Fathers and Sons: A Collection of Medieval Romances

by Kathryn Le Veque

“Does he have property?”

  “Again, not that I am aware of.”

  “Then what does he have to offer Adalind?” Brighton asked, thinking he was driving home a particularly strong point. “I can offer her all of these things. She will be a baron’s wife and, more than that, will have all of the property and titles that I can offer her. She would be well cared for and never want for anything. No offense to du Bois, but I can offer her so much more than he can, including the support of Norfolk’s army. D’Aubigney would be thrilled to be linked to the de Lohrs by marriage, even if it was only through the marriage of one of his knights. Still, the loyalty, and the promise of power and support, would be there. Is that not offering more than du Bois can bring?”

  “Adalind?” came a voice from the entry to the tent. “You… you have come to speak of Adalind?”

  Both men turned to the entry to see Willow standing there, her expression full of confusion. Confusion was rapidly turning to disappointment. David propped himself up on an elbow in an attempt to face her.

  “Willow,” he scolded softly. “You know better than to eavesdrop on a conversation. You were not invited here.”

  Willow was wide eyed with shock at what she had just heard. “I was not eavesdropping,” she insisted, her voice growing angry. “I was simply standing at the doorway because I heard voices and I overhead what Sir Brighton said. He has made an offer of marriage for Adalind?”

  David could see just by the look on her face that she was bordering on some kind of tantrum. “Sir Brighton has made the offer but I have informed him that Adalind is pledged to Maddoc,” he said steadily. “Willow, I want you to leave and not repeat anything that you have heard. Is that clear? This is a private conversation and you will do us the courtesy of respecting our confidentiality.”

  Willow acted as if she hadn’t heard him. Her big green eyes were focused on Brighton as if he were the lowest form of life. Her lips molded into a pout and her eyes filled with tears. Angrily, she stamped her foot.

  “You…” she sputtered before breaking into tears. “You are hateful, Sir Brighton, just hateful!”

  In sobs, she ran from the tent and David knew he had a mess on his hands. He wasn’t sure why, or how, but he knew things were going to go from bad to worse. He shouted for a soldier who, as soon as he appeared, was sent on the run for Emilie. When the man fled, David fell back exhaustedly against his pillows and waved Brighton off.

  “I think you had better go now,” he said. “Our conversation is finished.”

  Brighton understood, although he still wasn’t sure why Willow had cursed him so. Perhaps it was because he was trying to interfere in the relationship between Adalind and Maddoc and, to that end, he could see her point. He was hateful. Perhaps their conversation was, indeed, over for the night, at least until the next time he could bring it up to David. He knew there would be a next time.

  “Very well, my lord,” he said, backing out of the tent. “Until the next time we meet, I pray your health returns.”

  He was nearly out of the tent when David called to him. “De Royans?”

  Brighton paused in the open flap. “My lord?”

  David’s gaze, for as weary as he was, remained strong and intense. “There will be no next time on this subject,” he said. “We are at an end.”

  Brighton dipped his head as if to understand, but he did not reply. The truth was that the subject was not at an end, not by any stretch of the imagination.

  When he retired that evening, it was with his broadsword in his hand. He fully expected du Bois to descend on him and was rather surprised in the morning to discover that he was still alive.

  *

  “Stay away from him, Maddoc,” David said threateningly. “I do not want blood spilled today, do you understand? I would have our trip home to Canterbury uneventful. I do not need to be worrying over you when I have more important things on my mind.”

  Maddoc wouldn’t look at him, nor would he respond. On a cold and foggy morning following the evening’s festivities, he had been ordered to break down their camp so they could return to Canterbury and he was, in theory, completing the job. He had issued orders to the men, and he and Gerid were overseeing the disassembly. However, there was more to it than that. So much more.

