Fathers and Sons: A Collection of Medieval Romances

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Most of the fire went out of Elizabeau. The concept was still mind-boggling; she hadn’t known of her brother Arthur’s death until two days ago and was subsequently informed that she had been named his heir. But that was providing she marry the prince of the Holy Roman Empire, a man with a name she didn’t even know. All of this to create an alliance that her Uncle John and his ally Phillip could never break. It was a maelstrom of politics and she was caught up in the eye of the storm.

  Gazing down into the faces of the most powerful men in England, she knew it was a destiny that she could not refuse, as much as she wanted to.

  Du Bois dug his spurs into his charger just as the high-pitched screech of an arrow penetrated the muffled noise of the rain. De Lohr and du Burgh scattered, the earl finding cover behind a kitchen wall as the old justiciar scampered back into the house. Rhys put his massive arm over Elizabeau, pulling her into a crushing embrace against his armored chest as they fled the confines of the yard. She could hear the sounds of more arrows behind her, of de Lohr’s men shouting and scrambling.

  They were the sounds of war.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The destrier was so exhausted that huge flecks of foam kept flying back and smacking her on the arm or in the chest, and Elizabeau had to turn her head on more than one occasion to keep from being hit in the face. But the big black beast pounded onward into the torrential night, sheets of water pouring from the sky and entire cities of lightning filling the clouds.

  Rhys had taken them away from the main road almost immediately. They had entered woods so black that she could scarcely see a foot in front of her face, nevermind the terrain. After the first few harrowing minutes, Elizabeau finally closed her eyes and lowered her head, praying fervently that she wasn’t about to break her neck when the horse made a bad step and threw her off. But so far, the charger remained surefooted and Rhys directed the horse through the black grove of trees.

  There was a small row of homes and an equally small avenue once they exited the woods. Rhys plowed through someone’s side yard, into the avenue, and back out through another row of thatched-roof huts. There was a field on the other side and the horse raced wildly into it, leaping over a stream and continuing on into the next cluster of trees.

  They rode for hours the same way. Eventually, the small villages surrounding London came to an end and they found themselves in open territory. Twice Rhys had backtracked and crossed his own path so if there was anyone following, the tracks would be muddled. With his clever path, and the continuing rain, he was confident he could lose anyone in pursuit that had managed to escape de Lohr’s defenses.

  But it was exhausting work. The horse was hearty and responded eagerly to Rhys’ commands, but even the beast would eventually have to rest. Elizabeau simply held on to the pommel of the saddle and kept her mouth shut, miserable with the circumstances but knowing this was being done to save her life.

  The rocky road was swamped with water and mud that flew from the charger’s hooves as the animal grunted down the path. The land around them was pounding with rain. Though wrapped tightly in an oiled cloth cloak, her feet had been uncovered by the wind and wild ride and were soaked through. Yet she did not complain; at this point, her exhaustion had set in and the fight had momentarily left her. She was simply looking forward to the point when the horse would stop and she would be able to sit on something that wasn’t moving.

  Through the sheets of driving rain, lights became evident in the distance. Du Bois increased his pace, entering the small berg of Ealing and heading for the fortified manor to the north and west of the town that belonged to Thomas Courtenay, Earl of Osterley and strong supporter of the John’s opposition. Even through the rain and wind, he could see it in the distance as he passed through the main street of the town, though he made sure to keep his attention on his surroundings in case dangers lurked. As they approached the manse, he unstrapped his double-barrel Welsh crossbow and perched the weapon on his left knee as he switched the reins to his right hand. Being left-handed, he was deadly accurate within several dozen yards.

  Courtenay’s manor was separated from the main part of town, secluded behind enormous walls that were manned by sentries. Rhys could see them as he approached. When a man on the wall lifted his hand to Rhys in greeting, Rhys lifted his crossbow and neatly shot the man off the wall.

  He dug his spurs into the charger’s sides, prompting the exhausted animal on again at a harried pace. Elizabeau grabbed hold of the saddle lest she slide to the ground.

