Fathers and Sons: A Collection of Medieval Romances

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Lyssa put her hand on Garret’s arm. “I-It will be all right,” she assured him. “T-The chamber I share with Juliana is far from the lord’s solar and we can bolt the door. E-Even if he comes knocking, we shall not answer. M-Moreover, all of my possessions are in that room and if I am to pack, I will need to be where my things are.”

  He looked at her dubiously. “Are you certain?”

  She nodded firmly. “I-I am,” she said. “R-Rickard will take me there right now and I will bolt the door when he leaves.”

  It was with the greatest reluctance that Garret agreed, but he didn’t want to frighten Lyssa with his hesitation, so he swallowed it. Still, he was uneasy.

  “Very well,” he said, looking to his brother. “Then I turn her over to you now. Take good care of her and make sure she is waiting for me before dawn.”

  Rickard nodded. “And if I run into Rose?”

  “I-I will tell my aunt everything,” Lyssa said quietly. “Y-You needn’t worry, Rickard. I-I will tell her.”

  That seemed to resolve the situation. The plan was set and there was nothing more to say. As Rickard stepped away to allow them a private farewell, Garret wrapped his arms around Lyssa.

  “Stay in your chamber and do not open it for anyone but Rickard or your aunt,” he told her quietly. “If you are frightened and do not want to stay to your chamber, then send a servant for Rickard. He will send for me and I will come.”

  She nodded, trying to be brave because he seemed very uneasy now. She wanted to reassure him that all would be well.

  “I-I will,” she said. “B-But I am sure everything will be well, so go and make the arrangements at the abbey. I will be waiting for you before dawn.”

  He smiled faintly at her, bending over to kiss her sweetly. God, he didn’t want to leave her but he felt like a fool for lingering, for worrying. Rickard would protect her; he knew that. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his brother – it was that he didn’t trust Colchester.

  Visions of that terrible night on the sands of The Levant flooded his head and he thought of Colchester’s brutality, his lack of honor. A man so terrible was one avoided at all costs and he couldn’t believe he found himself in another questionable situation with Colchester again. First with Zayin, now with Lyssa. Different circumstances but the same rotten threat from a man with no morals, no character.

  The irony wasn’t lost on him. Somehow, he was destined to be tied with Colchester.

  But Garret couldn’t give in to his fear. He had to go now and speak to the priests and make arrangements, and he had to trust his brother to watch over Lyssa while he was gone. Kissing her again, he let her go.

  “Then I shall see you on the morrow,” he said. “Go with my brother, now. Sleep well.”

  Lyssa watched him walk away, heading back to his horse. “I-I do not believe I can sleep at all,” she called after him.

  His paused to look at her. “Nor I,” he said, pointing to Rickard. “Go with him, now. Go inside.”

  Lyssa nodded, heading in Rickard’s direction. As Garret reached his horse and mounted the beast, he turned to see Rickard escorting Lyssa into the garden. He knew there was a side entrance to the manse there and the moment they passed out of his sight, he spurred his war horse back through the gates and out onto the darkened street beyond.

  Even as he headed towards Westminster, the sense of unease didn’t leave him. He felt jumpy and uncomfortable, but he forced it aside. All will be well, he told himself. I will see Lyssa in the morning and all of this will be but a distant memory.

  Try as he might, however, he couldn’t seem to convince himself.

  *

  The manse was dark and quiet at this hour.

  As Rickard and Lyssa made their way up the servant’s stairs, they only ran into one servant, a man cleaning shoes, on the second floor landing. They pushed passed him and onto the third floor where Lyssa’s chamber was.

  This was where most of the servants slept and it was deathly still and quiet, the thick stone walls blocking out sounds and light. Lyssa’s chamber was just down a short corridor, the first in a series of three small rooms that faced the river. The duchess’ ladies all slept in these rooms except Tristiana, who had a private chamber with her husband in the knight’s quarters near the gatehouse. There was no noise in the darkened corridor, signaling that all of the ladies were in bed for the night.

