Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Anne untied the heavy apron before answering. “Your husband’s men will be sworn to you also when you marry him. Why must you take William?”

  Avalyn climbed from the tub as the two ladies cloaked her with linen towels. “Because my future husband’s captain was quite brutal to me earlier. I do not trust him. I would like protection of my own, even from my husband’s own knight.”

  Anne’s thin face tightened. “Aubrey’s man was cruel?”

  Avalyn nodded as the women dried her vigorously. “I am afraid of him, auntie. Please ask Uncle Richard if I may take William. It would make me feel so much better with him to protect me. Will you please go and ask him now?”

  Anne gazed at her niece, feeling the pity she had been so desperately trying to stave off creep into her veins. She hadn’t been keen on this betrothal since the beginning; it had been her husband’s doing and, as a good wife, she supported him. But hearing of Aubrey’s cruel knight increased her doubt. If taking Inglesbatch made Avalyn feel better, then so be it. She saw no harm in it. With a sigh, she nodded her head.

  “Very well,” she set the heavy apron aside. “I will do what I can.”

  “Thank you, auntie,” Avalyn said softly.

  Anne didn’t respond as she quit the chamber. Avalyn waited a few moments before turning to her aunt’s ladies. The two women were finely bred, older, and were her aunt’s shadow. Avalyn had never particularly liked them; they were hovering, judgmental, and cloying.

  “Get out,” she snapped. “I would dress alone.”

  The women didn’t argue. But when they didn’t move fast enough, Avalyn barked at them and they quickly fled. When the door shut behind them, Avalyn threw off the linen towels and began madly rummaging through the clothes the ladies had laid on the bed. She found a lamb’s wool shift of soft white and threw it on, followed by a pair of pantalets that were Anne’s because they were too narrow and too long.

  Working very, very quickly and a bit sloppily, she put on a pale blue surcoat made from very fine linen and lined with white rabbit. It had a sash tie rather than a girdle or belt, and she hastily tied the sash as she went hunting for shoes. The only shoes she was able to find immediately were Isobel’s doeskin boots with fur lining and she yanked them on, so swiftly that she lost her balance and fell onto the bed. But that was of little matter; she was dressed, albeit not too elegantly, and her last order of business was to grab a yellow hair ribbon that young Anne had tossed on the floor. With a few strokes of the fishbone comb through her damp hair, she braided it very quickly and tied it with the ribbon, leaving the thick braid draped over her right shoulder.

  The hidden servant’s entrance called to her, lodged in the dark recesses behind the massive wardrobe. Avalyn had no idea where it went because she’d never used it, but at this moment, she was desperate. She could only hope it didn’t lead to the dungeons somewhere. Without a second thought, she was through the doorway and heading down a very narrow flight of steps. When the dark stairs emptied out into an equally dark corridor that eventually spilled into an alcove off the main hall downstairs, she knew exactly where she was.

  She ran faster than she had ever run in her entire life.

  The smell of baked bread and other cooking scents filled the air as St. Alban directed William into a cluster of shops and merchant stores, now beginning to open for the day. Just after dawn, the city was coming alive with peasants going about their business. The two big chargers made loud clopping noises against the hard packed earth of the dirty London avenue; William’s charger had to be muzzled because the beast was particularly vicious and those going about their business made sure to avoid the foaming horse.

  St. Alban steered the horses down a narrow alleyway and dismounted next to a non-descript shop. William obediently stopped his horse and dismounted, looking around at the wood and plaster frame structures. A cinder from a cooking fire had landed on the thatched roof of one of them but the spark had died, leaving a trail of smoke up into the blue sky. As William studied his surroundings, St. Alban pounded on the door of the shop. Somewhere, a dog barked, startling the horses.

  The old wooden panel flew open in a matter of seconds. William turned around to find himself gazing into Brogan d’Aurilliac’s deep blue eyes. Both men froze for a moment, unsure to react, but after the initial surprise faded, Brogan’s expression began to harden. St. Alban could see the storm brewing and he moved quickly to douse it.

