The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  They estimated that Dustin had at least a three hour jump on them and Christopher honestly expected to find her sleeping by the side of the road. He could not imagine that she would ride into the night, especially in her condition, and was surprised to realize that she had done exactly that. A three hour head start was a substantial lead, and they tried to spur the horses faster to make up for lost time.

  Richard said very little to him the entire time and he knew it was because his king was disappointed in his Defender’s behavior. Christopher decided to save the man the trouble of relieving him of his post, since he had already decided months ago to resign as Defender of the Realm.

  “Sire, there is something I must speak to you about,” he said over the noise of the horses.

  Richard looked at him. “What is it?”

  “I will resign this night as Defender of the Realm,” he said. “I feel that with my….”

  Richard looked shocked. “You will not. I shall not hear of it.”

  Now Christopher was surprised. “But… sire, with everything that has happened, surely you are ashamed to have me as your champion.”

  Richard was appalled. “Ashamed? Good Christ, Chris, how can you in all honesty say that? That is the most ridiculous statement I have ever heard.”

  Christopher looked at his king, at a loss for words. Richard actually looked angry as he explained.

  “Chris, you are worth your weight in gold one hundred times over,” he said firmly. “I would give up an army of a million men if I could have a mere one hundred of you. I will not consider giving you up as my champion.”

  “But, Richard,” Christopher lowered his voice as much as he could over the pounding hooves. “I have not acted the Defender very well since returning to England. The situation with Marcus and my wife is a good example.”

  Richard made a face. “Chris, this incident is a result of nothing but my own stupidity,” he said. “I should have rewarded Marcus when I rewarded you, given him his own wife and keep, but I did not. Arthur suggested Marcus first, you know, but I thought you were more deserving. This little ‘situation,’ as you call it only proves to me that you are a man of flesh and blood, with human weaknesses. It pleases me to know that your heart is not made of stone.”

  Christopher stared back at his king, a confused look on his face. “Why was Marcus considered before me?” he asked.

  Richard shrugged. “Because you were all too powerful and too consumed with your profession,” he answered. “I knew you would never get married, and Arthur thought Marcus might be easier to force into an arranged marriage. It was not because he preferred Marcus over you. He just did not think you would consider it.”

  Christopher looked away, his eyes roving across the darkness. He wasn’t particularly offended, for he knew the king’s words to be true. Arthur simply wanted Dustin married, to either the Lion’s Claw or the general, and Richard saw it as an opportunity to reward his faithful. In Richard’s view, Christopher had been the more faithful and received the prize.

  “Not only have I reconsidered my stance, but I am most grateful to you for ordering me to wed,” Christopher said finally.

  Richard smiled faintly. “In spite of everything you regret nothing?”

  Christopher shook his head deliberately, his only answer.

  The endless road loomed ahead under the silver moon, beckoning them faster.

  *

  Morning dawned and Dustin was exhausted finally. She slowed Hercules to a halt beside a small stream off the beaten path and dismounted carefully. Grateful that Christin was still asleep, she moved to lay her down, but the moment she jostled the baby, big gray eyes opened and Christin was ready for the new day. With a weary smile, Dustin resigned herself to the fact that she would receive no sleep this morn.

  She fed Christin and gave her a quick little bath in the icy stream, which the baby loved in spite of the chill, and bundled her back up again for the journey. Splashing her own face with water and tying her hair back, she feasted on a piece of bread and a hunk of cheese before re-securing her daughter and mounting Hercules.

  Back on the road, she let the horse walk instead of lope, for she was afraid the rocking motion would put her to sleep. The forest was losing its density and as she crested a small hill, she saw a group of riders approaching from the east.

  Fearful, Dustin urged Hercules onward at a run. The last thing she wanted was to meet up with riders, for a woman traveling alone was a foolish creature. Bandits and cutthroats lined the roads closer to London, but she hoped that this far north, she might escape them. Kicking Hercules until he grunted, she made rapid time south.

