Fathers and Sons: A Collection of Medieval Romances

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “He is a fool!” Willow took her sister’s hand reassuringly. “Maddoc du Bois is a stupid fool if he cannot see what a wonderful wife you would be to him.”

  Adalind smiled weakly. “I cannot imagine such a thing,” she said. “I have dreamed of it for so long that it does not seem attainable to me. I think that it if were to ever happen, I would faint dead away from surprise.”

  Willow giggled, squeezing her sister’s hand. “Then let us speak of men who are more attainable,” she said, eyeing her sister’s lowered head. “Surely there was someone at court that caught your eye?”

  Adalind cocked an eyebrow as she looked at her sister. “You have been speaking with Mother.”

  “I have not. But I did hear her speaking with Grandmother.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “That you had more suitors than you knew what to do with and the women at court were jealous.”

  Adalind returned her focus to the fish pond and the schools of silver-scaled fish. “There was no one special,” she replied. “A few tried to catch my attention; perhaps a few that even tried too hard.”

  “Like the ap Athoe brothers?”

  Adalind rolled her eyes. “Idiots, both of them,” she said, standing up and brushing the dirt off her bum. “Who knew that men could be so foolish?”

  Willow stood up as well, brushing off her surcoat and then picking a few dead leaves off of Adalind’s hip. “I did not,” she said. “But I was not so fortunate that men were fighting over me.”

  Adalind cast her an expression of displeasure as she turned for the keep. “I wish they would not. I have no use for them.”

  Willow followed. “You will someday. You will need a husband.”

  Adalind gathered up the hem of her surcoat so it would not drag through the moist ground. Being that they were in the kitchen yard, the ground was covered with the leavings of chicken, geese, goats and other animals, and she didn’t want to soil her coat.

  “Perhaps,” she replied vaguely. “But I do not wish to speak of it. Let us speak of something else.”

  “Why?” Willow pressed. “Addie, what happened at court? I heard Mother tell Grandmother awful things. What did those jealous women do to you?”

  Adalind simply shook her head. They crossed the yard and she reached out to unlatch the postern gate that led into the main ward, but Willow reached out and stopped her.

  “Please tell me,” she begged softly.

  Adalind’s green eyes were soft with sadness. “Why?” she asked. “Willow, I do not wish to speak of it.”

  “You are my sister. I can see how you’ve changed, Addie. You seem so… protected. You are not the girl I remember.”

  “I am most definitely not the girl you remember.”

  “Will you not let me come to know the girl you have become, then? Please tell me what has changed you so I may understand.”

  Adalind gazed at her sister as the morning breeze blew strands of blond hair across her eyes. It was a cool breeze, chilling her, and she pushed the hair from her face and looked away.

  “People are cruel,” she finally said, softly. “Suffice it to say that people can be vicious and cruel and hateful. They took my trust and faith and threw it beneath their shoes, crushing it. If I have changed, it is because I have learned something of the true world. It is not a kind place.”

  With that, she moved through the postern gate and out into the ward, coming alive in the early morning. It was clear that Adalind was in no frame of mind to speak of her experiences at court, so Willow followed Adalind through the gap and took her hand as they passed by the stables. There would be time later to discover what had sent Adalind home and Willow knew enough to stop pestering the woman until she was ready. The time would come at some point.

  Around them, dogs barked, horses nickered, and men were bustling about. Guards upon the walls were changing and young soldiers gave the women a wide berth as they headed for the keep entry. Somewhere in the midst of it, a chorus of shouting began to take up upon the parapets. From man to man, the cry traveled and, eventually, the heavy iron portcullis of Canterbury began to lift.

  Adalind and Willow weren’t paying attention to the creaking of the portcullis as it laboriously climbed its chains. The subject had shifted between them and now they were speaking of going into the town to the Shipshop import merchant because the man usually had all manner of textiles and other items for purchase. He was a particular favorite with the de Lohr women and the girls knew it wouldn’t be a difficult thing to convince their mother, and her purse, to come along. As they neared the great retractable steps that led into the keep, Adalind heard someone call her name.

