Brides of the North: A Medieval Scottish Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  In truth, it had been a pleasant trip once the fog lifted and the sun came out. The rolling hills of Dorset were green and lush, and the smell of foliage was heavy in the air. Diamantha and Sophie were midway in the group, well protected by de Bretagne’s men, while Cortez rode up at the front of the column with two of his knights. He hadn’t said anything to Diamantha since leaving Corfe, and the journey in general was rather quiet except for Sophie and her chatter with Merlin.

  Diamantha could see him, however, up at the front on his big black and white charger with the hairy legs. He was hard to miss, being as big as he was, and he rode without his helm. She could see his black head clearly. With him in her line of sight a good deal of the time, she had spent the entire trip north pondering their acquaintance since the moment he had appeared in George’s solar and told her of her destiny. It had been rough, no doubt, and she couldn’t help but compare it to her courtship with Robert, which had been very sweet and pleasant. Robert had been a very amiable man and Cortez was not. He was arrogant and aggressive, and she didn’t like it one bit. She wondered what hell she was in for with this marriage. If she had any courage, she’d take her daughter and run off to the nearest convent right now and be done with it.

  As she contemplated life in a nunnery versus life as the wife of Cortez de Bretagne, the sky had clouded over and very quickly a storm set upon them. The road, well-traveled and rather rocky, had soon become a muddy swamp of dark brown soup. Diamantha’s palfrey was a durable creature and plodded through it without much fuss, but the men on foot were having an increasingly difficult time. More than once they’d had to push the provisions wagon out of the heavy ruts. By the time they reached the crest of the hill overlooking Sherborne, everyone in the party, with the exception of Sophie, was a fairly soggy mess.

  Once de Bretagne’s castle was in sight, they made haste for it. Sherborne Castle, much like Corfe Castle, covered a lot of ground, and the ground Sherborne sat atop of was flat. As they drew closer, Diamantha could see the towering gatehouse, three stories tall, and enormous curtain walls with a massive ditch below them. As big as Corfe Castle was, and it was enormously big, Sherborne could compete with it on that scale. The soaring walls had to be twenty feet high and the depth of the very large moat was unfathomable. It was filled with muck and rot, and as the party passed over the drawbridge and into the great yawning gatehouse, Diamantha tried not to look at the moat. She was positive it would make her ill.

  Once inside the gatehouse, the passageway was surprisingly narrow until it spilled them out into a massive bailey beyond. In the center of the bailey was a complex of buildings, not unlike the complex of buildings at Corfe, only these seemed tightly clustered together by comparison. A four-storied, gray-stoned keep was part of the complex. As the rain poured and the thunder rolled, men ran out to greet the incoming party, taking the horses away and moving the provisions wagon off to the south where the stables were stationed. As Diamantha sat on top of her palfrey, looking rather lost as efficient chaos went on around her, a very tall and very blond young knight was suddenly at her side.

  “Lady de Bretagne?” he greeted though the pouring rain. “My name is James. I am to take you out of this weather.”

  Diamantha was wet and exhausted. As Merlin rushed up to help, she opened her cloak and allowed her daughter to slide down into Merlin’s waiting arms. The young knight reached up and politely lifted her from the palfrey, swiftly escorting her towards what seemed to be the keep of Sherborne. It was four stories, rather big and block-like, and there was a massive oak and iron door that opened up to the bailey. It was now open, waiting for them to enter.

  As James escorted her through the door, she noticed that the walls were very thick because the door itself had a small portcullis, partially raised. The door opened up into a corridor of sorts. There was a darkened passageway to the right and stairs leading up to the left. He took her up the steps with Merlin and Sophie following. The keep was cold and dark, and Diamantha kept turning around to glance at her daughter as Merlin carried her up the stairs. Sophie’s eyes were wide at the new, scary place and this time, it was Merlin keeping up the patter of small talk. In truth, he was very gentle with Sophie, which pleased Diamantha greatly.

