Lasses, Lords, and Lovers: A Medieval Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  As the afternoon waned into shades of purple dusk, Cantia stood at the window overlooking the north portion of Rochester’s bailey, her gaze on the smithy shacks all lined up against the outer wall. She knew Louisa was in one of them and, unlike the rest of the family, had no previous emotional investment in the woman. She was deeply curious.

  Rubbing her belly as the baby kicked, she turned away from the window and headed down the steep spiral stairs to see how the evening meal was progressing. Clad in a rich, heavy brocade coat of emerald silk and a feather-soft shift the color of eggshells beneath it, she was warm and richly dressed, looking elegant and radiant, and every inch an earl’s wife.

  Cantia passed the level that contained Arabel and Hunt’s chambers, pausing to peek into her son’s room. Hunt was on the floor with the dog lying close by, playing with little toy soldiers made from sticks of wood. The past several months had been an adjustment for him with both his father and grandfather gone, but he had adapted.

  All Hunt knew of Charles’ absence was that his grandfather had gone on an extended journey and he had accepted the explanation as it had been carefully delivered by Tevin, but the truth was that he really wasn’t particularly lonely. Now he had Arabel to play with and the two of them were very companionable. Arabel wasn’t with him today, however, so he played alone. When he caught sight of his mother, he jumped up and ran to her.

  “Mam,” he grabbed her hand. “I am hungry. Isth it time to eat yet?”

  She smiled at her little boy. “It is,” she said. “Would you like to come with me to the kitchens?”

  He nodded eagerly, pulling her from the chamber but easing up by the time they hit the stairs. He had been repeatedly reminded, and warned, of his mother’s pregnancy and was properly careful, at least as much as a five year old could be. He ended up trying to help his mother down the last few steps, being a gentleman, but the moment she was off the stairs, he was yanking her from the keep.

  Cantia fought off a grin as she allowed her eager son to tow her out into the yard. She found herself looking about, trying to catch a glimpse of Tevin or Val or even Myles, but everyone seemed to have vanished. Not particularly concerned, she returned her attention to Hunt only to catch a glimpse of the smithy shacks off to her right. They lingered in a cluster, run down, and somewhat foreboding. There was darkness there. Her curiosity had the better of her and she let go of Hunt’s hand.

  “Go into the kitchen and tell Cook that you would like some bread,” she instructed. “Tell her I will be there in a moment.”

  Hunt cocked his head curiously. “Where are you going?”

  Cantia answered indirectly. “I will be there shortly. Go, now. Do as I say.”

  Hunt watched his mother head off towards a collection of seldom used stalls, but that was as far as his curiosity went. His rumbling belly had him turning for the kitchen and the alluring smell of fresh baked bread.

  Cantia approached the shelters, her pace slowing. She grew more wary with each passing step, glancing around to make sure Tevin wasn’t somewhere nearby. She knew he would become angry at her for disobeying him, but she felt an inexplicable pull to see the woman he had married. She understood clearly that the woman was dying and, in a small way, perhaps Cantia wanted to see for herself. She wanted to see this woman who had birthed Arabel and then had abandoned her family. Beyond that, she really wasn’t sure why she wanted to see her, only that she did. Something strong and unseen was pulling her in that direction.

  Two of the shacks were empty but she could hear movement in the third. Cantia paused, listening to the low hum of conversation, wondering if she should come back another time. As lady of Rochester, however, she had every right to know who was within her castle, or at least she told herself that. She had every right to be here. Squaring her shoulders, she opened the rickety old door.

  The old physic was inside along with a serving woman from the kitchens. Cantia recognized her. Both of them turned to look at the lady of Rochester standing regally in the door opening.

  “My lady,” the physic greeted. “What are you doing here? You should not be jeopardizing the child so in the same room as a sick woman.”

  Cantia’s eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness as she stepped into the doorway, her gaze moving across the dim chamber until she came to rest on a lumpy jumble in the corner. It smelled old and dank, mingling with the sharp scent of vinegar.

