The de Lohr Dynasty

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  “Non!” he bellowed. “You scheming little whore. I shall take that iron to your backside.”

  Dustin heard him coming, hearing his angry footfalls hit the floor and rush toward her. Panic surged through her and she stumbled as she attempted to rise, ending up on her behind. In the great rush to protect herself, she swung the poker around just as Dennis descended on her like an avenging angel. The combination of her rapid movement and his swift action drove the head of the poker right through his sternum, burying it deep within the muscle of his beating heart. He was dead before he hit the floor.

  Dustin sat on the floor, gasping with shock and terror. Sir Dennis was slumped over her feet, bleeding all over her legs and surcoat and she was so petrified with horror that she could do naught but sit and stare at him. It took her several long moments to realize that he was no longer a threat and only then did she try to calm herself.

  She yanked her feet out from under him, panting with the effort and the disgust she felt. Her legs were shaking so that she could not stand, so she simply scooted a few feet away and leaned against the wardrobe, making desperate attempts to slow her breathing and regain her senses. Now that the initial danger was over, she had to clear her mind and decide what move to make next. After all, she had just managed to kill Prince John’s champion, self-defense or not, and she was positive the prince would not take kindly to her offense.

  Just as she was getting a grip on herself, the door to her bedchamber flew open and Gabrielle stood in the archway. Her pleasant expression instantly went to one of absolute horror when she saw Sir Dennis’ crumpled body lying in a pool of blood.

  “Dustin,” she cried. “What….?”

  “Shut the damn door,” Dustin croaked.

  Gabrielle, stunned, immediately slammed the door shut and bolted it for good measure, turning back around to face the gory scene with disbelief.

  “What happened here?” she demanded shakily. “Is he…is he…?”

  “He is dead,” Dustin said, more calmly than she felt. “He tried to rape me, and I killed him, although it was truly an accident,” her eyes sought out her friend in earnest. “I could not let him have me, Gabrielle. He might have hurt my child somehow, and….,” she trailed off, swallowing the bile rising in her throat.

  Gabrielle, her hand clutching her throat, walked hesitantly toward the body, viewing it in astonishment. He was in a heap on his side and the fire poker jutting from his chest was stark evidence of what had happened.

  “You killed him with the poker?” she pointed. “My God, Dustin, what bravery! I simply cannot believe it.”

  Dustin was feeling distinctly limp now that she was calming. She gazed impassively at the bloodied body, wondering what in the hell she was going to do now.

  “He charged at me just as I picked it up,” she said quietly. “He impaled himself on it.”

  Gabrielle was overwhelmed. How many times had she imagined herself doing the same thing but had lacked the simple nerve? She hovered over Dennis’ body, her legs like water, delight and terror hand in hand.

  “What are we going to do with him?” she whispered.

  Dustin felt the impact of the word “we.” Gabrielle would not allow Dustin to be alone in this, and she was deeply grateful. But what remained now was, indeed, what to do with the body. With a deep breath for courage, she rose to unsteady feet.

  “We have got to hide it somehow to get rid of it,” she said. “But where?”

  Gabrielle shook her head. “I don’t know, Dustin. We cannot very well carry him anywhere and….” She suddenly looked up at Dustin. “I am scared. If John finds out what you have done, he will…..”

  Dustin wouldn’t let her finish. “I know,” she cut her off, though not unkindly. “We must hide him somewhere where he won’t be found, at least for a while.”

  “At least until he starts to smell,” Gabrielle added, almost dryly.

  Dustin looked from the body to her friend and back again. Then, her gray eyes scanned the room in thought, desperately trying to think of a way out of this situation. What to do, what to…?

  Her eyes fell on the massive wardrobe, filled with her new, hated clothing. A light went on in Dustin’s mind; surely she could hide the man underneath the mound of clothing and he would be out of view from anyone who opened the wardrobe, at least until they went digging. Rapidly, she bent down and pushed Dennis over on his back.

