The Dragon Lord's Daughters

by Bertrice Small

  In the morning a messenger was dispatched to Lord Mortimer. The messenger returned four days later with both Lord Mortimer and his son in tow. They were accompanied by Rhys FitzHugh. They were surprised to see the lord of Everleigh, for it was harvest time.

  “Averil is capable of overseeing the estate,” Rhys explained. “This is obviously a family matter, my lord Merin. I would help in whatever way I can.”

  The Dragon Lord was pleased, but he asked, “How did you learn of my request to Lord Mortimer for help?”

  “They stopped at Everleigh to water their horses and beg a meal,” Rhys replied.

  Merin Pendragon nodded. “Sit down then, my lords, and I will tell you why it is I have called upon you for your aid. My daughter Junia and my son Brynn have been taken by Hugo de Bohun and his son Simon. They are imprisoned at Agramant.” Then the Dragon Lord went on to explain the entire situation in careful detail to the trio.

  They were shocked by his story.

  “Hugo de Bohun was always a bad sort,” Lord Mortimer said. “Only his wife could keep him from mischief, but she, poor lady, is long dead. I had not heard evil of the son before this, Merin. I am sorry he has followed in his father’s boot steps.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Rhys FitzHugh asked.

  “I cannot take my revenge on the de Bohuns while they retain custody of my children,” Merin Pendragon began. “And so, my lords, I would have you go to Hugo de Bohun, and ask him what ransom he will require to release my son and my daughter to me. I will pay it, whatever it is, for I will retrieve said ransom once I have my children returned, and seek out the de Bohuns that I may have my revenge upon them. The feud between our families burned hot for many years, but for the last five and twenty years it has lain dormant. I know not what caused Hugo de Bohun to revive it, but when he and his son are finally in my hands, I will end this quarrel between our families forever.”

  Lord Mortimer nodded. “Aye, that would be best, old friend. And you will have no difficulty from his more powerful de Bohun relations. They will look the other way, and be glad his branch has been pruned from the family tree. That I can promise you, Merin. Hugo de Bohun has been causing trouble in one place or another for years.”

  “Then you will go to him, and ask what is required of me that my children be safely returned to Dragon’s Lair?” the Dragon Lord said.

  “Of course I will go,” Lord Mortimer said.

  “We will all three go,” Rhys added. “Lord Mortimer and Roger as your own personal emissaries, and I as a member of your family.”

  Lord Mortimer nodded. “We will make an impressive delegation, I think. Even de Bohun should be impressed, if not a bit intimidated, and we need to intimidate him perhaps a little. If he believes that the English Marcher lords are involved in this we may be able to move him.” Then Lord Mortimer said to Merin Pendragon, “I am sorry about Junia, old friend. I remember her as a child. A most charming little girl.”

  “The vision of what I saw that night will remain with me always,” the Dragon Lord replied. “The hard knowledge that my daughter was violated so cruelly.”

  “Try to put it from your mind, old friend,” Lord Mortimer said. “Not an easy thing, I know, but for Junia’s sake you must. She will be greatly shamed by what has happened to her while she has been in de Bohun hands. I regret we must wait until the morrow to travel onward, but the sun is already setting over the western hills.”

  Argel entered the hall as he spoke, with Gorawen at her side. “Welcome, my lords,” she greeted them as Gorawen went to her son-in-law, and kissed his cheek.

  There were tears in her eyes, but he understood the unspoken words she did not utter, and put an arm about her. “Belle Mere, you grow more beautiful with each year,” he told her, and gave her a kiss in return.

  “Thank you for coming,” Gorawen finally managed to say softly.

  “Junia is my wife’s little sister, Belle Mere. Your lord should have sent to me also. I am disturbed he did not.”

  “He knows how important the harvest is to you,” Gorawen defended, “and too, he is not thinking clearly these days. The knowledge of what has happened to Junia has almost rendered him mad with grief.”

  “What if my wife’s sister is already with child?” Rhys said, low.