  “I heard about this woman and came to see her,” she said, wondering how much the physic knew about the identity of his patient. “Is she really dying?”

  The physic glanced over his shoulder at the body in the corner. “She is,” he replied. “A few days at most, maybe hours.”

  “Has she awakened? I was told she was unconscious.”

  The physic nodded. “She awakened a short time ago and we were able to feed her some broth,” he replied, returning his attention to Cantia. “Does the earl know you are here? I cannot imagine he would let you come here and risk your health.”

  Cantia tore her gaze off the supine bundle, her eyes flashing as she looked at the physic.

  “You will mind your own business,” she snapped. “If you tell him I was here, I will make sure you are thrown out on your ear.”

  The physic lifted a hand in supplication and returned his attention to whatever he had been doing when she had entered the hut. Cantia, however, was unforgiving. She didn’t want an audience for what she was about to do. She didn’t want anyone witnessing what was likely to be a very emotional moment, gossip fodder to be spread throughout Rochester.

  “Get out,” she commanded. “Get out this instant.”

  The physic set his implements down and, without question, vacated the shack. The serving wench quickly followed. When the door swung shut behind them, Cantia returned her attention to the woman in the corner.

  What am I doing here? The thought kept rolling around in Cantia’s head as she approached the bed. She still didn’t really know. As sunlight streamed in between the gaps in the walls, filtering in through the musty shadows, she came to a halt next to the straw mattress, gazing down at the partially-covered face.

  The woman was breathing heavily. She could hear it. A wet cloth covered her nose and mouth, and Cantia reached down, gingerly took a corner, and pulled it off. The features of the woman were fair, if not somewhat plain, but she could see Arabel in the shape of the face. There was also a big dimple in the woman’s chin, just like her daughter. Aye, the more Cantia stared, the more she could see the resemblance. Her heart began to pound.

  “Louisa?” she whispered, paused, then whispered loudly. “Lady Louisa? Can you hear me?”

  The woman twitched, drawing in a deep breath that brought rowels from her chest. Cantia stood back somewhat, not wanting to get too close, but she made sure she was close enough that the woman could see her. She tried again.

  “Lady Louisa,” she said in a normal speaking tone. “Can you hear me? Please awaken.”

  The woman twitched again. It took two more tries from Cantia to rouse the woman until, finally, the eyelids lifted. The eyes were only slightly open, however, and Cantia bent down so she could meet the woman’s muddled gaze. Dark eyes finally fixed on her.

  “Lady Louisa?” she said, more gently. “Are you Lady Louisa?”

  The woman just stared at her. Then, she shifted slightly, trying to lift her head when she realized a very beautiful pregnant woman in fine garments was speaking to her. But she was so very, very weak, her life all but drained from her by the disease that was swiftly consuming her. All she could do was lay upon the straw and gaze, weakly, at the very fine lady.

  “Qui vous est?” she rasped.

  Who are you? Cantia replied to her in French. “My name is the Lady Cantia Penden,” she replied. “I am the Lady of Rochester Castle, and you have been brought to us. Are you Louisa of Hesse?”

  The woman continued to stare at her. Cantia waited, with bated breath, for a response, but none was immediately forthcoming. It was
evident that the woman was too weak to carry on a conversation. Finally, the dark eyes closed. Cantia waited a nominal amount of time before realizing she might not receive an answer. As she debated on whether or not to leave, the woman spoke.

  “J’étais, une fois,” she whispered. I was, once. She continued in French. “Now I am the wind. I will blow away until I exist no longer.”

  Cantia listened to the barely-audible words. “Do you know why you have been brought to Rochester?” she asked softly.

  There was a very long pause. “I do not know. Men came to my home and took me away but they did not tell me why. I can only ask that you allow me to die in peace.”

  “No one has told you anything?”

  “No.”

