Brides of the North: A Medieval Scottish Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  It was time for the child to stretch her legs before they continued along their way. However, the moment Diamantha put Sophie on her feet, the little girl ran off. Diamantha scurried after her with Andres following close behind.

  Although Cortez’s brother wasn’t in charge of watching his brother’s new wife, he happened to be the closest, so he followed. Even though he was still stinging from his brother’s lecture back in Bath, he wasn’t so stung that he was negligent. His knightly instincts were strong. He thought he should follow just to make sure the women didn’t come to any harm and perhaps in that small action, he might win his brother’s trust where it pertained to Diamantha. It was a thought he’d had, anyway. Even if his brother had been right about the flirting, still, Andres thought to redeem himself.

  As Andres lagged behind, Sophie ran down the avenue, gleeful that she was free as Diamantha called after her to stop running. The commotion caught Cortez’s attention, as he had been discussing supplies with the quartermaster, so he begged a moment from the man and followed his wife, daughter, and his brother as the three of them moved down the avenue towards the city’s center.

  It was a busy day with many people out and about, conducting business. Diamantha caught up to the giggling Sophie before she could reach the busy hive of the city center, and she swung the little girl around a couple of times, listening to her laugh. Diamantha nibbled on her daughter’s cheek, teasing her sweetly, and was about to turn around and head back to the traveling party when she caught a glimpse of scaffolding on the eastern part of the square.

  Holding Sophie on her hip, Diamantha shaded her eyes from the sun as she gazed across the crowds at the scaffold in the distance. There was also a good deal of smoke coming up from an area directly beside the scaffold, but she couldn’t see the source. The crowd blocked her complete view. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Andres coming up beside her.

  “What is that?” she asked Andres, pointing at the scaffold.

  Andres strained to get a good look at it. His eyesight wasn’t too terribly good at a distance so it took him a moment to discern the image.

  “A scaffold, my lady,” he said.

  She looked at him. “A scaffold for what?”

  “Punishment,” Cortez said as he walked up on her other side. “Scaffolds are usually built for things like executions or public punishment.”

  Diamantha knew that, or at least the general theory. She’d never actually seen an execution or public punishment. She looked at Cortez.

  “You are the Sheriff of the Shire in Sherborne,” she said. “Have you used scaffolds like that?”

  Cortez nodded. “I have.”

  Diamantha looked back at the scaffold thoughtfully. Then she pointed at the smoke rising from beside it. “What is the smoke from?”

  Cortez could see partially see where the smoke was originating. “A fire.”

  “A fire for what?”

  “It looks as if they have a large iron cauldron on to boil.”

  Diamantha fell silent, pondering his answer, but Cortez and Andres understood what the boiling cauldron meant. Cortez purposely didn’t elaborate. In fact, he thought it would be best for them to leave the area and be along their way. Whatever was about to happen, he didn’t want Diamantha witnessing it. He went to take her arm to lead her away, but she was distracted by men climbing onto the big wooden scaffold.

  “Look,” she said. “Men have mounted the scaffold. Do you think something is going to happen?”

  Cortez and Andres looked around, noticing the increased crowd of people in the city center. In fact, people were wandering in from other avenues, converging on the center which was really nothing more than a well and a vast, muddy parcel. There were also several soldiers bearing the yellow and red colors of the Earl of Gloucester milling about. Indeed, something seemed to be stirring. They could feel it in the air.

  “Mayhap,” Cortez said, eyeing the crowd that seemed to be restless. He took hold of Diamantha’s elbow, more firmly this time. “Come along. We should be on our way.”

  Diamantha didn’t argue with him. In fact, she actually turned to follow him. But a roar from the crowd captured her attention and she instinctively looked to see what had everyone yelling.

  Emerging from one of the wider avenues that joined to the city square was an open wagon being driven by two soldiers wearing Gloucester yellow and red. The wagon was also flanked by several soldiers as it began to make its way around the square. It was a slow and somber procession, and people were yelling at the passengers in the wagon, hollering most angrily.

