Castles, Knights, and Chivalry: 4 Medieval Romance Novels

by Ruth Kaufman

  Solace bent her head into her hands. She had not slept at all. A sensation of desolation swept through her. She was suddenly overwhelmed, struck immobile by the torment of the past night. What was she to do?

  She had no time for self-pity. She needed to come up with a way out of here. But how?

  Where is Father? she wondered. When will he come for us? Why hadn't he responded to the message he was sent?

  She knew she couldn't wait for him. If she or Beth were still in Barclay's hands when her father arrived, he would not be able to do anything. He would never risk their lives.

  Suddenly there came a knock at the door, jarring Solace from her reverie. “Yes?”

  The door opened and a guard stepped into the room. “The Baron requires your presence in the Great Hall to break your fast,” he said. He stepped aside and waited for her to approach.

  Solace cast one last wistful glance at the freedom the new day taunted her with before closing the shutters and moving past the guard.

  The hallways were filled with Barclay's men, laughing and gambling away their newly stolen coin. As she walked by, groups of men hooted at her, chortling drunkenly. Solace continued on without casting them a glance.

  When she entered the Great Hall, she saw Beth sitting to one side of Barclay at a long table. Her dainty fingers held a piece of venison. Solace swallowed hard. Beth glowed. Her cheeks were pink with color; her hair was immaculate; her dress fit her slender figure perfectly, accenting her breasts.

  A feeling of doom settled in the pit of Solace's stomach. What had Barclay promised Beth to make her so radiant?

  The guard behind her cleared his throat, drawing Barclay's attention. A smile stretched across the Baron's mouth and he stood, inviting Solace forward with an outstretched hand.

  Solace's jaw clenched and she refused to budge, until the guard shoved her forward.

  “I'm pleased you could join us,” Barclay cooed, making Solace almost retch. He signaled the empty seat beside him.

  The guard escorted Solace to the chair and remained stationed just behind her as she sat.

  “Please,” Barclay said, pushing his mug of ale toward her.

  Solace did not move.

  Barclay sat back in his chair, his eyes perusing her face. “I see you're not thirsty,” Barclay mused. “Perhaps venison?” He gently offered her some of his meat.

  Solace turned away.

  “Has the taste of falconers soured your lovely lips?” Barclay inquired.

  Solace cast him a surprised glance.

  “I assure you the taste of a Baron is far superior,” he mocked.

  Solace threw Beth a condemning stare, but her sister didn't bother to glance at her.

  “We're to have a guest this morning,” Barclay said, gnawing on a bone. He wiped a sleeve across his mouth.

  A prickling of warning shot up Solace's spine.

  Suddenly the doors at the far end of the room opened and two guards led a chained Logan into the room. His shoulders were bent in supplication; his head was bowed. They pushed him to his knees in front of the table.

  Agony tore through Solace at seeing the bruises on his face.

  Barclay was suddenly standing behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, and she stiffened. “Your sister told me that you and Logan were almost inseparable.”

  Solace forced herself to be nonchalant. “I hate him,” she professed.

  Barclay bent to whisper. “Now, perhaps yes. But I hear that at one time Logan's charms were quite penetrating,” he murmured, nuzzling her ear.

  “You wretch!” Solace accused, standing and whirling on him. “How dare you speak to me that way?”

  Barclay took a step forward and Solace retreated, but came up short against the table. He continued to approach until she had to reach back, supporting herself with her arms on the table. “How would it look for my wife to be anything but a virgin?” Barclay wondered in that disturbingly gallant voice. “I'm going to take you now,” he told her, pressing up against her. He forced her knees apart until her velvet dress was the only barrier between them. “And if I don't see your virgin's blood, I will give you to the men like a common whore.”

  Solace's hand closed around the mug of ale behind her as he began to draw her dress up. She swung it forward, the amber liquid splashing wildly out in a wide arc. Barclay caught the mug in his palm, his eyes glowing with rage. His retribution was as quick as a flash of lightning. His fist struck her soft cheek, spinning her half around. Barclay flipped her over onto her stomach, forcing her to the table with strong hands, pushing down on her shoulders. “If you choose to act like an animal, you shall be treated like one,” he snarled.

