Medieval Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Summer looked to Bose again, feeling the warmth from his black eyes fill her very soul. She touched his cheek lovingly, turning once again to her brother.

  “I suppose I always knew father kept me sequestered because he was ashamed of me, not because he loved me. And the fact that my birth killed our mother did nothing to ease his resentment toward me.” When Stephan’s features softened with regret and compassion, Summer merely smiled. “I entertained the thought that my three brothers kept me shielded because they were embarrassed of me as well, but I knew better. Thank you, Stephan. Thank you for appointing yourself my mother and father and for loving me in spite of my imperfection. Thank you for protecting me because you adored me, not because you were ashamed of your defective b-baby sister.”

  Lance could not hold back the weak sobs that overcame him. Ian put a comforting hand to his younger, far more emotional brother, echoing the younger man’s sentiment yet too reserved to allow such an exhibition of feeling. They had all known Edward’s reasoning behind Summer’s isolation, each man hoping silently that the sweet young girl never came to know the truth.

  Stephan, his eyes full of glistening tears, moved forward and kissed his sister tenderly on the forehead.

  “Given the chance, I would do it all again,” he whispered. “Be happy, sweetheart. For the first time in your life, truly be happy.”

  Summer dashed away her rolling tears, smiling with appreciation, adoration, at her beloved eldest brother. As the heady moment deepened, Stephan was aware that there was little liberty for such emotion. Time was of the essence and there was a tremendous goal yet to be accomplished; clearing his throat of the emotional lump, he turned to his weepy brothers.

  “As you have managed to deduce, Bose is taking Summer from Chaldon before Breck Kerry can sink his claws into her,” motioning to the closed cell door, his composure made a rapid return. “I am going to attempt to gain her release by non-violent methods. If my orders are rejected, however, we must be prepared to disable the six sentries guarding the door. Lance, your responsibility will be Summer’s safety should it come to a battle. I suspect Bose, for pure size and strength alone, will serve us better in a fight and you will be left to protect our sister.”

  As Bose set Summer gently to the ground, Ian and Lance nodded grimly; as usual, they would obey Stephan’s orders without question. Loyal to their eldest brother far more than their moronic father, there was little question that they, too, were willing to face the potential consequences.

  “What would you have me do, Stephan?” Ian asked quietly.

  “Stand with Bose. I shall capture the senior sentry’s attention and attempt to reason with him. If the man resists, then prepare to quash any refusal to Summer’s removal. Understood?”

  As Ian nodded obediently, Bose removed a dagger from a fold in his armor and placed in within his left gauntlet. “Once we are free, my men must be notified of my actions, for I suspect the baron’s grace will be extremely limited to those under my command. They must be instructed to fold camp immediately and return to Ravendark.”

  “We shall see to it, Bose,” it was the first time Lance had addressed his future brother-in-law by his Christian name. “We shall cover their retreat if we have to.”

  Bose looked to the youngest, most volatile du Bonne brother. His black eyes glittered with warmth. “I would trust their back to none other, Lance. Thank you.”

  Lance, feeling the genuine camaraderie between himself and a man he both feared and respected, lowered his gaze in a purely baffled gesture; only yesterday he was loudly insulting both Bose and his men and now he found himself preparing to defend them to the death.

  Stephan wasted no time. Fixing the sergeant in the eye, his features were grim. “I am taking my sister from this place,” he said firmly. “She will be released to my custody and I shall inform my father of my actions. Your men may disburse themselves to their regular duties.”

  The sergeant, a seasoned soldier with a heavy Scots accent, appeared rightly off-guard. “My orders are tae keep her here until yer father decides what’s tae be done wi’ her, Sir Stephan.”

  Stephan’s green eyes were like shards of ice. “As I said, I shall inform my father of my actions and you shall not be to blame. I am giving you an order to disburse.”

  The soldier was visibly torn. Licking his lips, he passed a long glance to the curious men behind him as he struggled for an answer. “My… my orders come from the baron, Sir Stephan. I would gladly accept yer order had yer father not instructed me personally.”

  Stephan drew in a long, steady breath. “Then you are prepared to disobey me?”