  “What’s wrong?” she cried.

  Rhys tried to hold onto her, his crossbow and the reins at the same time. He didn’t answer her as he drove the horse into the nearest bank of trees. Behind him, he could hear shouting over the driving of the rain.

  “Sir knight,” Elizabeau ducked as a small branch came at her head; it missed her but struck du Bois and did nothing more than glance off. “What’s wrong? I thought we were…?”

  “It would seem that Courtenay’s house is occupied,” he replied, somewhat wryly. “We will have to find alternate quarters for the night.”

  She almost slipped off as the charger made a sharp turn in the bramble. “What do you mean? How do you know this?”

  Rhys grunted when another branch caught him heavily in the shoulder. “Be still. If we’re being pursued, they’ll hear your voice.”

  Elizabeau gripped the saddle with white knuckles. The horse took another sharp turn in the darkness and she suddenly lost her grip, sliding off the wet saddle before Rhys could grab her. She fell heavily, landing in the muck.

  Du Bois turned his weary horse about in a flash. To their left was a heavy cluster of trees and overgrowth and he plowed the horse into it as far as the beast would go. Dismounting swiftly, he secured the horse and raced to where Elizabeau was picking herself up. Grabbing the woman by the arms, he yanked her into the brush.

  “Are you injured?” he asked with quiet urgency.

  She shook her head, a bit dazed. “I… I do not think so.”

  “Then stay here and be quiet.”

  It was not a request. Elizabeau looked at him with wide eyes but she did as he commanded. Rushing back to the area where she fell, du Bois used a fallen branch to sweep their tracks clean. Even though the rain would very shortly wash away any evidence, still, he wanted to make sure they were not detected. Dropping the branch, he raced back to their hiding place and made sure the horse was adequately concealed.

  He dropped to his knees, taking Elizabeau down with him. His brilliant blue eyes scanned the forest, ears attuned to any sound. But the rain continued to fall around them and the trees remained relatively silent. After several long, tense minutes, he let out a sigh and turned to the lady beside him.

  “Are you sure you did not hurt yourself when you fell?” he whispered.

  She looked at him, his features barely visible in the dark night. “I am sure,” she breathed. “What happened back there that we had to flee? Were we being chased?”

  His gaze lingered on her a moment before returning to the forest beyond. “Not chased.”

  “Then what?”

  He paused a moment before replying. “The sentry.”

  “What about the sentry?”

  “No sentry would have lifted his hand to me in greeting. He would have demanded my name before ever showing me a measure of welcome.” When she opened her mouth to question him further, he cut her off. “Be quiet now. Your voice carries a mile and I’ll not have you give our position away.”

  It was an insult, but he was probably correct. In fact, she couldn’t get too angry over it so she plopped on her rump and tried to huddle under the oiled cloak, which was now completely covered with mud. It was freezing, wet and miserable but, contrary to her nature, she didn’t open her mouth to complain. She wouldn’t give du Bois the satisfaction of commanding her to be quiet again. He seemed to like it too much.

  The charger swung its big head, knocking her on the side of the face with his foamy lips. F
eatures contorted with disgust, she wiped the saliva from her cheeks and spread it on the leaves beside her. She looked up to see du Bois watching her. His gaze lingered on her a moment before turning back to the dark forest beyond. There was no compassion in his expression at all. He only wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to make a sound; he could have cared less about her comfort. Tired, wet, and disgusted, Elizabeau scooted away from the horse but du Bois stopped her.

  “Nay, lady,” he rumbled softly. “Stay where you are.”

  She was prepared to snap at him but again decided to keep her mouth shut. Du Bois could bully her all he wanted and she wouldn’t say a word. Turning her head away from him, she laid her left cheek on her up-bent knees and closed her eyes, struggling to keep the tears at bay. Her exhaustion had them very close to the surface.

  But her eyes flew open and her head came up as the sounds of hooves suddenly intermingled with the rain. Shouting filled the air and soon there were horses and men tramping in the distance, several of them with torches. They were heading for the cluster of trees that shielded them.

