Fathers and Sons: A Collection of Medieval Romances

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I know,” she whispered. Then she pulled her face from his chest and gazed up at him. “I simply want you to be safe. Nothing else matters to me but you. Please take care.”

  He smiled faintly at her, brushing a bit of stray hair from her eyes. Then he cupped her face in one big hand and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. But that wasn’t good enough, like a teaser for his passion, so he kissed her on the lips as well. She tasted like the cherries she had been eating in the hall, tangy and sweet. It was enough to spark his lust and he pulled her tightly against him as his lips devoured her, tasting her, his tongue licking her lips and begging for admittance. When she opened her mouth, timidly, he took full advantage of it. He kissed her until she had to gasp for air and even then he pulled away purely out of necessity. Men were yelling at him from the battlements.

  “Rider!”

  Maddoc could hear the cries. Leaving a breathless Adalind standing by the stairs, he moved towards the gatehouse where David was ordering the gates opened. There was still the portcullis, squat and tough, lowered against all threats that would wash upon Canterbury and providing some measure of protection, but Maddoc could see something beyond the iron grate as he made his way towards the gatehouse. A rider was, indeed, approaching in the darkness.

  Men were scrambling upon the walls, dogs barking at the excitement. Maddoc reached the gatehouse, standing with David, William and Gerid as the rider came barreling towards them. It seemed as if the rider had no control over his mount because the horse was going in all directions, unsteadily. It ran straight up to the gate and nearly crashed into it, taking a sharp turn to the right at the last moment to avoid a collision.

  The action would have dumped a normal rider and the rider did, indeed, topple, but the entire saddle went with him, rolling to the underbelly of the horse but not coming off. Rider and saddle were still strapped to the horse. The mount started to panic because it could no longer freely move.

  David shouted orders for the portcullis to lift as Maddoc and William slipped underneath the grate to grab the horse. As William took hold of the panicked and frothing steed, Maddoc dropped to his knees beside the upside-down rider. It took him all of two seconds to see what he was dealing with. A beaten and bloodied body, gagged, was tied to the saddle. He was quite dead.

  “God help us,” he hissed. “What madness is this?”

  We have played along side millions of lovers, shared in the same

  Shy sweetness of meeting, the same distressful tears of farewell –

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Poor Eynsford,” Adalind sobbed. “He was a nuisance but he was not a terrible person. Why would Walter do this to him?”

  Christina didn’t have any answers. Nor did Emilie or Willow. The four of them sat in the small feasting hall, a warm blaze crackling in the hearth behind them, keeping the hall rather cozy even though the mood of the room was fearful and somber. Christina had her arm around her daughter’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort.

  “Papa told you not to worry,” she said gently. “He and the knights will do what needs to be done.”

  Adalind was devastated. Somehow, someway, Walter de Burgh crossed paths with Eynsford du Lesseps and had killed the man, sending him back to Canterbury tied to a horse. No one even knew how Walter had known the man, but Eynsford, being a bit of a dramatic character, must have said something about Adalind somehow and Walter, furious over his expulsion from Canterbury, must have taken his fury out on the young man.

  It had been a horrific sight, one that Adalind had unfortunately witnessed. David had tried to spare her when he realized who the dead rider was, but Adalind had caught sight of Eynsford anyway. The man had been wearing his bright red silks and had been hard to miss.

  David had taken the hysterical Adalind into the keep and spent a few minutes trying to calm her down before retreating to the bailey. An army was approaching, one that apparently meant serious business, and he could not spare more time to soothe his granddaughter. It was evident that defending her was to be the order of the night.

  So Adalind, Willow, Christina, and Emilie had been in the hall since Eynsford’s tragic appearance. The keep was buttoned up tightly while Canterbury waited with quivering anticipation for the siege. The women had no way of knowing what was going on outside considering all of the windows were shuttered and they were deep in the keep, far away from doors or openings. They had no way of knowing that the army that had sent them all into lockdown was really no more than one hundred men that had marched upon Canterbury in a rather unorganized group. They had no way of knowing that the collection remained in a black, shadowed tide just outside of the range of Canterbury’s archers, waiting and watching. All they knew was that bottled up in the keep made them deaf and blind to all, which only fueled their fears.

  “I simply do not understand why Walter would do this,” Adalind sniffled, trying not to think of Eynsford’s broken body. “I told him I was not interested in him. Does he believe that murder and destruction will make me want to marry him?”

  Christina glanced at Emilie before replying; the older women were more astute to the real world, where men’s hearts and actions were not motivated by feeling but rather by greed and pride. Adalind was too young to fully comprehend that.

  “Nay,” she said softly. “He does not believe he can win your love this way. He has come to take what he wants.”

  Adalind shook her head firmly, wiping delicately at her nose. “He cannot have me,” she said, turning beseechingly to her mother. “I am so sorry to have brought this upon Canterbury. All was peaceful until I came home and now…”

  “You are not to blame,” Emilie spoke up from the other side of the table, cutting her off. “Addie, men like Walter de Burgh are spoiled little bullies. If they do not get their way, in any fashion, they throw a tantrum. That is all this is – a tantrum.”

