Fathers and Sons: A Collection of Medieval Romances

by Kathryn Le Veque

  It was dark and cold inside the apartment block. As they entered the building, they were in a room that acted like a foyer and there was a guard there to watch the doors to the apartments. The guard had been half-asleep when Garret and Zayin entered, his eyes wide at the limp woman they were carrying between them. But he quickly opened the door to one of the corridors and Garret and Zayin entered, pausing when they came to the first door on the left. Garret freed a hand to open that door, spilling them into the inky darkness beyond.

  These were Garret’s apartments, two chambers for his specific use. There was an outer reception room and then a bedchamber attached to it. Garret and Zayin stumbled through the darkened reception room and into the bedchamber beyond, very carefully laying Lyssa upon the messy bed. Once Garret’s hands were free, he went straight to the table near the bed to light the taper there.

  “Start a fire, please,” he told Zayin, sounding calmer than he had only moments before. “We must keep her warm if she is bleeding.”

  As Garret lit one taper and then a second one, sending the golden glow of light into the chamber, Zayin did the same thing with the cold, dark hearth. A few sticks of kindling lit up quickly and he carefully placed peat upon it to stoke the blaze. Meanwhile, Garret took one of the tapers and moved over to the bed to get a better look at Lyssa.

  She was ghostly pale. Even her lips were white. With a breaking heart, Garret tenderly smoothed the hair out of her face and began a very careful examination of visible injuries. The blood on her mouth was from a split lip, he could see, and her teeth seemed to be intact. He didn’t feel any broken bones on her face or her neck, but she was very bruised. When he came to her shoulders, he could see a massive welt on the right shoulder. A bruise was already forming on her neck. As he moved down her arms, he heard his name, very softly.

  “G-Garret?”

  His head snapped up and he could see that Lyssa was now awake, staring up at the ceiling. Heart in his throat, he stood up so he could look her in the face.

  “I am here,” he murmured, touching her face. “You are safe, Lyssa. Do not worry.”

  She lay there, staring. It was a moment before she was able to speak. “D-Did you save me? H-How did you know to come back for me?”

  Tears stung Garret’s eyes. Dear God, he felt like such a failure at that moment. How did you know to come back for me? Truth be told, he’d been reluctant to leave her. He’d had a massive sense of uneasiness, something he brushed aside as foolish when he’d forced himself to leave her at The Wix. As clear as day, he could recall that feeling, knowing now he should have given in to it. He should have trusted his gut when it told him that something was amiss, that he should not have left Lyssa behind.

  But he had. He’d left her and now she was gravely injured. He simply couldn’t stop the tears that filled his eyes.

  “Rickard saved you,” he said hoarsely. “He brought you to me, sweet. Can you tell me what happened?”

  Lyssa didn’t say anything for a moment. Her mind was muddled; Garret could see that. As she struggled to remember, Zayin came up on the other side of the bed, looking at the woman with great concern. Garret couldn’t even look at the man, fearful that if he did, he would lose his composure. He’d never lost his composure in his life but, at this moment, he felt if he were to let everything go, there would be no return. He would be awash on a flood of emotion and there would be no stemming the tide. It wouldn’t stop until Colchester was dead.

  Or, perhaps, if he was dead, too.

  “Lyssa?” he asked again, gently. “What happened?”

  Lyssa tried to draw in a deep breath but when she did, stabbing pain radiated throughout her body and she gasped, her arms going around her torso and her face contorting with agony. Both Garret and Zayin tried to hold her down, preventing her from rolling up into a ball and possibly causing herself more pain. Through her gasps of anguish, she spoke.

  “T-The duke was in my chamber,” she breathed. “H-He was waiting for me when you took me back to The Wix. S-Sir Rickard escorted me to my chamber and we both thought it was Juliana in the bed, but it wasn’t. I-It was Colchester. H-He… he said terrible things, Garret. H-He said that he saw us at the tavern and he knew I was a courtesan.”

