The Agents of William Marshal Volume II: A Medieval Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “And my father? May I have him returned to me, please?”

  Kevin didn’t look at her as he spoke. “He is not here,” he said, which was technically not a lie. He’d been taken to the nearby church of St. Aelhaiarn’s for temporary keeping. “I do not keep Welsh prisoners here at Wybren were they can possibly engage in insurrection. All Welsh prisoners are moved… out of Wales.”

  He’d gotten through that without outright lying to her and congratulated himself for it. It was true that they sent all prisoners back to Trelystan, the closest castle to Wybren, because he didn’t need a bunch of Welsh prisoners rising up and having the support of the locals. But Juliandra looked at him with concern.

  “He’s gone?” she said anxiously. “But… but he was only arrested yesterday. You have sent him away already?”

  Kevin couldn’t seem to look at her. “I had men returning to my properties in England,” he said. “As I said, I do not keep Welsh prisoners in Wales.”

  Juliandra seemed confused by that and quite distressed. She pulled forth all of those coins she’d collected from her singing.

  “I will give you all of these coins if you will only send for him,” she said. “This is more than enough to pay for his toll.”

  Kevin looked at the coins. “I have money,” he said. “I do not need all of those coins. If you truly want your father released, then you have something that is more valuable to me than money.”

  “What?”

  “Your knowledge of this area and of the people who live here,” he said. “That is what I need. If you are willing to remain here, sing for my men, and answer my questions, then that is more valuable than any toll you could pay. Am I making myself clear?”

  Juliandra wasn’t certain at all. “I… I am to remain here as a… a…?”

  “My guest,” he supplied. “An advisor. You have answers that I need.”

  She shook her head. “I do not have any answers,” she said. “I help my father in his merchant stall, I account for his money, and I write songs that I have only sung to myself until tonight. I manage my father’s home and attend mass once a week, and that is all I know. What answers could I possibly have?”

  “You were able to tell me about Aeron,” he said, finally looking at her. “My lady, I am blind in this land of the Cymry. I have been here a few months and have yet to truly come to know those in my domain, and you were the first one able to tell me anything. Continue helping me become knowledgeable on this land I have acquired and your good behavior will secure your father. Now do you understand?”

  She did. She put her hand to her belly as her stomach began to churn. “But… but for how long?”

  “Until I decide your father’s debt has been paid,” he said. “Why? Do you have something better to attend to?”

  She didn’t, but she didn’t want to tell him that. As Juliandra scrambled for an answer, she found herself looking over the knight, taking a long and solid assessment of him. As she’d noted before, he wasn’t terribly tall, but he was very handsome, with deep blue eyes, dark blond hair, and a granite-square jaw. He was beautifully and powerfully built, and there wasn’t one thing that wasn’t formidable about him. He had a terrifying look about him but, so far, their conversation had only suggested that he was deliberate and calm. He didn’t seem hotheaded as some men could be. In fact, quite the opposite.

  From what she’d heard, he had brought law and order to the Marches. And in giving half of the tolls to the church, he proved that he wasn’t greedy. It sounded as if he were benevolent as far as Saesneg knights went, so based on that knowledge, she supposed that remaining at Wybren wouldn’t be a danger. If he wanted answers, she could tell him as much – or as little – as she wanted to. The only matter of concern to her was the release of her father.

  De Lara wanted something.

  She wanted something.

  Perhaps this was the way to achieve it.

  “There is my father’s business and his house to tend to while he is away,” she answered belatedly. “While he is away, they are my complete responsibility.”

  Kevin sat back in his chair, eyeing her. “Don’t you have servants that can attend to both?”

  “Of course, but…”

  “Then it is settled. You will remain at Wybren as my guest until such time as your father’s sentence is satisfied.”

  Juliandra was coming to see that she had no choice. In truth, the prospect of remaining at Wybren with de Lara was somewhat… intriguing. The Welsh in her was wholly resistant, but the woman in her… and the English side of things… didn’t seem to be all that opposed.

  It was quite perplexing.

  “I would prefer if you set a limit to my time spent,” she said. “I cannot remain here for years and I do not want my father to remain in the vault for years simply for failing to pay a silly toll.”

  He lifted his big shoulders. “Very well,” he said. “Six months.”

  Her eyes widened. “Just for failing to pay a toll? My father must suffer in the vault for six months?”

  “He certainly will not refuse to pay again, will he?”

  He had a point. After a moment, Juliandra nodded reluctantly. “Agreed,” she said without enthusiasm. “I will return home to gather my things.”

  Kevin shook his head. “You are not leaving,” he said. “I will supply whatever you need during your stay. But your maid can return home. She is not needed.”

  She looked disappointed. “Megsy? But she has been with me since I was a small child.”

  “Then it is time for you to grow up and learn to live without the crutch of your childhood nurse. I will send her home.”

  Juliandra opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it. She reminded herself that this was for her father, and if that meant sending her maid home, then she would do so. She suspected that anything less than complete cooperation would not be well met.