  Much to her horror, the riders had seen her and moved quickly to cut her off. She was no match for men who knew the forest intimately, and within minutes, she was routed. She reined her horse around and tried to make an escape, but quickly discovered that she was boxed in from all sides.

  Dustin’s heart was pounding as she eyed the group of men who had surrounded her. She cursed her stupidity, but it was too late. Divine intervention was the only way she was going to make it out of this predicament.

  One of the soldiers dismounted and made his way to her, studying her openly.

  “Pray, my lady, what are you doing out here, alone?” he asked pleasantly.

  Dustin was so terrified she could hardly speak. “Ride…riding, my lord. Riding to Wiltshire.”

  The soldier eyed her. “You are a pretty piece of fluff. What is your name?”

  She paused, wondering if she should tell the man who she was married to. Mayhap if she told him who she was, he would let her go.

  “Lady Dustin de Lohr,” she said.

  The man looked at her a moment, then cocked his head. “Are you related to the Defender de Lohr?”

  “I am his wife,” she said, suddenly brave. “Now, allow me to go on my way and I won’t mention to my husband that you detained me.”

  The man looked stunned. Then, suddenly, his eyes widened and he smiled a terrible smile. “By God. I remember you. In London, I remember the fuss that was made over you. Oh, this is grand, indeed.”

  He went off into gales of whooping laughter and Dustin glared at him.

  “What’s so funny?” she demanded harshly. “Get out of my way.”

  He stopped laughing when she tried to steer Hercules around him. Reaching out, he grasped the horse’s reins and pointed a finger at her.

  “That will be enough from you, little miss,” he said sternly.

  “Let go of my horse,” she snapped.

  He did not, of course, and cuffed Hercules when the horse snapped at him. “I can see the animal is about as well tempered as the mistress,” he remarked. “I know of a man who would be quite interested to see you, Lady Defender.”

  Dustin was torn between fear and anger. “Who?”

  The soldier smiled, but it was entirely fake. “Your greatest admirer, of course. Prince John.”

  Dustin gasped. “Prince John?”

  The soldier motioned to the men behind him. “Take her. Secure her horse.”

  Dustin shrieked as he reached up for her, startling Christin into a screaming bundle. Immediately the men halted.

  “What’s that?” the soldier demanded.

  “My daughter, you fool,” Dustin said nastily. “You have upset her. Now let me go and I will not tell my husband of your actions.”

  The soldier reached up and grabbed her, noticing before he even set her on the ground that she was pregnant.

  “By God, woman,” he hissed. “What fool let you travel alone?”

  Dustin twisted away from him, holding Christin fiercely. “Do not touch me,” she spat in return. “Give me back my horse.”

  The soldier put his hands on his hips; he was a nasty, fierce man, but he seemed to have something most of John’s soldiers lacked; a bit of control.

  “You shall ride with me,” he said firmly. “Foul-tempered little chick.”

  Dustin scowled. “I shall not go with you t
o the prince. I shall kill myself first.”

  “With what?” he asked. “If you have a dagger, you had better give it to me now and save us both a lot of trouble.”

  “I have no dagger,” Dustin said with contempt. “But if I did, I’d use it on you.”

  He nodded in agreement. “No doubt. Come, now.”

  He yanked her by the arm and pulled her, struggling and twisting, over to his mount. His men collected Hercules and grinned as he lifted the spitting, fighting female onto the back of his horse.

  “Stop that or you shall hurt yourself,” he ordered. “I shall not be responsible for the death of the babe you carry.”

  Dustin stopped, looking at him with fear and hatred. “You are already responsible for kidnap, and when John is finished with me, you shall be responsible for murder as well.”

  “Is that what you think? That he’s going to kill you?” the soldier asked, mounting behind her. “Lady, he would never dispose of a pretty thing such as yourself. You shall be added to his collection.”

  The men laughed bawdily and Dustin glanced around, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

  “Surely your husband, the great Lion’s Claw, has told you about harems?” the man said, gathering his reins. “I understand he had a magnificent one in Ascalon.”