  It was a curious sight and as the wagon headed in their direction, making the rounds, James and Oliver came to stand beside Andres. They, too, had heard the yelling and came to see what the fuss was about. James shielded his eyes from the sun as he watched the wagon approach.

  “We heard about this when we were purchasing stores,” he muttered to Andres. “It was all anyone could speak of.”

  Diamantha heard him. She looked over at James. “What do you mean?” she asked. “What is happening?”

  James looked at her but his gaze moved to Cortez for a moment, lingering on the man, before answering. It seemed as if he was reluctant to spill the information even though he had brought up the subject. He cleared his throat nervously as he looked at Diamantha.

  “Well,” he said hesitantly, scratching his neck. “It would seem that there is to be an execution.”

  Diamantha cocked her head. “Do you know who they are executing?”

  By this time, the wagon bearing the Gloucester soldiers was nearly upon them and as it made a right turn for the scaffolding, Diamantha and the others could clearly see the passengers of the back of the wagon. A woman was weeping hysterically, dressed in tatters and chained to the side of the wagon, while beside her were two young girls, also in tatters and sobbing. Diamantha’s brow furrowed, first in concern and then in outrage. She pointed to the wagon as it made its way towards the distant scaffold.

  “Who is that?” she demanded to anyone who could answer her. “That was a woman and two children. What have they done?”

  James had no choice but to tell her what he had heard. He knew he was going to get a tongue lashing from Cortez, however, simply by the way the man was looking at him.

  “We heard that the woman in the wagon is a former governess for the Earl of Gloucester,” he said. “Evidently, she had been engaged to tend the earl’s new babies, twin boys. But the boys died and the woman was convicted of poisoning them. She is slated to die along with her two daughters.”

  Diamantha’s mouth popped open in shock and outrage. “But why the daughters?” she wanted to know. “Surely they are not guilty of poisoning babies. They are but babies themselves!”

  Cortez put his hands on her shoulders, trying to turn her around to leave the scene. “Who is to say what the evidence was?” he said calmly. “We do not know all of the facts. In any case, we must be on our way. There is nothing we can do here.”

  Diamantha, however, would not be pushed around, not after what she had just seen. She pulled away from Cortez and looked at him. “Those girls were not much older than Sophie,” she said, rather heatedly. “I cannot imagine they are guilty of anything.”

  Cortez sighed faintly, regretful that she was working herself up over something they had no control over. “Mayhap not,” he said. “But we cannot do anything for them. It would be best if we left.”

  That wasn’t the answer Diamantha was looking for. With Sophie still on her hip, she began to march in the direction of the scaffolding to gain a better look. Cortez, shaking a balled fist at James for telling Lady de Bretagne what he had heard, followed swiftly. The knights trailed after him. Cortez caught up to Diamantha in short order and grasped her by the arm, halting her forward momentum.

  “Diamantha, please,” he said quietly. “There is nothing you can do and you are only going to get yourself more upset if you witness this. Please come with me now.”

  D
iamantha was deeply upset. “But… but those babies surely could not have done anything wrong,” she insisted. “Why must they die with their mother?”

  Cortez had her with both hands as Andres, Oliver, and James crowded up around them. They were trying to herd her back in the direction they had come, trying to block her view. They didn’t want the scene with her to grow out of control, at least not in public. They didn’t want to attract attention.

  “Because that is what the law has decided,” Cortez told her the basic facts. “If the woman was found to have poisoned the sons of the earl, then her children must have been found guilty along with her. You cannot change this, sweetheart. Please come with me now.”

  Diamantha simply didn’t understand. Her world, for so long, had been protected and safe at Corfe. It was all she had ever known. Now, the ugly truths of the world at large were at hand and it was difficult for her to comprehend.

  “But…,” she began, having difficulty grasping the situation. “But this cannot be possible. You should demand they stop this immediately and then we will speak with Gloucester to see what really happened. Mayhap he is mistaken and simply doesn’t realize it.”

