Castles, Knights, and Chivalry: 4 Medieval Romance Novels

by Ruth Kaufman

  “Quit calling me that.” She opened a chest and pulled out a long strip of cloth and some cream in a sealed clay pot.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Some healing creams and body wraps we got on our last . . . ” she stopped and looked up to him. “Journey,” she finished.

  “Spoils of war, or should I say the treasures of pirating?”

  She slammed the chest closed and walked over to the bed. “Do ye want my help or not?”

  He looked up to her and nodded slowly. “And thank you for the fondling earlier.”

  She threw the strips of linen down on the bed and proceeded to pull the cork from the clay pot with force. “I saved yer stinkin’ hide, so don’t make it sound as if it were anythin’ but that.”

  “Aye,” he agreed. “I doubt anyone else would have straddled my body with their legs to save me. Tell me, why did you do it?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. I guess I felt . . . obliged.” She spread some cream on his scratched back, and he winced from the sting.

  Echo stopped momentarily when his body jerked beneath her touch. The barnacles had scratched him badly, and his body was covered with rope burns from the little escapades of the crew. And beneath that, she couldn’t believe the amount of scars from a nasty whipping that covered his entire back.

  “Who whipped you?” she asked. “Were you taken prisoner on a ship before?”

  “Nay,” he answered. “Though I’ve served the king since I was six and ten years, and have fought overseas for him many times, I have never endured such inhumanity as I did in the dungeon of Shrewsbury. And now here,” he added.

  “My father and the men think naught of torturing prisoners. They have even killed for no reason other than they were bored.”

  “And are you like that too?” he asked.

  “Nay.” She finished and wiped her hands, then picked up the cloth to bind his wounds.

  “I can hold m’ own in any battle, but I do not kill fer sport.”

  “I know the former part of that is true, as my ribs can attest to our little encounter on the deck, but how do I know you won’t try to kill me? After all, up on the deck you said you wanted to kill me.”

  “Bid the devil, I saved yer bloody life, what more do ye want? I was mad about the bird. Now remove the rest of yer shirt so I can wrap ye up.”

  “You do it,” he said. “My body is bruised and broken if you haven’t noticed.”

  “I have.” She didn’t mind. Though the back of his shirt was torn to shreds, the front was still closed. She reached forward and unlaced his tunic, the crisp dark hairs poking out from his chest in the process. The only way to remove it was over his head, and she knew he could barely lift his arms. She whipped out her dagger and held it to the front of his tunic.

  “What did I say to ruffle your feathers this time?” he asked, looking down at the blade.

  She didn’t answer, just gripped the fabric and cut his tunic. Then she replaced her dagger and ripped the rest of his tunic from him. He sat there before her, his bare chest calling out to her to touch it. While his back was marred and scourged, his chest was strong and sturdy, his skin bronzed by the sun. Corded muscles ran through it, looking much different than any of the men aboard the Seahawk.

  “Is this where you sleep?” he asked, looking around the room.

  “’Tis when I’m aboard the Seahawk, because my father doesn’t want the crew . . . near me while I sleep. But otherwise, ’tis the captain’s quarters and my father stays here.” She picked up the long roll of linen and began to wrap it around his chest. “Lift yer arms,” she instructed.

  He did as told, but a muffled cry of pain let her know he was holding back much.

  “So where do you stay when you are not aboard the ship?” he asked. “And why is a woman aboard a ship of cutthroats anyway?”

  “Quit calling ’em that,” she said. “After all, as pathetic as it seems, they are th’ closest thing I’ve ever had te a family.”

  “What happened to your mother?” he asked.

  “Never knew her. Probably one of my father’s many trollops.” She wound the cloth around him and tied a knot in front to hold it.

  “Ahhh,” he said, “you tie a mean knot.”

  “I can also climb the lines faster than any of the men or drink any of them under the table.”

  “Your father taught you well I see, raising you as a crimp and one of the scupper class.”