  Garret’s brow furrowed in both surprise and dismay. “He saw us at The Drunken Cock?”

  She closed her eyes against the pain. “A-Aye,” she breathed. “He called me a courtesan because he saw me with you and then he told me that he would make me wealthy and important if I became his mistress. T-That is what he wanted; for me to become his mistress.”

  A ripple of disgust moved across Garret’s features but, in the same breath, he wasn’t particularly surprised. Noblemen took mistresses all of the time and, in this case, Colchester had clearly set his sights on Lyssa. Now, the situation was starting to make some sense, as repulsive as it was. Colchester wasn’t simply after her to harass her; he was after her because he wanted something.

  Her honor.

  Gently, he stroked her face, her head, trying to comfort her in the face of such a horrible realization. “Naturally, you refused,” he said softly, “and he beat you for it.”

  Lyssa finally looked at him, her swollen eyes locking with his. As he watched, tears welled and spilled over, and she burst into soft sobs.

  “I-I was so frightened,” she wept. “H-He hit me and pulled my hair. H-He told me that he would kill Juliana if I did not submit. I-I do not know what happened to Juliana!”

  Garret knew that Juliana was Gavin’s sister and he began to feel sick in more ways than he could possibly comprehend. He looked at Zayin, across the bed.

  “Go and see how Gavin is faring,” he said quietly. “He must go to The Wix to see to his sister’s safety. I fear for the girl.”

  Zayin’s expression was full of foreboding. “He cannot go, Salibi,” he muttered. “You know he cannot go, not in his current state.”

  Garret’s jaw ticked. “The girl could be dying at this very moment,” he said, feeling some of the rage he was trying to keep at bay seep into his veins. “Someone has to go help her.”

  Zayin knew that. He felt it as strongly as Garret did, but he also knew that charging into The Wix could be deadly for those noble men trying to save their women folk. Before he could answer, however, the chamber door bumped back on its hinges and men were entering Garret’s reception room, charging into the bedchamber. It was Knox, two of Garret’s junior knights, a few soldiers, and the physic.

  Garret didn’t have to say a word. The physic, a large man with long, gray hair tied behind his head, went straight to the bed, setting his medicament satchel onto the floor as he bent over Lyssa. He looked in both of her eyes, and her mouth, before turning to the men who were crowding into the chamber.

  “Out,” he snapped in a heavy Scottish brogue. “All of ye. I canna examine the lady with a pack o’ dogs hanging about. Get out!”

  The physic wasn’t the most tactful man but he knew his business. He’d served at Westminster for quite some time, mostly for the soldiers, but he’d also been with Richard in The Levant and had worked on battle wounds that would have crumbled a lesser man. With hands the size of a trencher and a commanding presence, he was a man to be reckoned with and Garret trusted Alpin MacAlpin, a Scotsman who was more reliable, more skilled, than almost anyone he knew.

  At the booming command from the physic, men started backing out of the room. In fact, Knox started shoving them out, far enough back so he could shut the door to the chamber. But he remained inside the room, as did Zayin and Garret. The physic didn’t seem to mind their presence as he bent over his patient. He was focused on his patient, on her head and neck mostly, visually inspecting before poking here and prodding there. Finally, he looked Lyssa in the eye.

  “Who did this to ye, lassie?” he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle with her. “What happened?”

  Lyssa gazed up at the man with the Scots accent, tears swimming in her eyes. She didn’t reply right away but Garret was
on the other side of the bed, putting a tender hand to her shoulder.

  “You may tell him,” he said softly.

  Lyssa blinked and the tears spilled down her temples. “T-The Duke of Colchester,” she whispered.

  Alpin drew back from her a little, as if surprised by her answer. He looked at Garret, who nodded in response, sickened by the fact that he had to admit another man had beaten the woman he loved.

  …loved.

  There was that word again, stronger than before. Was it possible to love someone after only knowing them so short a time? He’d asked himself that question once before. Now, he was asking it again, stronger than before. Traits he’d admired in the beginning were now traits that he loved. If he loved her traits – her warmth, her humor, her beauty – then surely that meant he loved her.

