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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  More peasants than she had ever seen populated Nottingham. They were happy people who genuinely interested her. They would fawn from a distance over Christin and two of the ladies gave the babe a type of root to chew on to help her teething. Christin, happy as always, chewed contentedly on the dried root and drooled all over her new surcoat. Dustin thought the people to be remarkably open and friendly despite the dastardly men who ruled from the castle.

  Dressed in a lovely blue linen surcoat, she broke away from Gabrielle and Christin to admire a particularly fine pair of doeskin boots hanging on the cobbler’s shed. People were milling about and around everywhere, and business was going on, so she thought nothing of the figure who had brushed by her and leaned against the wall of the shed. Finished appraising the boots, she started to turn around when she heard her name.

  “Lady Dustin!” came the urgent whisper. “Do not turn around, my lady, lest you give me away.”

  Startled, her first reaction was to indeed turn around to the source of the voice, but she caught herself instead. She forced herself to calm down and feigned interest in another pair of shoes, hoping her shaking did not show.

  “Who is it?” she whispered as casually as she could manage.

  “ ’Tis Darren, my lady, your husband’s squire,” Darren whispered. “He has sent me with a message.”

  Dustin was overwhelmed in that moment with relief and joy. He was alive! Christopher had survived. But in the same instant she knew he was alive only because Marcus had met his death and grief flooded her. But her happiness overcame all other emotions and she suppressed an urge to scream her elation.

  “He lives, Darren?” she hissed.

  “Indeed, my lady,” Darren replied. “He wants you to know that Richard and his army are riding to your aid. They will be here on the morrow.”

  “The king?” Dustin was stunned, her mind spinning. “What…what of Marcus? Is he dead?”

  “Nay, my lady, he rides with the king,” Darren whispered. “They have put off their duel in order to save you.”

  Dustin was shocked and fought to maintain her composure. The king was riding to her aid? It did not make sense, especially since the man hated her. And Christopher, was he coming because he was obliged to or because he wanted to? After everything that had happened, how could she be sure? And Marcus was alive, after all. She was relieved, of course, but she did not like Darren’s words…‘to put off their duel.’ Did this mean the moment she was returned, they would try and kill each other again? She simply did not know; how could she be sure of anything anymore?

  She could not, but she knew one thing for certain; she wanted Christin away from Nottingham. If there was to be a battle, she wanted her daughter safe. She believed she could handle John and Ralph, but if they were to threaten Christin….she would be lost. Anxiety clutched at her.

  “Darren, you must take Christin out of here,” she whispered, glancing from the corner of her eye to see where her guards were. “If there is to be a fight, she must be safe.”

  “But…my lady,” Darren protested. “I am to protect you. I cannot leave.”

  “You must!” she snapped, drawing attention and recovering nicely by grabbing a shoe and yelling to the cobbler that he must make the shoe in her size. When the soldiers looked away, she took her first look at Darren. “Darren, she must be taken to safety. She is in great danger here.”

  “But what of you?” Darren asked urgently. “You are in danger, too.”

  She scowled at him. “I can take care of myself, but I cannot take care of myself and Christin. You must take her to her father.”

  Darren was speechless. This was not part of his plan, nor was it part of his orders. He dreaded telling her “no.” “My lady, I cannot leave you,” he whispered feebly. “Lord Christopher sent me here to protect you.”

  She glared at him, her pretty jaw ticking. “Protecting Christin is the most important thing in the world. Darren, so help me, if you argue with me, I shall tell Christopher you were most disobedient.”

  His young face washed with apprehension. “Please, my lady, do not…my orders were to protect you.”

  She ignored him, glancing behind her again to see that Gabrielle was looking at her curiously. Quickly, she pretended to straighten a pair of shoes. “Meet me out here in an hour. Right here, behind the cobbler’s shed. Do you understand?”

  Darren sighed with resignation. “Aye, lady, I do. Unfortunately.”