  Solace's gaze searched one soldier's face. But all she saw in his eyes was burning lust. Her frantic gaze shifted to the other soldier, only to find a hungry grin curving his lips.

  Barclay threw her skirt over her hips.

  Solace's terrified gaze locked with Logan's. Strands of dark hair had fallen over his eyes, eyes fuming like swirling clouds of vapor from hell itself. “Barclay,” he warned from behind clenched teeth. “Let her go.”

  Barclay put a hand to her head, forcing her face down into the table. “You should enjoy watching your enemy's daughter be taken like an animal. Retribution for what he did to your family.”

  Understanding coursed through Solace, even while Barclay's hand held her firmly in place. That was why Logan had made love to her! He did it as vengeance, not as love or even desire. Utter desolation swept through her, sweeping her soul like the barren winds of a desert. Hope abandoned her. She clamped her eyes shut tightly, her hands gripping the edge of the table. A lone tear squeezed from between her clenched lids.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “What is going on here?”

  Solace's eyes flew open as she recognized Father Davis's voice. Immediately, Barclay released her. But she could only lie on the table, shaken and scared.

  “Father!” Solace heard Barclay say, his tone overly boisterous. “Welcome!”

  Solace pushed herself up from the table with shaky arms, her trembling hands adjusting her skirt, pulling it down over her bare skin. She watched Father Davis approach, his brown eyes locked on her, his brow furrowed with concern.

  Logan's gaze was on her, also. She could feel it, but she was afraid if she looked at him she would crumple into the trembling, fearful child she was fighting to keep at bay.

  “What do you think you're doing?” Father Davis demanded.

  “Why, just eating,” Barclay exclaimed, a note of nervousness in his voice. “Won't you join us?”

  Father Davis scowled at Barclay for a long moment, causing the Baron to shuffle his feet and shift uncomfortably from foot to foot.

  Father Davis passed Logan, eyeing him sympathetically. Solace saw something cross his face, but it was gone before she could figure out what it was. He continued to approach the table.

  “Return the prisoner to the dungeon,” Barclay said quickly with a flick of his wrist.

  The two guards hauled Logan to his feet, pulling him back toward the double doors.

  “How dare you treat that man in such a way?” Father Davis scolded.

  “Surely God will forgive me if I donate another two bags of coin to the Church.”

  Father Davis ignored Barclay's comment and put a kind hand on Solace's shoulder. “Are you all right?” he inquired.

  Solace opened her mouth to reply, but Barclay motioned her guard forward.

  “Lady Solace looks a bit weary,” he said. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Return her to her room.”

  Father Davis raised suspicious and angry eyes to Barclay, but he withdrew his hand from Solace's shoulder.

  The guard took her arm, leading her away from Father Davis. And Barclay. For that she was grateful. She glanced over her shoulder at Father Davis to find Barclay's head bowed while Father Davis raised a hand to bless the food. His eyes were locked on her as he said, “May God watch over you.”

  Sol
ace paced her room, hugging her elbows. She had to get out of there. And she had to do it quickly. But how? There was only one door out of the room. Or was there?

  Her eyes drifted to the wall. Barclay had said something about secret passages. She walked to the wall, running her hand along the masonry work, wondering if there was a passage in her room.

  Logan would know. She pushed the painful image of him from her mind. She couldn't think about him. She couldn't dwell upon his betrayal, not now.

  She had to escape the castle. And she had to take Beth. Where were those passages? Did they connect her room with Beth's? Could she use them? How complicated were they? And how much did Barclay know?

  Again the thought came unbidden. Logan would know. He could tell her. But why should he? Why would he help her? And why should she want him to? She couldn't trust him any longer.

  She bowed her head as images of the past weeks came back to her. She had trusted him, befriended him, loved him. And now she was a prisoner in her own castle.