  Gorawen paled. “Pray God we are spared that tragedy,” she whispered back.

  “You will rest the night, and go forth on the morrow,” Argel was saying. “I have a good hot supper for you, my lords, and comfortable bed spaces here in the hall.” She was all the dutiful chatelaine.

  Ysbail came into the hall, looking about her with curiosity. “We have guests?” She was surprised.

  “They have come to aid us regain the children,” Argel replied.

  “You will want your son back, of course,” Ysbail said, “but as for Junia she is de Bohun’s whore now, and not worth having in our hall.”

  “She is your daughter, lady!” Rhys FitzHugh said, shocked by Ysbail’s words.

  “She was my daughter, my lord. She is no longer my daughter. She is de Bohun’s whore. By her own willful actions she brought disaster upon herself. She would not listen to anyone. She would, foolish creature, follow her heart. But do we not all know that the heart is not a reliable indicator?” Ysbail sat down by the fire. “I do not care if you retrieve her or not. I have no daughter,” she finished bleakly.

  “She hoped to join her daughter in the household of a well-to-do son-in-law,” Gorawen said acidly. “Now her plans gone awry, she realizes she must live out her old age with the rest of us.”

  Ysbail jumped up from her seat. “Do not dare to judge me!” she cried angrily. “You have his love and his heart. Argel has his care and respect. My tenuous hold on him was but my child who is now shamed and would be better off dead! A place in my daughter’s house would have been one of honor and respect. What have I here? I am a second concubine whose daughter has brought dishonor to the house of Pendragon, and worse, led its heir into terrible danger!” Her narrow face was wet with tears of self-pity.

  “No one is blaming Junia that Brynn followed her,” Merin Pendragon said. “Be silent now, Ysbail. We have guests, and I would not have them think ill of you. I know my daughter has been shamed. Did I not see the evidence of it with my own eyes? But I will never desert any child of mine for any reason. Dry your tears, woman, and come to supper with the rest of us.” He reached out and awkwardly patted her shoulder.

  “You do not blame Junia for Brynn’s plight?” She sniffled.

  “Nay, I do not, nor should you, woman,” he replied. “Brynn is my son, and noble in his heart. But he lacks the experience of a seasoned warrior who would have not gone to Junia’s aid when the odds were so obviously against him. A wiser warrior would have slipped away, and hurried back to Dragon’s Lair to tell me what was happening. Had he, we might have rescued Junia before they took her back to Agramant. Nay, I do not blame Junia for what has happened. She is but a girl in love. I blame Brynn for reacting, instead of acting in Junia’s best interests, and ours.”

  She took his hand and kissed it. “Thank you, my lord,” she said.

  The meal was served, and afterwards their guests were given bed spaces.

  “We must leave before the dawn,” Lord Mortimer said, and his companions agreed. “If we do we may be able to reach Agramant late tomorrow.”

  “If the lord does not want Junia back,” Rhys murmured to Gorawen before she left the hall, “Averil and I will take her.”

  “In this house it is only Ysbail who carps and cries about Junia,” Gorawen told her son-in-law. “Her father loves her, and so do the rest of us. We will be here for her in her sorrow, but dear Rhys, I thank you for your kindness. I will tell Merin. We did not begin well, I fear, but I can see you are a good man. My daughter, I suspect, is fortunate in her husband. She is well? I have not asked before now for obvious reasons.”

  “She is well, and expecting another child in the spring,” he responded with a smile. “I h
ope for a daughter this time. Two sons is a good start, lady. When this is over, and the matter settled, I hope you will come and spend some time at Everleigh. Your daughter misses you, and you have not seen your grandsons in months now.”

  Gorawen nodded. “I will come,” she promised, “but first we must make everything all right for sweet Junia. And it will not be finished until my lord has slain the de Bohuns, father and son, Rhys. And if Junia still loves her Simon, she will grieve deeply, I know.”

  “What if the son is innocent of the father’s evil?” Rhys asked.

