A Blessed de Lohr Christmas (de Lohr Dynasty Book 9)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “There is a bad storm blowing in,” Jeffrey said. “You can see it blowing in over the mountains. Big, black clouds. We’ll have snow tonight.”

  Christopher snorted softly. “We’ve not had snow all season,” he said. “What makes you think it will happen tonight?”

  Jeffrey cocked an eyebrow. “Because I have lived on the Marches a long time and I know when it is going to snow. Do you doubt me?”

  Christopher shook his head. “Nay,” he said. Then, he turned and pointed to the children playing in front of the hearth. “Do you see all of those children? The second the snow starts down, they are going to want to play in it, so you had better be right. As much as I love my children and nieces and nephews, I am ready for some peace and quiet, at least for a little while. It will be up to you to provide this for me when the snowfall starts.”

  Jeffrey smirked, watching as Curtis and Richard, becoming a little more animated now that they were back home again, began to roll around on the ground with their little brother, Myles, whom they’d not seen in some time. Their cousins, Colleen and Christina and Caroline, had picked up some of the fresh rushes and were beating the boys with the branches. Screams and laughter were going up all around.

  “I see your point,” Jeffrey said. “At the first sign of snow, I will announce it to the children.”

  “And watch out for the stampede.”

  Jeffrey continued to smirk as he turned around and headed for the door. David, still carrying Daniel, came over to Christopher and Marcus.

  “What did Kessler have to say?” he asked.

  “Snow,” Christopher said. “He thinks a storm is rolling in.”

  “Christ,” David said, looking between Christopher and Marcus. “That’s all I need – to be snowbound with you two.”

  “There were times when we were bound together without the benefit of snow,” Marcus said. “I can remember hiding out in The Levant in Montfort Castle, bombarded by a sandstorm that lasted a week.”

  David nodded as he reflected back on the better times between the trio. “That was… uncomfortable,” he said. “I was still washing sand out of my arse a year later.”

  Marcus snorted. “I cannot even look at sand the same way,” he said. “Every time I see it, I start itching.”

  The baby in David’s arms started to fuss, alerting his wife, Emilie. She was seated with Dustin and Gabrielle, but the moment her son whimpered, she immediately left her seat to collect him. As David tried to soothe the fussy child, Emilie held out her arms for him.

  “He is hungry,” she said. “Let me take him.”

  David frowned. “I was hardly permitted to hold him the entire journey here,” he said. “Just a few more moments.”

  Emilie pursed her lips. “So you would starve your son simply to be selfish?”

  The baby’s whimpering grew louder because his mother was there, so David gave up without much more of a fight. “Here,” he said, disgruntled as he handed the child over. “You are a mean, nasty woman.”

  Emilie took the baby. “Not to worry,” she said. “I will bring him back to you when he is fed and then when he soils himself, you can have full charge of cleaning him up.”

  Listening to the pair bicker, Christopher started to laugh. “That’s all you are good for,” he said to his brother. “Cleaning up your son’s shite.”

  Marcus burst into laughter and, together, the two of them ribbed David. That didn’t normally go over very well because David’s temper was short. He was about to lay some heavy insults on his brother when the entry door opened again and a hint of icy wind blew in behind two men entering.

  Sir Max de Velt from Marcus’ castle of Somerhill, broad and muscular and dark, was dressed in heavy tunics and a cloak against the cold weather. Next to him, a very tall, blond young man was equally covered in wool against the climate.

  Peter de Lohr had made an appearance.

  At eighteen years, Peter was on the verge of being a full-fledged knight for one very good reason – he had the talent, the build, the strength, and the temperament to make the perfect knight. He was as tall as his father at nearly six inches over six feet and had the same muscular de Lohr build. He looked a good deal like his father in almost every way except he had his mother’s brown eyes. He even had Christopher’s beard, which was growing in quite nicely on his fair face.

  He smiled at his father, whom he had not yet greeted upon arrival, but his focus was on Marcus, as his liege.

