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

by Alexa Aston

  A sudden movement outside the window caught her eye. Beatrice raced to see who had arrived. It was as she feared.

  Amfrid.

  Quickly, she pocketed the ring and hurried to the table. She swept all but two of the gold coins from the table and placed them in her deep pocket, along with the key. Beatrice returned two coins and the papers to the chest and quickly took it to its place in the corner under a table. She folded the cloth that rested atop the table back over it, hiding the strongbox from view.

  Amfrid knocked at the front door. She answered it since Tolly had gathered their remaining chickens and the goat to take to market to sell as they prepared to leave.

  Beatrice took a calming breath and opened the door.

  “Good afternoon—”

  “I heard of Sir Henry’s death.” Amfrid pushed past her and strode into the room she had just vacated, having trouble fitting through the narrow doorway.

  “Yes, both he and—”

  “I am here to collect the rent due.” His piggish eyes swept across the room, assessing things.

  “I know that Grandfather—”

  “Where is the strongbox?” he demanded. “I need my monies immediately.”

  She fought the bile rising in her throat. Beatrice had never been comfortable in this man’s presence, but her grandfather had always acted as a shield whenever Amfrid called upon them.

  “I’ll fetch it.” Her legs felt like lead as she crossed the room and knelt where the strongbox sat. She lifted the cloth.

  Amfrid hovered behind her. “I’ll get it.” He nudged her aside with a booted foot and dragged the strongbox from its place and carried it to the table.

  She watched him lick his thick lips greedily as he stared at the strongbox.

  “The key. You have it?”

  “I do.” She eased it from her pocket because she didn’t want any of the hidden coins to jingle in her pocket. She handed it to Amfrid and he inserted it into the lock.

  His eyes lit with anticipation when he threw back the lid. Beatrice thanked Christ Almighty that she’d had time to conceal most of the coins. If not, the landlord would’ve taken everything in the box and left her with nothing.

  Amfrid tossed the papers aside, scattering them to the floor. He shoved both hands inside and felt around. A deep frown creased his brow. He removed the two gold coins she had placed inside the strongbox.

  “This is everything?” he said in dismay. “Surely, he had more.”

  Beatrice shook her head. “I cannot say. Grandfather never shared his business affairs with me. He only instructed me to be very careful with our household expenses.”

  He held up a coin in each hand. “I can’t believe this is all that Sir Henry had to his name. It barely covers the rent that he owed.” Amfrid slipped the coins into his pocket and narrowed his eyes as he studied her. Then his face lit up. “Actually, now that I think upon it, Sir Henry owed me much more than the value of these gold coins.”

  Suddenly, Beatrice knew what he looked at.

  The pearl necklace.

  Wild thoughts raced through her head. She would do or say anything to keep this link to her parents.

  “I am in the process of closing things up at the manor house. Before his death, Grandfather was going to take me north. To Brookhaven. To . . . to . . . my betrothed,” she sputtered. The lie came out before it had fully formed in her thoughts.

  Beatrice saw the greedy landlord mull over her words.

  She rushed to assure him. “I am sure that if Grandfather left any outstanding debts, my betrothed will make good on them. Let me know how much should be rendered and I’ll make sure that you receive payment.”

  Amfrid took a step toward her and placed his meaty hands upon her shoulders. His fingers tightened till Beatrice almost gasped in pain, but she remained perfectly still.

  He brought his face close to hers. His rank breath made her want to flinch, but she stood strong.

  “Tell your betrothed that I am owed forty, no, fifty pieces of gold.”

  Her eyes widened. “Surely, you must be mistaken. That amount would cover years of rent.”

  He glared at her. “I keep careful records. I am never mistaken when it comes to money. I’ll expect your intended to pay me. In full.” His eyes gleamed. “Until then, I will keep this lovely bit of jewelry to guarantee I receive my payment.” He fingered the pearls, the back of his hand resting upon the curve of her breast.

  “Please,” she pleaded, her eyes filling with tears. “This necklace is the only thing of value that I possess. My father gave it to my mother and she passed it along to me. It has great sentimental value.”