  Behind her, there was a bit of commotion and she turned around to see Sir Dennis la Londe approaching. Her heart sank; she hadn’t seen him since her arrival and was hoping to avoid him. Darren faded away as Dennis smiled leeringly at her.

  “My lady,” he greeted in his heavy French accent. “I was told of your arrival. May I say, it is delightful to see you again.”

  She barely nodded, moving away from Darren and back toward Gabrielle. Sir Dennis followed her closely, like an eager dog.

  “It was certainly a surprise to hear of your visit,” he said, then glanced at Christin. “Oh, my, is this the enfant de Lohr? Strange, she looks like a Burton with that dark hair.”

  Dustin whirled to him, her teeth clenched. “My mother had dark hair, and if you will, ask Lord Bruce, who happens to be Christin’s great-grandsire. Now, if you will excuse me.”

  She tried to push past him, but he stuck to her like grease on a spoon. “Your grandpapa is Lord Bruce? I did not know, chèrie. How fortunate.”

  She hated his sickly-sweet accent and rolled her eyes at him in disgust. He responded by grabbing her sharply by the arm, his big fingers digging into her soft flesh.

  “If I were you, I would behave with a bit more respect.” His voice was cold, not at all friendly as it had been just a moment before. “A warning this time.”

  Her nostrils flared angrily and she yanked her arm away. “Do not presume to give me a warning of any kind, Sir Dennis. My grandsire is your host, as is your prince. I do not answer to you.”

  She twisted away from him and walked away with her entourage in tow. Sir Dennis watched her go with beady eyes, imagining all sorts of deviant things in his warped mind.

  “You will, chèrie,” he murmured. “Soon, you will.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  Richard’s army was barely rested from their march from Windsor before they were mobilizing again in preparation of the siege of Nottingham. The summer morning dawned warm and clear as crystal, and Christopher was already sweating as he positioned the nearly two thousand troops.

  It was good to be working with Marcus again, for the man was as capable as he when it came to tactics and intuition. He knew where Christopher wanted the men and he knew exactly where to position the archers for maximum effectiveness. It was no time before Christopher merely hung back and supervised while Marcus and David streamlined the massive army.

  His heart swelled with pride as he watched his brother and his former friend, remembering what it had been like in the Holy Land. David and Marcus were extensions of himself and he need not utter a word for them to know exactly what he wanted. For the moment, the hostility and sorrow were forgotten as he watched his men work. Edward and his other knights were serving Marcus and David well, making sure their orders were carried out. The precise chain of command was perfect, as always, and Richard rode up astride his dark gray steed to watch the final preparations.

  “Just like old times,” he remarked, watching Marcus and David work like a fine-tuned team. “I’d almost forgotten.”

  “I never thought to see this again,” Christopher said softly. “Marcus and David have been working together for over two hours and nary a harsh word between them.”

  Richard gave a wry smile. “Amazing.”

  They watched the last of the archers being positioned and then Edward and Sean began moving the wagons into place.

  “Darren should have found Dustin by now,” Christopher said. “He rode into Nottingham yesterday morning and I would think he has had ample time to locate her.”


  “Most likely,” Richard agreed. “But I am concerned for the lad. He is not a spy, you know. He is taking a great risk.”

  “He is an intelligent boy,” Christopher said. “I have faith that he will be cautious.”

  “Nevertheless, you know I was not very agreeable on the proposal,” Richard said firmly. “I do not know what possible good he can do except to get himself caught. Then we shall have one more person to rescue.”

  “I trust Darren, Richard,” Christopher said softly. “He has proven himself many a time, and I trust him.”

  “But do you trust him with your wife’s life?” Richard asked, shaking his head. “I cannot believe you would send a seventeen-year-old squire into the pit of hell and expect him to perform as a knight.”

  “I shall knight him next year myself, and I will be proud to have him in my stable.” Christopher looked at Richard. “Don’t you trust my judgment when it comes to warriors?”