  “The troops are secured for the night, my lord,” he said to Marcus. “Because of Canterbury’s troops also being here, I’ve bedded down some of the men in the stable block. There is not enough room in the troop house. The stable is warm enough, even if they are sleeping with the horses.”

  “Excellent,” Marcus said. “You may now greet your father.”

  Peter turned to Christopher, a smile of pure delight on his face. “Greetings, Pa,” he said quietly. “You are looking very well.”

  Christopher did what he told Dustin not to do; he hugged his son. He was so bloody proud of the boy that he simply couldn’t help himself.

  “As are you,” he said. “Marcus must be doing something right by you. I have heard nothing but good things.”

  Peter had something neither his father nor uncle had; modesty. He nodded his head, humbled. “I hope so,” he said. “It has been difficult, but worth it.”

  Marcus snorted. “He breezes through every task as if it is nothing,” he said. “Honestly, Chris, I will not be able to hold him at Somerhill. He needs to go to London and serve William Marshal or the king, at the very least. He’s young, but he has the stamp of greatness on him that we never had.”

  Christopher smiled warmly at his son. “What is your wish, Peter?” he asked. “Where do you wish to serve?”

  Peter looked between Marcus and Christopher. “Where would you like me to serve, Pa?”

  Christopher shrugged. “I am selfish,” he said. “Of course. I want you here at Lioncross and, given that you have been with Marcus for the past seven years, I am sure he wants you at Somerhill. But this will be your choice, Peter. It is my Christmas gift to you – you may choose where you wish to serve. If it is with me, or Marcus, or even your Uncle David – wherever you wish to serve is your choice.”

  Peter smiled again, but it was an uncomfortable one because he knew his choice would offend two out of the three men his father mentioned. It might even offend all three of them. But he simply nodded his head gratefully.

  “Thank you, Pa,” he said. “Now, may I see Dustin and the rest of the family?”

  “Of course,” Christopher said. “Dustin is most anxious to see you.”

  Peter excused himself, pushing through the group. Christopher watched as Dustin practically smothered the young man in hugs, prompting Curtis and Richard and Myles to rush him. The older boys were far more relaxed now and showing affection openly, as if they’d never been away. Christin and Brielle, who were older and far more dignified, nonetheless hugged their oldest brother.

  Christopher watched with great satisfaction.

  “I cannot remember the last time my entire family was under the same roof,” he said. “It is a rare time.”

  “Then go be with them,” David said. “There will be time to talk later, after the children have gone to bed.”

  That was true, so everyone separated at that point. Christopher joined his wife and children, sitting next to Dustin on the bench and listening to Curtis and Richard tell stories of life at Canterbury Castle. As Christopher listened, he got a much better idea of just how well-treated the boys were, far more like family and far less like pages.

  He sighed.

  There was no avoiding the inevitable.

  David and Emilie joined them, their girls crowding in with Christin and Brielle, blending in and becoming one big family. Emilie held the sleeping Daniel and, soon enough, she and Dustin departed with the babies to put them to bed, leaving Christopher and David in charge of the children.


  With Gabrielle the only adult feminine influence in the room at that point, Christopher, David, and Marcus lined their boys up into two opposing lines and gave them pieces of rushes as weapons. It became war games on Christmas Eve, with both boys and girls participating. At one point, Christopher put all of the children on one line while he, Marcus, David, and Peter formed the other. It turned into a dog pile when the men went to their knees and the children pounced, and it was all great fun for the boys to drag the men to the ground.

  Coming in to view this spectacle was Deborah de Lohr and her husband, Gowen. They brought their two young daughters who, seeing Uncles Christopher and David on the ground being piled on, squealed and ran into the melee. While Gowen stood there and grinned, Deborah made her way over to Gabrielle, who was sitting with her toddler son and Christin and Brielle. Deborah, the younger sister to Christopher and David, pointed to the brawl.

  “What is this?” she asked Gabrielle with mock outrage. “A battle on Christmas Eve?”

  Gabrielle was smiling. “I think the men were bored,” she said. “Besides, they think of nothing but battle, anyway. They are getting in some practice.”