  Amfrid’s fingers returned to her shoulders and dug into her tender flesh. “Take the necklace off,” he ordered. He left no room for protest.

  She did as he asked, reaching behind her neck and undoing the clasp. As she lowered the necklace, he snatched it from her. He inspected the pearls, looking quite pleased.

  Seeing the prized possession in Amfrid’s hands caused something to break inside Beatrice. Without fear of the consequences, she plucked the necklace from his fingers.

  “You can’t have this,” she boldly told the landlord. “I told you, my betrothed will make good on any of Grandfather’s debts.” She held the pearls close to her chest, unwilling to part with the only link she had to her mother.

  Shock filled the man’s face. His gaze turned threatening. “Woman, give me those pearls now,” he warned, “or I’ll take them from you.”

  Beatrice knew he would make good on his threat. There was nothing she could do. Reluctantly, she handed the necklace over to him. She crossed her arms protectively in front of her and took a step back. “Be sure you do not sell them,” she said, her tone icy. “I plan to pass these pearls along to my daughter one day.”

  He snorted. “I won’t—as long as I receive payment from your husband-to-be.”

  She had no way of ever retrieving the necklace. Even if she did, it was far more valuable than what he asked. She realized that, sooner or later, he would sell the necklace for a large profit. Especially when he did not receive word from her.

  Amfrid pocketed the jewelry. “I bid you good day.” He crossed the room and exited the manor house.

  Beatrice slumped to the floor. Angry tears spilled down her cheeks. She brushed them aside, hating that she was a weak woman. A man would never have stood for such behavior. He would have called Amfrid out for his lies, challenging him to fight.

  She vowed that she would learn to fight. And somehow, some way, she would acquire the money Amfrid demanded. Beatrice would see that pearl necklace around her neck once more.

  Even if it was her last act upon earth.

  Chapter 3

  Raynor Le Roux gasped. “You stabbed me!” he said in disbelief as he looked down at his opponent.

  Alys de Montfort gave him a triumphant smile. “Because you weren’t paying attention,” the child told him. “You taught Ancel and me that focus is the most important part of sparring.” She jabbed at him again with the wooden sword in her hand.

  This time, he parried, turning aside and pushing against her sword. He knocked it from her hand. Alys scrambled to reclaim it, but Raynor put a booted foot on top of it.

  She huffed out a long breath and tapped her foot impatiently. He stifled the laughter that threatened to erupt. Already, Alys resembled her mother, Merryn, in every way, from her tall, lithe frame to her chestnut hair and fiery temperament. Little Alys de Montfort was destined to be a beauty and a handful to the man that claimed her one day.

  He retrieved the wooden sword that he’d fashioned for her. She had complained bitterly when he made one for her twin and demanded that he also make one for her—and teach her how to use it. Alys snatched the weapon from his hand.

  “It’s almost time for me to go,” he told her, affectionately brushing a finger down her nose. “Fetch your brother. I’ll duel with you both one last time before I leave.”

  Alys rewarded h
im with a sweet smile and skipped away.

  Raynor’s gaze swept over the training yard where Lord Geoffrey de Montfort’s knights engaged in practice. Some fought in pairs, wielding swords or maces. Others worked one-on-one with a squire, putting them through their paces.

  He would miss Kinwick.

  Once, Raynor had hoped it would be his home and that Merryn would become his wife. He fingered the blue garter that he always carried in his pocket. He’d taken it from Merryn’s leg the day of her wedding to Geoffrey. But the turn of events in the last several months had written a much different story than the one Raynor had imagined.

  His eyes found Geoffrey, who showed a young lad exactly how to wield a heavy bastard sword in two hands. The squire swung it awkwardly. Geoffrey patiently corrected him several times as he showed the boy how to move smoothly with the weapon.

  Raynor loved his cousin as a brother. The two had spent their entire boyhoods together, first fostering as pages and squires before they trained to be knights under Sir Lovel. Raynor felt closer to Geoffrey than he did his own brother, Peter, and had stood beside his best friend when he married Merryn Mantel.