  Eyes wide with fear, Elizabeau slid back in du Bois’ direction until she brushed up against him. The closer the men came, the more terrified she grew.

  “They’re coming closer,” she hissed. “We must run.”

  He shook his head steadily. “They would only chase us down.”

  “But they will find us,” she pressed. “We must flee!”

  He turned to look at her, then. “My horse is bordering on exhaustion, my lady,” he replied quietly. “He would not get much farther before collapsing and that would not be a good thing on open ground. At least here, we have cover.”

  “But they will find us. There is nowhere to go should we become boxed in.”

  Rhys’ brilliant blue gaze remained on her a moment before his eyes suddenly traveled upwards into the trees surrounding them. An idea occurred to him as he reached out to finger one of the yearlings. “Can you climb a tree?”

  She could see where he was leading and her gaze snapped to the canopy above. “These trees will never hold you,” she hissed.

  “I am not concerned with me. I am only concerned with you. Can you climb a tree?”

  He was deadly serious. They stared at each other a moment and she felt that odd buzzing sensation again in her head as their eyes met. Though distracted by it, she nodded. “Aye.”

  “Good. Then get ready to climb. I’ll push you up as far as I can, but the rest is up to you. And you will stay there and not make a sound no matter what you see or hear. Is that clear?”

  She nodded, wide-eyed, before returning her gaze to the approaching group. It seemed as if there were dozens of men, carrying both torches and weapons. They were spread out in a search pattern, searching for tracks on the ground. Just as they entered the edge of the trees, a rumble sounded off to the east. Elizabeau and Rhys turned their attention to the new sound, seeing a large party of men on horseback approach. They, too, had torches and swords drawn. Beside her, Rhys suddenly stood up and moved to his charger.

  He removed his double-sheath and two broadswords from where they were lashed to the saddle. The swords were almost as long as Elizabeau was tall, enormous weapons that Rhys slung over his back and secured in a harness that wrapped around both shoulders and across his narrow waist. All he had to do was reach over either shoulder to unsheathe a weapon, or even both at the same time, making him twice as deadly an adversary than the normal knight. He then took his shield in one hand and the re-loaded crossbow in the other. He was preparing for battle. Elizabeau watched him anxiously.

  “Where do you go?” she demanded.

  His brilliant blue eyes watched the approaching party in the distance. “De Lohr approaches,” he replied. “I must be ready to defend you if the fighting grows close.”

  She turned to see the large contingent of men closing in on the group that was near the edge of the trees. In fact, the group near the edge of the trees were scattering as de Lohr’s forces closed in. Soon, the clash of metal filled the air as the battle commenced.

  Rhys stood beside Elizabeau as they watched de Lohr and his knights engage the others. Elizabeau recognized de Lohr himself in the middle of it; he was a very large man and there was no mistaking his size or strength. The sound of men struggling for their lives was amplified in the rain, which was now pounding with epic proportions. The wind howled through the trees, whipping branches about and creating spray. Elizabeau watched the battle, pulling her cloak more tightly about her slender body. It was an awesome sight.

  Suddenly, a pair of knights burst into the trees near them, locked in mortal combat. Rhys and Elizabeau watched as the men fought ravenously, hacking away with skill and power. One knight’s charger slipped in the mud and the beast fell to its knees, allowing the opposing knight the upper hand. Off balance, the knight on the compromised horse was at a distinct disadvantage.

  In a flash, Rhys lifted his crossbow and fired at the dominant knight, striking him squarely in the ribs when he lifted his right arm to deliver what could have been a mortal blow. The knight grunted, dropped his sword, and fell to the ground shortly thereafter.

  Rhys emerged from their shielding haven, approaching the knight whose charger was righting itself. The horse was muddy, but unharmed. The knight saw Rhys approach and tossed up his visor.

  “Du Bois!” he threw a leg over the saddle and plunged to the ground. “Thanks for the help, man. We were wondering where you had gone.”