  Without anything more to say, she simply nodded her head and lowered her gaze. It was a signal of surrender, of submission. All she wanted was her father’s release and, evidently, the new Lord of Wybren was going to force her into service for it.

  He wanted something.

  She wanted something.

  Six months.

  She wondered if she could last that long.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Neath

  “And then she sent me home!” Megsy sobbed. “I just know he’s ravishing her, the big Saesneg brute. They’re all brutes!”

  It was a wet morning, cold and damp. A storm had blown in from the west and the land was sopping and wind-whipped. Megsy had limped home that morning in such weather to the manse known as The Neath, the home of Gethin ap Garreg and his daughter.

  Gethin’s father had built the home about sixty years earlier. He had been a very wealthy man, a fortune he had passed on to his son. He had also passed on the family business, which was importing fine goods from France and places beyond. He had one of the only import stalls in the mid-Marches, so people from far and wide would travel to the village of Pool to visit his store of exotic and coveted goods.

  The manse was a large and well-appointed place, showing off the wealth of the family with rare and exceptional items. There were two full stories and a third partial story, and a virtual maze of chambers to get lost in. The structure was built of pale local stone that had turned dark with age and the elements, and there were three entrances only, and those were protected by heavily reinforced iron and oak doors that were very elaborate.

  In all, The Neath was an impressive piece of architecture and it had vast grounds that included gardens, stables, and large storage barns where livestock and feed were kept. Gethin employed about fifty men who were always well armed and well supplied to protect his little empire, and they had their own complex of cottages to the rear of the kitchen yard.

  The house was always well protected but, unfortunately, Gethin had become lax about his personal security, which is how he had gotten into trouble with the new Lord of
Wybren. Even now, more than half of his men were still in Pool, waiting at his shop for a lord that would never come. The rest of them were stationed at the manse, going about their usual rounds, but two of the sergeants were listening to Megsy and her terrible tale. They’d been on edge since Gethin’s manservant had returned with his harrowing tale. But now, the situation had gone from bad to worse.

  The Saesneg had Juliandra, too.

  “This is why I did not want Lady Juliandra rushing off to Wybren,” the first sergeant said angrily. “She has only made it worse. Now, she is a prisoner also. I told you not to go.”

  Megsy was wiping her eyes and nose with her apron. “She insisted,” she said weakly. “There was no stopping her. You know that.”

  The old soldier rolled his eyes, frustrated and at a loss. He looked at his companion as the two of them decided what needed to be done now that both their lord and his daughter were caged by the new Lord of Wybren.

  It was one big mess.

  Unfortunately, both soldiers knew the situation for what it was – they knew that they had no chance of wresting their lord and his daughter from the English. Everyone in the area knew that a sizable English army had been moved into Wybren, so there was no chance of a rescue attempt by just a few men.

  The first sergeant sighed heavily.

  “Even if we had all of our men here, there’s nothing we can do,” he said. “The English army is too big. They’ll kill us before we get through the gate.”

  The second sergeant, an old man who had been with the family since the days of Gethin’s father, was more pensive. He appeared to be seriously mulling over the situation.

  “It would make no sense to try and negotiate their release,” he said. “If the English would not surrender the lord to his daughter, then we have no chance of negotiating their release. We are too few alone, but we have… allies.”

  The first sergeant looked at him curiously. “Of course we have allies,” he said. “But to summon our allies for this could mean the start of something bigger. We are all well aware that the local warlords are not happy with the English at Wybren, but I don’t think this situation would warrant the raising of an army.”

  The old sergeant nodded. “Mayhap not,” he said. “But if we are to help Gethin and Juliandra, then we should bring this to a higher court. This is not our decision to make.”

  The first sergeant wasn’t quite following him. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that we should plead the situation to Lord Aeron,” the old sergeant said quietly. “You know that he wishes to marry Lady Juliandra. He will want to know that the English now hold her captive.”

  The first sergeant was beginning to understand. “He will be very angry,” he said slowly. “Lord Aeron is one of the warlords who has made it known he does not want the English here. He views Juliandra as his property.”

  The old soldier nodded his head in a knowing fashion. “Exactly,” he said. “That is why we must tell him and let him make the decisions. This may give him an excuse to summon more allies. More allies mean more armies and more men, and more opportunity to oust the English from Wybren. We will only set the bait – Lord Aeron and his jealousy will do the rest.”

  It all made perfect sense. The soldiers could do nothing alone to save their lord and his daughter, so they had to leave it to someone who could actually do something about it, someone who wouldn’t be the least bit happy that Juliandra was the captive of English knights. It was bad enough that they occupied Wybren, but to have Juliandra as well simply added fuel to the fire.

  They would be lucky if Aeron ap Gruffudd didn’t burn down half the Marches in his rage.

  It was the perfect solution.

