Knights of Honor Books 1-10: A Medieval Romance Series Bundle

by Alexa Aston

  Would that have been enough to drive Geoffrey over the edge? Would Symond have tried to convince her husband that she was better off without him?

  Again, Merryn rejected that. In truth, the man who returned to her after his long incarceration might have believed Symond. Geoffrey had come back far different from the husband that she’d married, insecure and unsure. But through her love and encouragement, Merryn had seen him grow in spirit and confidence. She believed if Symond Benedict had confronted Geoffrey last night in such a manner, the knight would have sported a black eye and split lip today. Her husband would not have tolerated such taunts.

  Wait. Could that be how Symond wound up with a bruised jaw? If so, where was Geoffrey?

  Trying to contain her concern, she said to Raynor, “We need to find him. Ask a few of the servants if they have seen him. Meet me in the great hall in half an hour. You check the stables and both baileys. I will search inside the keep.”

  They met at the specified time. Neither had found anyone who’d laid eyes upon Geoffrey since he left the great hall last night bearing a tray of food.

  “We must search the entire grounds,” she proclaimed. “Something is very wrong, Raynor. I feel it in my bones. I cannot share the whole of it, but know that when Geoffrey left me last night, he had much on his mind.”

  Alys tugged on her cotehardie. “Mother, where is Father? He promised to help me ride my pony and pick flowers for you.”

  Merryn hugged her daughter. “Your father had some business to take care of, love. I’ll be sure and remind him of your plans when I see him. Now run along.”

  If she did not think so before, Merryn knew with certainty that something had happened to Geoffrey. He would never promise to spend time with Alys and not show up.

  Deciding to search room by room, she went to the second floor. The solar was empty except for Tilda and another servant cleaning it. Elia still napped in her room. Raynor’s chamber held his packed bag sitting atop the bed.

  Then she reached the twins’ room. Ancel was stretched out on the floor, playing with the small, carved figures that Geoffrey had once enjoyed as a child. She had given them to her son in hopes he would feel close to the man he’d never known.

  “Ancel, have you seen your father this morning? I have need of him.”

  Her son gave her a sour look. “Not since he stumbled around last night.” His nose wrinkled in disgust. “He drank too much wine.”

  Merryn hurried to him. She grabbed his shoulders. “What? That’s impossible. Where did you see him?”

  Ancel’s bottom lip stuck out stubbornly. “I can’t say. I gave my word.” He shrugged from her grip. “I plan to be a knight, Mother. I will serve and protect the king. I must be honest and never lie. My word is my bond. It’s important that I keep it.”

  “Christ’s wounds!” she proclaimed. She was so tired of hearing about how important keeping an oath was to a man.

  Merryn glared at her son. “You are not a knight, Ancel de Montfort and you shall never be a knight unless you first learn obedience to your elders. Especially your parents. Father Dannet has told you to honor your mother.”

  She stared straight into his eyes. “So tell me now. I command you.”

  Her forceful tone caused her son’s eyes to fill with tears. He buried his face in her skirts, his small arms wrapping tightly around her. She had pushed hard enough. Ancel would tell her what she needed to know.

  Merryn drew him to sit upon the bed. Ancel snuggled next to her.

  Quietly, she asked, “Where did you see your father? And why do you think he had taken too much wine?”

  Ancel sniffed. “Tilda put us to bed, but I forget my sword in the great hall.” He dropped his eyes. “I forgot it before and Raynor threatened to take it away. He told me I was careless and that knights could not afford to be careless.”

  Shifting, Ancel raised his eyes to her. “I did not want Raynor angry with me. So I slipped out of bed and went to fetch it.” He paused. “When I left the hall, I saw Father. He could not stand up by himself.”

  “Was he sitting on the ground?” Merryn asked, gently prodding him.

  “Nay. Sir Symond had both arms about him, holding him up. He dragged him along. Sir Symond asked me to give my word and tell no one that I saw them. He said ’twould embarrass you, Father being in his cups. Sir Symond said the lord of Kinwick should be held to a higher standard. And that you deserved better.”