  “It will matter not to Merin, for the younger de Bohun did not protect Junia from his father’s wickedness. Junia was a sheltered and well-born virgin. In all her life she never met such evil as the de Bohuns have shown her. They will not have broken her spirit, for I know Junia is strong-willed. But they have ruined her future, and insulted this family’s honor. Honor must be avenged, Rhys. You know that yourself.”

  “But you did not have me slain. You had me marry Averil,” Rhys said.

  “You did not rape Averil before the vows were said,” she reminded him.

  “You believe he is the one?” Rhys was shocked that an honorable man professing to love an innocent girl would violate her.

  “If he is not then it is worse, for that would mean he stood by while the deed was done. But it no longer matters,” Gorawen said. “Junia is ruined.”

  “We will bring her back, Belle Mere,” Rhys responded.

  “I know that Junia will be safely returned eventually,” Gorawen agreed, and then she left him to get his rest. She found Merin awaiting her in her chamber. She went to him, and kissed him softly. He was seated in the chair by her hearth. She sat down in his lap with a sigh.

  “I wish I could go with them,” he told her.

  “I know,” she replied, “but they have a better chance of regaining the children if de Bohun does not see you. He will see you soon enough, my lord. Is that not so?”

  “I think about killing him,” Merin Pendragon said. “I debate with myself if it should be slow and painful, or quick and sure. Should I kill his son before his very eyes, or should I wait and kill the father before the son? I think of stripping the flesh from de Bohun’s bones while he yet lives. Of cutting him open and pulling his innards out, and feeding them to the dogs. Should I blind him with a red-hot poker, or slice off his nose and give it to the castle cats as a plaything. I am filled with such dark thoughts, Gorawen, and I do not like it.”

  “You should not,” she agreed. “Such thoughts make you no better than the man who saw to your daughter’s public violation. Kill de Bohun swiftly, my lord. See the son wed to Junia, and then send him to hell with his father as quickly. Do not draw it out. If Junia yet loves Simon de Bohun you must not add any more to her pain than is necessary for honor to be satisfied. She will say she will never forgive you, but she will one day.”

  “What if she is with child?” he asked the question she had hoped he would not.

  “It can be managed, my lord,” Gorawen told him.

  “I have always suspected you had such means at your disposal, my love,” he remarked quietly.

  “Junia cannot be allowed to have a child with de Bohun blood,” Gorawen said. “It is unlikely she will ever know what I have done, my lord, and so we may spare her that sorrow. It will be far easier to find a husband for a widow with a good dower and no children than a widow with another man’s babe.”

  “I agree,” he said. “So it is settled, then. And all that remains is to reclaim the children.”

  “It is settled,” Gorawen replied to him, and she kissed him.

  In the morning Lord Mortimer, his son, and Rhys FitzHugh left before the dawn. Ahorse, and carrying torches they followed the winding narrow track to Mryddin Water, reaching it as the sun slid above the horizon. It had rained in the days since Junia and her brother had been abducted by the de Bohuns, but even so the evidence of the crime was still visible in the sandy ground.

  “If I thought we could kill him ourselves at Agramant, I would,” Lord Mortimer said in a tight voice.

  “Nay,” Rhys replied. “ ’Tis the Dragon Lord’s privilege, and his alone. However, it could not hurt to ascertain Agramant’s weaknesses, could it?”

  Roger Mortimer grinned. “God, Rhys, ’tis good to be together with you, and out on the hunt. Marriage is a bloody bore!”

  “Not for me,” Rhys said with an answering grin.

  “Well, if I had a wife like Averil . . .” Roger began.

  “You didn’t deserve a wife like Averil Pendragon.” His father chuckled. “I am not even certain you deserve the wife you have, my son.”

  The three men rode the day long, stopping to relieve themselves, eat and give their animals a rest. The countryside through which they rode was quiet, and they saw no one.

  Then just as the sun was preparing to set they saw the dark stone towers of Agramant ahead of them. Lord Mortimer raised his hand to slow their advance, and they stopped as he contemplated their next move.