  Quietly, Lyssa and Rickard made their way across the squeaky wooden floor, pausing when the floorboards gave up too much noise and wondering if they would be heard. Lyssa finally reached for the latch on her door, suspecting it would be locked and surprised to find that it wasn’t. When Rickard saw that the door was open, he pushed her out of the way and opened the door slowly, peering inside. For safety’s sake, he would be the first one into the chamber.

  The room was dark except for the moonlight coming in through the open window. Lyssa stuck her head in behind Rickard and, seeing the body sleeping in the bed, she nodded to Rickard to let him know everything was well. Clearly, no one else was in the room except for Juliana, and she was in bed asleep. Rickard indicated for her to lock the door behind him and Lyssa did after she softly closed the panel. Putting her ear to the door, she could hear Rickard walking away and heading down the stairs.

  With a grin on her face, she turned to the figure in the bed.

  “J-Juli!” she whispered. “J-Juli, awaken! I-I have wonderful news!”

  Juliana remained silent. Lyssa rushed over to the bed and plopped down on it, shaking the figure under the covers.

  “W-Wake up!” she whispered loudly. “O-Oh, Juli, I cannot tell you how wonderful Garret is or how magnificent. W-We spoke on so many things tonight, I do not even know where to begin. J-Juliana? Are you awake?”

  She leaned over and shook the figure again. Receiving no response, she moved to pull back the coverlet but a hand abruptly shot out and grabbed her by the hair. Brutally yanking her back onto the bed, Jago burst forth from the coverlet and pounced on Lyssa, slapping his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet while keeping his other hand entwined in her hair to control her. His body pinned her down, hurting her, his knees grinding into her gut.

  He’d laid the trap and, now, he had his quarry.

  “Juliana is not here, my lady,” he hissed, his hand firmly pressed down over her mouth. “Scream and I will kill you. Do you understand?”

  Lyssa was in a panic. She could hardly believe what she was seeing. In fact, it was an effort not to faint out of sheer fright but she knew if she did, Jago would have his way with her. There would be no one to protect her, no one to help her.

  She was caught.

  Terrified, she began to kick and twist, anything to throw Jago off her, but he responded by slapping her so hard that stars burst in front of her eyes. The power of the slap was enough to stun her into silence but, in that momentary falter, Jago yanked her up by her hair and tossed her straight into the wall.

  Lyssa’s head hit, sounding like a melon against stone. The dull thud was sickening. It was enough to daze her and she fell to the floor, the room spinning, as Jago jumped off the bed and landed on top of her.

  “Now,” he muttered, “you will listen to me and you will remain silent or I will kill you and I will kill your friend. She is still alive but, if you displease me, I will kill her in front of you. Do you hear me?”

  Lyssa was crushed beneath him onto the floor, unable to fight back at the moment. Her head was buzzing, spinning, as she floated between consciousness and unconsciousness. Jago lay on top of her, his mouth by her ear.

  “I saw you at the tavern today,” he rasped. “You have been lying to us, my lady. Now, I know you for what you are – you are a courtesan. I should have known, for beauty such as yours does not go unnoticed by men. I should have known it from the start.”

  Lyssa heard him, but barely. She couldn’t breathe with him on top of her and she couldn’t open her eyes without everything spinning by. Her head throbbed terribly. But Jago had no reg
ard for her at the moment; he continued talking.

  “When I saw you, I knew you were destined for greater things,” he said, spittle from his lips dripping down onto the side of her hair. “With your beauty, you could command kings to their knees and I knew that you would become a woman of standing and culture in my household. No more games; no more silly flirtations. You shall take your place beside my wife as my favored courtesan, and all men will envy me because of you. It will be a great honor, my lady, to be the mistress to a duke. You must allow me to do you this honor.”

  Lyssa was becoming more lucid as she listened to him speak. With her muddled mind, she couldn’t make sense of what he was saying to her.

  “H-Honor?” she rasped. “W-What honor? P-Please, my lord, let me up!”

  Jago wasn’t about to release her. He had her pinned, just where he wanted her, and he could feel his loins beginning to grow hard. Shifting, he began to rub himself against her, thrusting his pelvis forward in a slow, sensual motion.

