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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Dustin’s chin went up defiantly. “Not here, you loathsome bastard.”

  “I can see that,” he yelled, rushing to her. “Where’s the goddamn baby?”

  Dustin opened her mouth when suddenly there was a figure in the doorway. Gabrielle entered the room, quite calmly for all of the yelling that was going on. She fixed Ralph in the eye.

  “The babe is gone,” she said frankly. “Le Londe came here before you and took her. I know not where they went.”

  “Le Londe?” Ralph’s eyes widened with surprise. “He was here? Where did he go?”

  “I do not know, my lord,” Gabrielle said, as cool as rain. “He snatched the babe and fled mere minutes ago.”

  Dustin, shaking with shock, still retained sense enough to see what Gabrielle was doing. Weak with emotion and grateful for her friend’s assistance, she decided to play along. “And you let him? You bitch! Why did not you stop him?”

  Gabrielle’s head jerked to Dustin, an amazing look of devilment filling the soft hazel eyes. “She is not my child. Besides, had I tried to stop him, he probably would have killed me.”

  Dustin shrieked and moaned, throwing Ralph into fits of indecision and confusion.

  “Shut up!” he screamed at her. “Shut up before I slit your throat.”

  Dustin quieted, but not entirely. She pretended to cry weakly, overacting a bit, but Ralph did not notice. His mind was soaring with le Londe’s sighting.

  “I must find him,” he said absently, looking to Gabrielle again. “Which way did he go?”

  Gabrielle was a brilliant actress. She lowered her gaze demurely and stepped away from the door, pointing out into the hall. “I saw him take the stairs toward the grand hall.”

  Ralph was seized with a sense of purpose again. He grabbed Dustin once again, jerking her past Gabrielle. Gabrielle looked at Dustin with such indifference that Dustin almost believed she truly did not care what was happening. Ralph, however, knew better than to leave her behind. He did not know why he should take her, only that he should.

  With his free hand, he seized Gabrielle by the hair. “You are coming too.”

  With his quarry, Ralph awkwardly raced down the hall. Dustin was still shrieking and struggling and Gabrielle had begun to fight back, adding to Ralph’s woes. He seriously considered throwing Gabrielle down the stairs just to be rid of her, but thought differently of it. He was so confused and so anxious he simply couldn’t think straight any longer.

  They reached the top of the stairs where Dustin could see soldiers dashing about below at the beginning of full-scale chaos. She grabbed at the banister to throw Ralph off balance while Gabrielle, seeing what Dustin was doing, moved to do the same. Ralph began to bellow and yank at them unmercifully. From below, it was actually quite comical to see the Sheriff of Nottingham struggling with two women, listening to him ranting and cursing. But to the participants, it was anything but comical.

  Dustin had a death grip on the railing, anything to prevent Ralph from dragging her down below. She glanced at Gabrielle, fearful for her safety because she was closer to the stairs. As she looked at her friend, something caught in her peripheral vision and she looked back down the second floor corridor, positive soldiers were coming to Ralph’s aid and terrified that she and Gabrielle would be hurt in the struggle.

  She was therefore astonished to see Christopher and Marcus at the very end of the hall. They were hundreds of feet away, but even at that distance she could read the surprise on their faces. It took her less than a second to react instinctively.

  “Christopher!” she screamed.

  He heard her; Christ, he heard her and was moving even as she cried his name. But Ralph saw him, too, and was screaming to the soldiers down below to aid him.

  The distance closing between Christopher and his wife was never ending. The more he ran, the farther away she was until he felt as if he were gaining no headway at all. Panic filled his veins and anguish filled his throat, threatening to choke him to death. He could see Ralph dislodging her grip and yanking her away from the stairs, retreating down the opposite direction of the hall, even as a dozen soldiers mounted the second story landing and separated the sheriff and the approaching Defender. Cut off from Dustin, Christopher tore into the soldiers like a man possessed.