  Finally he said, “Roger, you will remain here while Rhys and I enter the castle. If we are not back within two days’ time, return to Dragon’s Lair, and tell the lord.”

  Roger nodded. He was disappointed, but he did not argue. “I will wait two days,” he said. And then he watched as his father and the lord of Everleigh continued onward towards the castle of Agramant.

  Chapter 17

  Lord Mortimer and his companion were granted entry into Agramant just before the drawbridge was drawn up, the doors shut, and the iron portcullis lowered for the night. Dismounting, their horses were taken to a stable, and a house servant brought them into the great hall of the castle.

  Hugo de Bohun was already at table with his son, and Junia. He looked surprised to see them, but motioned them forward. “Come! Come! Eat! You look as if you have traveled a long ways this day. We have venison, and it’s been well hung, my lords.” He looked for a servitor as they took their seats next to Simon. “Wine for my guests, you lazy bastards!” he shouted. Then he shoved a large loaf of bread down the table at them as his servants brought pewter plates piled high with venison, and goblets of wine. “Eat!” he commanded them again. “Then you will tell me what brings you to Agramant. Who is this with you, Mortimer?”

  “Lord FitzHugh of Everleigh,” Lord Mortimer replied.

  Hugo de Bohun grunted, and his curiosity satisfied, went on eating.

  Rhys could not look at Junia without being noticed, but from the brief glimpse he had had of her when they entered the hall she appeared unharmed. He wondered where young Brynn was. Then hungry, he took his knife from its scabbard and began spearing pieces of the meat and eating them. It would all be revealed in due time.

  When the places had been cleared away Hugo de Bohun looked to Lord Mortimer, and said, “Why have you come to Agramant? We rarely have visitors.” He leaned back in his chair.

  “Merin Pendragon would like his son and his daughter returned, and he is willing to pay a goodly ransom for them, my lord,” Lord Mortimer said.

  Hugo de Bohun laughed uproariously as if Lord Mortimer had just told the most amusing jest. “I will keep to the laws of hospitality, my lords,” he replied, “but come the morrow return to the Dragon Lord and tell him there is no amount of ransom that I would take in exchange for his children. My son is soon to wed Aceline de Bellaud, but he would keep his little Welsh whore as well. As for Pendragon’s son, he resides in my dungeons where he will eventually die, as I have given orders he is to have no food or water.”

  “Jesu, de Bohun, Brynn Pendragon is but a lad!” Lord Mortimer said.

  “But when he is dead,” the lord of Agramant continued, “I will return his body to his father so he may see that Arthur’s line is finished, and bury his only heir.” Then he laughed. “As for the wench, she will remain with Simon until he is bored with her, and then I will give her to my men for the castle whore.”

  “Why have you done this?” Lord Mortimer asked.r />
  “The Pendragons are our enemies,” Hugo de Bohun replied.

  “The feud between you has been dormant for years now,” Lord Mortimer said.

  “Until my weakling of a son met Pendragon’s daughter by Mryddin Water, and she lured him with her wiles from the path I had chosen for him to take. He wanted to marry the little slut with her meager dower instead of the fine landed heiress I had chosen for him. He would have run away with her, but that I put a stop to it.”

  “Surely you did not think Pendragon would have a de Bohun for a son-in-law, my lord?” Lord Mortimer said, shocked by the venom in his host’s voice, and puzzled by the silence of young Simon de Bohun.

  “Willful, both of them,” Hugo de Bohun responded, “but I put a stop to it. I followed my son that day he planned to meet with his wench. I thought at first to kill her and be done with it, but then I decided instead to break her father’s heart. I made my son take the girl as my men and I watched. How she howled when he stole her cherry from her. Her brother, a lad I will admit with more guts than my own son, tried to save her. Now he will end his days in my dungeons. I have beaten him twice, but he will not utter a single cry, and I admire him for it. But he will, before I am through with him, beg for mercy, and when he does I will give him the gift of death to reward him.”