The de Lohr Dynasty

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Christopher and David were subdued as Darren approached from the darkness and cleared his throat respectfully.

  “Greetings this night, my lords,” he said.

  Christopher glanced up at the broad, blond youth who could pass for his son and smiled faintly. “Still up, Darren? I would think you to be asleep by now.”

  “Nay, my lord,” Darren replied. “I think that if I fall asleep, I will awake to find that I have merely dreamed you were alive.”

  Christopher shook his head and patted Harold on the head affectionately. “Nay, lad. I am alive.”

  Darren cleared his throat again, mayhap a bit nervously, and moved stiffly to the log Marcus had occupied. “May I sit, my lords?”

  David waved him down and he sat perched rigidly on the edge of the log. Not knowing exactly how he should broach the subject, he decided to simply jump in with both feet.

  “Lord Christopher, I have a….a plan regarding your wife,” he said.

  Christopher looked up from the fire. “Plan? What do you mean?”

  Darren felt his face flush as all attention was on him and prayed they did not think him a fool.

  “I have been thinking,” he said, rather quickly. “Lady Dustin has no protector in Nottingham. She is alone and I know how you must fear for her safety. When we attack come tomorrow, the gates will be closed and the castle sealed and her fate will be in the hands of Prince John and Sir Ralph. She will have no one.”

  “What are you getting at, Darren?” David demanded.

  Darren cleared his throat for the tenth time and forced his courage. “I am thinking that Lady Dustin needs a protector at Nottingham. Of course, the prince and the sheriff know you, my lords, and all of your knights. They even know a good deal of your men-at-arms. They know everyone who is loyal to Richard and it would make it impossible for you or virtually anyone else to slip into Nottingham unnoticed to rescue Lady Dustin.”

  “We know this, Darren, which is why we made no attempt at a covert rescue mission,” Christopher said patiently.

  “But they do not know me,” Darren insisted. “I could slip in unnoticed and make myself available to your wife.”

  It was out there. Christopher and David stared at him a moment before turning to look at each other. Darren held his breath as no words were spoken between the two, yet a wordless discussion passed between them. He could tell; the brothers had that ability. Pins and needles of anticipation pricked at him as Christopher turned away from his brother and gazed into the crackling fire again.

  “They have seen you before,” Christopher said finally.

  “But they paid me no mind, my lord,” Darren insisted. “I blend in with the other squires and they believe me to be no one of importance.”

  Christopher raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, mulling over the possibilities. “You would do this?”

  Darren nodded eagerly. “Aye, my lord, I would,” he insisted. “I am almost seventeen years now, and I can handle a sword well and….”

  “Christ, Darren, you do not have to tell me your qualifications; you are my squire,” Christopher said with more emotion than Darren had seen all night. “You can handle a sword almost as well as I can, of that I have no doubt. But you place yourself in grave danger should I allow you to go.”

  Darren relaxed for the first time. “As you did when you broke your brother out of jail in Antioch? As you did when you took on Saladin’s general El-Hajidd on the dunes to rescue the fifteen Christian knights he held captive?” He smiled with admiration. “I was there, my lord. If there is no danger, there is no glory, and if there is no glory then there is no point in being a knight.”

  Christopher and David gazed back at his strong, young face for a moment, hearing the words and reasoning of a much older man.

  “Jesus, Darren, when in the hell did you grow up?” David mumbled.

  A slow smile spread across Christopher’s lips. “Well said, Darren,” he said, rather proud of the lad. “But I do not know if I can allow you to be placed in such jeopardy.”

  “I wish it, sire,” Darren said firmly. “I would do this to help your wife, and to help you. Please do not deny me. There is so much you have done for me. Won’t you allow me to repay the debt in the least?”

  Christopher shook his head and turned to his brother. “Christ, he pleads as well as you do.” He slapped at his leg and sat up straight on the log. “I will think on it, then. Go to bed now and I will let you know when I have made my decision.”

  Darren slid off the log and bowed respectfully. He began to leave when something stopped him and he paused. “My lord,” he said hesitantly. “I would give my life for Lady Dustin. She has been kind to me. I am unconcerned with being placed in danger if it will save her.”