  “In the wardrobe, Gabrielle,” she said with quiet urgency, yanking the poker free with disgust. “We shall put him in there and cover him with my surcoats.”

  Gabrielle sucked in her breath sharply and glanced at the open wardrobe. It was certainly large enough. Lacking a better suggestion, she grabbed hold of Dennis’ legs. With Dustin dragging him by the arms, it took them several tries to get the dead man up into the wardrobe. Blood was everywhere as they lay several surcoats atop him as well as any other accessories they could find, covering him completely. They worked quickly and quietly, a tremendous sense of urgency filling them.

  Only when Dennis was covered and the wardrobe doors closed did Gabrielle rush to clean up the trail of blood on the floor. Dustin, spent emotionally and physically, flopped into a chair as her friend did a fine job of covering the evidence.

  “Where is Christin?” Dustin managed to ask, afraid, yet knowing if there had been trouble, Gabrielle would have told her first thing. “Did you give her to Darren?”

  Gabrielle threw the last of the bloody rags into the hearth and covered them with ash and soot. “I did,” she said, looking up at Dustin with a small smile. “She is safe, my lady. Have no fear.”

  Relieved beyond words, Dustin simply nodded and rested her head on her hand. Her daughter was safe and Christopher was coming for her; she should have been thrilled, but she was so spent that she could not manage it. There was naught to do now but wait for her husband and pray the corpse in the closet wasn’t discovered before he arrived.

  “What if John asks for Dennis?” Gabrielle asked, washing her hands in the basin.

  Dustin shrugged wearily. “We have not seen him.”

  Gabrielle nodded silently, her stomach twisting in knots. She was so terrified she could hardly think, but she would have to trust God that everything would work out as it should. Wooden with shock, she sat next to her friend and the two of them passed the afternoon in stunned silence.

  *

  Ralph was in fits. He had run from the bailey, through the length of the castle and up a flight of stairs before he allowed himself to slow down and catch his breath. Without a knock, he plunged into John’s chambers.

  “There is an army approaching,” he announced severely.

  John nearly fell off his chair in haste to rise. “An army? Richard?”

  Ralph nearly choked over his words. “They are flying your brother’s banner, as well as de Lohr’s and Burton’s.”

  John’s eyes bulged to the point where Ralph thought they might pop from his skull. “All three?” he gasped. “How on God’s earth is it possible that the three of them are here? Why, Dustin has only been here a mere three days and it ’twould be impossible for my message to have been received in London, and then have the armies mobilized.” He was starting to shake, an early sign of the fits he was famous for. “And it would have been impossible to rouse de Lohr and Burton so quickly. Ralph, I do not understand any of this.”

  “Nor do I, sire, but the fact remains that they are here,” Ralph said grimly. “I have sent men in search of le Londe and have already set to mobilizing our troops.”

  John, twitching, nodded unsteadily. He had not expected them nearly so soon and was totally unprepared. He thought he had ample time, time to use Lady Dustin, time to control her, time, time, time….

  “How far out is the army?” he asked.

  “Mayhap four hours, according to our patrol,” Ralph replied, smelling the battle that was to come. “They are moving quickly.”

  John’s lip jerked unconsciously; he moved to the window as if he c
ould see the approaching army for himself. His frazzled mind was working furiously, formulating a rapid plan of action.

  “I am leaving this place, Ralph,” he said. “I will take Dustin with me.”

  Ralph shook his head. “I must disagree with you, sire. She would serve us better here. If you take her, there is a chance that she could be wrested from you in the open. ’Twould be best to keep her at Nottingham.”

  John quivered a moment before whirling on Ralph. “Then I take the child.”

  Ralph shrugged. “To what avail? I would wager to say that as valuable as the child is to de Lohr, his wife is more valuable.” He was, for once, calmer than his liege. “I would suggest keeping them both here. De Lohr will think twice before destroying Nottingham if we use his family correctly.”

  John’s eyes narrowed. “Correctly? What do you mean?”