  After a long, deliberative moment, the sergeant nodded hesitantly. “I must, m’lord.”

  Stephan’s gaze was hard. After a tense pause, he cocked a deliberate eyebrow. “Very well,” stepping aside, he gestured to Bose directly behind him. “Are you prepared to disobey Bose de Moray as well?”

  Six pairs of eyes stared at Bose as if he were the Devil himself. They knew well of the man and his reputation and there wasn’t one warrior among them willing to obtain first-hand knowledge of the man’s temper and tactics. More than the threat of the baron’s wrath, the very idea of facing Bose de Moray in mortal combat was enough to cause them to rethink their stringent stance.

  “But… but the baron’s orders….” the sergeant sputtered.

  Sensing their intimidation, Bose was wise enough to use the advantage. Ducking through the doorjamb, he planted himself beside Stephan, his black eyes blazing and his massive fists working.

  “Is the strict obedience of the baron’s orders worth a broken neck?” his voice was a growl.

  Eyes wide, the sergeant stepped back, tripping over another man’s feet but rapidly regaining his balance. Quickly reconsidering his view, it occurred to him that if Stephan du Bonne was willing to accept all blame for his sister’s release, then certainly it would be within the best interests of all if the girl were freed without contention. And for the fact that Bose de Moray was willing to fight them all for her freedom, certainly the baron’s wrath did not seem quite so frightening.

  “We’ve duties tae attend tae, m’lord,” spinning on his heel, he waved his arms sharply to the gaggle of men-at-arms behind him. The collection scattered, leaving Bose and Stephan smirking triumphantly in their wake.

  When the hall was vacant, Summer emerged into the corridor, gazing down the dimly-lit tunnel as if she could hardly believe what she had seen. But she soon caught the humor too, and she turned with twinkling eyes to the snorting, armored men behind her.

  “You did not have to fight them,” she announced with a mixture of disbelief and glee. “Bose, they were simply terrified of you!”

  “As they should be,” he said with mock-seriousness, removing the dagger from his gauntlet and replacing it in the folds of his armor. “Thank God the confrontation was bloodless, at any rate. I was afraid they were going to force me to follow through with my threat.”

  Summer shook her head with a combination of disapproval and pride as Ian and Lance snorted their endorsement of their future brother-in-law’s imposing presence. For certain, they were not the only men afraid of the mighty knight.

  “I suspect the rest of your escape will be less simplified,” Stephan said, his humor fading as essential moments began to tick away.

  “Indeed,” Bose’s smile vanished as well and he grasped Summer by the hand, tightly, as if to never let her go. “My charger is tethered near my tent. We shall have to make it there as inconspicuously as possible. All we need is for Breck or Duncan Kerry to spot us and….”

  “Duncan is competing against Morgan in the seventh bout,” Ian said, already moving down the torch-lit hall as a distinct sense of urgency took hold. “With the second, fourth and fifth rounds canceled due to the du Bonne brothers’ absence, I suspect Breck is currently watching his brother take the field. The sooner we make way to Bose’s tent, the better.”

  “Let’s waste no time,” Bose was
in close pursuit of Ian, pulling Summer behind him as Stephan and Lance followed. “I plan to make it to Salisbury by nightfall.”

  “Salisbury?” Summer asked curiously.

  He glanced to her as he helped her mount the slippery stairs. “A mighty cathedral is being built there, only partially finished. But there is a rectory and my cousin is a residing priest. He shall marry us.”

  Emerging onto an upper level of the dungeon, Stephan’s voice was faint. “You plan to ride all the way to Salisbury to marry my sister? Poole or Bournemouth is closer.”

  Bose did not reply for a moment as the group edged the darkened walls toward the light of freedom. “My cousin performed the funeral mass for Lora. I… I would like him to marry us.”

  Not strangely, the distance to Salisbury did not seem so terribly great any longer.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Tell me where your liege took my daughter and I shall be merciful.”

  When Morgan did not reply fast enough, another crushing blow caught him in the kidneys and he sank to his knees, a small grunt of pain the only outward display of his agony. When Breck prepared to deliver another kick to the man’s already-bruised midsection, the baron extended a sharp hand.

  “Answer me, Sir Morgan. Where did de Moray take my daughter?”