  Deborah had to laugh. “Where is Dustin?”

  “Putting the baby to sleep.”

  “She will break this up when she sees it, you know. She will not let this go on.”

  Gabrielle nodded. “’Tis true,” she said. Then, she looked to Deborah. “It is good to see you again, Deborah.”

  Gabrielle and Deborah were old friends since the days of Christopher and Dustin in residence at Windsor Castle those years ago when they were first married and then-Prince John was hungering for Richard’s throne. As Deborah sat down next to Gabrielle and began chatting, Dustin came down the stairs, followed by Emilie.

  There was no question that Dustin de Lohr was the Queen of Everything when it came to the House of de Lohr and, in particular, Lioncross Abbey Castle. Her mighty husband, perhaps the mightiest knight in the realm, was submissive to one person – a petite blond fireball of a woman he couldn’t live without. As Dustin came down the stairs and saw the wrestling going on in her great hall, surprisingly, she didn’t stop it. She simply paused on the steps and shook her head.

  “Look at them,” she said to Emilie. “They will never grow up.”

  Emilie was standing right behind her, grinning. “Look,” she said. “David is pinned on his back and Myles is sitting on his face. Do you suppose he is suffocating?”

  Dustin started to laugh. “That is not a very dignified way to die for a knight of David’s caliber,” she said. “Should we stop it? Supper will be ready soon.”

  Emilie shrugged. “Let them play,” she said. “Then they will eat and they will be so tired from the play and food that they’ll sleep all night. It is a precious time, Dustin.”

  That was very true and Dustin wasn’t hard-pressed to agree. As she came off the stairs, preparing to skirt the writhing mass of men and children, the entry doors to the keep opened once again. Dustin and Emilie turned to see Jeffrey entering once again along with three other men key to the de Lohr empire.

  Long with Jeffrey came Sir Thomas Dudley, or “Dud” as he was known. He had served Christopher flawlessly for many years. Next to him was a new knight to the House of de Lohr, an auburn-haired god by the name of Cabot de Venter. Christin was quite sweet on Cabot, who was more than twice her age and looked at his liege’s daughter with great fear. Christin was quite lovely, no doubt, but she was also quite young and the last thing Cabot wanted was to cross Christopher when it came to his eldest daughter, so he stayed as far away from Christin as he possibly could.

  Rounding out the group was Cassian de Velt, son of the great warlord Ajax de Velt, who had become a good friend of Christopher’s a few years ago when Christopher had helped Jax save one of his daughters from a man bent on revenge against Jax himself. Since then, Christopher and Jax were solid allies and Jax had even sent his son to squire at Lioncross Abbey. Cassian was a tall, dark, and handsome youth, and Christopher’s daughter, Brielle, had her eye on him even at her young age.

  The feeling was mutual.

  “The snow has arrived,” Jeffrey announced. “It is already falling rather heavily.”

  A chorus of screams of delight went up and the children scrambled off of the adults and began to run for the door. That was when the mothers began calling to them, preventing them from going outside until they were properly dressed. It was a race to see who could dress first and run out into the falling snow.

  It was magical.

  Already, a heavy dusting of snow covered the bailey and the big tree in the middle of it. The boys were already trying to form snowballs and toss them at each other as their breath hung in the air in great puffs of fog.

  But that joy was short-lived.

  A call went up from the sentries on the wall.

  Peter, Cassian, and Cabot were already running for the gatehouse as Christopher, David, Marcus, Max, Dud, and Jeffrey stood near the keep entry, watching the activity curiously. No one was too concerned, however. These were seasoned knights and they didn’t get worked up easily, especially in the snow and on Christmas Eve. That’s why the reports coming back from Peter and Cabot were surprising.

  “Raiders in Kington, my lord,” Cabot said. “They are stripping the village.”

  Christopher frowned. “What about Kington Castle?”

  Cabot simply shook his head. “You know that Roger Clifford uses it only as a garrison, to staff a few men,” he said. “When de Broase had it, there were many soldiers, but not now. A man from the village is here and he says the Welsh have overrun the garrison.”