  And Raynor had searched high and low for Geoffrey when he disappeared the day after he wed.

  When Geoffrey failed to turn up, Raynor began to spend more time at Kinwick, watching over Merryn and the twins. He’d fantasized they were his. He loved children and had spent so much time with Ancel and Alys—cheering their first steps, helping them learn to ride—it seemed as if he had sired them.

  More importantly, he found himself falling deeply in love with Geoffrey’s widow, a woman of considerable intelligence and astounding beauty. Yet, she had only looked upon him as a close friend whom she could depend upon. When a much-changed Geoffrey returned after being gone close to seven years, Raynor had not trusted this stranger. Especially when his comrade refused to reveal where he’d been and why he stayed away from his home for so long.

  It took Geoffrey’s being secretly imprisoned by Sir Symond Benedict in the Kinwick dungeons and a trip to see King Edward himself before Raynor learned of the plot Lord Berold of Winterbourne had concocted. Only then, did Raynor understand how his cousin had suffered for many years apart from his family, with no hope of ever returning to them.

  That nightmare was now in the past with Lord Berold’s death. Geoffrey had been freed by Berold’s son, Hardwin. After a few months of eating the heavenly meals provided by Kinwick’s cook, Geoffrey had gained back his weight and strength. His cousin, once again, walked proudly and had love in his heart.

  Though Geoffrey had changed, he’d become an even better man than before. Raynor finally trusted his friend again. Life at Kinwick had returned to normal, and Raynor knew it was time for him to go home to Ashcroft. The recent missive he’d received from Gobert, Ashcroft’s steward, implored him to address a multitude of problems that needed his attention.

  Alys returned with her twin, and Raynor took on the two of them. Both had learned their lessons well. Each moved with a fluid grace and anticipated his moves.

  “There you are!” Merryn called out.

  Raynor lowered his weapon, and Ancel and Alys went in for the kill. He spun from their grasp and dropped his own sword as he quickly grabbed each twin around the waist and carried them kicking and swinging over to their mother.

  “Stop at once,” Merryn commanded, her voice soft but firm.

  The children respected her wish. They lowered their weapons and stilled their feet.

  “Can you be trusted?” Raynor asked them.

  Both nodded, and he set them on the ground.

  “Now give me a hug and a kiss, for I need to be on the road.”

  They protested at first, begging him to stay, but one glance from their mother silenced them. Raynor knelt and gave each a firm embrace. He received kisses from both and promised them he would return to visit as he always had. They retrieved their swords and hurried back to the training yard to engage each other in friendly combat.

  “I couldn’t find you anywhere,” Merryn said. “I was afraid you had left without saying goodbye.”

  “I told the little ones that we would spar once more before I headed out.”

  She smiled. “They have enjoyed the swords you made for them. Ancel swears he will be the best prepared page in all of England when he leaves to foster with Hardie.”

  “He will be. And I had to teach Alys enough clever moves so she could protect herself once she departs for court.”

  Merryn laughed. “I doubt the queen will allow her to carry around a wooden sword, Raynor.”

  He grinned. “Mayhap I showed Alys ways to defend herself from ill-mannered court pages without having to use her sword.”

  Merryn rolled her eyes. “I can see it now. Queen Philippa will send my child home for poking out the eyes of a future duke—or worse. Knowing you, I am sure you taught her to fight dirty.”

  Raynor shrugged. “Only if a boy grows too familiar with her. Then I gave her permission to kick him in—”

  “Enough!” she cried. “I’m sure the king will be highly amused by her antics. The queen, doubtful.”

  “Alys will excel at court. Ancel, too, will thrive when he leaves to foster at Winterbourne’s estate.”

  Merryn touched his arm. “I will be sorry to see them go. And you, also.” She paused. “No words would ever be adequate enough to show you my gratitude for what you’ve done for Kinwick these past several years. You have taken great care of us, Raynor. All of us.”

  He put a hand atop hers and squeezed it. “But Geoffrey is home now. It’s time for me to return to Ashcroft.”

