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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Perhaps deep down, Marcus really was thankful that Christopher hadn’t been irreparably injured but David didn’t believe him, not completely. As when a man very much wants a woman, perhaps there was some small part of Marcus Burton that was hoping Christopher might be out of the way so that the path to Dustin was cleared. Knowing Marcus as well as he did, David was willing to believe that.

  Therefore, he didn’t comment on Marcus’ praise for Christopher’s recovery. He simply turned away, leaving Leeton to respond.

  “It will take him time to recover,” Leeton said. “I do not foresee the man competing in any tournaments for some time to come.”

  Edward, over near the lancet window that looked out into the upper ward, grunted. “Tournaments or battles,” he said. Then, he looked out to the group of knights, his golden eyes serious. “You realize that his condition will be a serious issue if we are called to battle. John has been waging war against his brother’s supporters for some time now but with Richard declared missing, and given the events of last night, it is my sense that John will try harder than ever to gain control of the country. If Christopher cannot fight, that will pose a problem.”

  David, still standing near the bedroom door, crossed his big arms thoughtfully. “You have forgotten Eleanor,” he said quietly. “She is ruling in Richard’s stead. Up until now, she has tolerated John’s attempts to gain control of the country but now that Richard is missing, she will not let John take the country by force. John cannot defeat his mother no matter how hard he tries. She has all of Aquitaine and most of England behind her, including us. Do not underestimate the Queen of the English and the Duchess of the Normans, Edward – it is her I would fear most of all. Not John.”

  Edward nodded his head as if forced to agree while Marcus glanced over his shoulder at David. “Do we know where she is?” he asked. “Surely she has heard of Richard’s absence by now.”

  David shook his head. “I am sure William Marshal has sent word to her about that and also about John’s activity since receiving word of his brother’s disappearance,” he said. “I am sure we will be hearing word from her soon enough but until then, we hold this castle and this country for Richard. John may have other plans but he shall not succeed, not while there is breath left in my body.”

  He spoke passionately, as he always did when speaking of king and country. Marcus smiled weakly.

  “Well said, Lion Cub,” he said. “We shall hold the line until Eleanor tells us otherwise.”

  David gaze on Marcus was emotionless; the man had used the nickname that David had earned for himself in the Holy Land, as a minion of King Richard. Since the English king had been called the Lion Heart, Christopher, as his champion, had been called the Lion’s Claw, for a lion was only as deadly as his claws were sharp. David, as Christopher’s younger and more hot-headed brother, had been called the Lion Cub, a name David detested. Marcus knew he detested it but it was also used as a term of affection in Richard’s inner circle. David wasn’t sure if Marcus had used it affectionately or with malice. Given the contention between them at the moment, David couldn’t be sure of anything.

  “We shall hold the line until Richard returns,” he said deliberately. His gaze lingered on Marcus a moment, bordering on hostile, before tearing his focus away and looking at the men in the room. “As for me, I intend to destroy de la Londe once and for all. He has already cost us greatly this day. The mass competition is coming and I, for one, intend to make Dennis my target. Edward, Leeton, and Dud will accompany me to the field and prepare for the coming mass. Marcus, you remain here in case Christopher needs anything. I will leave a contingent of soldiers in the corridor for protection should you require it.”

  Orders were given and men were on the move; they couldn’t linger over Christopher’s injuries any longer. He would recover and the games, the contention between the prince and his brother’s supporters, was still as antagonistic as ever. Worse, even. There were more important things at hand.

  Marcus, ordered to remain behind while the other knights proceeded to the games, moved to the window Edward was now vacating. He was feeling left out with his broken hand, and his competitive spirit disappointed, but he was no good in a fight with his hand the way it was. He knew that. Moreover, he suspected that David didn’t want him along, which was understandable. He and David weren’t on the best of terms and hadn’t been for a few weeks now. It was because of their differing views on Lady de Lohr, he knew, but he suspected more it was because David, too, lusted after the woman. David accused Marcus of lusting for her and he wasn’t wrong, but the solid and close relationship they had shared over the years had been weakened by the introduction of the new Lady de Lohr.

  Marcus did regret that sad state of affair between him and David and Christopher, but not enough to keep his distance from Dustin. He loved the woman, pure and simple, and thought he had been keeping his secret rather well. But David knew; he’d always known. Now, that brotherhood they shared was in danger of dissolving altogether.

  But some women were worth such a cost.

  Some women were worth dying for.

  Marcus sincerely hoped it didn’t come to that.

  *

  “My lady?”

  Emilie was looking at a vendor on the busy street who had some kind of meat pie sitting out to entice customers. The pie was rather large, shaped like a half-moon, and broken in half so potential customers could see the contents. They could see browned meat of some kind and carrots, round orange discs set amid a good deal of thick gravy. Nathalie thought the pies looked rather good but Emilie wasn’t too sure; she wanted to look around and see what else there was to offer, but the meat pies had Nathalie’s attention. And then the voice came, a male voice from behind, and it spoke twice more before Emilie turned out of curiosity to see whom the man might be addressing.

