Brides of the North: A Medieval Scottish Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  He kept focused on the city of Stafford, which was less than a day’s ride ahead of them. His father’s castle was five miles to the west of Stafford and he was looking forward to seeing the man he hadn’t seen in three years, not since his father had come for Helene’s funeral. He was anxious for the man to meet Diamantha and Sophie, for his father had dearly wanted grandchildren and heirs. Now, there was the hope for some, at least with Cortez. With Andres, there was no telling if the man would ever marry.

  With thoughts of his brother and his wild ways, Cortez glanced over his shoulder to see Andres riding a few feet away astride his big yellow charger. Remarkably, the man had kept out of the bottle since departing Sherborne and Cortez hoped it would remain that way. He had enough on his mind without having to worry about dragging his brother out of a gutter somewhere.

  Andres must have sensed his brother’s attention because he turned to look at him, the visor down on his helm. When he realized Cortez was indeed gazing at him, he flipped the visor up.

  “What is it?” he asked. “Why are you looking at me?”

  Cortez shrugged, turning his attention back to the road. “I was simply wondering when, or if, you were ever going to marry,” he said. “We will be seeing Father tonight and you know he will ask you that question. You had better have an answer that pleases him.”

  Andres sighed heavily. “No answer I will give him short of telling him I am already married will please him,” he said, disgruntled. “I wish he would stop harassing me about it.”

  Cortez smirked. “He is your father,” he pointed out. “It is his duty to harass you about marriage. What about that lord’s daughter you met at Sherborne Abbey last month? What is her name? Adaline?”

  Andres shook his head. “Adaliza,” he corrected. “She is far too young and far too rich. Her father would never approve of the match.”

  Cortez cast him a long glance. “How do you know?” he demanded. “Have you asked? Have you even tried?”

  Andres wouldn’t look at him. “Leave me alone or I shall go ride at the rear,” he said. “I will not let you bully me. You have had two perfect wives and I’ve not even had one.”

  Cortez grinned, his thoughts now lingering on Diamantha. The past few days had been quite pleasant between them and although they’d not made love again after that wildfire of a night back in Bath, the manner between them had definitely changed. She was much more polite and sweet to him, and he in turn looked upon her with nothing less than stars in his eyes. He couldn’t help it. Even now, simply thinking on her, all he could feel was unadulterated giddiness. It was marvelous.

  “My wife says she has two sisters,” he told him. “Mayhap they are not spoken for. Would you like for me to find out?”

  Andres shook his head. “I will find my own wife, thank you,” he said. “If your wife wants husbands for her sisters, then talk to de Winter. His father wants him married so badly that he has threatened to beat him if he is not wed by next year.”

  Cortez turned in the saddle, seeing that de Winter was riding mid-pack, stationed by the wagons for protection. He wriggled his dark eyebrows and turned around.

  “His father is going to have a task ahead of him,” he said. “As much as I revere Davyss de Winter, Drake may be able to best his father. If I were Father de Winter, I would think of another tactic.”

  Andres nodded in agreement but he wanted off the subject of why he was not yet married. Opening his mouth to broach an entirely new line of conversation, he suddenly caught sight of something coming through the fog. The mist had lifted slightly, giving them a much greater range of vision, and he spied something on the road ahead, lingering by the edge of the trees. His good humor fled.

  “Cortez,” he snapped, unsheathing his broadsword. “Look, up ahead by the trees. Do you see it?”

  Cortez was instantly on alert, his sword coming forth because Andres had drawn his. He could see people, ahead on the road, and he turned to de Lohr, who was riding several feet behind him.

  “Protect the wagons,” he ordered. “Tell the men to be on the defensive.”

  James nodded shortly and spun his charger around, riding back through the ranks and delivering orders. The pace of the travel slowed as the men went into defensive mode but, gradually, they came upon the cluster of people lingering by the roadside.

  Cortez lowered his sword as soon as they came into clear view. It was mostly children, with a few adults intermingled, and he could hear a baby crying. Although his sword was lowered, he still had it in his hand in case this was a ruse. As the party drew nearer and he could see all of the women and children, he was positive it was a ruse. He turned to his brother.

  “Ride up there and drive them off,” he rumbled. “I’ll not have them distracting the men so their husbands can attack while my soldiers are focused elsewhere.”

  Andres nodded sharply and charged forward, heading straight for the gathering of women and children. Most of them scattered with the big charger bearing down on them but one small boy didn’t move fast enough. The charger bumped the child and the lad went flying, literally sailing into the mud a few feet away. He landed heavily but unhurt, screaming his lungs out. Andres, undeterred, pointed a finger at the fragmented group.

  “Be gone, all of you,” he bellowed. “Be gone before I turn my men loose on you!”

  What had started as pathetic begging had now turned into frightened screaming with a big angry knight in their midst. The women were wailing and so were the children. The little boy who had been bumped by the charger scrambled to his feet and ran off towards one of the women who happened to be holding a baby. Andres continued to yell at them, trying to intimidate them, but they did nothing more than scatter around. No one made a serious attempt to leave. As the column drew close, the beggars tried to migrate in their direction and away from the bellowing knight, but Andres kept them herded away from the road as one would have herded sheep. Weeping and pleas filled the air.