  “Brogan,” St. Alban said firmly before the man could erupt. “This is Sir William Inglesbatch. He brings a message from Lady Avalyn that he wishes to deliver personally.”

  Brogan didn’t say anything, but his jaw flexed furiously. It was clear that he was shocked, infuriated. His predominate rage was directed at St. Alban for bringing de Neville’s knight to his mother’s doorstep. He did not want any trouble here. But contrary to his nature, he managed to keep his calm. The situation was far too important and he was frankly glad to have any manner of communication regarding Avalyn. Even from one of her uncle’s knights.

  “Is she all right?” he managed to rumble.

  William nodded. “May we speak inside?”

  With the greatest reluctance, and a vicious glare at St. Alban, Brogan stepped back and allowed William and the old man entrance. Mama Starke was up, baking bread for the day, and her big blue eyes were wide at the men entering her small shop. Brogan led them into the front of the store, away from his mother’s sensitive ears.

  “Well?” he demanded when they came to a halt. “Where is Avalyn?”

  Though William had known of Brogan for many years and, as he had mentioned, had even fought alongside the man, he’d never been this close to him. Legends, rumors and visions from a distance did not do the man justice; he was positively enormous, with massive muscles roping along his forearms and disappearing beneath his tunic. He had an angular face and square jaw and deep set blue eyes that were the color of the stormy ocean. William studied the man for a brief moment, the man that Avalyn was so in love with. There was inherent curiosity towards the man she had risked everything for.

  “She is in her apartment,” William replied steadily. “She has sent me with a message for you.”

  “And that is?”

  “To stay away until she can think of something.”

  Brogan’s jaw continued to tick and his breathing was coming in strange, heavy draws. He stared at William, who continued to gaze back with an even expression. St. Alban stood next to William, watching Brogan’s body language and feeling the man’s torment. But it was relief he felt when the man finally blinked and his big body seemed to relax. Whatever storm was brewing had stalled for the moment.

  “You are unarmed,” Brogan said as he turned away from the pair in search of the nearest chair. He had to sit down or he would fall down; he hadn’t slept all night and his exhaustion was crippling. “You have not come to take me back to de Neville?”

  William shook his head. “I came to deliver a message for my lady. That is all.”

  “Is she really all right? Did her uncle punish her?”

  William wondered how much he should tell him. But since the man was the root of Avalyn’s problems, he thought perhaps he had a right to know what she had sacrificed for him. Moreover, something deep inside him wanted the man to know and feel guilty for it.

  “I shall be forthright so there are no misunderstandings,” William’s voice lowered. “The lady was interrogated most of the night as to your whereabouts. Her fiancé and uncle were determined to know so that they could find and punish you. But she would not tell them, even when the interrogation turned to brutal tactics.”

  Brogan’s eyes widened and he shot to his feet, weaving dangerously. “What do you mean by that? Did they hurt her?”

  “They tried,” William admitted. “But no real harm was done, I assure you. I would not allow it.”

  Brogan’s jaw was ticking again, flexing so hard that William was sure the man would break teeth. “What did they do to her?”
>
  William put up a calming hand. “Nothing more than hair pulling in an attempt to frighten her. But she does not frighten easily.”

  Brogan’s jaw tension eased. For the first time, he seemed to soften. “Nay, I would not suspect that she does,” he said, his voice hoarse. He found his seat again, his deep blue eyes looking more closely at Inglesbatch. “I have seen you before.”

  William put his hand to the back of his head. “And I have felt you before.”

  The corners of Brogan’s mouth twitched. “Was that the only message the lady sent for me?”

  William nodded slowly. He, too, had been up all night and was suddenly feeling his fatigue. As he looked around for somewhere to sit, St. Alban shoved a stool at him and William accepted it gratefully.

  “That is all she told me to tell you, but there is more that you should be aware of,” he said with quiet intensity. “You may return to the Tower any time you wish, for the contract on your life is now void. The lady had to bargain to make it so.”