  The stairs opened up into a first floor chamber, a rather large room with a massive fireplace that servants were tending. Smoke billowed out into the room, rising to the ceiling, which had a round, wheel-like chandelier that was lit with several fat tallow tapers. A rope connected the chandelier to a nearby wall for easy lowering and lifting in order to light the tapers. There was a table in the middle of the chamber, near the hearth, and as Diamantha approached, she could see that there was food upon it.

  There were many servants rushing about. As James moved to help her remove her cloak, a round female servant with a tight kerchief around her head hustled up and collected it.

  “I’ll go shake this out, m’lady,” the woman told her. “Sit by the fire and dry out. The poppet, too.”

  Diamantha turned to acknowledge the woman, seeing that she was helping Sophie remove her little woolen cloak. Sophie was still in Merlin’s arms and seemed disinclined to let go of the man at the moment. The expression on her face told Diamantha that her daughter was sufficiently intimidated by their new surroundings. She held her arms out to the little girl.

  “Thank you, sergeant,” she said softly. “I will take her now.”

  Merlin handed the little girl over, who immediately clung to her mother as Diamantha moved over by the fire. More servants rushed up to put a stool next to the fire for her to sit on, which she accepted gratefully. Sophie wasn’t wet, but Diamantha was; she held out a wet, freezing hand to the warmth of the blaze, relishing the heat it delivered. As she dried out her wet flesh, she noticed that James and Merlin were still standing over by the table, more than likely on Cortez’s order not to leave her. They were watching her with both curiosity and uncertainty. Diamantha looked around the chamber which seemed to run from one side of the keep to the other.

  “Is this your feasting hall?” she asked, simply to break the ice.

  James shook his head. “Nay, Lady de Bretagne,” he replied in his deep, smooth voice. “This is a secondary hall. It is mostly where we eat. The great hall is only used when the bishop is in residence or when Cortez is conducting court.”

  Diamantha had flinched at the sound of her new title, fighting down the sorrow it provoked. She knew she had to get used to it and even though she understood very well that she had married the man, still, a greater part of her didn’t want to hear the confirmation. She wasn’t ready to, not yet. But rather than dwell on it at the moment, as it could not be helped, something the knight said caught her attention. She turned to look at him.

  “Court?” she repeated. “What does he do?”

  James came around the table so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck. There was a hint of a grin on his face. “It is rather complicated, but it goes something like this,” he said. “Sherborne Castle belongs to the Bishop of Salisbury, who is Simon of Ghent. The man is also the Chancellor of the University of Oxford and the Archdeacon of Oxford, and spends most of his time there. Being that he is allied with our king, he has allowed Edward to station Cortez here as a garrison commander. We are stocked with a mixture of the bishop’s men and crown troops. In the bishop’s absence, Cortez is also the law for both the king and the church. He hears cases every month and dispenses justice.”

  Diamantha hadn’t known that. It was rather impressive if she thought about it. “What is Cortez to Edward, then? Has he been granted special powers by the king?”

  James nodded. “He is acting Sheriff of the Shire, my lady,” the knight replied. “In reward for his exemplary service at Falkirk, Edward has bestowed much wealth and power on Sir Cortez.”

  Diamantha’s interested expression faded. Exemplary service at Falkirk, she thought bitterly. He left my husband to die at Falkirk. It wasn’t exactly the truth and she knew it, but it didn’t sto
p her resentful thoughts. Not wanting to speak her mind, however, because such a thing could only cause confusion and bitterness, she shifted the subject.

  “And you, Sir James?” she glanced at him as she began to untie the little cap from Sophie’s head. “Where are you from?”

  James was very polite and professional in his answer. “I was born at Lioncross Abbey on the Welsh Marches,” he replied. “I have been in the service of Sir Cortez for two years come September.”

  Diamantha looked at him curiously. “Lioncross Abbey?” she repeated. “The seat of the House of de Lohr?”

  James nodded. “Aye,” he said. “My name is de Lohr.”