  There was no longer any use in denying it. She belonged to him, as she had since the beginning of time and would belong to him until the end of it. He’d told her he adored her, but that wasn’t good enough anymore.

  It was love.

  Colchester had beaten the woman he loved.

  Oblivious to Garret’s mental turmoil, Alpin returned his attention to the lady without any further questions. Now, he was intent on examining her so he stood tall and made a sweeping gesture with his hand towards the chamber door.

  “Out, please,” he said quietly. “I must examine the lass and I willna do it with an audience.”

  Garret moved for the door without hesitation, taking Zayin and Knox with him. Quitting the room in silence, he shut the chamber door behind him before turning to a room full of his men. They were all looking at him expectantly, perhaps with some fear, and the more Garret looked at him, the more he began to lose his carefully-held composure.

  It was as if they were looking at him with pity, perhaps even with disappointment. Of course, that wasn’t true, but he saw it in their eyes nonetheless. The woman he loved had been beaten by another man and he was helpless against it.

  He refused to be helpless any longer.

  Brooding, he moved over to the window that overlooked the bailey. He looked out, not seeing Gavin or Gart or Rhys any longer. They were no longer fighting out there and he briefly wondered where they had gone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zayin and Knox standing near him, hovering, waiting for any kind of reaction that they could either quell or support. Garret was a calm man even in the most harried of circumstances, but this situation had pushed him to his limit. His flexing jaw told them that.

  “Bring Gavin to me,” Garret finally muttered. “I must tell him what Lyssa said about his sister.”

  “I will,” Zayin nodded. But he didn’t move, not yet. “Will you tell him everything she said?”

  “Aye.”

  Beside him, he could hear Zayin sigh heavily. “What good will that do?” he asked. “Moreover, you do not even know if his sister is harmed. The lady said she did not see her, but that does mean Gavin’s sister has come to harm.”

  He was pleading, trying to find reason in a situation that had none. Garret could hear the fear in the man’s tone, but he wasn’t interested in Zayin’s counsel this night. He was only focused on what had happened and what needed to be done.

  “Bring Gavin to me,” he repeated calmly.

  Next to him, Zayin looked at Knox with an expression that suggested he thought the worst was still to come. He was frightened; frightened of Garret’s unusually calm manner and frightened of what was to come. But he nodded, briefly, meaning Knox should find Gavin, and the blonde knight fled the chamber, heading out into the night. With Knox away and the other soldiers in the chamber huddled in the opposite corner, Zayin moved closer to Garret.

  “What are you thinking, Salibi?” he asked softly. “I know you. You are pondering something the likes of which I must know. What do you think to do now?”

  Salibi. Garret heard the name, something Zayin had called him from the beginning of their association. It meant “crusader” in Zayin’s native language and it wasn’t a complementary term. But when Zayin used it, it was meant with affection. Garret was, indeed, a crusader, or at least he had been, but he was also Zayin’s savior, and that was what Salibi meant to Zayin.

  Savior.

  It was the bond they shared. Therefore, he was honest with the man.

  “You know this cannot go unanswered,” Garret finally said.

  Zayin’s heart sank. He’d been waiting for those words and he thought he was prepared to hear them, but he wasn’t. “We have discussed this,” he said. “You know that you cannot act against Colchester. Everyone knows you cannot act against Colchester. He is a member of the royal family and beyond your punishment.”

  Garret shook his head, slowly. He was still staring off into the bailey. “This has nothing to do with punishment,” he said. “It has everything to do with honor. He touched what he had no right to touch; more than that, he beat her. You saw the bruises on her, Zayin. He lifted a hand to Lyssa and I will not let that go unanswered.”

  Zayin was starting to feel sick. “I beg you,” he said. “Please speak with Hubert Walter before you do anything. Christopher de Lohr is still in London; he’s not yet left for France. I will find him and….”

  “I love her.”