  Christopher’s gaze lingered on the infatuated boy. His wife had power over men she did not even realize. “Thank you, Darren.”

  He left and Christopher turned to his brother. “What say you?” he asked.

  David shrugged. “I am encouraged,” he admitted. “Darren is a fine swordsman and will make an outstanding knight in a few years. If we cannot be there to protect her, then I am comfortable with him in our stead.”

  Christopher agreed. “He is an intelligent, quiet boy and not given to rash judgments,” he observed. “He can think for himself.”

  David stood up and stretched the knots from his legs. “If you want my advice, let him go,” he said, rubbing at his neck. “I think it would ease your mind to know that Dustin and Christin are not entirely alone.”

  Christopher nodded vaguely. “But if they discover him, they will kill him.”

  “That is a risk we all must take.”

  Christopher thought on it a moment longer before replying. “I must seek out Edward on this matter. If he gives approval, then I will agree to it.”

  “What of Richard?” David asked.

  “Richard will concur with whatever I decide,” Christopher said confidently.

  They rose and went their separate ways. Christopher felt a good deal of comfort with Darren’s suggestion and was more positive with every step he took. Christ, if it were only that easy. Surely Darren could enter Nottingham unnoticed, for it was a large keep, but to find Dustin and stay with her would be nearly impossible. Especially if John had tight control of her, as he suspected he did.

  But he was desperate. He knew what John was capable of, and if anything happened to his wife and child, he would surely die himself. He would not want to live without them.

  *

  Dustin was surprised when dresses of every color and flattering style began arriving in her room. But she was shocked when expensive jewels and shoes began arriving, too, and clothes for Christin, as well. She could not believe that Gabrielle had ordered all of these fine clothes for her and wondered furthermore who was going to pay for them. Surely the prince was not so inclined to spend his money on her, his enemy’s wife, and she was deeply curious. She would refuse to touch them until she knew all of the details.

  Gabrielle arrived later on in the morning and immediately fawned over the new clothes. When she tried to dress Christin in one of the outfits, Dustin stopped her.

  “Nay, Gabrielle, she stays as she is for now,” she said firmly.

  Gabrielle looked perplexed. “But why? Her clothes are soiled and she could use a bath.”

  Dustin was firm. “Because I do not know who has sent all of these things,” she explained warily. “I will not touch them until I know where they came from, and why.”

  Gabrielle looked at the piles of surcoats. “I ordered you three coats and paid for them myself. They are the ones on the chair, I think. The pale silks,” she stood up, holding Christin. “But truthfully, Dustin, I do not know where the rest came from.”

  Dustin eyed her treasures. “They came from someone who doesn’t know me very well,” she said, picking up a luscious sapphire and diamond necklace carelessly. “Now, what am I going to do with this? Caesar would love to play with it.”

 
“Caesar? Who’s Caesar?” Gabrielle asked.

  “My cat,” Dustin replied, letting the necklace fall to the table with a clank. “My old, fat, spoiled cat who keeps to himself these days. I took him with me to Somerhill, but he made himself scarce. He did not take to Marcus very well.”

  Dustin sat in a chair, her pregnant belly looking as if she were harboring a pumpkin underneath her surcoat. Her beautiful face was rested and rosy with her condition, not looking like a woman who had spent a night and day traveling alone.

  “When is your baby due, Dustin?” Gabrielle asked, as Christin chewed on her fingers.

  “October,” Dustin replied. “I have still got a good deal of time to go.”

  “It is nearly July now,” Gabrielle said. “You do not have that much longer.”

  Dustin sat back in the chair and stroked her belly. “Believe me, Gabrielle, come the heat of August, October will seem like an eternity.”

  Gabrielle smiled. “And you know it to be a son?”

  Dustin nodded firmly. “A son for Christopher,” her face suddenly went distant and mournful. “I wonder if he will ever know his son.”

  “What will you name him?” Gabrielle asked softly.

  “Curtis,” Dustin murmured. “Curtis Arthur.”