  Marcus and Christopher fought valiantly, yet it was two against twelve and they were not gaining much ground. But they fought with renewed vigor, now knowing where Dustin was and were desperately intending to reach her. The grunts of effort sounded every time broadswords came in contact with each other with bone-jarring force. Within a minute or so, they had cut down four men and were moving furiously on the rest. Yet with every passing second, Christopher’s anxiety was growing.

  Suddenly, from the second story landing, they heard a rebel yell that made their hair stand on end. Christopher could not help but grin; without even looking, he knew it to be David. Only his brother howled like a wild man in the heat of battle.

  Yet it was not only David, but there was Edward, Dud, Sir Stephen Marion and Sir Dalton le Crughnan as well. They had fought their way through the hysteria of both wards in search of their lieges, knowing instinctively that they could use the help. Even if they did not, every man in the service of the Defender and the general knew the prime objective; to rescue Lady Dustin. If one failed, there would be another to take his place until the last man had died trying. They were not about to leave the place without her.

  Christopher watched with satisfaction when the swords of his loyal vassals met with the mercenary soldiers. The troops, fighting now from two fronts, were a sight less confident. Especially when Sir Dalton, as big as a bear, began grunting and yelling like a caveman and intimidated the hell out of them. The fight was not long for the running.

  Christopher fell back, moving around the squirming mass of men and picking up speed as he raced in the direction his wife had been taken. Even as he rounded the corner at the far end of the hall, he could hear her screaming and knew he was on the right track. Her screams were distinctive, and he remembered when they had once, long ago, saved her life.

  And they would save her life again. He thanked God for her healthy lungs and pursued the sound with a vengeance.

  He met with a dead end at the extreme end of the hall. He could hear her yelling and cursing from the other side of a locked door, a massive oaken panel that was movable. Marcus raced up beside him.

  “She’s in here,” Christopher breathed heavily.

  Marcus thrust himself against the door in a futile attempt to break it down. He turned to Christopher, his cobalt-blue eyes wide with anxiety. “How are we going to get in there?”

  Christopher glanced around, searching for anything that might help him bust the massive door into splinters. Other than the swords they held, there was nothing of substance in the hall and Christopher felt his panic rise. On the other side of the door, he heard Dustin shrieking again and he threw himself against the door, his fingers digging into the wood.

  “I am here, Dustin!” he bellowed, yet pain was evident in his voice. “I am coming!”

  He could hear her screaming his name and he was close to buckling, again searching the hall for anything that might assist him in his venture. Immediately, his eyes fell on two things that rapidly calmed him; an open, arch-shaped window and a torch. He ran to the torch, snatching it off the wall and thrusting it at Marcus.

  “Burn the door down,” he barked, turning for the window. “I shall try another way in.”

  “Jesus, Chris, we are fifty feet up,” Marcus said earnestly. “You shall be killed if you fall.”

  Christopher jumped onto the windowsill with the agility of a child, for all of his immense size. “I will not fall,” he said, inspecting the six-inch ledge that ran along the outside of the wall. “Get started on that damn door.”

  Marcus watched him sheath his sword and snatch several silken cords from the massive curtains that lined the hall. He tied the ends together and then secured the very en
d of the patchwork rope around his waist. Marcus moved forward and secured the opposite end of the rope to a heavy iron wall sconce directly beside the window.

  Christopher flashed him a grin, already halfway out the window. “A bit of insurance never hurt,” he remarked.

  Marcus raised a quirky eyebrow. “So you are afraid of falling,” he said. “Even you cannot fly.”

  Christopher was out on the ledge. “Not last time I checked. Get to work on the door.”

  He was gone, inching along the ledge like a crab. His destination, he could see, was about twenty feet away and he estimated he would have to untie the rope and go the last five feet on his own. Dustin’s yelling wafted through the open portal, just large enough for him to slip through, and he had to keep himself in check. The urge to move quickly was overwhelming, but he knew that he would not even be allowed one mistake. Even if the rope held, he would have to start all over again and time was of the essence. He had to get to his wife.