  Diamantha smiled faintly. “My grandmother was a daughter of the great Christopher de Lohr,” she said. “How are you related to him?”

  James seemed surprised at her declaration at first, then pleased. “Christopher de Lohr is my great-grandfather,” he said, warming to the conversation as he shifted out of professional mode. “My father was a son of Christopher’s eldest son, Curtis. Who is your grandmother?”

  “Brielle,” Diamantha replied. “She was Christopher de Lohr’s second daughter.”

  James smiled brightly. “She was only three years older than my grandfather,” he said. “They are brother and sister. I met her, once, when I was very small. She is still alive, is she not?”

  Diamantha was thrilled to find a relative here amongst strangers. “Indeed she is,” she replied. “She lives far to the north with my grandfather, who is still alive also. He is a son of the great warlord, Ajax de Velt.”

  James, in his comfort, sat down on the bench that was situated next to Diamantha’s stool. He, too, was very happy to discover a new relative.

  “Ah, yes, de Velt,” he said, pondering that information. “A great warlord, indeed. Ruthless and savage in his younger years.”

  Diamantha nodded. “You know of him, do you?” she asked. “Well, I suppose most people in England do. His legends are quite frightening but he eventually settled down, thankfully.”

  James lifted his eyebrows to agree. “Thankfully, indeed,” he agreed. “I heard tale that the man used to… well, I suppose that is not a story for female company. Suffice it to say that I am honored to know that I am related to Sir Cortez’s new wife. I must write my grandfather to tell him of this happenstance. He will be quite thrilled by it.”

  Diamantha grinned, pulling the cap off of Sophie’s head and allowing the little girl to slip from her lap. She held on to the back of her dress, however, so the child couldn’t wander too near the flames of the hearth.

  “What a small world this is,” she said, studying James and seeing that he had the very blond de Lohr hair and sky-blue eyes. He was perhaps five or more years older than she was; not too terribly old. “Since our great-grandfather had seven children, I knew there were many cousins that I have not met yet. Imagine finding one here at Sherborne.”

  James nodded. “Indeed,” he agreed. “I remember my father telling me that there were at least a hundred of us descended from Christopher, possibly more. And, of course, Christopher’s brother, David, had many children as well. There is an entire branch of the de Lohr family in Canterbury that I’ve not yet met, although I did come across a cousin at Falkirk by the name of Macsen du Bois. His mother is descended from David de Lohr, but Macsen must look like his father’s side of the family because he was an enormous man with black hair. He looked like a big, shaggy bear.”

  Diamantha giggled. “Mayhap someday we will be able to visit our family in Canterbury,” she said. “Honestly, I have spent most of my life in Northumberland. Only when I married did I move south to Dorset. Robert kept me at Corfe Castle most of the time. He said there was not much worth seeing outside of the beauty of Dorset.”

  James’ smile faded at the mention of Robert Edlington. “I knew your first husband,” he said softly. “Rob was a good man. His was a great loss.”

  Diamantha sobered quickly. She thought perhaps that she could see something in James’ expression, something more than just general sympathy. There was grief there, too.

  “You knew him well?” she ventured softly. “Was he a friend?”

  James nodded. “He was,” he said. “We slept in the same shelter the night before the battle at Falkirk. He sat up all night… well, it was only soldier’s talk. He was unable to sleep and kept us all awake because of it.”

  Diamantha was very interested. “What talk?” she wanted to know. “What did he say?”

  James wasn’t sure he should say any more, but he was cornered. He’d already broached the subject and could not refuse her question. “He spoke of you and he spoke of his mother a great deal,” he said quietly. “He said that his daughter looked just like his mother. He said that he missed her very much. But you… he said the longing for you was unfathomable.”

  Tears sprang to Diamantha’s eyes and she lowered her head, unwilling to let the man see her agony. She was trying so very desperately to be strong through all of this but other than Cortez’s story about Robert’s death, this was the first she’d heard about him in those final hours. The tears popped out onto her cheeks and she wiped them away quickly.