  Cantia considered what she would say next very carefully. “You have been brought to Rochester because your husband and daughter are here,” she said quietly. “You were brought here as a favor to me.”

  The woman didn’t react for a moment. Then, the eyes opened again, only this time, they opened wider. The woman actually appeared lucid. The pasty face registered an expression for the first time.

  “My…?” she whispered. “My… child is here?”

  Cantia lowered herself to sit on the ground so the woman wouldn’t strain herself looking up at her. The conversation was difficult enough already. Several feet away, she sat on her bum in her fine surcoat and faced the woman.

  “I want you to listen to me and listen carefully,” she demanded. “Can you do this?”

  The woman was hesitant at first but eventually nodded, as much as she could muster. “I can.”

  Cantia acknowledged the reply, wondering what, exactly, to say at this point. She wondered if she should be selective about what she told the woman but eventually opted for everything because she had come this far and there was no reason to hold back. For Tevin’s sake, and hers, she would be forthcoming with the hope that the woman would be forthcoming as well.

  “Long ago, you were married to Tevin du Reims,” she finally said. “You are still married to him.”

  The woman’s pale face registered even more shock. “How… how would you know this?”

  Cantia tried to be careful. “I know this because he loves me and I love him,” she whispered. “We cannot be married because he is still married to you. He did not know your fate, whether you were dead or alive, so a… a friend swore to find you so that we would know what had become of you. If you were alive, perhaps you would grant Tevin an annulment, but if you were dead… then at least we would know. I carry Tevin’s child and we very much wish to be married but we cannot do that so long as… well, so long as you are still his wife.”

  The woman stared at her, shock turning to disbelief and, strangely, some understanding. “That is why… why…?”

  Cantia simply nodded as the woman trailed off. Then she regarded her carefully for several long moments.

  “Tell me why you left him,” she said softly. “Tell me why you abandoned Tevin and Arabel.”

  The woman regarded her in return. She simply lay there and stared at her, some of the shock gone from her face as she came to understand why she had been brought to Rochester. With that understanding came defiance, and perhaps some self-preservation.

  “He has brought me here to kill me,” she finally muttered.

  Cantia shook her head. “No one is going to kill you. But I would like to know why you left.”

  The woman didn’t reply for a moment, but her expression didn’t waver. When she finally spoke, it was with surprising strength.

  “It was so long ago,” she muttered. “Why does it matter now?”

  “Because it does. Please tell me.”

  The woman hesitated for a brief moment before complying. She figured she had nothing to lose. She was dying anyway. What more could she say that wouldn’t hasten that death?

  “My name is Louisa Berthilde Solveig of the House of Hesse-Rheinfels,” she said. “My father was Maurice the Bold of Hess-Rheinfels, the man who pledged me to Titus du Reims’ son when I was still a very young girl. I had never met Tevin du Reims before the day we married, when I was still a child myself of fourteen years. I did not want to marry him, you see, because I was in love with my beautiful Kael. We had fallen in love as children and were deeply devoted to each other. It was Kael who escorted me to my wedding with Tevin and watched the woman he loved marry another. He even stayed with me during my first year of marriage, as part of a contingent of soldiers my father left behind for my personal protection.”

  Cantia was listening intently to the stilted French with the heavy Germanic accent. Moreover, the woman spoke very softly and it was difficult to hear. But the story was essentially what Tevin had told her.

  “If Kael was with you for so long, why did you wait until Arabel was born before leaving?” she wanted to know. “Why not leave right away?”

  Louisa was exhausted from all of the talking but, somehow, she felt the increasing need to speak. She had not spoken of such things for fifteen years and in repeating the memories, she was reliving them. Visions of her beloved Kael were coming to mind and she could not help herself. From the dying woman’s heart, the words were flowing forth.

  “Since I am not long for this world, it does not matter what I say,” she whispered. “You want to know and I will tell you.”

  “I just want to know the truth.”

  “But why?”

  “For Tevin’s sake. Please tell me the truth.”