  It was her.

  “My lady?” a soldier dressed in a dark tunic was speaking to her. He was older, with missing teeth, and when she turned to him, he smiled rather grotesquely. “My lady, will you please come with me? The Sheriff of Nottingham wishes to speak with you.”

  The Sheriff of Nottingham. Emilie was shocked to hear the name, instantly on her guard. She recognized the name as the man David had warned her about, a deviant who was associated with Prince John. She honestly didn’t know of him, and hadn’t even heard of him until David brought up the name, but she trusted David. She knew he would not have lied to her about such things. Now, the very man she had been told of was in her midst.

  And he wanted to speak with her.

  Emilie struggled to cool her shock, struggled to think straight. Only clear heads would prevail. She didn’t want to run or be outride rude. She had a feeling that might not go well in her favor. Considering she was with only three Canterbury guards, she looked beyond the soldier who had been doing the inquiry to see several more guards standing behind him dressed similarly.

  Sweet Jesus, she thought to herself. Now it was difficult to keep her fear at bay. If they wanted to overwhelm her guards, they easily could. Therefore, she did the only thing she could do – she put on the bravest face she could manage.

  “I do not know the Sheriff of Nottingham,” she said. “Why should he want to speak with me?”

  The soldier simply bowed to her, making a sweeping motion with his hand as if indicating someone well behind him. Emilie wasn’t sure what he was doing, or what he meant, until she caught sight of the man she’d seen in the royal box, the one with the hugely swollen face. Slender, and rather tall, he had dark hair, shaggy, and was finely dressed. In fact, he was quite richly dressed, which she hadn’t notice before because of the crowd and the distance between them. Now, she could see him quite clearly and she didn’t like what she saw.

  “This is Ralph Fitz Walter, my lady,” the soldier said, indicating the richly dressed man. “He would like to speak with you.”

  Fear threatened to overwhelm Emilie. She didn’t want to go to the man but she was fairly certain sh
e had little choice. There were enough guards between her and the sheriff to force her to comply and she was starting to feel like a trapped animal. The hunters were staring her down and she needed help. Thinking quickly, she bent close to Nathalie, who had been standing next to her and watching the exchange.

  “Get out of here,” she whispered in her sister’s ear. “Find Papa. Tell him the Sheriff of Nottingham has asked to speak with me. Tell him to bring help immediately.”

  Nathalie, who had no idea who Fitz Walter was, looked at her sister curious. “What do you –?”

  Emilie grasped her sister by the arm, digging her fingers into her flesh. “By God, Nathalie, do what I say or you will probably never see me again,” she hissed. “Run now and find Papa. Hurry!”

  Wincing at her sister’s grip on her arm, Nathalie did as she was told. Greatly confused, as evidenced by her expression, she quickly moved away from her sister and took off down the avenue, heading in the direction of the tournament field. The three Canterbury guards looked very confused, and very concerned, because the women were separating and they didn’t know what to do. They had been charged with keeping watch over both of them. While one of them went after Nathalie, the senior man in charge leaned in to Emilie.

  “What is amiss, my lady?” he asked.

  Emilie’s gaze was still on the sheriff and his guards. “Do you know who these men are?”

  The soldier wasn’t entire certain. “I have seen them, my lady, but I do not know them by name or by house.”

  Emilie hissed at him as well. “This is Nottingham,” she said. “He evidently wishes to have a word with me. I have sent my sister for my father. You will go now, too, or I fear there will be trouble.”

  The soldier was a seasoned one. He shook his head. “I will not leave you, my lady,” he said without fear. “You will not speak with Nottingham without an escort.”

  Emilie didn’t argue with the man; truth be told, she was much more concerned with her own hide at the moment. The Nottingham soldier who had originally spoken to her was still smiling at her, rather sickeningly, and the sheriff himself was standing there rather expectantly. It was obvious that he was waiting on her and Emilie could do nothing more but obey the summons. She was afraid of what would happen if she didn’t.

  Without another word, she walked towards the sheriff with the Canterbury soldier at her side, the both of them making their way through several Nottingham soldiers. Odd how there was activity all around them on the street; visitors and vendors, customers and entertainers, all of them milling about, going about their business, but Emilie had never felt more alone in her entire life. None of those people could help her and she was seriously concerned for the conversation that was about to take place.

  God, help me….

  The Sheriff of Nottingham dipped his head politely as Emilie came near. “My lady,” he said. “Thank you for receiving me. I am Ralph Fitz Walter, Sheriff of Nottingham. I noticed you in the lists and realized I have never seen you before. The prince has also seen you and is quite taken with your beauty. He would like to meet you also.”