  Breathing heavily from the anguish of broken ribs, Morgan’s gaze was unwavering. “As I told you, I do not know. Why are you so concerned with their disappearance if your daughter is betrothed to the man? Mayhap….”

  A powerful boot to his side sent Morgan to the floor. Breck loomed over the struggling man, his pimpled face flushed with anger. “She is not betrothed to de Moray, she is betrothed to me. Your liege stole my bride and I fully intend to prosecute him for thievery!”

  Gazing up at the irate young knight, Morgan’s countenance was confused. “Thievery? What… what are you talking about? As of last eve, Bose was betrothed to the Lady Summer.”

  Breck sneered, unsympathetic to the knight’s misery. “A verbal contract and nothing more. After Lord du Bonne was presented with the true characteristics of his future son-in-law, he wisely decided to betroth his daughter to a finer man. Me, in fact.”

  Morgan appeared even more confused. “You? God’s Blood, Kerry, how in the hell did you manage to convince the baron that you were a finer man than Bose?”

  “With my help, Sir Morgan,” Margot sat against the distant wall, far removed from the torture at hand and sampling another bottle of the baron’s fine Bordeaux. She’d been settled behind Morgan, out of his line of sight and he had been unaware of her presence. As he struggled to catch a glimpse of the familiar, hated voice, Margot merely sipped her wine in satisfied warmth. “It was necessary that Baron Lulworth be told of Bose’s murderous and greedy tendencies. He agrees with Breck and I completely. Do you not, darling?”

  Edward did not look to the woman who seemed to have overtaken his house and hold within the past several hours. From the moment she had convinced him of her son-in-law’s dark character, she hadn’t set foot from Chaldon. Confiscating the largest unoccupied guest chamber in the upper hall, she had moved in as her severely wimpled lady ordered all of Lady Margot’s possessions removed from de Moray’s tent and relocated into the newly-selected bower.

  Margot had come to see that the baron was not only petty, selfish and vain, but he was exceedingly dimwitted and moronic. Whereas Bose’s intelligent mind could be manipulated by his tremendous sense of grief, Edward could be exploited purely for the fact that he seemed to lack a will of his own. And with the man’s sons conspicuously absent, tending to the tournament and their sister’s social affairs, Margot saw the opportunity to draw yet another man into her venomous web. She had found another victim to occupy her twisted attention.

  A process that was already beginning as Morgan Skye lay upon the cold stone of the foyer, beaten and bloodied by an irate Breck Kerry. Arrested on the joust field when word of Bose de Moray’s abduction of Lady Summer had reached Edward’s ears, hordes of du Bonne soldiers continued to lay search for the rest of de Moray’s men. The three remaining knights and Bose’s aged uncle, however, were yet to be found and Edward had vocally suspected his absent sons having something to do with the knights’ disappearance.

  “Indeed,” Edward replied to Margot’s question. “My daughter cannot marry a murderer, a man only interest in obtaining her family’s wealth. Again I ask you; tell me where your liege has gone and I will be merciful.”

  Morgan managed to regain his balance, still on his knees. The expression on his face, however, was solid. “Bose is not a murderer. Margot knows as well as I that her daughter perished in childbirth, yet she seems intent to spread lies to the contrary. Lies that would destroy Bose all to satisfy her twisted sense of revenge.”

  As Margot’s expression visibly darkened, Breck slapped Morgan across the mouth and nearly sent him toppling over again. “Enough of your distortions. Everyone knows Bose de Moray killed his wife in order to gain her inheritance. The fabrications you weave are simply to mask the truth in defense of your liege.”

  “I do not hide the truth. But Lady Margot does.”

  “Lies!”

  Morgan turned to the flush-faced knight, a corrupt man that seemed to be growing more corrupt and vile by the moment. His countenance, his demeanor, in spite of having been righteously beaten, remained entirely cool. “Why do you want her so badly, Breck? What is the Lady Summer to you other than another merciless conquest?”

  Breck seemed to falter, the sinister light in his small blue eyes flickering unstably. “She is… she is the most beautiful woman in Dorset and it is only right that she be my wife,” apparently recovered from his moment of uncertainty, his features hardened once more. “No more foolish prattle to avoid the subject, Skye. Where did Bose take my bride?”