  Cold fear wrapped around Merryn. There had been no time for Geoffrey to become that inebriated. In fact, she had never seen him behave in such a manner. And for him to be in Symond Benedict’s company, knowing he was the man Edward had chosen for her to wed?

  Never.

  Besides, Symond had said nothing to her when they spoke this morning. Her suspicions grew.

  “Did you see where Sir Symond took your father? To bed down in the great hall?”

  Ancel frowned. “No. They passed it by. They went toward your herb room.”

  Merryn dug her fingernails into her palms. She contained the angry shriek that longed to escape from inside her because she didn’t want to frighten her son.

  Instead, she smiled at him reassuringly. “You’re a good boy, Ancel. You will make a great knight someday. Thank you for honoring the vow of honesty. ’Tis a quality each great knight possesses. Your father is one such knight. He will teach you all you need to know about being a true knight and a fine man of character.”

  She took Ancel’s face in her hands. “I know you still have doubts about your father, my boy, but he is the best of men. The best I have ever known. Even our king and the Black Prince have the utmost faith in your father and trust him with their lives. The Plantagenets know Geoffrey de Montfort to be a man of honor, and his word is truth. You will do well to learn from him.”

  She kissed her son’s forehead. “Trust in him, Ancel. I promise, you will not regret it.”

  With that, Merryn picked up her skirts and flew from the room.

  *

  Geoffrey thought back years ago to the siege of a castle in France. After weeks of attack, the commander stood firm and would not surrender. The Black Prince had said the castle would yield when enough of its inhabitants starved.

  It had taken three months.

  But those people had been able to seek out resources within the castle itself. They could find scraps to gnaw upon. Even resorting to eating dogs.

  How long could he stay alive in this empty, pitch-black cell? With access to neither food nor water, death awaited him in mere days.

  His chief regret? Merryn would never know what happened to him. She might believe he slipped into madness and fled, revealing and reliving his worst nightmares to her. Or she might think him ashamed that she knew what had occurred. That Berold had brought him to his knees and Geoffrey thought he was not good enough for her anymore.

  Would she live her life alone, as she had before his return? Could she possibly be with child again? They had coupled numerous times since his return. The sweet bonds of love had helped restore his faith in himself and their relationship. Would Merryn once more carry his child without her husband at her side, birthing the babe without his support?

  Bitter tears spilled from his eyes as he stood in the dark. Geoffrey gripped the iron bars in his hands and shook them with all his might. Already, he could tell his body weakened. He had not eaten since the noon meal yesterday.

  To be so close to his beloved and never be discovered pained him physically. No one at Kinwick came to the dungeons. No marauding invaders lurked nearby. No rebels captured in a civil war. Their workers rarely needed punishment, unlike at other great estates. It might be decades before anyone ventured down here and found his bones, wondering who the man locked within the cell might have been.

  Or Symond Benedict would return and bury Geoffrey before his body could be discovered.

  His voice, almost gone from hours of shouting, broke in a whisper as he raged against a God who would allow this to happen. Not onc
e. But twice. The whole thing had come full circle.

  And this time he had no one to free him.

  Geoffrey slumped to his knees. Hope slipped from his fingers. He pictured a worried Merryn searching Kinwick for him. Her growing despair when he could not be located. Lying in misery in their bed, her pillow soaked with futile tears.

  Word would be sent to the king. This time, Edward would act swiftly. He had already decided which knight to reward, so making the decision would not be difficult.

  He imagined Symond Benedict riding triumphantly through the gates of Kinwick, elated to claim his reward. Marrying Merryn and banishing Ancel and Alys to a household far away.

  Then making love to his new wife.

  Geoffrey could not rid himself of the agonizing images. Benedict’s rough hands gliding along Merryn’s smooth skin. Running through her silken hair. Grasping her buttocks and yanking her toward him. Coupling with her.

  He longed for death to come swiftly and end this torment.

