Fathers and Sons: A Collection of Medieval Romances

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “We should not make an even greater spectacle of ourselves than we just did,” he said, breathless himself. “If your grandfather hears about that, he will beat me soundly.”

  Adalind was panting, hand to her mouth, tasting and smelling the man’s scent against her flesh. “I am sorry,” she breathed. “I did not mean to throw myself at you like that. I simply meant to… oh, I do not know what I meant. Please do not think me wicked.”

  He grinned. “I would never think that,” he said, winking at her. “In fact, I very much enjoyed it. I am glad you threw yourself at me.”

  She was torn between giggling and embarrassment. “Perhaps I should go before I do it again. There is no guarantee that I will not.”

  With a twinkle in his eye, he gently took her elbow and turned her for the keep. He properly escorted her as far as the stairs in warm silence, both of them reflecting on the turn of events. Around them, the castle was alive with soldiers and servants moving swiftly through the foggy air. But in their world, it was just the two of them. More than once, they would glance at each other, grin, and look away. When they finally reached the steps, Adalind stopped and turned to him.

  “I am going to go into the hall right now and tell de Burgh to leave,” she said firmly. “I do not want him here. He is most certainly not welcome.”

  Maddoc tried not to agree with her. “Perhaps your grandfather has already done that.”

  “I cannot be sure.”

  “I would tread carefully, Addie. You do not want to make a mess of things. Let David handle the situation, please. Go back up to your chamber and stay out of sight for now.”

  Her gaze lingered on him a moment. “Is that what you wish?”

  “It is.”

  She smiled. “Then I shall do it.”

  He returned her smile, feeling a bolt of giddy warmth shoot through him. She had such a lovely smile, now reserved only for him. Like her, he was still having trouble believing what had transpired and, like her, it all seemed very perfect and dream-like. It was heavenly.

  “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I will…”

  He was cut off by a loud voice at the top of the steps. “My lady!” the voice nearly shouted. “Alas, I am fortunate enough to gaze upon you!”

  Adalind whirled around so fast that she nearly lost her balance, for standing at the entry to the keep was none other than Walter de Burgh. David was standing right behind him and he did not look pleased.

  Maddoc knew the displeasure was directed at him.

  As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,

  Clad in the light of a pole-star piercing the darkness of time:

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “How is it possible you have grown more beautiful since last I saw you?” Walter demanded as he began to descend the stairs in Adalind’s direction. “I am very glad to see you. Come and greet me properly, my love.”

  Adalind backed away from him and ended up practically hiding behind Maddoc. She was frowning deeply.

  “I am not your love,” she snapped. “I told you that I was not interested in your suit, my lord. I am greatly displeased to see that you have come to my home.”

  Walter de Burgh was a few years older than David, a short man with a bulbous nose, a big belly, and pocked skin. His gray hair was wavy and long, oily, and he often reeked of cheese. It was a horrific combination. Having already buried three wives, he was on the urgent hunt for the fourth because, with five daughters, he was desperate for a son.

  But the heir would not be from Adalind. At her sharp statement, he came to a halt with genuine astonishment on his face. He was torn between disappointment and surprise.

  “Addie, how can you say that?” he asked, his arms open wide as if to embrace her. “You know how fond I am of you.”

  Adalind wedged herself even tighter behind Maddoc, afraid Walter would make a grab for her. “I am not fond of you,” she said. “Go away, Walter. I do not want to see you.”

  Walter wasn’t sure how to react. He looked rather speechless before turning to David. “Women do not know what is good for them,” he said, his good spirits returning. “It is fortunate that they have no negotiating power in a marriage contract.”

  David gazed at the man with veiled tolerance. “Perhaps that is true in some cases,” he replied, “but not in this one. As I told you when you arrived, my granddaughter is already betrothed and Adalind has made her wishes clear. There is no room for negotiation.”