  David, able to stand although he was hunched over and leaning heavily on a big stick the physic had given him, had not let Maddoc out of his sight since last night. Since the moment Brighton had left David’s tent, there were dealings afoot. Because Willow hadn’t kept her mouth shut on what she had heard between Brighton and David, David had been forced to tell Maddoc that Brighton had made an offer for Adalind’s hand. Maddoc hadn’t reacted overly but David could see the smoldering fire in his eyes. That fire was meant to kill. God only knew, he was well aware of what the man was capable of. Walter de Burgh had found that out the hard way.

  “Maddoc.” David lowered his voice when he saw that the man was not responding to him. “Look at me. That is a command.”

  After a lengthy pause, Maddoc turned to look at him. When their gazes locked, David lifted his eyebrows.

  “Do you understand what I am telling you?” he asked.

  Maddoc nodded faintly. “I do.”

  David acknowledged his answer but he still didn’t trust Maddoc not to do something rash. “Where is Adalind right now?”

  “With her mother, grandmother, and sister. They are in the hall breaking their fast.”

  “Do you know where de Royans is?”

  “He left this morning and rode east.”

  “You were stalking him?”

  “Of course I was.”

  David’s jaw ticked angrily. “Damnation, Maddoc, stop this posturing,” he snapped. Then he sighed heavily, struggling to stay calm because it made his head hurt when he got truly angry. “De Royans is a suitor just like all the rest. You have dealt with four of them up until this point and de Royans is no different. Remain calm and stay away from him, and this too shall pass. I will deal with the man if the subject comes up again.”

  Maddoc was shaking his head even before David finished his sentence. “He is not like the rest,” he said. “The man is cunning, strong, and tactical. More than that, he knows, without a doubt, that Adalind and I are betrothed yet he still went to you to try and convince you to break our betrothal. A man like this is not simply an annoyance; he is dangerous because he will do anything he can to win.”

  “You are threatened by him?”

  “Worse – I understand him because I think the same way.”

  David watched Maddoc as the man spoke, noting how deeply Maddoc was struggling to maintain his self-control.

  “So what do you propose?” David asked quietly. “Will you do to him what you did to Walter de Burgh? You killed a man because he was a threat to both you and Adalind. Is de Royans a threat as well?”

  Maddoc averted his gaze. “Possibly,” he said. “I will make all reasonable attempts to stay away from him, my lord. But if he does not stay away from me and from Adalind, I will challenge him. I will not tolerate his disrespectful or threatening behavior.”

  “The man has not threatened you, Maddoc,” David said. “He has not brandished a weapon or made threats of any kind. Lad, you simply cannot go around killing every man who has an eye for Adalind. She will be your wife, men will look at her, and you will end up killing half of England. You will be the Great Murdering Husband of Adalind de Aston du Bois and all men will fear you as such. Would you truly shame the family in that manner?”

  He said it rather humorously, trying to break Maddoc’s stiff stance, and it was a struggle for Maddoc not to crack a grin. He cast David a sidelong glance.

  “Then what would you suggest I do, my lord?” he asked. “What would you do?”

  David shrugged. “I would marry her immediately,” he said without hesitation. “That would solve nearly every issue. But I am not so sure you are ready for such a thing. I think, perhaps, you like fighting off would-be suitors and test
ing your strength against them. I think there is something about the flash of dark steel against warm flesh that excites your inner animal.”

  Maddoc did break down in a grin, then. “I am not so barbaric or so arrogant,” he assured David. Then, he sobered. “But you are wrong about one thing. I am ready to marry Addie. I would do it today if I could.”

  David’s blue eyes glimmered. “Perhaps not today,” he said softly. “We must travel home first. But I will send a messenger on ahead for the Archbishop of Canterbury and tell the man we will have need of his services tomorrow. Will that suffice?”

  Maddoc suddenly wasn’t so stiff and angry anymore. He felt rather warm and excited, enough so that dark thoughts of Brighton de Royans faded.

  “It will,” he said. “Thank you, my lord. I am deeply appreciative.”

  David’s smile faded. “Prove it,” he said. “Make Adalind happy. That is all I ask, Maddoc. Think of her before you think of yourself in every situation and you can do no wrong. That is my advice to you.”

  Maddoc smiled. “I will take it to heart.”