  Rhys propped the crossbow against his hip, holding on to the hilt. “Only as far as the trees once I figured out that Courtenay’s fortress was compromised. But my charger is about to collapse.” He nodded his head in the direction of the bulk of the fighting. “How did you know they would be here?”

  “Chris interrogated one of the fools who attacked us back at Hyde House,” the knight replied; he was handsome and blue-eyed. “He managed to wrest some interesting information from him, mostly that John was aware you were taking the lady to Courtenay’s Ealing manor. His men were waiting for you. We tried to catch up with you and could only hope we made it in time.”

  Rhys scratched his damp forehead underneath the mail hauberk. “How would he know?”

  The knight shrugged his shoulders. “Spies abound everywhere, Rhys. You’ve been at court long enough to know that.”

  Rhys shook his head. “I cannot believe there would be a spy in our midst, David. The earl’s men have been with him for years. There’s no way it would be one of them.”

  David de Lohr lifted his broad shoulders. “Probably not, but it’s not the first time we have run into betrayal. The informant could be one of the soldiers or servants. Or it could be another knight; we simply do not know. We must watch what we say in front of those we do not know intimately.”

  The fighting was growing weaker; some were running off as de Lohr’s men chased them. Rhys and David watched as the group began to scatter, fleeing into the pounding storm. David finally turned back to Rhys.

  “Where is the lady?” he asked.

  Rhys turned towards the shielding foliage just as Elizabeau emerged; she had been listening to their conversation. Soaked to the skin and very cold, her pert little nose was bright red beneath the folds of the cloak.

  “Where do I go now?” she asked snappishly. “Courtenay’s manor is obviously compromised. Or do you plan to run with me night and day until we all drop from exhaustion?”

  Rhys didn’t react other than to indicate David. “My lady, this is Sir David de Lohr, brother of the earl.”

  Elizabeau studied the man as he dipped his head at her in greeting; he wasn’t nearly as big as the earl, but she could tell just by looking at him that he had the trained, muscular body of a warrior. He was very handsome with pale blue eyes and a square jaw.

  “My lady,” David acknowledged. Then he looked back at Rhys. “There’s an inn at Hanwell. Chris says to take her there and stay there until he comes.”

  Rhys nodded sharply and
turned for the lady, taking her by the arm and leading her silently back towards their hovel of bushes. But Elizabeau wouldn’t be led away so easily. She fixed on David.

  “So is this your cunning plan?” she asked, belligerence in her tone. “One step to the next, hoping to avoid trouble with no real strategy in mind? I’ll not be dragged all over England like common baggage. Where on earth are you taking me?”

  David removed his helm, pulling his mail hood back to reveal cropped blond hair. He scratched his scalp furiously. It was evident he was taking his time in answering her.

  “We are doing what we must to save your life,” he fixed on her, his blue eyes hard. “If you have a better plan, then by all means, take your own life in your hands and try to stay one step ahead of your uncle. He’s already killed your brother and now he wants you. If the lords of Brittany were unable to protect Arthur, then what makes you think you alone will be able to save yourself?” He walked towards her, stalking, anger in his manner evident. “All you need do is command us to leave you, Lady Elizabeau. ’Tis you who hold the power; not us. We are your servants. Command us away and we shall obey.”

  By this time, he was standing in front of her, drilling holes into her with his piercing gaze. Elizabeau tried not to appear too intimidated.

  “ ’Tis not that I do not appreciate your devotion, Sir David,” she was considerably softer. “But it would seem to me that there should be a definitive plan in place, safe houses where you will take me until I can be united with my betrothed. Surely the emperor is sending men at this very moment to aid us in our endeavor. This marriage means as much to him as to us.”

  David had lost none of his harsh stance. “My brother is a brilliant tactician. He would not be the King’s Champion where this not so. You must trust him, my lady. He will do what he feels best for you. It would make it much easier for all of us, especially du Bois, were you to simply comply with what we ask without question or resistance.”