  Adalind was no longer sobbing but tears still dripped from her eyes. “It is a deadly tantrum. I am responsible for Eynsford’s death.”

  “Nonsense,” Emilie snapped softly. “Worrying about this is not going to change things. In fact, I suggest we all try to get some sleep. If the siege begins, we will hear it, so until that time we may as well try to rest.”

  Adalind started to shake her head but her mother firmly agreed. “That is an excellent suggestion,” she said, standing up and pulling Adalind to her feet. “Let us try and get some rest.”

  Adalind realized that her mother and grandmother were joining forces to coerce her into going to bed. She resisted even as her mother bodily pulled her away from the feasting table but eventually relented as Willow took her hand and began leading her up the narrow spiral stairs. She had fallen silent by the time they reached their shared bedchamber, the long stone room with the roaring fireplace and piles of furs and coverlets stacked both on and under the bed.

  It was a cozy place, a young lady’s place, and it brought instant comfort as Adalind passed through the door. Her things were here, things that had followed her around for the past five years, and she was comforted amongst her things. She truly was exhausted from her eventful day. She stopped thinking of Eynsford and Walter, at least for the moment. At least until the sound of bellows in the bailey caught her attention. Rushing to the window that faced out over a portion of the bailey, she and Willow strained to see what was going on.

  There was some manner of confrontation occurring at the main gates.

  *

  “Surely you understand the de Burgh war machine.” Wallace de Digges was a middle-aged man who fought for his older brother, the Lord of Chilham Castle. He appeared tired and impatient and resistant to being in the position he was in. “Walter de Burgh is demanding satisfaction, my lord. My brother has sent me to seek the truth of the matter. What on earth happened today that has that old man so riled up?”

  David knew Wallace. They had co-existed peacefully for years. Although not truly an ally, he wasn’t an enemy, either. They simply lived a few miles from each other but
not much more than that. Politics had seen them on opposite sides most of the time.

  David sighed heavily. He kept the portcullis down, conversing through the big iron bars. “He came to court my granddaughter,” he explained, anger in his tone. “My granddaughter is not interested in him, nor am I, and when I asked him to leave, he became rude and threatening. When I physically threw him from my keep, he produced a weapon. My captain defended me.”

  Wallace listened to the story before scratching his dark, oily head. “Is that du Bois?”

  “Aye.”

  Wallace shook his head, disgusted. “Walter wants him.”

  “Why?”

  “To punish him, I would presume. His arm is badly broken and he said du Bois did it.”

  “He did it whilst disarming the man,” David said, his fury growing. “Make no mistake; Walter pulled a dagger and was fully intending to use it on me until Maddoc stepped in. The broken arm is the unfortunate byproduct of a stupid man’s stupid actions.”

  Wallace scratched his head again and looked David in the eye. “So what shall we do?” he asked. “My brother forced me to come here at de Burgh’s request. I was asked to bring back du Bois and if I do not, I am to return to my brother and inform him of your refusal to produce the man, whereupon my brother will provide a thousand men to lay siege and either kill du Bois or take him prisoner. My lord, I have no desire to lay siege to Canterbury because of the idiot de Burgh. I do not like him, my brother does not like him, but we all fear his brother. I would not want to offend the de Burgh family.”

  David’s eyebrows listed. “So you would offend the de Lohr family instead?” He shook his head. “My brother commands five thousand at Lioncross Abbey plus another six thousand from his various garrisons. By tomorrow noon, I can have four thousand men here from my garrisons at Denstroude Castle and Kemberland Castle, and I will send word to Fitzwilliam at Dover Castle to reinforce me with another four thousand. If you think you can survive nineteen thousand men, by all means, return and lay siege.”

  Wallace held up a hand in surrender. “My lord, I do not wish to invite your ire, either,” he assured David. “I am simply doing what I was told to do.”

  David knew the man was a pawn and he struggled to calm himself. But he was sincerely furious at de Burgh.

  “I understand,” he said. “My anger is not directed at you. But you will return to Walter de Burgh with a message from me. You will tell him that he will cease his harassment of my granddaughter and forget any misplaced sense of vengeance against Maddoc du Bois or I will send word to my brother and we will both march on Montgomery Castle where his beloved brother Hubert resides and burn the place to the ground. If this is in any way unclear, he can come personally to discuss it with me for, as of this moment, I will consider any further action from him, or Chilham Castle, an open act of war and will react accordingly. Chilham shall fall, as will Montgomery, and any other de Burgh holdings my brother and I decide to raze. Do you comprehend?”

  Wallace’s expression was a mixture of apprehension and resignation. “I do, my lord.”

  “Good.” David’s gaze lingered on the man in the darkness. “Then, when Walter leaves Chilham, tell your brother that I would have you and him as my guests. We will feast and drink and try to determine why we have not been better allies. Perhaps we will remedy that situation.”

  Wallace nodded faintly. “Perhaps, my lord.”

  “Good eve, Wallace.”

  “Good eve, my lord.”

  With that, Wallace turned and headed back to his collection of mounted men, snapping orders to retreat. As David stood and watched, Maddoc, William and Gerid came to stand beside him, watching the small army organize and move off into the dark of the night. They had heard every word spoken. When the army faded from view, David turned to Maddoc.