  Not once in all his years in the dank cell at Winterbourne had Geoffrey wished for death. Every fiber in his being wished to return to Merryn. That longing had caused him to fight to live. But this time was different.

  Geoffrey curled into a ball.

  Wait . . .

  After years in isolation, his hearing still remained sharp. Eagerly, he sat up.

  He heard something.

  Once again, despair melted away as he sensed the change in the air. He saw a faint light glowing in the distance, moving toward him.

  Geoffrey cried out, but his weakened voice was barely above a whisper. It sounded as a babe who might whimper fussily, wanting more of his mother’s milk, but too sleepy to protest.

  Using the bars again to pull himself to his feet, he beat his hands against them. Any noise to bring someone close.

  Suddenly, Merryn stood before his cell, a lantern in her hand. The anguish on her face melted away, replaced by a look of surprise and then utter joy.

  Steadying himself as he held the bars tightly, Geoffrey leaned his forehead against them, overcome with emotion. Merryn’s arms came through the bars, grasping his face, pulling him toward her. She kissed him. He tasted her salty tears. More importantly, he tasted her love. He would not die alone. His wife had rescued him again, in more ways than one.

  Breaking their kiss, she demanded, “How the Devil do I get you out of here?”

  Chapter 34

  “Look for the keys to the cell. They often hang on the wall.” Geoffrey paused. “That’s where Berold kept them, across from my prison. Always within sight. Never within reach.”

  Merryn’s stomach roiled at the thought. She still found it hard to believe the earl had locked her husband away from the world for so many years. To hear the way out of the cell faced him was almost more than she could bear.

  She lifted the lantern to the stone wall across from the cells and searched for the key.

  “Here!” she cried, spying a hook. But no keys hung from it. She believed Symond had taken them for spite.

  Merryn returned to Geoffrey. Her hand caressed his cheek. “They are not here. I’ll go and find help to free you.” She paused, wanting to make light of the horrible situation. “This time you better still be here when I return.”

  Her husband’s jaw dropped in disbelief before he roared with laughter. “Christ in Heaven, Merryn. Only you would dare to say such a thing to me.” He caught her hands and pressed a kiss upon her knuckles. “I will always be here for you, my love. Always.”

  She nodded and hurried from the dungeons, not wanting him to see the tears threatening to spill. Merryn hated leaving him in darkness, but she needed the light she had brought to return above stairs. Hustling up the long flight, anger at Symond Benedict built until it washed over her, ready to spill out. If the royal guardsman had been waiting upstairs, Merryn knew in her heart that she would have killed him on the spot without hesitation.

  As she reached the top, she found Ancel lurking about, a worried look upon his face.

  “Where were you, Mother?”

  Setting down the lantern, Merryn drew the boy to her in a tight embrace and kissed the top of his head. “I found your father, Ancel, but I must go for help.”

  Eagerness sprang to his face. “I can help!”

  She smoothed his hair. “Not now, little love. Go find Alys and play with her.”

  Merryn hurried down the hallway and left the keep. She saw Raynor striding across the bailey and Hugh accompanied him.

  “I found him,” she called out, rushing toward them. Briefly explaining, she watched both men’s anger rise as she spoke.

  “I will kill Symond Benedict,” Raynor ground out.

  “You might want to leave that to Geoffrey. I believe he will take great pleasure in doing so. Go and find Gilbert. We need several men to break through the bars. I’m sure Geoffrey will want to ride out as soon as he’s freed, so have Gilbert ready the men, as well.”

  Her brother nodded grimly. “I had come to see how you fared after the king’s visit. I cannot believe this ghastly business.” Hugh placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’ll return to Wellbury immediately and ready a hundred men. We will ride with Geoffrey’s men in a show of support.”

  “Thank you, Hugh. That would mean a great deal to him.” To Raynor, she said, “Bring several torches when you come.”