  Solace wiped at her eyes, refusing to shed the tears of betrayal brimming in them. She wouldn't let him win. She wouldn't let Logan defeat her. She had to fight. She had to get Barclay from her castle. But how?

  Her gaze came to rest on the wooden chest at the bottom of her bed. Her eyes narrowed. She ran to it and opened it, searching through the dresses and gifts her father had bestowed on her over the years. Silk dresses that glistened in the candlelight. Rich velvet houppelandes that were the softest in the land. Deep emerald rings. Red ruby necklaces. But she shoved these aside, digging deep down into the chest, almost to the bottom. She parted two silk chemises and stopped. There, cushioned on the sleeve of an embroidered dress, was what she was searching for.

  Solace reached into the chest and cupped the blade in her hand lovingly. Her father had given it to her, but she had no use for such a deadly weapon and put it away in her chest long ago. She thanked her father for his foresight, then grabbed the pommel of the dagger and brought it forth into the candlelight. Its golden blade shone. It was untouched by scratches, had never tasted the blood of an enemy. But all that was to change.

  She stood gazing at her weapon.

  A whistling sound caused her to whirl, her eyes scanning the room, the walls. Were they watching her through some hidden hole in the passageways? She quickly hid the dagger behind her arm, its blade brushing her wrist. She reached down and hid the weapon in the folds of her dress.

  A loud caw caught her attention, and she turned to the shuttered window. She walked over to it and pushed it open. The black falcon swooped down to perch on the sill.

  She stared at the beautiful bird for a long moment. It watched her with large, unblinking eyes.

  Suddenly Solace called, “Guard!”

  The door opened and the guard appeared. “What do you want?” he asked.

  She rose up before him, lifting her narrowed gaze to meet his. “Take me to the dungeon,” she announced. “I want to spit in the face of the man who betrayed me,” she proclaimed.

  He began to shake his head “Baron Barclay – ”

  “The baron told me I deserve at least that much,” she lied.

  The guard stared hard at her. “I was ordered to watch you.”

  Solace met his gaze unflinchingly. “You can watch me. I don't care. I just want to see Logan Grey chained to the walls like the animal he is.”

  “But the Baron –”

  “Will not appreciate being bothered,” Solace again interrupted the man. “He has given me permission. If you want to seek him out and question his word, that is your decision.”

  After a long moment, the guard nodded and turned, leading the way out of the room toward the dungeon.

  Logan angrily rattled the chains that bound his arms. The heavy metal links were attached to the handcuffs biting into his wrists at one end and imbedded into the stone wall of his dungeon cell at the other. His legs were securely bound as well.

  Damn that lying bastard! Logan cursed silently; the image of Barclay's hands on Solace scorched his mind's eye. He cursed again, his voice echoing in the cell. If it hadn't been for Father Davis. Father Davis. Why hadn't he thought of the priest earlier? Davis could have helped him locate Peter. Father Davis had been loyal to his father when Logan was growing up, always chastising Logan for whispering to Peter in chapel. And the priest had taught Logan how to read and write. He was a patient man, devoted to his faith.

  It had only been luck that Father Davis had come to take his meal at that moment. Barclay was a very Christian man, believing in prayer before battle, in thanking God for everything. Logan knew deep inside, Barclay was afraid God would turn against him for his barbaric acts, so he loyally gave staggering amounts of gold to the Church to cleanse his spirit, to buy his way into heaven.

  Logan gritted his teeth for the thousandth time. Barclay had been his friend for years! The man had fooled him completely. I should have been suspicious of his easy acceptance of my request for help. Curse me for a fool. I was too caught up in my own quest for vengeance to question any help I was getting.

  He shook his chains violently, the small cell filling with the sound of clanking, grating metal. Barclay will kill me soon, Logan thought. There is no reason to keep me alive much longer. He will realize Peter is no threat to him. What could a vengeful brother do against Barclay's army anyway? Look where vengeance got me.