  “I hope you will not be a stranger to us.”

  “Of course not,” he assured her. “But you need time with Geoffrey now, while I must see to things at home.”

  “Are they so very bad?”

  He shrugged. “I hope Gobert has exaggerated the situation, but I have prepared myself for the worst.” Raynor looked up and saw that Geoffrey was walking toward them.

  His cousin threw an arm about him. “The twins said you are off soon.”

  “I am.”

  “You should at least stay for the noon meal,” Merryn chided. “It will be served soon.”

  “No. I’m ready to be on the road. ’Twill be dark by the time I arrive.”

  “I’ll walk with you to the stables,” Geoffrey offered.

  “I’ll see that your things are brought from your chamber and waiting for you,” Merryn promised. She turned and headed toward the keep.

  The two men left for the stables. Raynor greeted everyone they passed. He’d become so much a part of life at Kinwick that he knew all by name. Still, he had nothing to show for putting his own life on hold for several years. Like any man, he longed for a wife and children of his own. He wished for love, stability, and purpose.

  That, too, would have to wait, at least until he knew what the situation was at Ashcroft.

  They reached the stables and Geoffrey ordered a groom to have Fury saddled.

  Geoffrey turned to Raynor, tears brimming in his eyes. Since Geoffrey had returned, he wore his emotions close to the surface—something the stoic Geoffrey of old never had revealed.

  “I can never repay you for the loving care you bestowed upon Merryn and the twins in my absence. Thank you for your friendship, which goes back as far as my memory does.” He gripped Raynor’s arm. “Know that you’ll always have a home with us.”

  Raynor threw his arms around Geoffrey and pounded him hard on the back.

  “You and your family mean the world to me, Cousin. Thank you for your love and friendship.” He spied the groom bringing Fury and released Geoffrey. “I’ll visit again soon.” Raynor mounted and waved before he spurred his horse on.

  Trotting through the inner bailey, he reached the stairs that led up to the keep and found Merryn waiting. She handed him a bag and he tied it to his horse.

  “Take care, Raynor. Try to come for Christmas if you can. If not sooner.” />
  “I will do my best.”

  “Godspeed.”

  He nodded to Gilbert, the captain of Geoffrey’s guard, and to the twins as they jumped up and down, waving wildly at him as he rode by.

  Crossing into the outer bailey, he motioned the gatekeeper as he approached. The man signaled for the gates to be opened and Raynor rode through without breaking stride. As he galloped away from Kinwick, he didn’t look back.

  Raynor wondered if and when he would return.

  Chapter 4

  “Should we stop soon, Tolly?” Beatrice asked. She hoped the servant would agree to the suggestion since the jostling of the rickety cart had her insides feeling like runny jam. She dreaded the remainder of the trip and wished their destination was closer.

  They had left home three days ago. She rode in the back of the cart, as far from the horse as she could get. To steady herself from the bumps in the road, she braced her back against the trunk and protected her lute by keeping it in her lap. The instrument was her most precious possession. Playing it had saved her sanity many times.

  They’d camped in the woods on both of the previous nights, making sure to set their fire back from the road to avoid other travelers. With coin scarce, Beatrice looked forward to spending the night at the convent tomorrow night. She was already tired of sleeping on the unforgiving ground. Tolly had explained, for a small donation, travelers were able to enjoy the hospitality of the nuns.

  Her servant had lit a lantern in the cart in case it grew dark before they reached a good campsite. She deliberately faced away from the horse, focusing on whatever she could see. She hated that she feared the beasts, but that fear had remained with her ever since her father’s death.

  “Just a bit farther, my lady. There’s a stream where we can water the horse and refresh ourselves.”

  Beatrice trusted him completely. Tolly had traveled throughout the south of England with his father when he was growing up.

  She had high hopes her grandfather’s friend would not only take her in but would offer work to her servant, as well. Tolly had proved to be loyal to her grandfather over the years. He had been present when Beatrice arrived with her mother and had remained a part of her life.