  Diamantha could hear them from where she was safely insulated in the wagon bed. In fact, she had been hearing the cries for a couple of minutes now and they were growing stronger by the second. Pulling Sophie off her lap, she set the little girl down on the cushions beneath the wagon bench and crept over to the edge of the oiled cloth to take a peek. Cortez had told her not to leave the wagon, and she would not. But she would take a look and see what the commotion was about. It was natural curiosity, especially when she could hear children.

  The mist had dissipated somewhat and yellow streams of light began to poke through the clouds, illuminating patches of ground below. Diamantha could see a group of people several feet away and a big knight positioned between them and the road. It was clear that he was trying to keep the group at bay. Diamantha could see many women and children, all of them dressed in layers of tattered clothing, feet bound with cloth and not shoes, and no one had proper protection against the cold morning. Increasingly concerned, Diamantha captured Drake’s attention.

  “Sir Drake?” she called over to him. “What do those people want?”

  Drake, helm on and visor down, turned his armor-clad head in the direction of the women and children. “Beggars,” he said. “They’ve come to beg for our food and whatever else they can wrangle from us. Andres is trying to run them off.”

  There were some very little children among the group and after what she had seen in Gloucester, Diamantha was rather sensitive to small children in general. Her brow furrowed with concern.

  “They look so poor and hungry,” she said. “Is there something we can do for them?”

  Drake shook his head. “We would go hungry ourselves if we did,” he said. “There is so much need here that it would drain us quickly.”

  The procession was passing by the group now and Diamantha, peering out from the wagon, was in clear view of the beggars. When they saw her, they ignored Andres completely and began to wail in her direction. One of the women, a round female with a mass of red hair wrapped around the top of her head, risk
ed the angry knight and ran in Diamantha’s direction.

  “M’lady!” she screamed. “Please, m’lady, help us! We’ve no crops, no food to eat! The children are starving, m’lady, please!”

  Diamantha wasn’t sure what to say. As the lady of Corfe, she was often in the position of helping those less fortunate and she had indeed on many occasion. It was difficult for her to refuse those in need of assistance. But her region was rich and fertile, and those in need were usually those from whom sickness had taken its toll, or perhaps widows and orphans who simply needed help. She’d never seen starving, destitute people like this, not ever. It was an entirely new level of poverty. Before she could answer, however, Drake cautioned her.

  “We were warned about these people, my lady,” he said quietly. “They will do anything they can to steal from us. It would be best if you sat back in the wagon until we have passed through this stretch. These may not be the only people we meet along this road.”

  Diamantha looked up at him. “Why do you say that?”

  Drake flipped up his visor and scanned the landscape. “Because we were told that the river has been overflowing its banks since last spring,” he said. “This area has evidently been devastated and there has been much robbing and looting because of it.”

  The group was following Diamantha at a distance. As her wagon moved down the road, they followed like a herd of cattle following a source of food. She drew them to her with her beauty and health and radiance. In her, they must have seen hope. Perhaps they saw their only salvation. In any case, the group was following, begging her for help.

  Cortez could hear the cries, of course, and he turned to see Diamantha looking out from her wagon at the people along the road. The least bit annoyed that she was not seated back in the wagon, sheltered from the outside world, he reined his charger around and thundered back through the column. The charger kicked up mud clods as he reined the excited animal next to the moving wagon.

  “Get back under the tarp,” he told her quietly. “We have a few more hours of travel before we reach Stafford.”

  Diamantha looked at him seriously. “But these people,” she said, indicating the wailing group. “They’re starving, Cortez. I cannot look into the face of need and ignore it. Isn’t there something we can do for them?”

  Cortez shook his head firmly. “We do not have any to spare,” he told her. “If we feed them, my men go hungry. Your daughter goes hungry. Who would you rather have hungry, those children out there or Sophie?”

  It was a harsh way of putting it, but it was the truth. Diamantha’s gaze moved over the group of beggars, hearing their sad cries. Particularly, she was looking at the children, skinny little waifs who were filthy and cold. She could see even from a distance that they had pale faces with even paler lips. They were the color of the mists, these children who were so hungry and so desperate. Greatly saddened, she turned back to Cortez.

  “But those children…,” she began, knowing he was more than likely going to deny her again. “They are starving. We picked up sacks of oats in Gloucester. Could we not cook a big pot for them to eat? It would be something and it would not drain all of our stores.”

  Cortez sighed heavily. “Diamantha, I realize you feel great compassion for them and it is an admirable quality, but we simply cannot spare anything,” he said, trying to be patient with her. He thought pragmatically and she did not. “I would like nothing better than to feed the world’s starving children, but not at the expense of my men and not at the expense of you. Can you understand that?”

  She wasn’t happy with his answer so she simply looked away. Cortez, seeing that he had damaged her fragile sensibilities, leaned down in her direction.

  “Diamantha?” he said quietly. “Please do not be angry with me. I understand what you are saying, truly I do, but I must make the choice between feeding my men and feeding these people because it will not stop with this group, I promise you. Like mice, once you feed one, the entire nation will come running and soon enough, I will have nothing for our people. Do you understand that?”