  It was a shout, really, like a desperate plea. Midway up the steps she came to a halt, turning to see who was calling her name. Her jaw dropped.

  “Oh… dear Lord,” she muttered. “Please, not him. Not today.”

  Willow was anxiously looking to the portcullis, the bailey, and trying to find what had her sister so distressed in all of the bustle. There was a crowd of people in the ward, so much so that she truly had no idea what her sister was referring to.

  “What is it?” she asked. “What is your trouble?”

  Adalind’s gaze lingered on the bailey and a certain point of reference before gathering her skirts and dashing inside. Confused, perhaps even bewildered, Willow followed.

  *

  “What did you say his name was?” David asked.

  Adalind’s expression suggested that she had a sour stomach. “Eynsford du Lesseps,” she said. “He is the son of Baron Wallingford of Preston Castle in Oxfordshire. Papa, I want nothing to do with him. Please send him away.”

  David eyed his granddaughter, who looked rather distressed. She had come charging into the great hall of Canterbury not a minute before, upset about something. Now David was coming to understand what had her so worked up. Another suitor. He snapped his fingers at the nearest servant and ordered the entry door bolted until he could get to the bottom of things. The servant went on the run.

  “What about this man, Addie?” he asked. “What do you know about him?”

  She shook her head, frustrated. “He is not unkind,” she said, “but he is a boor. Papa, he is a horrid boor and he plays a citole worse than anyone I have ever heard. All he wants to do is sing sonnets to me. And his voice; terrible! I will go mad if you allow him to remain here, I surely will.”

  “The man is an entertainer?”

  She shook her head again. “Nay,” she replied, increasingly agitated. “He is a knight, but he is a very unaccomplished one. All he wants to do is sing songs and give recitations to anyone who will listen. I have seen him get up in front of a room full of people and declare his interest in me. It was the most humiliating moment of my life.”

  David fought off the urge to grin. He could see that Adalind was sincerely distressed. Moving from his position near the hearth where he was trying to warm his hands in the cold early morning hour, he came over to the feasting table where his granddaughters were sitting on a well-worn bench. He sat between her and Willow.

  “I will not allow anyone to remain if you do not wish it,” he said quietly. “But I know Baron Wallingford. He is an ally to both me and your Uncle Christopher. Before I chase his son away with nary an explanation, I should at least be hospitable to the man. I do not want it getting back to the father that I was rude. Can you understand that?”

  Adalind was looking at her hands. Miserably, she nodded and David put his arm around her shoulders, kissing her on the head.

  “At least allow me to sup with him tonight and then I will send the man on his way tomorrow,” he said. “You do not even have to come to the meal if you do not want to. You can stay to your rooms until he is gone.”

  Adalind’s head shot up, her green eyes full of gratitude. “Oh, thank you, Papa,” she said, hugging him tightly. “Thank you so much.”

  David smiled at her, patting her cheek as he stood up from the bench. “You and your siste
r can sup in your chamber tonight,” he said. “But I should probably go outside and greet the son of an ally. If I am going to run the man off tomorrow, then I should at least be cordial to him today.”

  Adalind breathed a sigh of relief. She was about to reply when there was a loud knocking at the entry to the keep. In fact, it was a heavy banging that threatened to knock the door down. Thinking it was Eynsford in all of his minstrel glory, Adalind made a face but David was obliged to answer it, especially now that he knew the situation. He had the hovering servant lift the heavy iron bolt and shove it out of the way. The big door creaked open.

  Maddoc was standing in the doorway. Dressed in mail, a heavy tunic, heavy gloves, and enormous leather boots, he appeared every inch the intimidating and warring knight. Maddoc simply had that look about him, as if a single glance from his bright blue eyes could melt steel. But today, those eyes were puzzled as he looked to David.