  A smile tugged at Ralph’s thin lips. “Simply tell the man you will kill both the child and his wife if he launches an attack. Put Lady Dustin up on the ramparts with a crossbow to her back so he can see for himself that we mean what we say. I would wager to say that he will reconsider any hostility on that basis.”

  “But what of Richard?” John wanted to know. “He wants his property back regardless of what we do with Lady de Lohr. So we kill her? So what? He will surely attack us then.”

  Ralph shook his head. “You will have to trust that de Lohr, and Burton for that matter, will convince Richard otherwise,” he said. “How fortunate for us that Richard’s two strongest knights love the same woman.”

  John looked dubious. He was more afraid of his brother than de Lohr or Burton, and prayed he was wise enough to use his advantages. He also prayed that Ralph was right and that Richard would not attack Nottingham if de Lohr and Burton convinced him otherwise. At any rate, an army was approaching and preparations must be made.

  “Find le Londe,” he growled, resuming his twitching and pacing. “The man is in charge of my army, is he not? He had better be on the ramparts or I shall castrate him myself.”

  Ralph nodded, feeling amazingly confident in the face of mayhap the greatest army ever assembled. The king, his Defender and the king’s premiere general were bearing down on them, yet he found his apprehension somewhat easing. He knew that he and the prince held the advantage.

  “I shall seek Lady de Lohr as well and make sure she is well taken care of,” Ralph said.

  “See that you do,” John snapped, his mind moving beyond his prisoner and ahead to more pressing concerns. “But I want her displayed blatantly when the army closes in to avoid an instantaneous attack. When they see her, surely they will stop any advance and give us a chance to press our advantage.”

  “As you say, sire,” Ralph replied steadily.

  As he marched down the cool corridor toward Lady de Lohr’s rooms, he felt distinctly omnipotent. It was obvious to him who held the true power in England, and it wasn’t the king.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  Dustin and Gabrielle had finally calmed enough to the point where they could sit and read without their book shaking so bad they could not see the words. Gabrielle, who was unusually educated for a woman, read passages from the Book of Job, a particularly depressing subject. Dustin changed out of her bloodied surcoat and into a fresh one.

  It was one of the newer garments Gabrielle had ordered for her, an eggshell-colored linen with a voluminous skirt and long, billowy sleeves that made her feel especially fresh and feminine.

  A thin gold and black rope ran underneath her breasts for decoration, emphasizing the beautiful swell of her chest and allowing her blossoming belly ample freedom in the heat, she had pulled her hair into a thick braid, letting the heavy thing fall over her right shoulder and trail to her groin. Tendrils of damp hair framed her face as she took a seat opposite Gabrielle and demanded she read something lighter; she did not want to hear about the trials of Job any longer, for she was having a few trials of her own.

  Dustin dozed off as her friend read softly, not even realizing it until she was roughly awakened by Gabrielle’s shaking hand. Startled, she twisted around to see Ralph entering the room.

  “Ladies,” he greeted tightly.

  Dustin was filled with panic, wondering if Ralph would read her mind and go to the wardrobe in search of her victim. She rose as steadily as she could, fixing him with a stern gaze.

  “What do you want, Ralph?” she asked.

  He did not smile. Instead, he turned to the door and the two ladies noticed several of John’s elite guards standing in the hall. Ralph glanced back at the women, pleased to see the expressions of doom on their faces.

  “I would ask, Lady de Lohr, that you remain in your rooms for the time being,” he said formally. This Ralph was not the sniveling, taunting man she had grown to know. He was firm and decisive and it scared the devil out of her. “You will not leave these rooms under any circumstances. Is that clear?”

  Dustin looked from the guards to Ralph. “Why? I thought I was a guest here, not a prisoner.”

  Ralph raised an eyebrow. “True enough. I ask that you remain here for your own safety, considering that an army approaches and I would hate to see you injured in the crossfire.”

  An army! Dustin knew immediately that it was her husband and she could not help the smile that crossed her face. Her plight, Gabrielle’s plight, was drawing to a close and she could not suppress the gloating feeling welling inside of her.

  “It is my husband, isn’t it?” she asked.

