Castles, Knights, and Chivalry: 4 Medieval Romance Novels

by Ruth Kaufman

  But how was he going to do that when his only link to Peter was riding out of the castle?

  The nerve of that falconer, Solace thought for the hundredth time, trying to stop me from coming to Dorothy's aid. She knelt beside the small pallet Dorothy was lying on and smoothed the woman's dark hair away from her sweaty face. Poor Dorothy tossed her head from side to side, as if she were denying the fact it hurt so badly, groaning as she moved. Solace cast a glance at the only other occupant in the room, the midwife Agnes. Her wrinkled face was puckered in concentration as she waited between Dorothy's spread legs.

  A pounding at the door jarred Solace. Is Barclay's army here already? she wondered. But the voice that came from behind the door was not Barclay's, nor that of any other man to be concerned with. “They're coming!” Graham hollered from the other side of the wooden door.

  Solace dipped a cloth into the basin of water beside the bed and dabbed the woman's forehead, whispering, “Don't worry, Dorothy. Everything will be fine.”

  Another pounding sounded at the door. “Lady Solace!” Graham cried out again.

  “Agnes?” Solace implored, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice.

  “Not long now,” the old woman answered in an excited voice. “I can see the head.”

  “Solace!” Graham shouted again.

  Solace cast an annoyed glance at the door before squeezing Dorothy's hand and saying, “I'll be right back.”

  “Don't take long, dear,” Agnes cautioned.

  Solace rushed to the cottage door and threw it open. Graham stood before Solace with his fist raised as though he were going to pound on the wood again. His hazel eyes were filled with desperation and anger. Behind him, the street was vacant and grim, pale moonlight bathing thatch-roofed homes and wooden storefronts in a bleak light. Solace frowned at the sliver of moon. How had so much time slipped away? she wondered.

  “They're almost here,” Graham exclaimed. “I'm sick of standing here waiting for you. You've been inside all day.”

  “The labor's taking longer than it should,” Solace explained.

  “One of the guards passed and told me Barclay was just outside the town. They'll start burning the village any minute! We have to go!”

  “I can't leave Dorothy,” Solace insisted.

  A flush of redness swelled into Graham's cheeks. “Well, I'm not staying! I won't give up my life just for some peasant and her whelp!”

  Calm settled over Solace, and a fierce protectiveness filled her. “Then go. No one ever called you a brave man, Graham.”

  Graham's teeth clenched, and his hand tightened to a fist. “If you weren't a woman, I'd drive my sword through you.”

  “I don't think you'd have the courage,” she whispered, her eyes narrowing.

  Graham turned his back on her and headed for the horses.

  “Hook the horse to the wagon!” Solace called after him. She cursed her free-speaking tongue as she closed the door. She could have gotten him to stay with sweet words and a stroking of that enormous ego. But she despised his weakness and cowardice. Couldn't he see how frightened she truly was? Yet even though she was scared, she could not leave this helpless woman alone in the throes of childbirth. Not even with Barclay and his army descending on her castle.

  Barclay had picked their most vulnerable time to attack -- while her father was away at Parliament, planning to conquer the French with King Richard and leaving her stepmother in charge of Castle Fulton. It just didn't make sense, Solace thought. Why was Barclay attacking Fulton? They had never done anything to him. He had never been an ally, but he had never been an enemy either. She wondered what he hoped to gain by laying siege to Castle Fulton. Did he need the lands? Were his crops failing?

  A scream from the room behind her jolted her back to reality, and she rushed to Dorothy's side. She grabbed the cloth from the bedside and dabbed the woman's forehead, turning to look at Agnes. The woman's wise old eyes were centered on the new life about to be born. Solace wanted Agnes to leave and seek the safety of the castle. As she opened her mouth to tell her so, Dorothy's cry rent the air and Solace turned to whisper soothing words to her.

  It wasn't long afterward that the first cry of life resounded in the room.

  “Get them ready to move,” Solace whispered hurriedly to Agnes. “I'm going to check on the wagon.”