  “My lord,” he said, pointing into the bailey. “There is a man with an instrument in the bailey who swears he will not leave this place until he speaks with Lady Adalind.”

  David cleared his throat, straining to look around Maddoc’s bulk to see the man he was speaking of. He could see an expensive horse, tacked in expensive gear, at the base of the stairs but not much else. He put an arm out, pushing Maddoc out of the way to see a very round and tall man standing at the base of the stairs.

  David had to make a conscious effort to keep from reacting. The man was not young by any means, dressed in some kind of red silk tunic that was so frilly and fine that it looked like a woman’s surcoat. He had matching red hose and black boots with a peculiar pointy toe that was about a foot long. It was extremely odd. On his head he wore an elaborate hat with silk streamers and big peacock feathers sticking out of it, and in his hand he held what looked to be a heavy and expensive citole. David could only catch a glimpse of it before the man swung it up against his chest and began to strum.

  “My lord,” he called, rather dramatically, punctuating his statement with a few chords. “I have come seeking the Lady Adalind de Aston. Would you be her father, good sir?”

  David tried not to let his jaw drop at all of the ridiculous fanfare. “I am her grandfather,” he replied. “Her father is dead. What is it that you want?”

  Eynsford smiled brightly, as if he had just landed upon extremely good fortune, and began to strum away at the guitar-like instrument that had been imported all the way from Italy. It was elaborately carved and painted in shades of red and yellow. His stubby fingers licked the thick gut strings with flourish.

  “Lady, lady, my fair and beautiful maid,

  Lady Adalind of virtue, most beautiful flower.

  My heart beats for you, my soul to sing,

  Be mine, fairest lady, and fulfill my every desire.”

  When he was finished, he looked rather proud of himself, as if he had just accomplished something rare and great, but David was having a difficult time controlling himself. It was the worst thing he’d ever heard, sung off-key in the most terrible voice possible. David was coming to quickly see what had Adalind so upset, for the man was truly a pathetic example of an ostensibly normal male. In fact, he was rather a joke.

  David didn’t dare look at Maddoc, who was standing beside him. If the man even gave a hint of a grin, David would lose his composure for sure. Struggling with all he possessed not to break out in laughter, he cleared his throat and descended the steps towards the wayward suitor.

  “What is your name?” David asked.

  “Eynsford du Lesseps,” the man replied grandly. “My father is Baron Wallingford. He has spoken most highly of you and your brother, my lord. It is a distinct honor to meet you and my father sends word that it would please him greatly if our two families were united by marriage. I have come to ask you for Adalind’s hand in marriage, my lord.”

  David was having trouble looking at the big buffoon with the crooked, toothy grin. Over my dead body, he thought. He could see that the man needed to be handled gently, especially since he was invoking his father’s name this early in the conversation. It was a strategic move. Again, he cleared his throat for lack of a better action, thinking quickly on how to discourage the eager man. There was truthfully only one thing to do to end this pursuit before it gained any momentum. He would make his own strategic move.

  “It would, indeed, be agreeable to be linked to your family by marriage,” he began, “but I am afraid that Adalind is already spoken for.”

  The big, toothy grin immediately fell. “Spoken for?” Eynsford repeated, shocked. “But… but that cannot be. She is intended for me. I have followed her all the way from London and she is intended for me.”

  David hoped God would forgive his convenient lie. “She is pledged to another,” he said firmly. “I am sorry you had to come all this way to discover the news. Please stay as my guest tonight before returning home. I should like to hear of your father’s health and welfare.”

  Eynsford was crushed beyond crushed, hurt beyond hurt. He looked at David as if the man had just quashed every dream he’d ever had, now left with nothing. The naked emotion on his face was without question. Rather than respond to David’s invitation, he simply turned away.

  “Woe,” he moaned, then threw up his hands and wailed louder. “Woe, I say! My goddess has slipped through my fingers like… like sand as it drains through… through… through a shattered chalice with holes all about it. My beautiful Adalind belongs to another and I am woeful! It cannot be!”