  Both Hugh and Raynor took off. Merryn went to the kitchens and grabbed a hunk of cheese, along with some bread and two roasted chicken legs. She set them on a tray and thought to bring a pitcher of ale, too. She knew it had been many hours since Geoffrey ate or drank anything. He would need his strength to go after Symond Benedict.

  Merryn reached the entrance to the dungeons. It did not surprise her to see her son awaited her. She balanced the tray against her waist as he lifted the lantern, but Ancel told her he would carry it. Her son silently fell into step with her as they descended the long flight of stone stairs to the dungeon. She decided not to hide anything from the boy. He must know what wickedness had occurred and that his father would seek justice.

  They reached Geoffrey. Ancel set the lantern down at the edge of the bars. Merryn watched Geoffrey give his son an encouraging smile.

  “Why are you down here, Father?”

  “Because a very bad man locked me in a cell and took the key,” he rasped.

  “Sir Symond?”

  “Aye.”

  Ancel thought about that. “He wasn’t helping you last night? I saw you with him.”

  Geoffrey drew in a long breath and then expelled it. “Nay, Son. He attacked me as I left a chamber. I never saw him. He knocked me unconscious and brought me here.”

  “But he’s a knight!” Ancel cried. “He broke his word of honor.”

  Merryn’s heart hurt. Ancel was so young to learn that such evil existed in the world. Mayhap he would grow wiser at a young age, having been exposed to its existence.

  “He did break the code of chivalry. Most knights are good men and strive to honor their oath all the days of their service, but some allow greed to rise above the good they are pledged to do. Symond Benedict is one such man. He wanted something that was not his and decided he would do whatever it took to possess it.”

  “Kinwick?” the boy asked.

  “Aye. He thought if I was gone, then the king would give him the land and woman he coveted.”

  “He would have been my father,” Ancel whispered.

  Geoffrey placed his hands through the bars and rested them upon Ancel’s shoulders. “Nay. You are my son. You will always be my son. And I shall love you till I am an old man and your own sons run about, laughing and playing.”

  Merryn wiped away a tear at the thought. She sent a prayer up to the Heavenly Father, thanking Him that she’d found Geoffrey and that they would be able to grow old together.

  “I wasn’t sure if I wanted you to come back,” Ancel admitted.

  Geoffrey squeezed the boy’s shoulders gently. “I know. You have been
the man of Kinwick and your mother’s protector. It’s hard to take on that responsibility at your young age and it’s even harder when you find it snatched from you.”

  “I’m sorry, Father,” Ancel said. He squared his shoulders. “I will help free you,” he declared.

  “We can use all the help we can get,” Gilbert called out.

  Merryn turned and saw a crew of Kinwick men arriving, armed with torches and poleaxes in hand.

  “Move away, lad,” Gilbert commanded. “We shall lay our axes to this iron and have your father out in no time.”

  “Should you hold fire to it first?” Geoffrey asked. “To weaken it?”

  “We can,” Raynor said. “Step back, Geoffrey.”

  “Let me give him something to eat first,” Merryn said, her womanly instincts taking over. She passed him the food and drink through the bars. “You will need your strength for when we leave Kinwick.”

  “We?”

  She grinned. “You don’t think I would remain behind?”

  He returned the smile. “I never doubted it.” He retreated to the rear of the cell and attacked the food with enthusiasm.

  Several men stepped up and held flames to the iron for some minutes before they took their poleaxes to task. The pounding continued for some time. Even Ancel tried to help, slamming his wooden sword into the bars, yelling for them to come down.

  “Careful, you don’t want your sword to break,” Merryn warned him.

  Ancel backed away and continued to watch the men work. Geoffrey finished his meal and moved again to the front of the cell. Merryn went to stand beside him. The bars separated their bodies, but their fingers entwined in unity.

  Finally, some of the iron began to give way. After much labor, enough bars were removed for Geoffrey to squeeze through the opening. She fell into his arms, smothering him with kisses.

  “Enough,” he told her and she knew it was only because so many of his men were present. “We must make ready to leave. Where was the royal progress heading next?”