  Louisa regarded her for a moment, the dark eyes glittering with the last embers of her life force. “What has he told you?”

  “Just what you told me. He said you left him for another knight you were in love with from your homeland.”

  Louisa listened, digested, then took a deep breath. Her mind began to wander. “That is what my father told Tevin,” she murmured. “But it was not the truth. Not entirely, anyway.”

  Cantia’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Louisa’s gaze grew distant. “My beautiful Kael was my love, my heart, my life,” she said softly. “Tevin was never unkind. In fact, he was inordinately sensitive to my position. He seemed to understand I did not want to be married to him. I took advantage of that kindness. I was horrible to him.”

  “How?”

  “Kael and I were lovers,” she whispered, as if suddenly contrite after all of these years. “Tevin would share my bed at night and when he would leave to go about his duties, Kael would share it. Shortly after we were married, I… I became pregnant when Tevin went away. I knew he would more than likely send me away in disgrace at the very least if he knew the child was not his, so upon his return, I made sure to act as the attentive and affectionate wife, and we coupled. It was early enough in the pregnancy that I was able to tell Tevin the child was his, but I knew differently. When Arabel was born, she looked exactly like Kael. Terrified for my life, Kael convinced me to flee with him, so I did.”

  By this time, Cantia was gazing at the woman with shock. “Kael is Arabel’s father?” she hissed. “Not Tevin?”

  Louisa shook her head. “No.”

  Cantia’s hand ended up over her mouth in an astonished gesture, hardly believing what she was hearing. “You are certain of this?”

  “I am.”

  “Then… then you did not leave because she was crippled?”

  Louisa sighed heavily. “I left because Kael convinced me that Tevin would kill me if he discovered the truth.” She paused as a hint of a smile crossed her lips. “Kael and I lived together in Paris for three years until he left me for another woman. I was alone, with no money, so I contacted my father, who proceeded to inform me that he no longer had a daughter. He was ashamed of my behavior and disowned me. So I stayed in Paris and made money the only way I could. I was a prostitute.”

  Cantia was overwhelmingly astonished at the story. Her mouth was hanging open and she had to make a conscious effort to close it.

  “Why did you not contact Tevin?” she pressed. “
Perhaps… perhaps he would have taken you back.”

  Louisa shook her head. “And bring more humiliation towards him? To have a wife abandon you is bad enough, but to take her back… it would only make him look like a fool. I would not do that to him, for he was kind to me. I was simply a silly, foolish girl who made a very bad decision.”

  Cantia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Louisa’s story rolled over and over in her mind until she was nearly giddy with it. After several long moments, she simply shook her head.

  “I am sorry,” she didn’t know what else to say. “I am sorry a mistake cost you your entire life.”

  Louisa’s dark eyes warmed. “It is better for Tevin and Arabel this way,” she replied. Then, the eyes took on a wistful gaze. “My daughter is still alive, then?”

  Cantia nodded. “She is frail but she is otherwise healthy,” she said. “Tevin is devoted to her. She is beautiful and brilliant.”

  The dark eyes misted over and tears found their way onto Louisa’s temple. “I had always wondered,” she whispered. “I never stopped praying for her but I knew she was better off with Tevin. There was no life I could offer her. That is why I never returned for her.”

  Cantia began to mist up as well, thinking of Hunt, of the baby she carried, and so thankful that Louisa had that same mothering instinct in spite of the fact that she left her child. For Arabel’s sake, she was glad. It was too little, too late, but at least the woman was showing remorse.

  “Thank you,” she finally whispered, tears verging. “Thank you for telling me your story.”

  Louisa merely closed her eyes, her mind moving to times past, of the knight she had been in love with and of the powerful husband she had betrayed because of that love. Her exhaustion overwhelmed her and her breathing began to grow heavy again. The emotions, the illness, were too much to bear.

  It was clear the conversation was over. Cantia watched the woman for several minutes before struggling to her feet. As she silently turned for the door, Louisa stopped her.