  “I am neither a swindler nor a low class pirate,” she snapped. “And yer boilin’ me blood every time ye say it, so watch it or ye’ll have the devil te pay. Now let’s get up te th’ deck b’fore my father sees to haul ye there himself by means of a rope around yer neck.”

  “Aye,” he said, getting to his feet. “Hanging from the yardarm is something I haven’t experienced yet, though I have hanged from the gallows.”

  “Stop lyin’. If ye had, ye’d be dead.”

  He got to his feet, towering over her with his massive frame compared to her small one.

  “That’s not a lie,” he told her. “And if you’ll help me escape my doomed fate here, I’d gladly tell you how I did it some day.”

  “I already saved yer life once, and now ye’re askin’ me te help ye escape?”

  “Escape with me,” he said, his hand tilting her chin upward til her gaze met his. She found herself getting lost within the depths of his eyes, and for a brief moment she relished the idea of doing just what he asked.

  “I – why would I do that?” she asked in a breathy whisper. This man took her breath away, even with the scars on his body he was quite handsome indeed. She had never met anyone who made her feel so out of control.

  “Because I can tell you are not happy here, are you?” His head lowered and his mouth came closer to hers. She found herself closing her eyes in anticipation.

  A knock on the door brought her back to her senses. She jerked away and pushed his hand from her face.

  “Stop it,” she said. “Ye’d do anythin’ te get me te help ye.”

  “Echo?” The door opened, and the first mate, Sebastian walked in. “Yer father is not a patient man. ’E wants the prisoner above deck now.”

  “My father can wait til I see fit te bring him up there. And the prisoner’s name is Garrett,” she said in a huff.

  “Garrett of Hythe, formally of Blackmore,” Garrett broke into the conversation. “Baron of the Cinque Ports.”

  “Blackmore?” asked Sebastian. “Isn’t that where –”

  “Let’s go,” she said, nudging Garrett toward the door.

  “What’s the hurry?” Garrett asked. “You just said your father could wait.”

  “I changed my mind. Now let’s stop the chatter, and Sebastian go get some rum.”

  Garrett sat in the midst of pirates, watching the most ill-mannered, filthy, disgusting, smelly, foul-mouthed men he’d ever seen in his life. They did manage to give him food and wine tho. He hadn’t cared for the stew the young boy cooked up which they’d called Salmagundi, but it seemed to be a favorite amongst the pirates. Turtle, cabbage, onions and herring were mixed together and cooked over the fire with lots of garlic, and vinegar.

  The captain belched, smelling like garlic, and pushed a bottle of rum into Garrett’s hand.

  “Have a drink on me,” he said and laughed heartily.

  Garrett didn’t see what was so funny, but the crew joined in the laughter as well. These simpletons would laugh at anything, he decided.

  They’d been drinking, singing, and laughing most the night, and he was surprised their stolen supply of rum never ran low. But by the amount of supplies barreled up in the hold, he knew they’d be able to stay at sea for a long while without returning to shore.

  Echo was no slouch when it came to drinking either. She hadn’t lied when she’d told him she could drink any man under a table.

  She seemed to urge them on, betting against them, and their coins being collected by her every time. The ship floated in the dark
night as if the people aboard it had naught a care in the world.

  “Tell th’ prisoner how our last one died,” said Filtch to Echo.

  “Put yer money down instead of talkin’ she said, and poured him a drink in a small wooden cup.

  Garrett’s eyes could barely stay open, and almost all the men were so far in their cups that they lay passed out atop the deck as well. One by one, they lost to a drinking challenge with Echo, but yet she continued as if she had all the energy in the world.

  “That’s m’girl,” laughed the captain, seeing she was the last one standing so to speak. He raised his bottle one last time, then he, too, fell over with his eyes closed.

  “Let’s go,” she said, getting to her feet so quickly she staggered from the amount of alcohol she’d consumed. Garrett jumped up to steady her, and she grabbed on to his arm in the process.

  “Where are we going, my Lady of the Mist?” he asked.

  She looked at him and cocked her head. “I kind of like that,” she said. She checked her weapons, then looking around, pilfered a sword from a sleeping man and handed it to Garrett. “I think that one was yours,” she said.