  “You will watch yourself over the next few days,” he said. “I would not put it past de Burgh to lie in wait for you somewhere. Stay to the castle.”

  Maddoc wasn’t afraid of anything much less a shriveled old man. He struggled not to become angry with David’s directive.

  “I do not believe that is necessary, my lord,” he said evenly. “I can watch out for myself.”

  David lifted an eyebrow at him. “That is not a request,” he said. “Maddoc, perhaps it is an overabundance of caution, but I know de Burgh. He is conniving and wily. I do not trust the man so, for the next few days, I would ask that you remain confined to the castle for your own safety.”

  Maddoc was fairly close to fuming but hid it well. “What of Victoria du Bose’s celebration?” he wanted to know. “That is in two days. I am to escort Adalind.”

  David turned from the gate with the collection of knights following him. “She will not go, either,” he said. “De Burgh could lie in wait for her, also, and I would have a mess on my hands because I would go to war against the entire de Burgh family for so much as touching my granddaughter. Moreover, the Dukes of Navarre would come down on them as well because I know I could not keep you out of the mix. All of England would be in turmoil because of one stupid old man and his inability to accept a refusal.”

  Maddoc didn’t say anything more. He was afraid it would turn into an argument if he did. However, he was embarrassed by the directive in front of his fellow knights, as if he were a weakling who needed to be protected. As David headed back towards the keep, Maddoc let him go. He didn’t want to be around the man at the moment, disappointed and humiliated.

  As he stood there and stewed, de Wolfe came up behind him and clapped a big hand on his shoulder. “Do you know how many directives I have had from my liege like the one you just received?” he asked, grinning when Maddoc turned to look at him. “Too many to count. All of Scotland is out to get me so I receive orders like that constantly.”

  Maddoc appreciated the man’s sense of comfort; it was evident he understood what Maddoc was feeling. “What do you do?” he asked.

  William shook his head. “I do not listen to him if that is what you mean,” he said. “I continue to do my job as I see fit because I know I am smarter than the Scots, just as you are smarter than de Burgh. Do not let that old man have such control over you. You are better than he is.”

  Maddoc wriggled is eyebrows. “It is not de Burgh I am worried about,” he said. “It is de Lohr. He is not beyond trying to beat me if I disobey.” Then he sobered and averted his gaze. “It will not end, you know. De Burgh will return to his brother and tell him what has happened, and this entire situation will veer out of control. Adalind and I may not know a measure of peace for quite some time, at least as long as de Burgh feels the sting of rejection.”

  William’s mysterious golden eyes seemed to flicker. “I would not worry over that too much,” he said quietly. “We will be leaving on the morrow and perhaps find our way to the same road de Burgh will be taking as he leaves Chilham. Perhaps we will run into him. Perhaps he will insult us. Perhaps we will have to defend our honor against him. You just never know what will happen.”

  Maddoc had been staring at the ground as de Wolfe spoke, but when the knight’s words registered, his head came up. The blue eyes glimmered with shock and understanding.

  “I cannot ask this of you,” he hissed. “Although I appreciate the offer, I cannot ask you to eliminate the man on my behalf, even for the sake of peace.”

  “Would you allow me to eliminate a threat against Adalind, then?” he asked quietly. “You said yourself that she will never know peace so long as de Burgh believes he has been slandered. There is no telling what he will do. Moreover, you heard David earlier – if de Burgh was to abduct or injure Adalind somehow, the de Lohr and du Bois war machines would come down over him and the entire country would be in turmoil.” De Wolfe lowered his voice pointedly. “To protect Adalind, would you do anything in the world?”

  Maddoc stared at the man. After a moment, he nodded faintly. “I would.”

  “Then consider it done.”

  “I will, but under one conditio
n.”

  “What is that?”

  “That when the moment comes, I do the deed.” His expression was deadly. “For Adalind, for the threat dealt against me, and for that poor dolt Eynsford, I will dispense justice.”

  De Wolfe understood. “As well you should.”

  When Adalind awoke the next morning, Maddoc had disappeared with his friends from Northwood. David had no idea where they were and he spent the entire day angrily cursing Maddoc for disobeying him. It came to the point where his wife began to ply him with fine wine midday simply to calm him down and by sunset, David was so bloody drunk that he was openly weeping over Maddoc and how much he loved the man.

  Adalind sat with her grandfather most of the day and evening, trying not to weep herself over Maddoc’s disappearance. She knew the man wouldn’t abandon her, but she was despondent over his absence. She was very frightened for him.

  When she finally went to bed that night, she wept for him all night.

  Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Addie!” Willow raced into the small solar where her sister was working steadily on her loom. “He is back! Maddoc is back!”

  Adalind nearly stabbed herself with her needle in her surprise. It had been three days since Maddoc’s disappearance and three days of hell as far as she was concerned. Turmoil such as she had never known had been her constant companion. But at Willow’s shouted words, all of the turmoil was replaced by hope and gladness. She was exhilarated. Shoving the needle into the fabric to hold it fast, she jumped up from her seat.