  Rage exploded through him and he again shook his chains futilely, growling like some wild bear caught in a trap.

  The clang of the lock being undone echoed in the small cell, silencing him. Then, the door swung open.

  A torch blinded Logan for a moment, and all he could see was a shadow move toward him. A familiar scent wafted to him on a slight breeze. Roses! As the pain from the light lessened and his vision cleared, he saw Solace standing before him. One of Barclay's soldiers stood behind her, holding a torch.

  “Solace,” he said, trying to hide the surprise in his voice.

  But before he could say another word, she slapped his face as hard as she could.

  The soldier behind her chuckled, relaxing somewhat.

  Even though she had struck his other cheek, the branded cheek flared and pain pierced his skull. Logan let the stinging of his flesh subside before he turned cold eyes to Solace. “I'm pleased to see you, too, m'lady.”

  “You bastard,” she sneered, stepping closer to him. “I despise you for what you've done to me and my family.”

  Logan felt the leather hilt of a dagger pressed into his hand. He quickly glanced up into Solace's eyes, but he could read nothing there.

  “Help me!” she suddenly cried. “He has me!”

  The soldier stepped toward Logan, snarling. “Let her be, dog!” He raised a fist to strike Logan.

  Solace stepped out of the way.

  Logan struck quickly, sinking the blade deep into the soldier's gut. He then quickly withdrew the blade and slit the enemy's throat. The man gurgled and dropped to the floor.

  Logan fell to his knees beside him. Searching his waist until he found the keys, he quickly unlocked the manacles.

  The torch flickered in the water of the dungeon floor and went out, casting the room in darkness.

  Logan glanced up at Solace. She was just a shadow against the light from the open door. “Are you all right?” he demanded.

  She didn't answer for a long moment, and he wished he could see her face. When she did answer, he heard the ache, the bitterness in her voice. “I want you to take Beth and leave Castle Fulton.”

  “Solace,” he said in a tortured voice. He stood, grasping her arms, pulling her close to him. “Did Barclay touch you? Did that bastard hurt you?”

  She eased herself from his grip.

  The anguish her silent rejection caused him was worse than anything Barclay could do to him. “I didn't mean to hurt you,” he said quietly.

  He saw her turn her head away from him, tried to discern her features in the darkness, but couldn't. Guilt settled on his s
houlders. He had felt guilt for years, but never like this. She had shown him what he had been missing. He had tasted her innocence, basked in her kindness and love. And the only thing he had shown her in return was how to hate. “Solace, it wasn't supposed to be like this,” he said desperately.

  “You didn't mean to open the gates?” she asked, and there was bitterness in her voice that hadn't been there before.

  “I was supposed to have Fulton. Barclay was to give me the castle, and in exchange I would give him some of the northern lands and a percentage of the crops.”

  “It doesn't matter,” she murmured.

  “It does matter.” Again Logan reached out and grabbed her hand. “Had I known what he intended, I never would have brought you to him. You have to believe me. I wanted to protect you. I wanted you by my side.”

  She was silent for a long time, and Logan could feel the warring emotions inside her. He could feel her hand trembling. He thought he heard her swallow hard. When she spoke, her voice was thick and strained. “And you thought that once I learned what you had done I would want anything to do with you?”

  He dropped her hand. “It appears I hadn't thought things through.”

  “Will you take Beth and leave the castle? Will you do this one thing for me?” she asked.

  Logan turned away from her, unable to face her sorrow any longer. “Yes,” he answered quietly.

  “There's one more guard, the dungeon guard, the one that gave us the keys,” Solace told him. “He's at the entrance to the dungeon.”

  Logan glanced past her to the door. “Call to him,” he told her. “Get him to come in here.”

  There was a moment of silence before Solace cried out, “Help! Help me!”

  Running feet sounded in the dungeon, and a silhouette of a man appeared in the doorway.

  An awkward moment of silence stretched on. “He's got me!” Solace shouted. “Help!”