  As soon as Solace stepped from the building into the night, the strong scent of smoke stung her nose.

  Barclay was in the village!

  She spotted the wagon and horse tethered near the side of the house and gave a brief prayer of thanks to God that Graham had not left them stranded. She whirled toward the house to find Agnes helping Dorothy from the building. Dorothy clutched a small baby girl wrapped in blankets tightly to her bosom as she hurried from the cottage. Solace grabbed Dorothy's arm, helping her into the back of the wagon. She turned to assist Agnes, but the woman was already easing herself into the cart.

  Solace ran to the front of the wagon and climbed in, lashing the horse, driving him down the vacant street toward the castle. She gripped the reins tightly, wishing desperately that some of the soldiers or mercenaries had accompanied her, but she had left in such a hurry the only one who knew she had gone was Graham... and that falconer. If handsome looks were bravery, she would be as safe as a kitten curled up beside a roaring hearth.

  The wagon hit a bump and Solace was almost knocked from her seat, but she held onto the reins with two hands and drove the horse on with a snap of her wrists. She quickly glanced over her shoulder into the back of the wagon to see Dorothy holding the baby to her breast, shielding the infant from the rough ride as best she could.

  Smoke from the burning village swirled around Solace, blown by the fierce winds. The gusts whipped her hair wildly about her. She turned around to face the road, wishing she could make out the welcoming sight of an open drawbridge, but she was still too far away to see in the darkness. Her heart pounded in her chest. She had to make it. If not for her own sake, then at least for the sake of the mother and her newborn babe.

  Logan paced the battlements, just as his father must have done all those years ago. He clenched and unclenched his hands. Graham had returned a few moments ago and announced that Solace was still in the village. Where the hell was she? Logan wondered. Around him, soldiers looked for Barclay's troops, but his gaze swept the road before the castle for a glimpse of the girl. In the far distance, a line of fire preceded the attacking army, a line that grew hotter and brighter as the torch-wielding warriors moved closer. Even the falcon at his shoulder constantly shifted position, darting its head this way and that, its large brown eyes wide and alert.

  Lady Alissa stood at the walls not far from him. He heard her mutter soft curses beneath her breath. Her hair was hidden by a red-horned headdress, which made her look like the devil himself. Her eyes were narrowed with anger, her hands balled.

  Had father been that angry with me? The thought entered Logan's mind unbidden. He tried to push aside his worry for the girl and concentrate on finding Peter. But he needed Solace to know where to begin. A muted curse slipped from his lips.

  Alissa placed her fists on the stone wall, her narrowed eyes relaxing as determination filled them. Resolution squared her shoulders, and she raised her chin.

  Logan felt doom settle like a lead ball in the pit of his stomach. He knew the words she was going to speak, had wished many a night that his own father would have made the same command -- to save the castle, to save his family.

  She opened her mouth just as Logan whirled away in despair to glance at the road. In the soft glow of the moonlight, he spotted a wagon racing toward the castle. He breathed a small sigh of relief and closed his eyes briefly in thanks. But lady Alissa's words brought his eyes wide in shock.

  “Close the gates,” she said.

  “She's there!” Logan shouted, pointing his finger at the wagon.

  Alissa cast a dangerous glance at Logan, her brown eyes burning, and then whipped her hea
d to face her guard. “Do as I say,” Alissa ordered. “Close the gates!”

  Solace's wagon came racing out of the village toward Castle Fulton. Her heart stopped and her breath caught in her throat as she saw the drawbridge being raised! It had to be a mistake! Solace watched with horrified eyes as the drawbridge continued to rise, the heavy wooden planks now starting to take the form of an impenetrable door instead of the entrance to safety. The horse snorted gruffly as its hooves churned the ground, kicking up clumps of mud in their wake.

  “M'lady!” she heard Agnes gasp from behind her.

  “Get down!” Solace yelled back over her shoulder, afraid to take her gaze from the moat for even a second.