  “I miss him,” she whispered. “Thank you for telling me that.”

  James watched her lowered head. “I am sorry to have upset you,” he said quietly. “That was not my intention.”

  She nodded quickly and patted his hand to let him know that she wasn’t angry with him. “I very much appreciate that you told me,” she said, struggling to be brave. “Mayhap someday you will tell me a little more about your night with him before the battle.”

  James nodded, although he wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. He had been at Corfe Castle when Cortez had gone to collect his bride so he knew there was some animosity between them. Certainly it was no love match and rumor had it that it was because Lady Edlington, or now Lady de Bretagne, was still in mourning for her husband. He felt very badly for the situation in general, but he knew something Diamantha did not – he knew Cortez. He knew the man and his character. As he watched her lowered head, he thought to reassure her somehow.

  “My lady,” he said softly. “Forgive me for speaking on a subject that is none of my affair, but I would like to say… I would like to tell you that although I am very saddened for your loss of Robert, please know that Cortez is a very fine man also. I realize he can be… abrupt. And quick to temper. But no finer knight has ever walked this earth, and he has a true and solid sense of honor. He is also generous and emotional to a fault. I have seen it myself. Do not… what I mean to say is that he will be good to you and to your daughter. You must not despair. He will be kind to you if you will let him.”

  By the time he was finished speaking, Diamantha was looking at him with an expression between hope and doubt. It was rather strange, but very powerful. It was clear that she wasn’t quite sure what to say to him.

  “I am not in despair,” she assured him, although it was a lie. “But I am grateful for your concern.”

  James opened his mouth to reply when boot falls suddenly filled the chamber. They were harsh and loud against the dusty wood floor, creaking the joists with their power. James stood up from the bench, swiftly, to see that Cortez had entered the room. He was soaking wet from head to toe, his black hair plastered against his head, but he had a basket in his hand that was somewhat dry. It was covered by a cloth and the man’s gaze seemed to be on Sophie as he approached. He didn’t look at Diamantha and he barely looked at James.

  “My lord,” James greeted. “Your lady wife and her daughter are settled in and tended. They were just drying out.”

  Cortez’s gaze was mostly on Sophie. “Very well,” he acknowledged. “You may see to your other duties, de Lohr. I will send for you if I need you.”

  James nodded smartly and, with a brief smile to Diamantha, quit the room and took Merlin, who had been lingering in the shadows, with him. He also motioned to the servants to stay out of the room, and quickly, th
ose remaining in the chamber cleared out. The mood of the chamber had changed the moment Cortez had entered and no one wanted to be a part of it. Very shortly, it was only Cortez, Diamantha, and Sophie, clustered near the hearth. The only sounds filling the cold, stone-walled room were those of the rain outside and the snapping fire.

  Diamantha was watching Cortez closely but he seemed exclusively focused on Sophie, who had somehow managed to find a small straw broom and was pretending to sweep the hearth. She swept up clouds of ash dust as Cortez sank down onto the bench formerly occupied by James. He set the basket down beside him.

  “Lady Sophie,” he said. “I thought you would like to know that General is in his own stall now eating his supper. He is well.”

  Sophie stopped sweeping and turned to him. “Where is he?” she wanted to know. “I want to see him.”

  Cortez pointed to the windows and the rain that was dripping down on the inside of the walls from the open sills.

  “It is raining very badly,” he told her. “General is warm and safe right now. I will take you to see him when the rain stops. Meanwhile, I found something in the stables that I think you and your mother might like.”

  Sophie let the broom fall to the ground and made her way over to him just as he pulled the cloth off the basket. Inside were two small kittens, a multi-colored one and a white one with black spots. Sophie squealed with delight as Cortez lifted the multi-colored kitten out and handed it to her.

  “I brought you a kitten because I thought you might like to take care of him,” he said. “I did not want you to be lonely without a pet since General cannot come inside.”