  “Bargain?” Brogan’s body began to tense once more. “What bargain?”

  William was candid. “She agreed to marry Aubrey without delay if her uncle would cease his pursuit of you. You see, d’Aurilliac, the lady was forced to accept the terms of the betrothal immediately in order to save your life. I am not entirely sure what magic you hold over her, but she did what she could so that you would remain untouched. And that is why you must stay away from her. If you go near her, you will destroy everything she had worked for.”

  Brogan just stared at him. After a moment, he averted his gaze, raking his fingers wearily through his hair. “She agreed to marry him?”

  “She had little choice if she was to keep you alive.”

  “So she struck a deal with the Devil.”

  “Essentially, yes.”

  “But… this cannot happen. I cannot allow it.”

  William glanced at St. Alban, noting the man’s serious expression. “You have no choice,” William said after a moment. “The lady has never been yours, d’Aurilliac. Surely you realize that.”

  Brogan’s gaze found him, the hardness gone from it. “Legally, perhaps not. But in God’s good grace, she does. Her heart is mine, and mine is hers. We love each other and intend to be wed.”

  William stared back at the man, thinking of the dead wife and son that St. Alban told him about. He also remembered the orphan. But d’Aurilliac’s beastly reputation still clouded his thoughts, filling his mind. So did a hint of jealousy.

  “I do not understand any of this,” he said after a moment, realizing his guard was down but not caring. “You only met the lady two days ago and already you are madly in love and wish to be married? I’ve known the lady for fifteen years and I have never known her to do anything without clear forethought. Avalyn du Brant is, if nothing else, a very rational creature. And who does she fall in love with? A man with a reputation for tearing men apart with his bare hands. I fought with you at Wakefield, d’Aurilliac. I remember the other knights speaking of your blood lust, your frenzy for death. I even saw it once when you snapped a man’s neck because you had lost your weapon. You are an animal, a soldier with no conscience or thought in the heat of battle. And now I am supposed to feel compassion for your plight because you are in love with a lady I’ve served and loved for fifteen years? Tell me why I must feel sympathy for you, because surely, I cannot fathom a reason. If I had any sense at all, I’d kill you right now and be done with it.”

  It was a passionate speech, one that eased all tension in the room. Brogan didn’t feel quite so fatigued by the time William was finished. It was the first unguarded words that had passed between them since William’s arrival that strangely made Brogan trust him.

  “I cannot give you a good reason, my lord,” Brogan said. “All I can tell you is what the lady and I feel. It is as much a surprise to me as it is to you. Two days ago, my life was over. But now… now I am alive again and I have the lady to thank for it. I do not want to lose her.”

  “But she never belonged to you to begin with. Can you not see that?”

  “I do. So I am supposed to let her go and marry this man she has no interest in?” Brogan could see the strange expression on William’s face. “Could you?”

  William’s strange expression grew even odder. “That is not a situation I would ever face.”

  “Nor did I ever think I would, either. But I am. You know Aubrey. Do you think she will be happy with him?”

  William lowered his gaze, shaking his head after a moment of reflection. “She has little choice.”

  Brogan exhaled heavily, his fatigue returning full-bore. He knew what he wanted to do, but he was effectively corralled by the lady’s message. She wanted him to stay away until she could think of a way out of their predicament.

  “What if she cannot think of a way out of this?” he asked softly, not to anyone in particular.

  “Then you will have to move on with your life without her,” William answered.

  “Do you believe she will be able to save herself from this marriage?”

  William looked at him, his round blue eyes full of honesty. “Nay.”

  There was a soft knock on the door. From the angle of the windows, Brogan could not see who stood in the archway. He rose from his chair, motioning to William and St. Alban to fall back out of sight. The men moved into the shadows as Brogan unbolted the door and cautiously opened it.

  Avalyn’s flushed face greeted him.