  Morgan sighed, weakly, seeing that he was about to meet with more abuse as a result of his honest answer. “As I have said at least a dozen times, I do not know. I was not even aware of the lady’s imprisonment and I certainly have no knowledge of where Bose would take her. He has friends all over this country.”

  Breck was preparing to strike him again when Edward, in a surprising show of power, firmly stopped him. Sulking and angry, Breck moved away from Morgan and paced like a caged bull, muttering to himself in a gesture of madness. The baron tore his eyes away from Morgan long enough to watch the pimple-faced knight tear a hole in his fine Persian rug with the heel of is armored boot.

  “Logic would dictate one of two possibilities, young Kerry,” he said quietly. “He has either taken my daughter to the nearest abbey to marry her, or he has taken her directly to his fortress. In either case, I would suggest we start looking for him at the seat of his power. Eventually, I would suspect, he will have to return home.”

  Rising from her cushioned chair, Margot set her chalice to a small engraved tray and made her way toward the baron. “How brilliant of you to anticipate his plans, my lord. Ravendark is just outside of Salisbury; if your men ride hard, they can be there by tomorrow morn.”

  Breck, not to be left out of the conversation, ordered the nearest sergeant to ready a company of men to ride to Ravendark. As the soldier fled the solar, he moved toward Margot and Edward.

  “I will have de Moray captured and returned to Chaldon for trial,” he said decisively, focusing closely on Edward. “I am an outsider to Dorset, my lord. Who is your liege?”

  Edward looked to the young knight, seemingly not as excited about de Moray’s capture as he should have been. In fact, he had been rather quiet and distracted throughout the entire interrogation with Morgan Skye and except for his clear-minded suggestion as to how to trail the fugitive and his captive, seemed to once again lapse into a sluggish demeanor.

  “The Marquis of Cerne, Lord Bruce Eggardon,” he replied quietly, almost lethargically. “He resides in Poole.”

  “Then we will send word to Poole as to the circumstances and charges,” Breck acknowledged. “After de Moray is cap
tured, I would see Lord Eggardon preside over his trial and sentencing.”

  “I cannot believe that you would actually prosecute Bose for thievery when it was he who was betrothed to the lady first,” Morgan had been silent throughout the entire conversation, but no longer. Now on his feet, bound and bloodied, his liquid brown eyes were rolling with fury. “If there is to be any manner of punishment dealt, Baron Lulworth, you should be the one to receive it. Had you not broken your word, none of this would have happened.”

  Breck moved toward the battered knight, reeking of rage as he once again balled his fist for yet another painful blow. “This is none of your affair, Skye. If you would simply tell us…!”

  “Touch him again and I will kill you.”

  All present in the room heard the rumbling, thoroughly threatening voice. Breck stopped short of Morgan, turning in the direction of the hazard directed at his intended action; certainly, when he discovered the origin, he was not surprised in the least. Edward’s expression, however, was writ with astonishment and glee as he rose from his chair, his gaze fixed upon the latest entrant to the cast of players.

  “Stephan!”

  Stephan entered the lavish solar, still clad in his ceremonial armor from his waived joust bout. His handsome face was exceedingly grim as his massive boots met with the hard stone of the chamber and behind him, Ian and Lance were equally imposing and grim. In fact, Edward had never seen his sons appear so determined.

  “Where have you been, Stephan?” Edward demanded, moving away from Margot and toward his powerful sons. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere. Do you know that de Moray has taken Summer?”

  Stephan eyed his father, never more ashamed of the man as he bore witness to the activities of the room. “I know. I helped him.”

  Edward gasped. “You… you helped him? Why in God’s name…?”

  “Because you were wrong and foolish to have broken your word to de Moray. He loves Summer and would provide her with an excellent life.” Struggling to maintain his composure, Stephan’s gaze was heavy with shame and revulsion as he continued his scathing statement. “God only knows how Breck Kerry managed to convince you that he was a far better prospect than Bose de Moray, but I will tell you this; break the contract you have established with Breck or I will leave this place and you will never see me again. Do you understand?”