  Marcus set the door ablaze as ordered, waiting impatiently for it to burn, and rushed to the window every few seconds to make sure Christopher was still there. He, too, could hear Dustin yelling and his heart was twisting with anguish. Even if he rescued her first, it was not him she wanted. Marcus thought he was being selfish by insisting he help Christopher rescue his wife, simply to be near her. It never occurred to him that he was doing a completely selfless thing by risking his own life.

  Inside, Dustin wasn’t shrieking because she was scared, at least not truly scared. She had seen Christopher and her courage surged, knowing that he was indeed alive and coming for her. Ralph had brought the women into a massive room, almost devoid of any furnishing, and was spending most of his time trying to corral them. Gabrielle and Dustin scampered about, throwing things at the sheriff as they tried to keep him away from them. It was hysterical and chaotic as Ralph tried to chase them down.

  He had brought them to the room for a reason. Sir Bruce had told him that this room, having once served as a chapel, had a secret exit by which the priests used to come and go. He saw no outward signs of the exit, concentrating more on capturing Lady de Lohr and Lady de Havilland. After the women were trussed up he could then continue his search. He was not apprehensive that de Lohr and Burton were going to be able to break the door down, the door was like iron.

  Smoke suddenly started to billow underneath the door and Ralph stopped chasing the women, looking at the smoke curiously. It occurred to him that they were going to try and burn the door down, as they had burned the gates of the keep down, and he felt his first twinge of apprehension. His confidence waned and he set out with determination to capture the women.

  Gabrielle was the first one cornered by the sheriff, and Dustin yelled and threw things in their direction. She was true with her aim and hit Ralph on the back of the head with a candle sconce, drawing a curse and a promise that he would blister her hide. She continued to yell and cause an uproar as Ralph tied Gabrielle to a chair. The only reason she did not physically attack Ralph was because she was afraid he would capture her, too, and decided to keep a safe distance from him for as long as possible.

  Smoke began to assault her nose and she briefly considered rushing to the door to try to unbolt it, but the heat from the fire had rendered the bolt scalding. Unable to do anything, Dustin continued her verbal assault on Ralph and dashed across the room to one of the large arch-shaped windows, squeezing back on the sill as if to hide from the sheriff. He was almost finished with Gabrielle and she knew that she was next. Her fear began to creep back.

  Ralph had tied Gabrielle particularly tight with a strip of cord. Wearily, he turned about in search of Lady de Lohr and immediately spied her huddled on the window sill. Dustin blanched, telling Ralph to stay the hell away from her, but he was not listening. Slowly, he made his way toward her, knowing there was naught she could do and nowhere she could go.

  Dustin watched his advance, her back to the open window, wondering if she should threaten to jump. Scared to death of heights, she decided against it and was preparing to run amuck in the room again when a massive arm suddenly went around her from behind.

  The Defender had arrived.

  *

  Marcus stood with his sword in his hand, watching the door go up in flames. Christopher had disappeared into the room and he was desperate to assist his lord. He kept glancing behind him to make sure no one was advancing on him, the heat of the door so intense he had to step back.

  Piece by piece, the door began to buckle and he knew that soon he would be able to kick it in. Yet, for now, Christopher was on his own against Ralph. It was not a difficult task, but the Defender had two women to protect, making the job more complex.

  Marcus was standing several feet away watching the door burn when he was hit from behind and a sharp, stabbing pain radiated through his back. He knew immediately he had been gored and he let out a grunt of surprise, spinning around to face his accoster. He fully expected to see a horde of soldiers or the sneering face of John, but instead, was confronted by an older, distinguished man he did not know.

  His face was a mask of pain and surprise as he raised his sword against his attacker. The man’s face was expressionless.

  “Richard’s bastard within my walls,” he mumbled. “You shall die here, then.”

  Marcus could feel his wound throbbing, bleeding. Warm, sticky blood ran down his right leg. “Who in the hell are you?”

  “Lord of the keep,” the man informed him with a boom. “This is my castle, you whoreskin. You have no right to be here.”