  Christopher could hardly believe his ears. “He must be mistaken,” he said. “Overrun it?”

  “There is but one way to find out, my lord.”

  That was true, but Christopher didn’t relish a call-out on Christmas Eve. Still, if the Welsh had Kington Castle, he would be called upon to reclaim it at some point. He looked at his brother.

  “I cannot have the Welsh in a castle only a few miles from Lioncross,” he said. “That would give them a base to launch raids all over my lands.”

  David didn’t look happy. “Damned Welsh,” he muttered. “I really do not want to go into battle on Christmas Eve.”

  “Then stay here. I will take Cabot and whoever else wants to attend me and chase them off.”

  But David waved him away. “You do not go into battle without me,” he said, looking at the others. “And I have a feeling no one else will let you go alone, either.”

  Marcus was already on the move. “Max, get the men mobilized,” he said to his second in command. “Chris, who will you leave at Lioncross in command?”

  Christopher looked at the group around him. No one would meet his eye except Dud and Jeffrey, so he gestured to the pair.

  “It seems that the only ones willing to remain behind are Kessler and Dud,” he said. “Jeffrey, rouse five hundred men. Have them ready in an hour. Dud, you and Cassian take the wall and make sure the Welsh aren’t headed in our direction. Be vigilant.”

  As the men headed off, everyone else began to move as well. They’d all brought troops with them, so it was simply a matter of mustering those troops. Without Christopher even asking, they were ready to mobilize, prepared to support England’s greatest knight.

  It would be like old times, once again. In truth, Christopher was looking forward to serving with Peter. They hadn’t faced battle together since he’d been a lad. They would ride out, subdue the Welsh, and return in time for supper.

  Now, all he had to do was tell Dustin.

  Perhaps the only thing in this entire situation he really wasn’t looking forward to.

  As it turned out, neither was she.

  CHAPTER TWO

  BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

  The Village of Kington

  The Welsh hadn’t simply overrun Kington Castle; they’d overrun the entire village.

  It was crawling with Welsh.
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br />   Half of the cottages in town were burning as the Welsh took what they could, burning what they couldn’t. They seemed particularly spiteful, perhaps knowing that it was Christmas Eve.

  But things were about to get nasty.

  Scouts had informed Christopher as to what, exactly, was going on and the placement of the Welsh. Kington sat along the River Arrow, a rather calm river that ran along the border. There was a wooden bridge that the Welsh had used, one that spanned the river north and south and all on the English side, but the Welsh had circled around to use it. They’d crossed the river using that big, wooden bridge, which was now heavy with the snow that had been dumped on it over the past two hours. The bridge wasn’t particularly steady even without the additional weight of the snow, but that hadn’t stopped the Welsh.

  They’d poured into the village.

  Now, the English were pouring in, as well.

  Knowing that the garrison was overrun to the north and the northern end of the village seemed to be where the Welsh were concentrated, Christopher sent David in from the south and Marcus from the north, blocking off that rickety bridge. Christopher brought his men in from the east, closing in on the village and chasing the Welsh right to Marcus, who had positioned his men in lines in front of the bridge. With David coming up from the south, the Welsh were effectively blocked in.

  It was a bad fight from the start.

  The Welsh were numerous, which was surprising. Usually, the teulu, or family groups much like clans, weren’t quite so large in number or quite so aggressive. Christopher’s mighty bastion of Lioncross had kept them at bay for a number of years, so attacks so close to Lioncross were unusual.

  Tonight was one of those nights.

  Not only were the Welsh in town a problem, but hundreds were across the river and rushed the bridge, straight into Marcus’ back. The troops from Somerhill, which numbered about four hundred, quickly found themselves swarmed with angry Welsh.

  David, who had brought four hundred men with him from Canterbury, was forced to push through the Welsh sandwiched between him and Christopher and Marcus in order to help reinforce Marcus’ men. Christopher, with his five hundred men, had his hands full, so much so that he sent men racing back to Lioncross Abbey for another one thousand.