  Dustin did not even know what a harem was, but she did not like the sound of lt. “I am no offering to be made to a deviant prince.”

  “Aye, you are,” the soldier answered firmly. “You will be my great contribution to John’s cause. The wife of the Defender delivered personally by me.”

  “But he’s in Nottingham,” she pointed out.

  The soldier looked at her. “Do not you even know where you are?”

  Not really, she did not, but she refused to answer him. The soldier laughed.

  “To Nottingham, ladies,” he said to his men. “This prize ought to get us a week of women and ale.”

  The men cheered and yelled, confusing and frightening Dustin all the more. Against her body, Christin started to cry. Dustin tried to comfort her daughter, not knowing what else to do or say.

  Fighting them was not an option because of her condition and she resigned herself to the fact that she was now a captive of Prince John. She wondered what was a worse fate; outlaws or the bastard prince. She would almost rather take the outlaws.

  She had taken a foolish gamble and she had lost, and now her fate and the fate of her children rested in the hands of a morally corrupt man. She could not help wondering that if Christopher ever did catch up to her, she was in for the spanking of her life.

  *

  “I do not like this,” Richard growled. “I do not like this at all.”

  Christopher was on the ground, studying the myriad of hoof prints and boot prints on the soft earth. His sky-blue eyes turned easterly as he studied the horizon.

  “Well?” Richard demanded harshly.

  Marcus wandered the perimeter of the hoof prints, his eyes glazed with thought. He came to within a foot or so of Christopher and his eyes trailed off in the same direction as the Defender’s.

  “Nottingham,” he murmured.

  Christopher did not respond for a moment. He continued to stare to the horizon as if in a trance. “John is so bloody bent on protecting his holdings that he would indeed have a patrol this far north. Christ, I cannot believe they actually found her.”

  “Look, Chris,” Edward pointed to the ground. “Smaller boot prints. Female boots.”

  Christopher did not turn around. “I know. I saw them.” He turned around then, slowly. “The patrol found her, took her off Hercules and put her on with one of them, and then headed back for Nottingham.”

  “It is at least a day’s ride to Nottingham,” Marcus said. “We can catch them if we ride hard enough.”

  “We have already ridden hard enough,” Christopher looked at the sweaty, tired horses. “We shall succeed in killing our mounts if we do not rest them before proceeding.” He slapped at his leg armor, weary and defeated, and wandered back over to his horse. “We shall rest now for a few hours. The horses need it.”

  “But she’s with a roving band of soldiers,” Marcus said quietly. “We have got to get to her as soon as we can.”

  Christopher knew that; with every fiber of his being he felt it. But he could not, would not allow himself to get caught up in the panic.

  “We shall never get to her if we kill our horses,” he said calmly.

  Marcus flushed and Richard jumped in. “You are right, of course. We must pray that my brother’s soldiers show mercy on an expectant mother and her babe and do naught to harm either of them.” He eyed the two men, so powerful and large, yet so helpless at the moment. “I furthermore suspect that John would kill any man who touched her before he has a chance to. I would not worry about her until she reaches Nottingham.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Marcus muttered, turning away with disgust.

  “Calm yourself,” Richard snapped.

  Christopher was far calmer than he should have been. He was trying so hard to keep everything inside that he came across looking callous. But, God help him, his insides were tearing themselves apart.

  “Edward, send riders back to Somerhill. Tell the sergeant in charge to send the remaining troops to Nottingham,” he said steadily, focusing at Marcus full on. “We’re going into battle.”

  Marcus straightened, feeling the familiar smell of a fight in the air. But this time, he would be fighting for something that meant more to him than all of the battles in the Holy Land combined.

  Richard bowed his head a moment, in silent prayer. “I shall send back to London, then. I have fifteen hundred men armed and waiting at Windsor. Not an excessive amount, considering how fortified Nottingham is.”