  “I told you,” he breathed. “You will have the honor of becoming my mistress. I have never had one before, at least not officially. But now I shall have the most beautiful courtesan in all of England.”

  Lyssa was horrified by his words, even more horrified when she realized that he was rubbing himself against her. It was sickening and disgusting, and her first instinct was to fight him again. Still, she refrained; he would only hit her again if she tried. Therefore, she had to have a plan. The door to freedom was only a few feet away but it may as well have been a thousand miles away. Resisting Jago would only get her another hit on the head and she knew she couldn’t take another blow. Her head was swimming as it was. Still, she couldn’t surrender. She had to be smarter than he was.

  God help me!

  His spittle dripped on her and she closed her eyes, fighting the urge to scream. Perhaps if he thought she was unconscious, he might let his guard down enough for her to push him off. If she could only get to the door, then she could run from him. She was fast and he couldn’t catch her. She could run and run and scream for help, and Rickard would surely come and help her.

  Oh, God… she wanted to cry and she wanted to panic, but those two things would not help her break free. Jago had her and unless she did something, he would have his way with her. He might even hold true to his threat and kill Juliana, although she had no idea where her friend was. Was she in the chamber? Somewhere else? She was so very worried for her friend but she couldn’t let that concern overwhelm her at the moment. She had to survive.

  She had to live.

  “Do you hear me, Lady Lyssa?” Jago asked, breaking into her turbulent thoughts. “I will make you wealthy beyond your wildest dreams. All you need do is warm my bed. You would be a fool to refuse and I do not believe you to be a fool. Surely you are bright enough to understand what this would mean for you. Prestige and honor shall be yours if you will only surrender.”

  He was relaxing his hold on her; she could feel it. She might not have another opportunity like this. Slowly, Lyssa eyes opened and she summoned her bravery. She knew what she had to do. Turning her head slightly, she ended up looking Jago in the eye. Simply looking at that terrible face sent bolts of terror running through her, but she fought it. She couldn’t give in to the fear. If nothing else, Lyssa was a fighter. She always had been.

  Now, it was time to act.

  She would never forget that sickly-sweet expression Jago had on his face. He was still rubbing himself against her and she could feel the stiffness of his manhood. But the second most vulnerable thing on his body was looking right at her and she took aim. Much as she did to Garret earlier in the evening, she rammed a finger straight into Jago’s right eye.

  He howled and fell off her, giving Lyssa the break she needed. But it wasn’t enough. As she scrambled to her feet, Jago grabbed the hem of her surcoat and yanked, pulling her backwards. She almost lost her balance, but not quite; she managed to keep her footing and she kicked Jago, twice, while he was on the ground. The blows were enough to force him to let go of her hem and she bolted to the door, grabbing at it, throwing the latch, but before she could lift it, something heavy hit her from behind.

  Lyssa fell like a stone.

  Jago stood over her, breathing heavily, with a small three-legged stool in his hand. It had been right next to the bed, a stool that Lyssa and Juliana had used on many occasions, an innocent enough item that was now wielded as a weapon. It was a solid piece of furniture and even as Lyssa fell to the ground from a second major blow to her head, Jago lifted it and hit her twice more, once in the neck and shoulder area and a second time on her torso. When he was sure she wasn’t going to rise, he began to kick her brutally.

  “You little bitch,” he growled. “You thought you could get away from me? You cannot get away! I will not let you get away! Now, you shall pay the price for your foolishness, do you hear? You shall feel my wrath!”

  Lyssa was unconscious as he continued to kick her. Jago was blinded by fury, blinded by the pain she’d inflicted on him. He was intent to beat the woman to the brink of death. But when he bent over to haul her up to the bed where he intended to do more damage, the unlocked door flew open and Rose was in the doorway along with several other women, all of them screaming when they saw Jago beating Lyssa.

  Startled by the screams, Jago looked at the women but he didn’t let go of Lyssa. He had her around the neck as he tried to drag her onto the bed, but Rose and the other women rushed in to separate them. It didn’t seem to matter to them that it was their liege doing the assaulting; all they could see was Lyssa being beaten by a man. That was all that mattered. And even if it cost all of them their freedom and their station, they weren’t going to stand by and watch it.