  At David’s words, Adalind, still standing behind Maddoc, reached out and discreetly grasped his hand. She squeezed, thrilled that David had apparently given Maddoc permission to court her. It was the most wonderful thing she could hope for and wasn’t at all peeved that she found out in a rather roundabout manner. All that mattered was that David had given his permission. Maddoc, thinking all of the same things she was, squeezed back.

  Walter seemed to be the only one in earshot who wasn’t thrilled with the fact that Adalind was evidently spoken for. He simply shook his head.

  “No offense to her betrothed or to your taste in husbands for your granddaughter, but no marriage would form a more solid alliance than a marriage to a de Burgh,” he said, a hint of sinister arrogance in his tone. “I know you are not that foolish, de Lohr.”

  David cocked an eyebrow at the insult. Rather than try to humor the man or maintain his cool, he went for the throat.

  “I was foolish enough to invite you to sup and listen to your supercilious boasting for the past three hours,” he fired back. “You have always been an arrogant buffoon, Walter, and I never liked you. Not even when our brothers were in the king’s service together and we were forced by alliances to serve with one another did I like you. Now that you have come to my castle and insulted me, I like you even less. You will leave now and forget about Adalind. She is too good for you and your narcissistic ego. Find a mate elsewhere.”

  Walter wasn’t accustomed to being insulted. He lost all of his humor and his jaw went slack. “You dare…”

  David didn’t let him finish. He gave him a shove in the direction of the gatehouse where his horse and several retainers had been waiting patiently since his arrival. The man nearly stumbled to his knees as David pushed.

  “Get out!” David gave the man another shove. “Get out before I do something I regret. And if you think to tell your all-powerful brother what happened here today, he has his own problems right now and will more than likely disregard you. But if he, in fact, shows interest in your whining, know that I will tell him exactly what I told you. He thinks you are an idiot, anyway, so I would not be surprised if he laughed in your face.”

  Walter’s shabby face went red with anger. He turned on his heel and ran back to his horse as fast as his fat belly and spindly legs would allow. He began yelling at his retainers, pushing them around, slapping one, until he reached into one man’s shirtwaist and yanked forth a long, slender dagger. Then he turned and ran back in David’s direction, the dirk held before him.

  Maddoc swung into action. He released Adalind’s hand and placed himself between David and Walter. As big as he was, he made a rather massive barrier, one that not even Walter was immune to. But Walter was as stupid as David had accused him of being; he ran right at Maddoc with the dirk. The intent was apparent and, given the fact that he was a de Burgh, he did not expect the knight to resist his charge. He fully expected to stab Maddoc in the midsection without a fight. But when Walter drew near, Maddoc reached out and disarmed him.

  Walter screamed as Maddoc twisted his wrist hard enough to crack bones. The dirk went flying and Walter fell to the muddy ground, howling in pain as he cradled his injured arm.

  David moved up next to Maddoc, gazing grimly at Walter’s writhing form. Then he lifted his gaze and, seeing Walter’s men standing rather stunned several feet away, motioned to them.

  “Get him out of my sight,” he commanded.

  Walter’s men rushed forward as David backed away, grasping Adalind and quickly escorting
her into the keep. Only Maddoc remained behind, like a massive and intimidating sentinel, watching as Walter’s men dragged their screaming lord back to their horses and forcibly hefted the man atop his horse. Walter continued to scream, with the addition of angry cursing, as they forced him and his horse from the bailey of Canterbury. It made for a tense and rather chaotic scene.

  Maddoc and a few soldiers followed them to the gatehouse to make sure they left. In fact, by the time they reached the portcullis with the green fields of Kent beyond, there was a solid line of de Lohr men herding them from the ward to ensure de Burgh’s compliance.

  With nowhere to go but out, they soon left. Maddoc’s gaze was intense as he watched the group fading off into the distance. The fog that had been so heavy the past few days was oddly lifting, and a nearly full moon was revealed against the black sky. It would make for easy travel to the village of Harbledown, which was close by.