  “I’d say that the six hundred men from Somerhill plus the fifteen hundred men from Windsor is a bit much, sire,” Christopher said softly. “We can take the castle with a thousand at the most.”

  Richard pulled his gauntlets back on. “John holds fourteen of my properties. I intend to regain all of them, and I might as well start with Nottingham. We not only ride to retrieve the Lady Dustin, but we ride to secure my holding.” He eyed Marcus and Christopher sternly. “I ride with my Defender and my premier general, and I have no doubt that victory will be ours.”

  Strains of sand and heat began to flow about them, the air faint with the smells of myrrh and the sounds of Muslims as the faithful were called to prayer. They began to feel the familiar taste of the quest, even though they were in the heart of England.

  Suddenly, the fighting, the dissension, the hatred, were foolish and misplaced. They were warriors, soldiers, the men that they were before they had ever heard of Lady Dustin Barringdon.

  But heard of her they had and, unfortunately, both men loved her deeply. Yet when it was all over and she was safe, only one would be the victor. And neither man was used to defeat.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Clutching Christin, Dustin was hustled from the huge bailey of Nottingham and ushered into the cool interior of the keep. The castle was larger and darker than anything she had ever seen, short of Windsor, and the cold fear she felt consumed her and the open doors swallowed her up.

  The same soldier who had found her continued to be her shadow, never letting her stray more than an arm’s length. Rather than feeling protective, he was pleased with his capture and wanted John to know exactly how loyal he was to the prince. He hoped for a promotion at the very least.

  Soldiers, people, were everywhere as Dustin was rushed down corridors and up a flight of stairs. She was extremely tired and nauseous and struggled to keep herself in check. She mustn’t lose control, for she had no idea what would become of her daughter should she lose consciousness, and her fierce desire to protect Christin overrode her own illness.

  John and Ralph had no idea what gift was to be deposited in their laps. They were together, as was usual, in John’s great audience hall when the doors flew open and soldiers f
illed the doorway.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Ralph screamed at his soldiers, cuffing the first man he came to. “Since when do you come barging in unannounced?”

  “Forgive, my lord sheriff,” a soldier said respectfully. “But we have brought you a prize.”

  “Prize? What goddamn prize…?” Ralph’s eyes fell on Dustin in the center of the mailed men. His eyes nearly bugged from his skull and he pointed a helpless finger at her. “You? It is you!”

  Dustin was on the verge of tears but she met his gaze without a word. Ralph stumbled and pushed through the soldiers until he reached her. He could scarce believe what his eyes were telling him, but believe he did. As if to make sure he was not dreaming, he reached out and fingered the material of her cloak.

  “Where on God’s earth did you find her?” John’s eyes were dancing with surprise and glee.

  “Riding to the north, through Sherwood,” the soldier that had found her replied. “She was quite alone, my lord.”

  “Alone?” Both John and Ralph looked at her with shock. “Why were you alone, Lady Dustin?” John asked.

  His voice was kind but she knew what he was capable of. “I…I was going home, to Lioncross.”

  “But where was your husband? Oh, excuse me, husbands,” Ralph deliberately drew the word out.

  Dustin flushed, tired and angry and scared. “Dead, I suppose. When I last saw them, they were dueling to the death.” Her chin came up bravely. “It no longer matters, sire. But what matters is that I would like to continue my journey. Will you allow me to pass?”

  John looked taken aback by her question. “Certainly not,” he said. “A lovely lady such as yourself will ride nowhere unescorted, and especially not before you have had time to rest and enjoy the hospitality of Nottingham.”

  Dustin eyed him warily. “Then I am not a prisoner?”

  John shook his head and took her arm. “Absolutely not, my lady. You are an honored guest.”

  Christin, underneath the cloak, let out a squeal and Dustin pulled the heavy cloth back. A little head covered with curly dark hair popped up, the gray eyes focusing on John. The prince was deeply shocked. The child was the image of her mother and he swore he could see Christopher’s features, but the black hair was surprising. He had not heard that Lady Dustin had bore the Defender a child.