  She did but she still didn’t agree with him. “We have two kittens, a rabbit, and a fox kit that you happily feed,” she said. “They are fed small apples and other things, and you do not complain. Are you telling me that these animals are worth feeding more than these people are?”

  He grunted, hoping they weren’t heading for an argument. Things had been so wonderful the past few days that he was loath to take backward steps in this relationship, but in this case, he had to stand his ground.

  “They are tiny little animals that hardly eat anything at all,” he said, his voice low. “Are you truly going to argue with me about this? Do you truly want to give these people our food so we will have nothing?”

  She didn’t, but there had to be a way to help. An idea popped into her head. “We will be stopping at your father’s castle tonight, will we not?”

  Cortez nodded. “We will.”

  “If we need our stores replenished, can we not do it there? Your father should be able to resupply us most adequately if we give these people some of our food.”

  He rolled his eyes unhappily. “I cannot depend on that,” he said. “I have no idea what my father will have. If he has nothing, we will be in a good deal of trouble and our quest to reach Falkirk might be seriously delayed. Is that what you want?”

  Of course it wasn’t. Reluctantly, she shook her head and let the subject die. Or so Cortez thought. Reaching out, he gently touched her cheek, smiling at her when she looked up at him. With a wink, he turned his charger around and cantered back to the front of the column.

  Diamantha, however, wasn’t finished, not in the least. There were children starving just a few feet away from her and she couldn’t sit by and do nothing about it. No matter what Cortez said, she had to do something, however small. She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t.

  Eyes on Cortez, and on Drake, who happened to be closest to her, she sank back beneath the oiled tarp to hide from view, but the truth was that she was about to do some reconnaissance in the wagon. As Sophie sniffled beside her, she began to dig around in the wagon bed, coming across bags of walnuts, of almonds, of pears, and of little green apples. Heaving the bag of apples into her lap, she opened up the sack and was pleased to note that there were several dozen apples nestled in the bag. It was perfect for her needs.

  Pulling a couple of the apples forth, she handed them over to Sophie, who was thrilled with more food for her animals. With the bag in hand, she dragged it along with her across the wagon bed until she was once again just outside of the oiled tarp. Drake was next to the wagon, riding slightly head of her position with his attention on the beggars. Diamantha eyed the big knight for a moment, planning out her covert operation.

  “Sir Drake?” she asked politely, pointing off to the east. “Could that possibly be more starving people over there?”

  Drake turned his attention away from the beggars, and from her, to gaze off into the distance. As soon as he turned his head, Diamantha grabbed several apples and hurled them towards the beggars. She had good aim because one, two, and then five apples sailed over Drake’s head and into the field beyond as de Winter searched for something on the horizon, something Lady de Bretagne had asked about, that didn’t exist.

  But he heard the apples sailing over his head and by the time she launched the fourth and fifth apple, he was looking around to see where the sound had come from. When he looked curiously to Diamantha, sitting near the side of the wagon bed, she was the picture of innocence.

  “Did you hear something?” he asked.

  Diamantha shook her head. “Only the beggars,” she said evenly. “What did you hear?”

  Drake wasn’t sure. He looked around and could see the beggars in the field as they evidently collected something off the ground. He couldn’t see what it was, but suddenly, the beggars were running after the convoy, shouting their pleas. They were holding out their hands and crying for something, somet
hing he couldn’t quite make out.

  It was odd, truly. Intensely curious, he watched the beggars for a moment but the minute he looked away, towards the front of the column, he heard those strange noises over his head again. This time, he was faster, and he turned towards the starving folk in time to see small projectiles flying through the air. He wasn’t sure what they were or where they were coming from, but he had a suspicion. He returned his attention to Diamantha, who was looking quite innocuous as she sat at the side of the wagon bed. She even smiled at him, brightly, which led him to believe that she was up to no good. No woman smiled that way unless she was trying to hide something.

  With a heavy sigh, Drake simply faced forward, listening to projectiles sailing over his head. He turned a blind eye to it, at least for the time being, because he knew the lady was simply trying to do something kind. He also knew she was disobeying her husband, which put him in a very bad spot. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it when she dropped one of the small green apples she had been throwing at the starving peasants. He could hear the beggars, off to his left, as they squealed excitedly over the thrown fruit.

  Unfortunately, he had to do something about it. If he didn’t, Cortez would have his head. He took the chance of leaving his post and spurring his charger to the front. He came up behind Cortez and cleared his throat loudly.

  “My lord?” he said.

  Cortez turned around abruptly, seeing that Drake was right behind him. His brow furrowed. “Why did you leave your post?”

  Drake was clearly reluctant to say anything but he knew he didn’t have a choice. “Lady de Bretagne…,” he trailed off for a moment but then started again, stronger this time. “Lady de Bretagne is doing what you told her not to do. You must understand that by telling you, I am damaging any trust I might have with her, but if I do not tell you, then I am assuming responsibility for her actions and risking your wrath. I am in a bad position, either way.”