  She was so naïve. Cortez shook his head. “I cannot and will not interfere in the man’s business,” he said, his voice low. “Come with me, now. I beg you”

  The sounds of the crowd were growing louder and everyone turned to see the woman and her two small daughters being brought up to the scaffold. The little girls were crying, trying to cling to their mother, but being pulled roughly away by Gloucester soldiers. It was then that Diamantha caught sight of the cauldron Cortez had mentioned. There was great flame all around it as it sat at the base of the scaffolding and steam poured from the cauldron itself.

  There was something cooking in the cauldron, boiling rapidly and hotly. As her gaze absorbed the scene, a horrific thought occurred to her. Diamantha turned to Cortez with an expression of shocked realization. Dear God… it couldn’t be….

  “What is that cauldron for?” she asked, her voice oddly hoarse.

  Cortez didn’t want to tell her. He sighed heavily, running a weary hand over his forehead in a hesitant gesture.

  “Diamantha, please,” he begged. “Let us leave now, I implore you.”

  “What is it for?”

  He paused another moment, reflecting on his options. He had none. When he spoke, it was with the greatest reluctance.

  “It is the instrument of execution,” he told her quietly. “Death by boiling is the usual sentence for those convicted of poisoning.”

  It was as she had suspected. Sickened, Diamantha opened her mouth to say something when a horrific scream filled the air. Startled, she turned just in time to see a Gloucester soldiers throw the smallest of the two girls into the boiling pot. The mother screamed, the other daughter did the same, but the little girl in the pot didn’t die immediately. Her weak cries filled the air for a few seconds, eventually fading away as the crowd cheered wildly.

  It was the most horrible sound imaginable and Diamantha staggered. She had Sophie in her arms still and she clasped her hand over her daughter’s head, forcing the little head down onto her shoulder and covering her ears as best she could. When she turned to Cortez, it was with tears streaming down her face.

  “Get me out of here,” she hissed. “Get me out of here now.”

  Cortez didn’t hesitate. He whisked her away, back towards the avenue that held their traveling party, with his knights closing ranks around them. They practically ran the entire way back to the wagons where Cortez helped Diamantha and Sophie up into Sophie’s padded little corner. Diamantha crawled all the way to the front of the wagon bed, beneath the bench, and huddled up there with her child. She wouldn’t even look at Cortez. As he turned away from the wagon to get the troops moving, he could hear her deep sobs.

  The sound nearly broke his heart.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Norton. Droitwich. Bromgrove. Bloxwich. Penkridge.

  They were just some of the towns Cortez’s party had passed through, small bergs that were all beginning to look the same. After what happened in Gloucester, Diamantha wasn’t so inclined to look upon any more towns with interest. In fact, her mood in general seemed to have dampened as the days passed and the party moved north.

  It wasn’t so much in her actions or words, because those seemed normal enough, but Cortez could see something in her eyes that had dimmed. It was difficult to describe any more than that. The battle with the sheriff in Shaftesbury followed by the execution in Gloucester had given the woman two instances of the brutalities of life that, thus far, she’d been relatively immune to sequestered and protected at Corfe as she had been. Now, she was starting to understand the hardships people faced, and the dangers, but it was only going to get worse.

  It started innocently enough as they left the village of Penkridge on a gloomy morning. It was a morning like any other morning, with a hearty breakfast of porridge and dried figs and then everyone packing their bedrolls, heading out as the sun began to crest over the eastern horizon. Their destination that night was Cortez’s father’s castle just outside of the city of Stafford, and everyone was looking forward to a great feast and the warm hospitality that Gorsedd de Bretagne was known to provide.

  Diamantha in particular was looking forward to the safety and comfort that a castle could provide. She’d never realized how much she missed it until she’d been forced to sleep in smelly hostels and in damp tents for the past several days. It was another part of this quest that she hadn’t fully understood before the undertaking and she was coming to realize that she didn’t like the world as a whole. It was frightening and brutal. It had to be experienced to be believed.