  Garret’s soft-but-firm statement cut him off. Zayin heard the words, like hammer blows, and he knew, at that moment, that the situation had gone from bad to worse. A man in love was a foolish creature, indeed, but he was also the strongest creature in the world. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for that love and Zayin stared at him, feeling pain in his heart that he couldn’t begin to express. For a man in love, there was no turning back.

  This wasn’t about vengeance or honor. This was about protecting the woman he loved.

  “Garret,” he murmured. It was rare when he used the man’s name. “Are you for certain this is love? Do you feel it in your heart and not simply your head?”

  “I feel it everywhere.”

  “You are about to risk everything because of it.”

  Garret looked at him, then, and Zayin was stung by the emotion he saw in the man’s black eyes. Like an unseen hand, it reached out to grab him and he was unable to look away, not even when Garret began to speak.

  “I hope I am always able to risk everything for love,” he murmured. “I hope I am always able to risk everything for the just and right cause, for the woman I see lying on that bed is my just and right cause. She is my hope for the future and if my life is worth anything at all, it is worth risking for a woman who holds my heart in her hands. I know I am risking all, Zayin. I know you are frightened for me. But this is something I must do.”

  Zayin’s expression was full of pain but there was also joy there. He understood Garret. In truth, he understood Garret all too well. It was the honorable warrior speaking, the man who would do right above all.

  This was the man he knew.

  “Then you have discovered what few men have,” he said in a moment between them that was wrought with emotion. “You have discovered your heart, Salibi, and I could not be prouder of you. I am simply sorry for these circumstances because now you must answer to your heart – and your heart is telling you to seek justice.”

  Garret was relieved that Zayin understood his position, even if he did not agree with it. He saw it as suicidal; perhaps it was. Garret saw it as something he had to do.

  For love.

  “It is not my heart telling me to seek justice,” he said quietly. “It is my love for Lyssa. Make no mistake; my heart is hers. All of me belongs to her. But love… that belongs to us. It is what we share between us, what makes us special to each other. At this moment, I feel as if I am led by my love for her. It is the only thing I can feel. I cannot even feel rage or disgust or madness at what has happened. All I can feel is my love for Lyssa and it is that love that leads me to do what I must. She deserves justice and I will not fail her.”

  Zayin had no argument against a man who was led by love. “I never thought I would h
ear such things from you, but I am honored just the same,” he said. “Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will be at your side. Your fight is my fight, and I shall be there until the end.”

  Garret simply nodded, returning his focus to the world beyond the windows. It was quiet for the most part. His mind, however, was in that room with Lyssa and Alpin, and the longer the wait dragged on, the more apprehensive he became. If felt like hours when it was only a few minutes but, soon enough, the chamber door opened and Alpin was in the doorway.

  “M’lord,” he called to Garret. “If ye will, please.”

  He was gesturing for him to enter the room and Garret did, coming into his bedchamber as Alpin shut the door quietly behind him. Garret instinctively went to the bed but Lyssa’s eyes were closed. Concerned, he looked at Alpin, who simply shook his head.

  “I have given her a sleeping draught,” he said. “The lass needs to sleep. Come here so I can speak with ye.”

  Garret put a gentle hand on Lyssa’s forehead but she didn’t stir. With a sigh of sorrow, he moved away from the bed to where Alpin was still standing by the door.

  “Well?” he demanded quietly. “What can you tell me?”

  Alpin lifted his bushy eyebrows. “Tell me who this lass is to ye?”

  “We are to be married.”

  That made sense to Alpin; he could understand now why Garret had been so concerned. “Did the Duke of Colchester really do this to her?”

  Garret didn’t look pleased with the question. “He did,” he said. “Tell me her condition.”

  Alpin glanced at the bed. “The lass has two big bumps on her head,” he said. “I dunna believe her skull to be broken, but the injury to her head is of concern. She has a cracked bone in her shoulder and at least four broken ribs that I can feel. I will tell ye that I believe she is bleeding inside. Her heartbeat is weak, which tells me there is damage we canna see.”