  “But what if it is another girl?” Gabrielle asked with a twinkle in her eye. “Then what?”

  Dustin shrugged. “One girl is all I need,” she smiled at her daughter. “But if it is, then I do not know. I cannot think of any female names.”

  “My mother’s name was Arianna,” Gabrielle said. “I have always liked that name.”

  “My mother’s name was Mary,” Dustin said. “Too plain and too common. Nay, I must think of a wonderful name such as Christin’s is.”

  They took the nooning meal in Dustin’s room. In fact, it was sent up without even being ordered and Dustin suspected that she was not such a guest after all. Either that, or John did not want to see her face at his table and spoil his appetite. Whatever the reason, she ate nearly all of the food on the table and then demanded hot water to bathe her daughter. Gabrielle was right; little Christin could use it.

  She dressed Christin in one of the little garments she had brought for her and tied a strip of cloth around her head to keep the curly dark hair from getting in her eyes. Already, the babe had a considerable amount of hair. Bathed and fed and happy, Christin crawled about and stuck the rushes in her mouth as her mother tried to discourage her.

  Gabrielle seemed determined to spend all of her time with Dustin and Christin. Not that Dustin minded, but the woman seemed desperate for companionship. She was a sweet, funny girl and even in the short time they had spent together, Dustin had come to know her well. She was extremely comfortable with her, but she was still wary about trusting her. Dustin had no idea what her relationship was with the prince and wasn’t sure if anything she said wouldn’t be immediately repeated.

  But, lord, if she wasn’t a beautiful, elegant creature. Everything about Gabrielle reeked of breeding and nobility, from the top of her light brown hair to the bottom of those long, long legs. She was several inches taller than Dustin, of which Dustin was highly envious, and she had a silly, squeaky laugh Dustin found hysterical. In some ways, she reminded her a lot of Rebecca. She was sad when she thought of those days with Rebecca that seemed so very long ago.

  They were passing away the afternoon chatting about nonsensical things when there was a sharp rap at the door. Gabrielle set Christin down to open it, bowing immediately to the tall, graying man in the archway.

  “Lord Bruce,” she said formally, assuming he was looking for her. “I apologize that I have not been in my room, but …”

  He waved her off. “Not you. I have come to see my granddaughter.”

  Gabrielle blinked in confusion as Dustin rose slowly from her chair, her eyes fixed on the man whose features were remotely familiar. Frightened and curious at the same time, she openly studied the tall, distinguished looking man.

  He smiled at her. “Lady Dustin, of course,” he said, stepping into the room, shoving Gabrielle aside. “Great Lucifer, you look like Arthur. I see nothing of my dear Mary in you.”

  Dustin was nervous. “My lord,” she greeted.

  “None of that,” he snapped. “I am your grandfather and will be addressed as such. You were probably three or four the last time I saw you and surely you do not remember, but you called me Poppa.”

  “Poppa?” Dustin barely remembered the tall, dark man who had been her mother’s father. “I am sorry, sire, I do not remember. But I shall…address you as ‘Poppa’ if it pleases you.”

  “It does,” he said firmly. “And where is my great-granddaughter?”

  They all turned to Christin, playing with a comb on the floor. She smiled innocently up at her great-grandfather and he went wild with delight.

  “At last! A child who looks like a Fitz Walter,” he crowed. “Look at that hair. Only my side of the family has such pleasingly dark hair. All of Arthur’s people were colorless.”

  Dustin was uncomfortable with the loud, tall man and scooped Christin up into her arms protectively. Lord Bruce continued to smile and announce his pleasure with Christin’s dark looks.

  “She looks nothing like her bastard father, I am pleased to see,” he went on. “God help me, harboring a de Lohr. Well, I am pleased to see that at least my great-granddaughter is indeed a Fitz Walter.”

  Dustin was appalled by his words and lowered her gaze, lest he see her angry tears. Lord Bruce, having no idea he had upset his granddaughter, turned to the room laden with expensive items.

  “I see you received my gifts,” he said with approval, then looked at her. “Why do you not wear them? I demand to see you in one of the surcoats I selected for you.”