  “I have a right by decree of Richard,” Marcus answered. “We shall take this fortress back in the name of the king and you, sir, shall be executed for treason.”

  The man let out a growl and charged at Marcus. Swords met and sparks sprayed, although Marcus knew immediately that the man was no match for him. Even in his weakened state, he would have no trouble dispatching the man who called himself lord of the keep. Within five strokes of the broadsword, John’s sympathizer lay in a pool of his own blood, his head half-severed from his neck.

  Marcus stood back a moment, breathing heavily and feeling the sharp pain of his wound. He put his hand to it, trying to assess it as best he could. The man caught him between the joints of his armor, in the flesh and muscle of his torso. It was a deep puncture, but it could have been far worse and Marcus sighed with relief when he realized it was not a life-threatening wound. Even so, he was bleeding moderately and his hands were shaking, but he ignored it. Smoke was thick in the corridor and he turned his attention back to the smoldering door.

  *

  Dustin was so surprised when she was grabbed from behind that she instinctively tried to pull away, swinging her balled fists at her unseen molester. Christopher caught a punch on the jaw, unbalancing him slightly as he tried to come in through the window and he muttered a curse as his foot slipped out over nothingness.

  “Dustin!” he snapped gently. “It is me. It is me, sweetheart.”

  She let out a cry, ceasing her struggles and turning with the utmost shock to see Christopher’s face not a foot from her own.

  “Christopher!” she gasped, throwing her arms around his neck with a great rush of relief and joy.

  He grabbed her with one arm, steadying himself against the sill with the other; he still wasn’t completely through the window. As great as his relief was that he finally held Dustin in his arms, his eyes immediately found Ralph on the opposite end of the smoke-hazed room and he hastened to climb out of the window sill with his wife clinging to his neck.

  He kissed her face feverishly, as much as he dared to allow his attention to be diverted for one sweet, heavenly moment. But there was no time for anything else, and he released her with great reluctance and gentleness, pushing her against the wall.

  “Are you all right?” he demanded with tender harshness. His hand moved to her belly and she realized he was speaking of her “attack” outside of the outer gates. “I am fine, truly,” she gushed
.

  He nodded stiffly, touching her face. “Then stay here, sweetheart,” he told her, his eyes riveting to the sheriff.

  Ralph could not believe his eyes, yet in same token, he wasn’t really surprised at all. He immediately unsheathed his broadsword in a slow, deliberate move and took a few stalking steps forward.

  “So you have taken to climbing walls now, have you?” Ralph remarked snidely. “Mayhap you truly are a phantom, de Lohr, in league with the devil for restoring you your life.”

  Christopher raised an eyebrow. “Nay, Fitz Walter, the devil has enough henchmen with you and John to do his bidding. In fact, you shall be able to greet Great Satan personally in but a few moments.”

  Ralph raised his sword in front of his face. “I do not think so. I have defeated you before, de Lohr. Do you not remember?”

  “Aye, I remember,” Christopher’s sword was in his hand, though not raised, as he approached the sheriff. “As I recall, you had one of your young friends trip me before you tried to kill me in practice. I still bear the scar.”

  “No one tripped you, you simply stumbled over your own feet,” Ralph said. “Not difficult for a boy of twelve.”

  Christopher shook his head. “You shall never change, Ralph. You were a liar when I first met you and you are still a liar,” he said, his voice turning cold. “I have known you since you were nine years old, Fitz Walter. You have never changed.”

  Ralph’s face continued to hold a slightly cocky, amused expression. “I do not like to admit that we squired together, either.”

  Christopher shrugged. “The fact is inconsequential. What remains now is that I intend to avenge myself upon you for the grief you have caused me. Have you any last words before I spill your innards?”

  Ralph was beginning to feel trapped. His sure manner, his advantage, was quickly slipping away and he knew he would be forced to defend himself against de Lohr. Strange, he felt no fear until this very moment when he realized he no longer held the edge. But now, terror flooded his veins.