  He looked at her quizzically, wondering if she was too soused to know what she was doing. He didn’t care. He took it quickly, and proceeded to reach down and grab his dagger that the pirate had claimed as well.

  “Where are we going?” he asked in a low voice.

  She brought her mouth close to his ear and whispered, “I’m goin’ te help ye escape.” The smell of the alcohol on her breath alone was enough to knock any man unconscious at forty paces. He grabbed her elbow and led her away from the sleeping men.

  “Wait,” she said with a swagger. Then she reached down, and coming back she handed him one of the pirate’s discarded tunics. “Put it on, ye might . . . get cold.”

  He smiled and donned it quickly. He’d seen her staring at his bare chest all night, and had no doubt it was given to him more for her own self control than it was for his warmth.

  “There’s a small boat tucked away on the larboard side of the ship. We can take it and be far from here b’fore they awake in the mornin’.”

  “We?” he followed her to the small boat stored under the stairs of the forecastle. It was used for transporting men and goods to and from the ship. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Take me or I’ll put ye back in the brig.”

  Garrett helped her drag the boat to the side of the ship, and collected the oars as well. Getting it over the side would be difficult without using the yardarm as a lift, but that would take too long and alert the others of their doings.

  “We’ll have to throw it over the edge,” she said, trying to lift it. Garrett grabbed the other end, but his body was in disrepair and the woman’s strength was not that of a man’s. Echo was already staggering because of the alcohol, so he knew she wouldn’t be of much help.

  “What are ye doin’?” Sebastian stepped out of the shadows, his face lit up by the light of the moon. Garrett could see he was obviously not as drunk as the rest. The man held his dagger out toward them.

  “Don’t try to stop me, Sebastian,” said Echo, dragging the boat as best as she could. “I am leaving, and Garrett is coming with. There is naught ye can do about it, so don’t bother te try.”

  Garrett stopped for a moment and looked at Sebastian. He didn’t know if he’d have to fight him or not.

  Sebastian looked back toward the rest of the crew and shook his head slowly. “Nay, I will not stop ye, Echo, cuz I knew ever since the day the Cap’n got ye that ye did not belong here.”

  “Got me?” She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “What does that mean?”

  Sebastian grabbed some rope and started tying it around the boat to help them lower it into the water. “It means ye need te protect yer son cuz the Cap’n plans on selling ’im off.”

  “Selling him? To whom?”

  “You have a baby?” asked Garrett, raising the escape boat up with the help of Sebastian, preparing to lower it over the side. Nothing about Echo ceased to amaze him.

  “Tell me what ye’re talking about,” Echo demanded to know.

  “I’m already at risk by helpin’ ye, and don’t ever mention this to yer father. All I’m sayin’ is take yer boy an’ disappear. And whatever ye do – don’t lose that necklace. It holds the fate of yer future.” He put the oars into the boat and then removed a bag from his waist and added that inside as well.

  Echo put a hand over her necklace and squinted her eyes in thought, while Garrett and Sebastian lowered the boat into the water.

  Just then, Filtch looked over from the stern and alerted the others of their plan. “Hey, they’re getting away!”

  “Go,” whispered Sebastian. “Quickly. I’ll try to stall them, but I have to look like I’m tryin’ te stop ye too.” Then he held up his dagger and called over his shoulder. “I’ve got ’em, matey.”

  “I’m not waiting,” said Garrett, putting his leg over the side of the ship. He stopped and looked back to her still standing there. He wanted to leave her, yet something inside made him question his choice.

  She did risk her life to help him. He knew something horrible would happen to her once they found out she’d assisted in his escape. Even though she was only a pirate, he didn’t want that on his conscience. He reached out a hand for her. “You coming or did you decide to stay?”

  “Out of my way!” She slapped his hand away and climbed to the top of the ship’s wall. Filtch ran up, and Sebastian put his foot forward to trip the man. He went crashing to the ground.