  “Of course.” Richard waved him off. “It is just that he’s not a full-fledged knight yet and….oh, hell, I don’t know. There are too many people to worry over. Darren certainly cannot protect your wife if John sets his sights on her. To do that would be to kill a prince of England, and I will not allow it.”

  Christopher put up a hand in supplication. “Darren’s orders are to shadow Dustin and protect her from harm, not to kill John. Richard, I simply feel better having him with her if I cannot be. I thought you understood that yesterday?”

  “I understand,” he muttered. “I understand that I am growing soft and that you are going mad.”

  Christopher chuckled. Then, he sobered and changed the subject. “Marcus and I talked last night.”

  “And?” Richard looked at him.

  Christopher sighed. “He says he will not fight me for Dustin anymore.”

  “Do you believe him?” Richard asked.

  “I don’t know,” Christopher replied. “He’s lied to me before where my wife is concerned, so I suppose time will tell.”

  Richard studied the face of his mighty Defender. “You look tired. Did you sleep?”

  “Barely,” Christopher said. “I shall sleep when Dustin is safe beside me.”

  Richard did not say anything, glancing at his army as David raced like hellfire the length of the column for some unknown reason. He could hear the knight yelling.

  “That fool is going to kill himself one day doing that,” he murmured, then looked at Christopher again. “That wound has taxed you greatly, hasn’t it? You are still not completely well and this march is draining your strength.”

  Christopher drew in a deep, slow breath, looking to his king. “I shall admit that I do not feel as strong as I am used to, but I will eventually. I am well enough to raze Nottingham and retrieve my wife.”

  Richard shook his head. “You are either the bravest man alive or the biggest idiot. Who would have thought you would raze a castle for anything less than my glory?”

  They shared a small chuckle. “Not I, Richard, and well you know it,” Christopher said. “My devotion to you was legendary.”

  Richard’s smile faded. “You say that as if it were a thing of the past. You are still my Defender and champion, Chris. I shall not release you from your duties.”

  Christopher shrugged and gazed back over the army. “You will have to while I heal completely. I would suggest David or Marcus in my stead.”

  “David is a wild man,” Richard snorted. “And Marcus is too caught up in his own personal problems. Damnation, when did things become so complicated? I think I shall return to Jerusalem; the situation was a lot less complex.”

  Christopher laughed softly. “I shall send word to Philip and Henry and make sure they meet you when you set foot on the continent,” he jested.

  Richard snorted again, louder. “Hell yes,” he agreed. “Why not have them add to my problems?”

  Christopher smiled broadly at his king when a loud whistle pierced the air and he saw David give him the high sign, indicating the army was ready to move. Christopher lifted his mailed fist in response.

  “We are ready, sire,” he said to Richard. “At your command.”

  Richard gazed out over his army, drinking in the sight of the power under him. “I have spent most of my life fighting,” he mumbled. “I know nothing else. My army is my family and the battlefield, my home.” He latched his helmet. “I envy you, Chris, that you would find something more to this life than dying and fighting and blood. That you would find love is an amazing accomplishment indeed, and I will most likely never know the joy.” He paused, looking to Christopher as he gathered his reins. “Let us get your wife back.”

  Christopher slammed his visor down in response. Richard watched a change come over the man, as visible as the rising sun. He morphed from the concerned husband to pure warrior.

  Richard watched the transformation with satisfaction; this was the Christopher he knew and loved. The Christopher he had grown to know over the past few days confused him greatly, for it was almost as if it weren’t the same man. The new Christopher felt emotion and showed depth of character, admirable traits indeed, but confusing when one considered that the man had never shown emotion before. Richard had felt disoriented until this moment, this was his Defender. This was Christopher de Lohr, the greatest warrior since Galahad or Lancelot. He was the legend.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Christopher broke into his thoughts.

  Richard suddenly realized he was smiling. Clearing his throat, he put his faceplate down. “No reason,” he muttered.