  “It is.”

  “Then I am ended!”

  It was a comical and dramatic emotion at its best. David dared to turn around and look at Maddoc, who was still standing at the top of the steps next to the keep entry, watching Eynsford stomp about with an impassive expression on his features. David wished he was so adept at keeping a straight face.

  “Eynsford,” David tried not to giggle as he spoke to the man. “There is no need to despair. There will be other fine ladies, I am sure.”

  Eynsford suddenly fell to his knees in the muddy floor of the bailey. “Nay,” he threw up his arms. “No more ladies. There will be no more ladies for me. Argh! When I think of another man touching Adalind as only I should, I… I…”

  With that, he fell over onto his back, sprawled out on the ground as he gazed up at the sky. Then he clumsily clutched his citole to his chest and began to strum despondently.

  “Painful! Grossly painful and wretched heart, you pain me stubbornly!

  If only I could rip you free, free of the bondage of a love unreturned! Hateful bastard!”

  He was singing at the top of his lungs and David wiped a hand over his face because he couldn’t help the smile now. It was horrible and dramatic and funny as hell. The man was making a spectacle of himself, drawing attention from those in the bailey.

  “Eynsford, get up,” David commanded softly. “There is no need to wallow in the dirt. Get up before you make a fool of yourself, boy.”

  Eynsford shook his head, grinding his elaborate hat into the mud as he moved. “I will stay here forever,” he moaned. “If I cannot have my beloved Adalind, I will waste away in the dirt of her home so I will forever be a part of her.”

  “Get out of the dirt.”

  “At least she will walk over me at times. If I cannot have all of her, at least I can have her feet.”

  David turned away, biting his lip because he wanted to burst into laughter. He truly did. He made his way back to the steps leading into the keep, taking them quickly until he came to Maddoc. The knight was still standing at the top of the stairs, watching du Lesseps make an ass out of himself.

  “See if you can get him out of the dirt and into the great hall,” David muttered. “Let us get this meal over with in a hurry so I can get the man out of my keep.”

  Maddoc’s expression was neutral but his blue eyes were flickering dangerously. “I can get him out now.”

  David put a hand on Maddoc’s arm. “No, lad,” he said. “We must be
polite to this jackass because his father is a valuable ally. Just… make sure he does not hurt himself in his grief. God’s Blood, now I see what Addie was talking about. The man is boorish to say the least.”

  “May I at least attempt to get rid of him, my lord? His behavior is shameful.”

  David eyed him. “Not now,” he replied. “Let us see if he comes to his senses first. If he is still laying here come nightfall, I will permit you to do as you must to remove him.”

  Maddoc wasn’t pleased with the directive but he understood somewhat. The situation was delicate. With a lingering glance to the odd fellow lying on his back and strumming his citole, David disappeared into the keep. Maddoc remained at the top of the stairs, however, watching the fool as men walked around him and dogs sniffed his feet. He eventually shook his head with disgust.

  So this is what men in love do? Although he’d never been in love before, he hoped he was wrong. He couldn’t imagine allowing himself to succumb to such deplorable behavior. He’d seen ample displays of it in the past twenty-four hours.

  As Maddoc continued to stand there and observe, he caught sight of someone beside him. Turning his head, he saw Adalind standing behind him, using him for a shield as she peered down into the bailey at Eynsford. She was very close, bumped up against him as she tried to hide and Maddoc found himself studying the shape of her eyes. She had very beautiful eyes. But Adalind wasn’t looking at him; she was focused on the fool down in the bailey.

  “God’s Beard,” she hissed. “Has he not gone away? What is he doing?”

  Maddoc’s gaze lingered on her sweet face, appreciating it through new eyes, before returning his focus to the ward.

  “He is lamenting your loss, I believe,” he said.

  She looked at him. “What did Papa tell him?”

  “That you are spoken for.”

  “With you again?”

  “He was not specific, but it was enough to send your suitor into fits.”