  “Should we follow them, Maddoc?”

  Maddoc turned to the young knight standing slightly behind him. Gerid du Reims had been in charge of the fortress while Maddoc had been in France visiting his family. A strong man with uncanny intelligence and piercing black eyes, he was a younger son of the Earl of East Anglia, a local and strong ally to Canterbury. He was Maddoc’s second in command, and Maddoc shook his head to the quietly uttered question.

  “I do not believe that will be necessary,” he told Gerid. “I am sure de Burgh will return to his brother’s seat of Montgomery Castle, rally his brother’s troops, and return to lay siege.”

  Gerid gave him a lopsided smile as the soldiers forming the unbreachable line at the portcullis began to disperse.

  “That will give us time to prepare,” he said.

  Maddoc nodded, somewhat in resignation of what was potentially to come, before eyeing the knight. His gaze settled on the man rather fondly.

  “I have been returned from France for nearly two days,” he said. “Why have I not seen you in that time?”

  Gerid lifted his eyebrows. “You are the one who has been in hiding,” he pointed out. “You have been with the earl and his family since your return.”

  Maddoc cocked an eyebrow. “I have been on the walls most of the afternoon. Someone told me you went into town.”

  Gerid nodded. “Fordwich,” he said. “I escorted the countess. She went to visit the church and dispense alms. She does that every week, you know.”

  “I know. But next time, tell me directly where you are going.”

  “I tried to find you but was told you were with Adalind.”

  Maddoc cleared his throat, nervously, because it was a subject he didn’t particularly want to elaborate on, even with someone as trusted as Gerid.

  “I was,” he said. “This steady stream of suitors since her return has her on edge. I have a feeling that de Burgh will not be the last.”

  It was a subtle shift of subject. Gerid nodded and started to reply, but something over Maddoc’s shoulder caught his attention. His eyes narrowed to better see the movement in the dark, causing Maddoc to swing around to see what had his attention.

  With the ghostly glow of the landscape, it wasn’t difficult to see that something was moving along the road towards the castle. It was short, whatever it was, and seemed to be wailing. Curious, not to mention mildly concerned, both Maddoc and Gerid made their way out of the gatehouse, standing just outside of it so they could see whatever it was as it made an approach. Suddenly, Maddoc hissed a curse.

  “God’s Blood,” he muttered. “That idiot.”

  Gerid had no idea what, or whom, he meant, but when Maddoc broke out into a jog down the road, Gerid followed. They soon came upon the subject of their focus; Eynsford was walking up the road on his knees, playing his citole and singing hoarsely at the top of his lungs. As Maddoc and Gerid came upon him, Eynsford came to a weary halt.

  “I have come to apologize to my lady,” he announced, his voice rough from singing for hours on end. “I spent yesterday thinking on how I could apologize to Lady Adalind and it came to me; God shows mercy to the penitent man. Perhaps, Lady Adalind will show mercy to me as well if I am repentant, so I started crawling on my knees and singing her praises. Please do not make me go away until I have apologized to her.”

  Maddoc stood over the fat young man, shaking his head with a mixture of disbelief and disgust. “How long have you been crawling?” he demanded.

  Eynsford pointed over his shoulder, back towards the smoke-shrouded village of Harbledown. “I started at the Snow Dove Inn,” he said, looking back up at the knights. He appeared rather fearful. “It has taken me since this morning to make it this far. Please do not make me go away.”

  Maddoc snorted, looking at Gerid, who seemed genuinely puzzled. “The Snow Dove Inn?” Gerid repeated. “That is almost three miles away, at the far end of town. You have been walking on your knees from that place?”

  Eynsford nodded hesitantly, intimidated by the way the man raised his voice. “I have much to atone for.”

  Gerid looked at Maddoc. “Is this not the entertainer you chased away yesterday?”

  “You saw that?”