  Marcus and David thundered up, followed closely by Edward, Dud, and the rest of the knights. They all stood atop the slight rise, gazing down on the mightiest army England had ever seen assembled, and nodded with gratification.

  “My loyal knights,” said Richard. He loved to give pre-battle speeches, but he found this morning that none came to mind. He decided to speak what he felt. “I am deeply pleased that we are together, fighting as one body again. May victory be ours!”

  All of the knights responded by the customary cry, “God and King Richard!” and spurred their destriers from the crest, riding to their positions along the column. Only Christopher and his king would ride in front, leading the troops to certain glory.

  *

  Dustin was shaken and encouraged by her encounter with Darren. Thrilled that Christopher was alive and wildly relieved that he was coming for her, she tried to maintain a calm attitude for the benefit of her captors. She was tremendously eager to remove Christin from harm’s way and thanked God for sending Darren to her. She could take care of herself, but she was terrified for Christin’s safety. Terrified that somehow John would take advantage of the infant.

  The afternoon passed and the heat was bearable, but sticky. In her condition, she was always hot and felt miserable and damp as she dressed Christin in a durable linen outfit that would protect her and wear well. She doubled her nappy so she wouldn’t leak all over Darren as he carried her to safety, and put a matching hat on her head to protect her little ears and scalp. Christin, hating anything on her head, kept pulling it off until Dustin gave her a piece of dry bread to chew on to distract her.

  Dustin felt as if the Devil were nipping at her heels and her sense of urgency was paramount. She did not know why, but it was as if an unseen force was pushing her, making her race against herself to get her daughter out of Nottingham. She was almost panicked in her urgency, but she forced herself to calm for Christin’s sake. How would she explain Christin’s absence to John and her grandfather? Surely they would demand to know where the child was. She would simply have to think of a logical, believable explanation, at least until Christopher and the army arrived. After that, she did not care. Christin would be safe and that was all that mattered.

  Time went quickly and before she realized it, the hour was upon her and it was time to take Christin to the bailey. She could only pray that Darren was obedient, that God and luck were with them, and that they would make it s
afely out of Nottingham. As she prepared a final tiny bag with food for her daughter, Gabrielle knocked softly and entered the room.

  “I thought you might like to…..what are you doing?” she asked.

  Dustin thought about trying to hide her plans, but there was no use to it. Gabrielle was her friend, and she would have to trust her.

  “I am getting Christin out of here,” she said. “Today. Now.”

  “What?” Gabrielle’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

  Dustin took a quick breath to bolster her courage and pulled Gabrielle down on the bed beside her.

  “My husband’s squire is here,” she said softly. “He came to watch over me, he says, by order of Christopher, but I in turn ordered him to take Christin out of here. Richard is riding to my aid, Gabrielle, and Nottingham will be a living hell. I do not want my daughter to perish or be used as a pawn in this evil game John plays. I want her safe.”

  Gabrielle looked deeply fearful, but there was also a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “Richard is coming for you? And your husband? Dustin, how marvelous!”

  Dustin nodded swiftly. “I must get Christin to Darren. I told him to meet me by the cobbler’s shed and he should be there now. I must go.”

  Gabrielle shook her head. “ ’Tis dangerous, Dustin. John usually takes his walk about this time and if he were to see you….”

  Dustin swallowed hard and squeezed Gabrielle’s hand. “I shall just have to take that chance. Nothing is more important than Christin’s life.”

  As she rose to gather Christin’s things, Gabrielle grasped her arm gently. “Dustin, will you…will you take me with you? I have nowhere else to go and….”

  Dustin did not even let her finish her sentence. “Of course you are coming with me. You do not think for one moment that I would leave you here?”

  Gabrielle smiled weakly. “Nay, I suppose not. But I had to ask.”

  Dustin flashed her a quick smile and gathered Christin. “Now, I must make my little trip,” she said, her gaze going to her innocent daughter’s face. “Say goodbye to Lady Gabrielle, Christin. Tell her that you will see her later, at Lioncross.”