music could be heard all the way up to the battlements. Jongleurs and the jester kept everyone occupied. The meal had been grand and the wine flowed freely. Everyone was happy. Everyone but her.

  “It’s not s-safe up here,” said Summer, her teeth still chattering. “The guards are all at the guardhouse playing dice and drinking as well. We really shouldn’t be up here unescorted.”

  “What can happen?” Maggie asked with a chuckle. “Unless we freeze to death or I fall over the edge, we’re more than safe.”

  “Still, I think we should go,” Summer begged her.

  “All right, we’ll leave.” Maggie took a few steps and her cloak blew open, exposing her to the cold. She realized the pin that secured her cloak must have fallen off. “I lost my brooch. Go on back to the keep. I’m just going to check further down the battlements for it. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “All right, but hurry. It’s getting dark and you might stumble.”

  “I lived in the rugged lands of Scotland; I assure you I won’t stumble on a smooth walkway.”

  Summer headed down the stairs
to the courtyard while Maggie searched the stone walkway of the battlements for her pin. The sound of a clink – like metal against stone – took her attention from the far end of the battlements. She looked up and squinted, but couldn’t see that far since dusk had set in. Curious, she headed down the walkway, trying to see what could have caused that sound. After a few minutes of not being able to figure it out, she decided to go down to the keep. But then her eye caught a glimmer of something up ahead and she realized she’d found her brooch after all.

  “There you are,” she said, walking forward and bending over to pick it up. She’d just pinned it to her cloak when something over the wall caught her attention. She was sure she saw something out on the water. She walked closer to the wall, stretching her neck to see what it was. Then she realized it was a black sail fluttering in the breeze atop a tall pole. She rushed down the walkway to get a better look, seeing in the distance a ship half-hidden behind the cliffs in a cove. “Pirates,” she whispered. Her hand went to her chest and she could feel the rapid beating of her heart. She had to get back to the keep and tell the men.

  A big gust of wind almost blew her over. She reached down to the grab on to the wall for support. Her fingers closed over something hard and cold. Looking down, she gasped when she saw a grappling hook attached to the wall of the battlements.

  “Oh!” she cried, jumping backward just as the head of a man emerged from over the side of the castle wall facing the sea. She froze, too frightened to move. Bright red hair and two strong arms came up from the side of the castle next. The man wore a green plaid. He was a Scot!