  Ralph’s expression was hard. He wouldn’t lie to her for she would know the truth soon enough. “Perhaps,” he answered.

  The fear and panic Dustin had so recently felt was vanished. “My husband has come for me as I knew he would,” she said arrogantly. “How do you feel, Ralph, knowing that you will be dead in a matter of hours?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Do not be so confident that it will be me meeting my death.”

  “He will not let you live,” she said confidently. “He has come for me and you, my lord, shall pay the ultimate price for confining the Lion’s Claw’s wife.”

  Ralph’s jaw ticked. “Do not be so certain, bitch.”

  Dustin took the challenge, for she truly felt she had nothing to lose. Her husband was within sight and that, to her, made her untouchable. Even if he wasn’t physical with her, Christopher’s reputation alone would keep Ralph at bay, knowing the wrath he would face.

  Her first instincts had been to play dumb to Ralph’s revelation, but she found she could not. She was so thrilled that the army was arrived, that he had come for her, that she could not contain herself.

  Dustin had never in her life been arrogant about anything. She’d never had any reason to be. But she was suddenly extremely arrogant about her husband, his reputation, and the fact that she was his wife. She tried to ignore the fact that she was his trouble-making wife and that she had left him for the very same reason. She briefly wondered if he was going to take a strap to her behind when he caught up to her for being such a bother, and she furthermore would not blame him.

  But Dustin did not regret leaving as she did. She had turned men against each other and she was not rueful in her decision. Her one and only regret was that she had been caught by none other than her husband’s most declared enemy. God or the Devil was working against her, she wasn’t sure which. It would be a miracle if Christopher did not hate her for everything she had caused.

  “You show your apprehension by resorting to name-calling, sheriff,” she said, not the least bit offended. “And you should be afraid.”

  “Nay, woman, ’tis you who should be afraid,” Ralph returned sharply. “For it is you who have lured your husband to his demise. And he will not be resurrected the second time around, I assure you.”

  Dustin stiffened ever so slightly. “Christopher will not die, sheriff. He cannot.”

  Ralph gave her a thin smile. “ ’Tis not just de Lohr, but Burton as well. You have lured two men to their deaths. Can you live with yourself?” />
  Dustin cleared her throat softly, her arrogant stance draining. She wanted to lower her gaze from Ralph’s piercing black eyes but she could not, for she meant what she said.

  “They will not die, Ralph,” she assured him. “They are too powerful for you to kill and you know it. They will have the keep by morn.”

  “But they will not have you or your child,” Ralph said deliberately. “Our mighty prince will see to that.”

  Dustin blinked, a bolt of fear shooting through her. She wasn’t afraid to die, truly, but she feared for the life of the child she carried. Suddenly, her arrogant front was not such a wise move and she felt herself backing down, but only for the sake of her child. Selfish as she was, she had only been thinking of herself and not of the babe within her.

  Ralph saw the wind go out of her sails and felt infinitely more in control of the situation. He slapped his heavy leather gloves against his thigh.

  *

  They were riding for battle. Christopher could smell the excitement in the air, permeating the warriors like a drug. They fed off it, breathed it, touched it until the only thing they were capable of focusing on was the approaching storm.

  Christopher’s face was set like stone. His sky-blue eyes drank in the massive shape that was Nottingham, set like a great stone phantom against the colors of the setting sky. The peasants had long since taken cover and the only movements visible were the soldiers moving about on the walls.

  “Skirmish lines,” he grumbled to Marcus, who set the men to moving.

  It was an awesome sight to behold when Marcus, David and Christopher set up the skirmish lines. A devotee of Roman legions, Christopher set up his troops into blocks of 40 men, moving them out in sharp military style across the rolling green fields around Nottingham. Ten blocks formed a row, each block with a crude ladder for breaching the walls, and there were three rows. The closer they drew to the actual fortress, the more the blocks would spread out and move to surround the castle. There were, in effect, three waves of soldiers instead of one giant front, and it was a very effective method of laying siege.