  Chapter Nine

  Avalyn threw herself into Brogan’s arms before either of them said a word. Her flight had been so panicked that her only thought had been to reach Mama Starke’s shop. Now that she was here, emotions were close to the surface and she wept softly as he held her tightly in his arms. Her feet dangled several inches above the ground, wrapped up in Brogan’s enormous embrace. He smothered her with his body, his lips on her ear.

  “Avalyn,” he breathed into the side of her head. “How is it you are here? I was told that…”

  She cut him off, her voice brimming with relief and fear and joy. “I escaped,” she pulled her face from the crook of his neck and he began pelting him with kisses. “I ran as fast as I could and prayed that I was not followed.”

  As they indulged in a joyous and tender reunion, William stood from his stool, his expression one of quiet distress as he watched the kisses, the affection. It cut through him like a dagger, but in the same breath, it was of no consequence. He knew, as he had always known, that he could never have her. But it had never stopped him from wishing.

  “My lady,” he cleared his throat quietly.

  Avalyn stopped in her kisses to Brogan’s cheeks, turning to look at the man she had known most of her life. She could read his expression, the indecision, the confusion. They both knew that her presence here was in no way acceptable, but the fact remained that she was indeed here. If William still possessed an ounce of loyalty to Warwick, he should do his duty and take her back to the Tower. But that was not going to happen. Slowly, Avalyn pushed herself from Brogan’s arms.

  “William,” she did not let go of Brogan even as she walked towards the knight. “I am not quite sure what to say to you. But for the simple fact that you are here, you have my undying gratitude.”

  William’s gaze was unchanging. “How did you escape?”

  “Through the servant’s entrance.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Not more than a half-hour.”

  William’s jaw ticked. His gaze moved between Brogan and the lady before charging towards the back door where his charger was tethered. Avalyn ran after him.

  “Where are you going?” she demanded. She put a hand on his arm as he reached the door, forcing him to stop. “William, where are you going? What are you going to do?”

  His round face was flushed with emotion, with fury. He struggled to maintain his calm. “Your aunt and uncle are no fools. Your absence will have been discovered by now and they will be looking for me to search fo
r you. If I am not found also, there will be suspicion on me.”

  Avalyn hadn’t thought of that. She had only thought of herself. The hand on his arm squeezed gently. “Oh, William,” she breathed. “I did not stop to think… clearly, you must return immediately otherwise they will think you have aided my escape somehow. But what are you going to say if they question you?”

  William focused on her beautiful face, knowing he would have faced a thousand such interrogations simply to aid her again. He was a fool and he knew it.

  “I will think of something,” he said, throwing open the door. But his last sentence was firm. “Get out of the city now. Run as far as you can and as fast as you can, for Warwick will undoubtedly be on your heels. There are enough hunters in this town that will gladly take the price to track you, and track you they shall. If I were you, I would take passage to France and stay there.”

  “But what about you?” there were tears in her eyes now. “I will not leave if it means jeopardizing you.”

  “You have already done that,” he said before he could stop himself. But his harsh stance eased at the look on her face. “Avalyn, I made my choice. Now I shall have to go back and see if I can at least stall them while you get away. But you cannot delay.”

  By this time, Brogan and St. Alban were standing behind her. Avalyn’s tears had made their way onto her cheeks as she gazed back at the man who had shown such selfless loyalty. As strong as her love for Brogan was, she could not, in good conscience, leave William to her uncle’s mercy. And that was exactly what was about to happen; he was going to return to sacrifice himself to give her enough time to run. She squeezed his arm again, turning to look at Brogan.

  “My uncle will kill him,” she whispered, tears all over her face. “Uncle Richard will know exactly what has happened. If William returns, he returns to his death.”

  Brogan looked at the knight; the man had indeed risked much to aid them. He had never known an English knight to show such selflessness. He’d grown up hating the knights, men who taunted him, who had kept him from achieving his true potential. But Inglesbatch was not one of them. He had done much to help a man he did not even know. All of the bitterness he had felt for so many years suddenly eased just a bit.