  With a weeping Megsy in tow, they were riding to Llanwyffyn stronghold before the day was out.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Wybren Castle

  After a wet night in the wake of a storm that had blown through, the morning dawned surprisingly bright and mild. Juliandra had been so exhausted that she had slept right through the thunder and lightning. Even now, as she awoke, she was still groggy and exhausted, staring up at the ceiling and trying to remember how she got there.

  Her memory came back quickly.

  She was at Wybren.

  The day before, and the night before, had passed in something of a blur. There had been the journey to Wybren, followed by the lie, or the semi-lie, that had seen her entertaining the men when her true motive had been to confront Lord de Lara.

  Fortunately, she had managed to do both and come through unscathed.

  Or, mostly unscathed.

  At least, physically. Emotionally was another matter. She now found herself in the strange position of being both captive and guest of Kevin de Lara, who had not fallen for her charms and had not been sympathetic to her pleas for her father’s freedom. Instead, he had turned her pleas into a bargain.

  If she behaved well, he would release her father.

  She had agreed.

  Truth be told, Juliandra wasn’t even sure what that meant. He had said that he wanted answers about the lands he now presided over, as if she held all of the secrets he sought. Although she had been raised here, it wasn’t as if she knew anything about the military aspects that he would more than likely want to know about. Her father was a merchant, not a warlord, and she had been clear about that.

  But still, de Lara wanted answers.

  As Juliandra lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling, she apprehensively wondered if he was going to keep to his part of the bargain if she did not supply him with the military information he sought. She wasn’t exactly sure how he thought she would know military secrets about local warlords. Surely the man realized that, as a merchant’s daughter, she would not know such things.

  But now, she found herself in a situation she had not anticipated. Slowly, she sat up in bed, looking at the room around her. It was a large room and it was not in the keep. Kevin had been clever about where he put her – rather than put her in the keep, where she would have more freedom to move about and quite possibly even escape, he put her at the top of the gatehouse.

  The chamber at the top of the gatehouse had once been the primary chamber for the former Lord of Wybren. The gatehouse was quite large, three stories tall, and this chamber spanned the entire third story. There were several windows facing over the road that led into the gatehouse, so the view from those windows was spectacular.

  One could see all the comings and goings from the fortress. There were two semi-circular towers on each end of the gatehouse, one housing the spiral stairs that linked all of the floors, and the other simply being a small chamber that held a badly dented copper tub, a wardrobe, and miscellaneous items like stools and basins.

  It was actually quite clever of Kevin to put her there because she could not escape without every guard in the gatehouse seeing her do it, and no one could go up to see her without every guard seeing that, also. Therefore, she was both well protected and well guarded.

  She was stuck.

  She was also without any of her personal possessions, clothing and toiletries included. The bed she had slept on smelled as if the linens had not been washed in a dozen years. It smelled like an old man had slept there, and perhaps had even died there, but she had been so weary the evening before that she had simply fallen into bed without thought.

  But now, she had many thoughts about it.

  None of them good.

  The first thought was that if de Lara was going to force her to stay here, she was going to make sure that her accommodations were clean. She assumed that someone would come to see to her needs soon, to perhaps bring her food, and then she would demand that the linens be washed and the chamber cleaned of the stench of the former owner.

  At her home, The Neath, Juliandra was an excellent chatelaine. She had a penchant for cleanliness, which is perhaps why this dirty chamber bothered her so badly. At home, she made sure floors were washed, tables were scrubbed, and linens were washed and dried in
the sun. If there was no sun, the linens were always dried by the heat of a roaring blaze.

  Even her clothing was regularly cleaned because she did not like to wear dirty or stained garments. Whereas most noble ladies where relatively clean and well groomed, Juliandra relished a daily bath simply because it was warm and comforting, and that was how she usually started her day. Given that her father imported so many fabulous products, she had access to soaps and oils and cosmetics that most women did not. She loved the scents and the feel of them on her skin. Truth be told, she liked her comforts.

  And all of those were back at home.

  With a heavy sigh, she climbed out of bed, still wearing the same clothing she had come to Wybren in. There were heavy woolen curtains hanging over the windows that faced south and she pulled them back, inviting the bright, white sunlight into the dark and dusty chamber.

  Squinting in the bright light, she peered from the window, seeing many people already entering and exiting Wybren. That told her that it was relatively late in the morning, and she yawned as she turned to the hearth on the opposite wall, which was an enormous cavern of brick and ashes. There had been a fire there the night before, but the fire was out, and the room was cold. Frustrated that no one had come to see to her care yet, she went to the door that opened out into the spiral staircase.

  The staircase was dark, but she could hear the soft hum of conversation down below. Not wanting to leave the chamber for fear of the unknown below, she stood in the doorway safely and called down to whomever might be within earshot. She figured that she could jump back into the chamber and bolt the door should an angry soldier come her way.

  “Is anyone down there?” she called. “Can you hear me?”

  There was a long pause before a voice came back at her. “We hear you,” a man’s voice said. “What do you want?”

  Juliandra snorted at the rude question. “Food and a fire would be appreciated,” she said. “And hot water to wash with. Where is Lord de Lara? I would speak with him, please.”