  “See that you do,” David said, pointing to the great hall of Shadoxhurst. “Now, go inside and collect the women you will soon be related to. You may inform Adalind of what is to take place tomorrow and let us see if she will stop hugging you long enough for you to mount your horse and ride home.”

  Chuckling, Maddoc made his way inside the keep. True to David’s predication, it took some effort for Adalind to stop hugging him so he could settle her on her palfrey and mount his charger. Even then, they rode together the entire way back to Canterbury.

  *

  “He is waiting for you, Maddoc.”

  Astride his big charcoal gray charger as the gatehouse of Canterbury came into view, Maddoc was puzzled by Gerid’s softly-uttered statement. The man had ridden on ahead to begin preparations for David’s arrival but was now back with the party returning from Shadoxhurst. His expression suggested that all was not well in the world of Canterbury Castle.

  “Who is waiting?” Maddoc asked.

  Gerid eyed David, and Adalind, riding several feet behind Maddoc as the shades of sunset cast purple shadows across the land. The sun was nearly down now and the earth was growing cold.

  “De Royans,” he finally muttered. “The man evidently showed up a few hours ago and told the soldiers that he would wait for you.”

  Maddoc could feel his anger rise, like a tide, starting in his toes and working its way up his body. His brow furrowed.

  “Is that so?” he asked, almost casually. “Then I would not want to disappoint him. Where is he?”

  “In the bailey. In full armor. Maddoc, I do not think you understand; he is here to fight you.”

  Maddoc wasn’t the least bit upset by the news. He didn’t even have to ask why; he knew without question. He was already in full battle armor, as was usual when he rode escort, so there would be no preparation involved. He was ready, willing, and able to meet the fight head-on. In fact, he was looking forward to it. It saved him the trouble of having to hunt the man down.

  “What is it?” David asked. He could see Gerid and Maddoc conferring quietly. “Gerid, what has happened?”

  Gerid was reluctant to tell him. He started to open his mouth, looking to Maddoc for guidance on how he should phrase the news in front of the entire de Lohr family, but Maddoc seemed unconcerned with tactfully couching the information. He spoke before Gerid could.

  “De Royans is here,” he replied evenly. “It seems he has come to challenge me.”

  David was livid in an instant but before he could speak, Adalind cried out. “Nay!” she gasped, horrified. “Maddoc, you cannot do it!”

  Maddoc turned around to look at her, seeing naked fear on her features. He smiled. “Not to worry,” he assured her. “I have beaten him before and I shall do it again. I am sorry his appearance has upset our return home, however. I was hoping for a quiet evening before tomorrow’s ceremony.”

  He winked at her as he said it but Adalind was in no mood for his attempts to soothe her. She was outraged and terrified that a man she had thought very highly of should do such a dishonorable thing. In fact, she was still having difficulty believing it.

  When Willow had sobbingly told her of the conversation between Brighton and David, Adalind had run straight to David, who had explained the situation in a calmer fashion. In fact, Maddoc had been present because he, too, had heard Willow’s weeping, so they both heard David’s version of Brighton’s visit.

  Adalind had been furious and shocked at the news while Maddoc did more of what Maddoc usually did; a slow burn. He didn’t show much emotion, mostly because he was internalizing his feelings and plotting Brighton’s very painful demise. Knowing this, David had sent Adalind to bed but had refused to let Maddoc out of his sight. Now, Brighton had unexpectedly shown his face at Canterbury and there was nothing David could do to keep Maddoc away from the man. A storm was coming and there was no way to stop it.

  Adalind knew it as well. She knew what Maddoc was capable of but she also knew the man was not immortal. He could be hurt, or worse, and that thought terrified her more than any other. To be so close to realizing her dream of marrying him was more than she could bear. She knew she would shrivel up and die if anything happened to him. If she could stop the confrontation, then she would. It wasn’t the smartest decision, but she had to try. Digging her heels into her palfrey’s sides, Adalind took off at a gallop for the gatehouse of Canterbury.