  The thought of trying to leap the widening gap flashed through her mind, but she quickly realized how dangerous that would be, especially considering the new life lying cradled in a woman's arms a few feet behind her.

  The horse raced forward, seemingly oblivious to the danger ahead, the fires burning behind it pushing it on.

  Solace pulled back sharply on the reins, but the horse continued to charge forward, fear fueling its speed. “Whoa!” Solace cried out, her arms aching with the effort to keep a firm grip on the thick ropes clutched in her fingers.

  The drawbridge continued to rise, revealing the dark waters of the moat hidden beneath it.

  “Whoa!” Solace cried out again. She jerked hard on the reins, desperate strength empowering her effort, but the horse raced on.

  The wide, deep gap in the earth loomed closer.

  Chapter Four

  “Look!” Agnes cried out from behind Solace.

  Solace glanced up from the horse and watched with widening eyes as the drawbridge suddenly, miraculously, began to lower. The wooden planks moved closer and closer to the ground. Someone must have seen them approaching. She again tugged on the reins, but the fires burning in the village behind them pushed the horse on, rendering her efforts useless. They were now only a few dozen feet from the drawbridge. It was coming down slowly. Too slowly! It wasn't going to be down in time! The pounding of the horse's hooves thundered in her ears. She closed her eyes, giving a quick prayer for the baby.

  Solace heard Agnes shriek as the wagon hit something and shook roughly from side to side. Then the sound reverberating in her head changed, growing even louder as hooves now pounded on wood instead of dirt.

  Wood! She opened her eyes to see the castle entrance looming over her. They had made it! The drawbridge had lowered with only seconds to spare.

  Solace maneuvered the horse beneath the gatehouse and into the outer ward, relief washing over her. As soon as the horse stopped, Solace leapt from the wagon, ignoring the outstretched hands of help from soldiers.

  The moment her feet hit the ground, Solace raced to the back of the wagon. Other peasants were already helping Agnes and Dorothy from the cart as Solace reached them.

  Dorothy glanced at her, holding her squalling infant to her breast. “Thank you, m'lady. If it wasn't for you –”

  “You must be exhausted,” Solace interrupted, forcing a smile to her lips. “Go get some rest.”

  Solace watched Dorothy move away, a crowd of well-wishers surrounding the new mother. As Agnes cast Solace a weary grin of approval before following Dorothy, a proud surge of accomplishment swelled inside Solace. Then, just as quickly, the energy drained from her body. It had been an exhausting day. She turned toward the keep, intending to follow her own advice.

  Suddenly, a sharp blow was delivered to her cheek by a horned demon! Shocked into silence, Solace could only face her stepmother with an open mouth, her cheek a bright red with the imprint of Alissa's rage.

  “How dare you risk our lives?” Alissa snarled. Solace raised a hand to her stinging skin as Alissa continued, “If Barclay had gained entrance to Castle Fulton because of you, I – I –” She clenched her teeth with anger.

  Solace could see the reined fury in Alissa's balled fists, and she slowly lowered her hand from her burning cheek, raising her chin defiantly before her stepmother.

  “I – I would have seen you hung!” Alissa desperately, futilely, finished.

  Solace tried to defend her actions. “Dorothy needed help. I knew – ”

  “You knew nothing except your own selfish needs. When it comes to the welfare of this castle and these villagers you will follow my strict orders, is that clear?”

  Solace stood her ground. She had done nothing wrong. She had helped Dorothy and her baby.

  “Is that clear?” Alissa demanded through clenched teeth.

  Solace was not ready to concede to her stepmother. “What I did was not wrong,” she insisted.

  “You are a selfish, irresponsible girl,” Alissa hissed. “Incapable of thinking about anyone but yourself.”

  Tears burned Solace's eyes, but she kept them in check. “Dorothy never would have made it to the castle if I hadn't gone to her,” Solace answered softly.

  “Then you are not only selfish, you are stupid,” Alissa sneered. “Stupid to risk your life so easily.” Alissa whirled away from Solace, her shoulders rigid, her feet slamming the earth with each step. Her blue samite dress stirred up dust about her feet, like little whirlwinds surrounding a mighty tornado.