  They had to do something.

  Especially Rose. She flew at Jago, grabbing Lyssa and trying to pull the woman away from him like some horrible tug-of-war. The other ladies, too, were pulling on Lyssa, trying to separate her from Jago, who was shoving women back by the face and slapping those that came in range. It was utter chaos until one of the terrified ladies grabbed the very same stool that Jago had used on Lyssa and crashed it down over the man’s skull. Instantly, he collapsed on the floor in a heap.

  Nearly as quickly as it started, the fight was suddenly over. Women were weeping and gasping as they pulled Lyssa away from Jago completely, putting her into Rose’s arms. To Rose, it was the nightmare she had feared. She had heard the commotion in the chamber, as had the other women, and had come running. Jago’s own shouts from Lyssa’s assault to his eyes had roused them and there wasn’t one woman there who wasn’t willing to fight for Lyssa. They all hated Jago, knowing what the man was capable of, but tonight of all nights had been a horror extraordinaire. As Jago sprawled on the floor, out cold, Rose dragged Lyssa from the chamber.

  “Cecily,” she breathed, “find Juliana. If he has attacked one woman, then surely he has attacked the other. Look under the bed! Look in the wardrobe!”

  Cecily de Leybourne, the meek brunette from the great Cornwall family of de Leybourne, grabbed one of the other women and began frantically searching for Juliana as Rose dragged Lyssa from the chamber. There were servants in the corridor now, having been lured by the sounds of screaming and struggle, and she barked at one of them.

  “Find Sir Rickard!” she commanded. “Hurry!”

  A servant, the same man who had been cleaning shoes on the second floor landing, went running as fast as his shaking legs would take him. Meanwhile, a couple of the servant women had come to help Rose and between the three of them, they lifted Lyssa off of the ground and hurried her towards the stairwell.

  As they struggled down the stairs, Rose’s thoughts were in a jumble. She had no idea what had happened in that little room. She had no idea how Jago had managed to get in, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Lyssa had to be removed from The Wix. Her niece’s last night here had been one night too many, and Rose’s only thought was to send Lyssa to Westminster whe
re Garret was. She had to get the woman off the grounds because Jago smelled blood now and he wouldn’t stop until he killed her. No woman refused Jago de Nantes, Duke of Colchester, and lived to tell the tale.

  By the time they hit the ground floor and carried Lyssa outside, Rickard as well as a few other soldiers were running in their direction. Half-dressed, Rickard took one look at Lyssa and his features went pale; Rose could see it in, even in the moonlight. He looked at Rose, an expression of utter distress on his face, and Rose fell to her knees, taking Lyssa with her. Everyone went down beside her, trying to keep the injured woman off the ground, wondering what in the hell had happened. But Rose didn’t give them any opportunity to ask.

  “Get her out of here, Rickard,” Rose gasped. Now, the tears started to come, her fear overwhelming her. “Take her to Garret. Get her out of here before he kills her!”

  No one had to tell Rickard who “he” was. He already knew. Fighting off the urge to vomit, Rickard carefully collected Lyssa into his arms and turned for the stables, barking at the soldiers around him to get his horse readied. He sent someone off to find a blanket while still others rushed ahead of him to the stable to prepare his horse. The men were moving swiftly, all of them making haste to remove the injured woman from The Wix.

  As Rickard and Lyssa disappeared from view, Rose sat on the ground and wept.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Westminster

  Westminster was lit up with a thousand torches, burning brightly into the dark and humid night, as Garret came loping in through the South Gate.

  Slowing his horse as grooms from the stable ran out to collect the steed, he slid off the animal and took Lyssa’s trunk from the back of the saddle. He’d strapped it onto the rear of the horse, that hadn’t been very happy carrying something so stiff and foreign, but at least the horse hadn’t tried to buck it off. His animal was high-strung, and skilled, but he could be excitable with unfamiliarity. They could have all ended up in the mud, trunk included.