  “Ye tripped me, ye bastard.” He pushed up to his knees, moving slowly as the ship lurched and he fell back down.

  “Ye’re addled. Ye fell on yer arse cuz yer stinkin’ drunk.” Sebastian held his hand out for Filtch, purposely letting him go, and the man fell again. He looked over to Garrett and motioned with his head for them to leave quickly.

  Echo grabbed onto the rope over the side of the ship, and lowered herself down quickly to the vessel that awaited them. Garrett was impressed by her grace and lithe even though she was drunk. He followed after her in the same manner.

  The sting of the cold waves splashing up on them, and chill of the night air would sober her quickly he surmised. He settled himself onto the seat and then reached out to help her as her body swayed, threatening to topple them both.

  “I don’t need yer help,” she spat, plopping down on the seat across from him.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said, picking up the oars. The crew started noticing them then. But because of their drunken condition and it being night, Garrett knew they’d have a good chance of escaping. What he didn’t know was if they’d be able to tolerate the wicked sea and the perils it might dish up that lie ahead of them. What a hell of a day this turned out to be. If they made it out of this with their lives, he’d be very surprised indeed.

  Chapter 6

  Garrett awoke to the sound of flapping wings next to his head. He opened one eye and then the other, hoping what he remembered of the last day was naught more than a bad dream. The sun broke over the horizon, and he realized he was in a small boat out on the ocean being rocked back and forth by the waves, and staring up at a vast sky.

  Damn! It wasn’t a dream after all. But at least he was away from the pirates. He heard a small noise. Looking downward, he realized sometime during the night they must have fallen asleep. His tall frame lay crunched into the bottom of the boat and Echo was nestled up to him for warmth, her head resting upon his chest. With her eyes closed, she looked so innocent and pure. Which she was neither. He heard the pirate named Sebastian say she had a child. This surprised him immensely that anyone like her could be considered a mother.

  He heard the flapping again, and turned his head to see her pet bird landing on the seat of the boat across from them. The hawk held a fish in her talons and dropped it. The fish jumped and flipped around the inside of the boat.

  “You may wan
t to see this,” he said in a low voice, causing Echo to open her eyes. For a moment, when he looked into her sleepy eyes he thought he saw a longing for him that he hadn’t seen in the eyes of a woman for a very long time now. She blinked, seeming confused, and trying to get her bearings. Then she blinked again and bolted upright, rocking the boat in the process.

  “Whoa, settle down sweetheart or we’re both going for a swim whether we want to or not.”

  “Skye?” she looked at her pet. “Skye!” she reached for it, and the bird lowered its head waiting for her to preen its feathers. “She brought us food to break the fast,” she said joyously, holding up the fish. It slithered out of her hands and back to flip around on the floor of the boat.

  “Now if she could bring us a fire to cook it, ’twould be appreciated.” Garrett pushed up and settled himself on the seat, stretching his limbs in the process and feeling every scratch and bruise upon his body. He noticed the oars were still in the boat, and sighed in relief. The sea had calmed for now, and that was a good omen too.

  “Well, you escaped,” she commented, pulling off her cap and running her fingers through her hair. Then she started putting it into a long braid, her fingers working quickly and nimbly.

  He looked around, trying to spot her father’s ship through the slight fog, thankful when he didn’t see it. Still, neither did he see a Cinque Ports ship anywhere on the horizon.

  “Damn,” he mumbled, causing her to look around as well.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “What do you think? We’re in the middle of an ocean with no food or water, and with a band of cutthroats hunting us down. Not to mention, with one big wave, we could be swallowed by the sea forever.”

  She finished braiding her hair and pulled the hat back over her head. “We have a fish,” she said, pointing to the gift from her hawk. She rummaged around and pulled a bag from under the seat. Opening it, she peered inside. “Just what I thought. Sebastian always was more like a father te me than the Cap’n. He left us a little present fer our journey.” She pulled out a sheep bladder filled with liquid and handed it to him. She then pulled something else from the bag. “Hardtack,” she told him, handing him the sea biscuit.