  When Alissa disappeared into the keep, Solace finally found the strength to move. She took a stiff step and saw no one had yet tended her horse. She walked to the horse and lifted her hands to the bridle. She tried to remove it, but her hands were trembling. Solace glanced over the horse's mane at the castle wall. There, a line of peasants and soldiers stared at her. You should have been here to help with the preparations, a tiny voice inside her accused. But Solace refused to admit what she had done was wrong. Dorothy had needed her help more than anyone.

  Her stepmother always found fault with what she did. Nothing was ever right. Nothing she did was good enough. She had learned to live with that, to accept rejection and disappointment from her stepmother. The things she did were to please herself. Or to help others. Not for her stepmother. Not anymore.

  Then why do that woman's words hurt so much? she wondered.

  Solace clenched her hands into fists around the bridle.

  Warm hands suddenly surrounded hers. She glanced up quickly to find charcoal eyes staring at her. The falconer eased the bridle from her fingers.

  “Go,” he murmured, and Solace felt the word through her entire body, like a tiny tremor.

  She dropped her hands to her sides and stepped back. He wasn't looking at her any longer, but freeing the horse from the wagon. She watched the way his strong, capable hands unhooked and untethered the bridle and the reins, the way his dark hair waved about his shoulders in the soft breeze that blew over the castle walls, the way his shoulder muscles bunched and released beneath his tunic as he tended to the animal.

  He stopped moving and turned to stare at her.

  Solace smiled shyly like a small child caught in the act of reaching for candy. “Thank you,” she finally said.

  He didn't reply as he turned back to finish working.

  Reluctantly, Solace backed up a few steps and turned away, moving across the courtyard toward the keep.

  Somehow the falconer's kindness had taken the sting out of her stepmother's words. Still, she could not help but feel guilty about endangering so many lives. It was something she hadn't considered, but she knew she should have.

  She brushed past guards stationed near the doorway and headed into the hall, moving deeper into the keep where the living quarters were. She moved down the torch lit hallway toward her room. She wondered why the falconer's touch had soothed her as it had. His hands were so much larger than her own. But his touch... it had been warm and gentle. She grinned at the strength it had given her, the sudden sense of security.

  “You find strange things amusing,” a thick voice from the darkness whispered.

  Solace whirled, gasping, clutching her hands to her heart. Guilt overwhelmed her, as if she had spoken her words aloud.

  “Your cheek
is still red with your stepmother's affection, yet you have a smile on your lovely lips.” Graham stepped into the light of the flickering torch. Shadows slithered across his face like dark snakes. His blond hair blazed red with the light of the torch.

  “You frightened me,” Solace whispered, willing her pounding heart to slow. “And yet I should have expected to find you in the keep.”

  “Just protecting your sister,” he said.

  Solace thought she heard a mocking tone to his voice. She narrowed her eyes. Graham was betrothed to her sister for six months now. Six months too long in Solace's opinion. She didn't see what her sister saw in him. Graham was a coward, always hiding from battle, always hiring men to do his work. And there were rumors that he had been seen with more than one servant. But Beth professed to love him very much, and Solace was trying desperately to get along with him for her sake. Still, it wasn't easy.

  “Yes,” she murmured. “That's the perfect place for you. Hiding in her shadow.” As soon as the words were out, she cringed inwardly.

  She saw him rise up, stiffening under the insult; then she sighed slightly and brushed a lock of dark hair from her brow. “I'm sorry, Graham. You know I didn't mean that.”

  “Yes,” he said after a short pause. “I suppose we're all a little tense. But you must tell me what you found so amusing a moment before. I could use a break from this accursed talk of siege.”

  Solace's eyes widened slightly. She couldn't tell him she had been thinking of the way the falconer touched her, the way he had soothed her with a simple look from those silver eyes. “I... I was thinking of something someone said earlier,” she lied. She was never any good at lying and had to avert her eyes, hoping he wouldn't see through her tale.