  Dustin, shaken and unnerved, nodded. “Aye, mi….Poppa. I shall put one on immediately.”

  He nodded curtly. “And jewels. Lots of jewels. My granddaughter will be the best dressed in the keep.”

  Dustin nodded, keeping her eyes averted. With a final approving glance, he turned for the door. Gabrielle, still standing with her hand on the door latch, curtsied.

  “I would have you service me in my rooms before the hour is up,” he tapped her on the chin. “Do not be late.”

  He left with a slam of the door, leaving both women in stunned, embarrassed silence.

  Dustin had no idea what to say. She was afraid that Gabrielle would never speak to her again for not divulging the fact that she was Lord Bruce Fitz Walter’s granddaughter, yet she was deeply humiliated for her friend with regard to her grandfather’s last orders. Summoning her courage, she turned slowly to her friend.

  Gabrielle was staring at the floor, her lovely face glazed with shame and shock. Sensing Dustin was looking at her, she met her gaze.

  “You are his granddaughter?” she whispered.

  Dustin nodded feebly. Gabrielle stared at her a moment longer before letting out a painful sigh. “And you did not tell me? Why not?”

  “I was afraid of what you would think,” Dustin said honestly.

  “What I would think?” Gabrielle repeated. “My God, Dustin, you just heard the man order me to his bed like a common whore. What must you think?”

  “I think that your situation is beyond your control and that you are not to blame,” Dustin replied firmly. “I could never think badly of you, Gabrielle.”

  Gabrielle looked dazed as she sat on the edge of the bed. “I hate Lord Bruce,” she murmured. “He likes to make love to me in my arse. ’Tis painful and degrading.”

  Dustin sat down beside her. “Marcus liked to do it that way, too, but I found it enjoyable. He never hurt me.”

  Gabrielle looked at her, surprised. “ ’Tis a deviant way to make love, I say. What about Lord Christopher?”

  Dustin shook her head. “Never like that. He never even suggested it.”

  Gabrielle looked back at her hands and sighed. “Well, I had better go, then. I shall see you later?”
r />   Dustin could not help it, she impulsively threw her arms around Gabrielle and they hugged each other fiercely.

  “Be strong,” Dustin whispered.

  Gabrielle rose and went to the door, turning to pause. “Oh, Dustin, do not ever let them treat you as they treat me.”

  “I won’t,” Dustin insisted firmly.

  With a weak smile, Gabrielle was gone and Dustin dissolved into a flood of tears.

  *

  John had plans for Dustin. He intended to have her that eve, but he knew it would not be that simple. He knew she would fight him every step of the way and as much as that excited him, he did not want her to injure herself before he had a chance to feast on her amazing body. The most logical and convenient solution he could think of was Christin.

  He had no intention of harming the babe, but he could hold her somewhere where her frantic mother would never find her. At least, not until she had pleased him. Cruel and simple was the ploy and he looked forward to it with glee.

  As he sat in his solar watching the temperature rise in the bailey, he was as happy as a child with Christmas candy, but he wondered seriously what had become of de Lohr and Burton. Surely at least one man had survived their mortal bout, and surely he would lay search for his wife. Since John had sent word to Richard regarding Dustin’s presence, he expected some sort of contact within the week. He waited with relish, fully intending to play his advantage for all it was worth. Meanwhile, he intended to play with Lady Dustin, pregnant or not.

  Later that afternoon, Gabrielle took Dustin and Christin into the bailies that were Nottingham. They were huge and were a village unto themselves, and Dustin studied everything with interest. Soldiers followed the three of them a short distance behind and she knew it was for spying as well as protection, so she kept her manner neutral and tried to not let them see when she was searching the walls for any doors or gates. There had to be a way out of this damnable place.

  More peasants than she had ever seen populated Nottingham. They were happy people who genuinely interested her. They would fawn from a distance over Christin and two of the ladies gave the babe a type of root to chew on to help her teething. Christin, happy as always, chewed contentedly on the dried root and drooled all over her new surcoat. Dustin thought the people to be remarkably open and friendly despite the dastardly men who ruled from the castle.