  Bundled up against the mist and cold, Sophie had a bit of the sniffles this morning so Diamantha rode in the wagon bed with her daughter, keeping her warm and dry, entertaining her by putting pieces of straw through the cage and teasing the kittens with it. Just as the group moved to the city limit, a town sentry approached them with a lifted hand. Cortez brought his column to a halt.

  “M’lord!” the man called. “M’lord, wait!”

  Dressed in his usual armor, including a heavy tunic and gloves to ward off the cold, Cortez leaned forward on his saddle.

  “What’s amiss?” he asked.

  The old man wiped at his running nose as he approached. Then, he pointed off to the north.

  “The River Penk has been flooding its banks since last spring,” he said. “It’s flooded out several villages to the north, so be careful as you go. You’ll run into those willing to do anything to steal your food.”

  Cortez glanced at Andres to his left, implying coming trouble with his mere expression. “Are we to expect great bands of starving villagers or just a few armed men?” he asked.

  The old man nodded. “Both,” he said. “Proceed with caution, m’lord, at least until you get to Stafford. That’ll be a day’s ride at least with the road as bad as it is.”

  “Noted,” Cortez said. “Thank you for the warning.”

  The old man backed off and let them pass. Cortez and the party moved off, but not before Cortez instructed each one of his foot soldiers to arm themselves with crossbows. Knights went into battle mode, removing their shields from the provisions wagon and slinging them over their left knee for quick access. Leaving James and Andres at point, Cortez made his way back to the wagon containing Diamantha and Sophie.

  The oiled tarp was back up, providing adequate protection from the mist. He leaned over, peering over the edge of the tarp and looking in at the women as they huddled together, covered by a warm traveling blanket. When Diamantha looked up and saw him, he smiled.

  “You appear to be sweet and cozy in there,” he said.

  Diamantha grinned as Sophie answered. “I’m playing with my kittens,” she announced.

  Cortez laughed softly. “I can see that,” he said. “Those must be the happiest pets in all the land. They eat more than I do, they certainly
sleep more than I do, and they get to play with you all day long.”

  Sophie sneezed, evidence of her sniffles, but it didn’t dampen her enthusiasm. “Come and play!”

  Cortez shook his head. “Alas, I cannot, little chick,” he said, his gaze lingering on Diamantha. “I came to tell you and your mother to stay in the wagon for now. Do not leave its safety.”

  Diamantha’s smile faded. “Why?” she asked. “Is there trouble?”

  He shrugged faintly. “There could be,” he said. “I want to make sure you ladies are safe. You’ll stay in here until I tell you otherwise. Understood?”

  Diamantha nodded. “We will.”

  “Promise?”

  “I do.”

  Cortez winked at her. “Thank you,” he replied. “I shall return later.”

  He was gone, leaving Diamantha with some anxiety in her chest. There could be trouble. She wondered what he meant but after what happened at Gloucester, when she had peppered him with questions and only learned a terrible truth, she thought perhaps not to bother him with silly questions. She was coming to think that ignorance was sometimes the better partner in all of this. If there was trouble, maybe she didn’t want to know everything about it.

  So the party trudged on in the misty morning, listening to sheep in the distance, bleating through the fog. The road was very muddy, terribly so, and every dozen feet or so the wagon would get stuck in the dark, rich mud and a few soldiers would have to throw their backs into shoving it out of the hole. But Diamantha stayed true to her promise to remain in the wagon. She didn’t try to get out and help the men when the wagon stuck. She held on to her daughter as the wagon lurched forward, again and again.

  The morning seemed to be passing with painful slowness and with degrees of apprehension felt by all. None felt it more than Cortez. He rode point with his brother, watching the landscape through the mists, waiting for the hordes of starving to appear, flying out at them. Not only did the fog hide the dangers, but there were great clusters of trees smothering the road in places which simply made it worse. It was a cloying, terrible feeling.