  Startled, Maddoc took off after her but his horse was built more for strength and stamina than for speed, and the palfrey outran the charger by a wide margin. Once Adalind passed through the gatehouse, she was on the lookout for Brighton, coming across him in the torchlit bailey off to the west of the keep. He was with all of his possessions, including his big cream-colored charger, and her gaze fell upon him in a corner of the shadowed yard. She ran straight at him.

  “Brighton!” she screamed at him as she yanked her horse to a halt. Then she bailed off the animal, nearly falling when her skirts got tangled. “By all that is holy, what gives you the right to come here and challenge Maddoc? Have you gone mad?”

  Brighton was quite calm. Hours of reflecting on his decision, waiting, had seen to that. He stepped away from his horse and possessions, coming into the flickers of torchlight. He was fully armed for battle, a frightening and large knight that was clearly nothing to be trifled with. In the shadows of the coming night, his presence was eerie and unwelcome. The broadsword in his left hand gleamed wickedly.

  “I am sorry, Addie,” he said rather quietly. “I know this seems strange and sudden, and it more than likely is, but…”

  “Why are you here?” she demanded, interrupting him. “Tell me why you are challenging Maddoc. Tell me!”

  Brighton sighed as if saddened by the entire situation and took a step towards her. When she jumped back to keep distance between them, he came to a halt.

  “Because I must,” he said simply. “I am a better marriage prospect for you than he is. Perhaps you do not understand that, but you will in time.”

  “There will be no time!” she shrieked. “I want you to go away from here and never come back, do you hear me? I do not want you here and I certainly do not want to marry you.”

  By this time, Maddoc was thundering up behind her. Brighton kept his focus on the enormous knight as he replied to Adalind.

  “You are young,” Brighton said, backing away as Maddoc dismounted and began to approach. “Moments like this will fade from memory. I will do all that I can to ensure that your recollections of me, and of this moment, are only good ones. I will ensure you do not regret anything.”

  Adalind was frustrated and terrified to tears. She threw up her hands. “You speak in riddles,” she said. “Brighton, you will listen to me – I do not want to marry you. I do not know whatever gave you the idea that I was interested in you because I am not. I love Maddoc and we are going to be married tomorrow. Do you hear me? Tomorrow
I become Lady du Bois and this madness ends.”

  Brighton was still looking at Maddoc, who was, by now, marching quite purposefully towards him. Brighton began to move out and away from the wall of the keep, away from things that could allow Maddoc to trap him against. He needed room to move if he was to survive and emerge victorious, because his speed was perhaps the only advantage he had. Maddoc was big and powerful, and Brighton knew he could not use strength to overcome him. It would have to be cunning and speed. There was no other alternative.

  Maddoc began to pick up the pace, charging at de Royans as he unsheathed his mighty broadsword. Then he was running at him, weapon wielded offensively, as Gerid suddenly appeared and pulled Adalind away from the battle that was sure to come. She screamed, startled and frightened, as Maddoc threw all of his weight into the first blow that sent Brighton reeling. The man flew back as if he had been hit by a battering ram, skidding onto his buttocks in the moist earth. But just as quickly, he was on his feet again, rushing back at Maddoc with his sword leveled.

  The epic battle had begun.

  Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you

  The love of all man’s days both past and forever:

  Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  It was dawn in Kent. The mist that had formed in the pre-dawn hours was now hanging like a thick blanket across the land, shrouding the awakening world in a cold embrace.

  David was standing in the entryway of Canterbury’s mighty keep. His face was pinched from the cold as he leaned against the doorjamb, his eyes riveted to the scene below. He was wrapped in a heavy fur cloak, but it gave him little comfort. He had been standing there all night, watching and waiting.

  The sounds of broadsword clashing had gone on throughout the night and now into the morning. Maddoc and Brighton had not eased their battle since the inception. It had been stronger at times, weaker at others, but there had been a constant fight since dusk of the previous evening. It had been brutal and bloody to watch, but now as the sun rose and a new day was dawning, it seemed to be gaining steam again.