  “I saw part of it. Lord David had me assigned to an errand, but I returned just as Adalind was taking a switch to him.”

  Maddoc slapped Gerid on the shoulder. “There is much more to it than that,” he said. “Right now, I suspect we had better get du Lesseps inside so the physic can take a look at those knees. My guess is that they are in terrible shape.”

  Eynsford conceded the point. “They do hurt.”

  Maddoc reached down and grabbed a fatty arm as Gerid reached out and grabbed the other. Together, they hauled the young man to his feet. Eynsford could barely walk, but his attention seemed to be on Maddoc.

  “You promise you will not turn me away?” he asked.

  Maddoc nodded patiently. “I promise I will not turn you away, at least for tonight.”

  “And if Lady Adalind comes after me with a switch? Will you tell her I can stay?”

  “I will tell her you can stay. But you do understand she is spoken for, do you not?”

  Eynsford didn’t look pleased. “I do.”

  “You will not try to woo her again?”

  “I will not,” he sighed dramatically. “Given what happened yesterday, I do not think she would be receptive.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Do you know this man she is promised to? Is he worthy of her?”

  Maddoc struggled not to grin. “He thinks so.”

  “Is he a fighting man?”

  “Most definitely.”

  Eynsford looked both thoughtful and intimidated. “Then he would try to kill me if I attempted to steal her from him.”

  “More than likely. It would be best not to tempt fate.”

  Eynsford grunted in pain as Maddoc and Gerid helped him walk over a slippery, muddy patch. When he slipped because of his stiff gait, Maddoc easily steadied him. Eynsford acknowledged the assistance gratefully.

  “You, good sir, are a saint,” he declared. “I will compose a song about you. What is your name?”

  “Maddoc.”

  “I shall call it Maddoc the Magnificent!”

  Maddoc and Gerid looked at each other from over Eynsford’s head. As Gerid fought off a grin, Maddoc just rolled his eyes.

  He wasn’t so sure Adalind would think him magnificent as he gave her nemesis safe haven for the night.

  You become an image of what is remembered forever.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I had to tell her, Maddoc,” Christina said. “She would have gone to break her fast in the small hall and found him there. What on earth were you thinking to bring him here?”

  Maddoc was properly contrite. It was early morning after the night he’d brought Eynsford back to Canterbury, bloodied knees and all. David had been shocked to see the man but had understood when Maddoc explained the man’s presence. In fact, he had struggled not to laugh about it. It was a rather pathetic situation.

&n
bsp; Therefore, Eynsford was allowed to sleep in the small hall by the enormous fireplace after the castle physic, a spindly little man with red hair, tended to his cut knees. But the moment he lay down and started to play his citole, David emerged from the master’s chamber adjoining the hall, snatched the citole, and refused to give it back until morning. His goodwill and good humor only went so far.

  “He left early this morning,” Maddoc assured the woman. “Gerid escorted him back to Harbledown. As for my bringing him here last night, the man had just spent most of the day crawling on his knees to the castle; I simply could not leave him out on the road. What else was I to do?”

  Christina cocked an eyebrow. “You are very kind to a man who wants to court your intended.”

  Maddoc grinned. “Not usually,” he said, “but I suppose I felt sorry for him. The man does not have a chance in the world with Adalind, yet he continues to try. That kind of determination is admirable. Foolish, but admirable.”

  Christina’s lips twitched with a grin. “I am not sure Adalind agrees with you,” she said, tilting her head in the direction of the closed chamber door. “She is quite cross. I would suggest you think of some way of soothing her or this courtship might be over before it begins.”

  He laughed softly. “I would like nothing better than to soothe her, but I have been forbidden to be alone with her and I am not sure I want an audience when I grovel at her feet. Perhaps I should simply let it blow over.”

  “Or you could take her into Fordwich to collect her new surcoat she is going to wear to Lady Victoria du Bose’s birthday celebration next week.”

  He cocked his head. “Ridge du Bose’s daughter?”