  Emilie’s heart was pounding against her ribs, the fearful ripple of terror. “Mayhap when the games are finished, my lord,” Emilie replied, hoping her voice didn’t sound as fearful as she felt. “I am afraid my father is expecting to see my sister and I in the lists. I am sure he would be most honored to meet the prince when the games are over.”

  Ralph shook his head. “Not your father, my lady,” he said. “You. The prince would be pleased if you would spare him a moment of your time.”

  Emilie could see that Ralph would not be put off. “When?” she asked.

  Ralph’s thin lips divided into a smile. “If you will come with me now, my lady, I would be grateful.”

  Emilie certainly didn’t want to go with him and her resistance was obvious. “Where?”

  Ralph’s smile didn’t waver. “Some place where the prince may speak with you privately?”

  Emilie snorted, an impatient sound. “Privately?” she repeated. “I think not. That is highly improper, my lord. I am shocked that you would suggest such a thing. I would be more than happy to speak with the prince after the games are concluded, but for now, my father is expecting me back in the lists. Good day to you, my lord.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and marched over to the lone Canterbury soldier standing in a sea of Nottingham men. She continued to march along, pulling the soldier with her, hoping that if she presented a strong and unbreakable front, Nottingham wouldn’t create a scene. There were people everywhere, in fact, enough witnesses if he tried something violent, or so she thought.

  She was wrong.

  She hadn’t taken ten steps when she was set upon from behind. Her first clue that all was not well was when her escort grunted and fell to the muddy ground, unconscious from a blow to the head. Then someone grabbed her by the arm, roughly. Furious, and terrified, Emilie found herself looking into Ralph’s black eyes.

  “You will not deny your prince your company, my lady,” he said through clenched teeth. “You will come with me peacefully now and your dignity will remain intact. Fight me and I will have my men carry you through the streets. Is this in any way unclear?”

  Emilie was trying to pull her arm free. “Unhand me,” she snarled. “You have no right to touch me. Let me go now and my father shall not hear of this.”

  Ralph’s grip on her arm tightened to the point of causing her some pain. Emilie winced as he yanked on her, pulling her against his smelly torso in its rich garb. All politeness and propriety was gone at this point; Ralph’s true self was revealed.

  “Insolence will not be tolerated,” he growled, his foul breath in her face. “Behave yourself and you may live through this yet.”

  Emilie’s eyes flew open wide at what she considered a threat to her life. Panicked, she balled up a fist and swung as hard as she could, catching him in his bruised face. Ralph howled and released his grip, his hands flying to his damaged face as Emilie took off at a dead run.

  She’d never run so fast in her life. For the first several feet, she had no idea where she was running to; all she knew was that she had to get away from the sheriff and his lascivious men. She was simply running blindly at that point. She needed help and protection, and the first name that popped to mind was David. He had gone off with his injured brother, to where she knew not, but she knew that de Lohr, and many other houses, were in the tent city to the east of the field.

  The tent city quickly became her destination and she gathered her skirts around her knees, running as fast as she could for the vast sea of wool structures that crowded off to the east.

  Ralph’s men were in pursuit and Ralph was screaming at some of them to find their mounts and go after the lady. People in the streets were scattering, fearful of the shouting and soldiers. The men that were running after the lady were bogged down with mail and weapons, slowing them down, while Emilie had no such encumbrances. She was petite, and quite fast, and very soon she lost herself in the great city of tents, plunging deeper and deeper, trying to find a place to hide, as Ralph’s men charged into the settlement and began demanding to know who had seen a small blond woman in a crimson gown.

  Emilie could hear them as she tucked in behind a rather large oak tree nestled against a creek that dumped into the Thames. There was heavy foliage around the creek and she slipped into the greenery and eventually into the creek itself, hearing the angry shouts of Ralph’s men and even hearing some of the inhabitants of the tent city shouting at them in return. No one seemed particularly helpful, thankfully, but Emilie was terrified and uncertain. The cluster of tents was full of people and animals, and it was not particularly difficult to lose oneself in the mass, but she was still fearful that she would be caught. If she was caught, they would kill her. Waist-deep in the creek, she hid in a thick bunch of reeds and grass and waited.

  And waited. The minutes passed and she began to lose track of time, having no idea how long she h
ad been in the water, waiting and watching. The creek was quite cold and she was beginning to tremble, soaked to the skin from the waist down. Once, she saw a pair of the sheriff’s soldiers on horseback, recognizing their dark tunic, and she hunkered down even further into the creek to avoid being seen. When they began to move in her direction, she left the reeds and submerged herself, holding her breath as the creek took her downstream to a bridge that was at the far end of the tent city.

  Unable to hold her breath any longer, she came up for air beneath the bridge and hid up underneath it, freezing cold and shivering, but well concealed beneath the stone structure. She could see the tent city from her position underneath the bridge but it was at a distance, and she knew that all she could do was wait it out until Nottingham’s men gave up the search. Having no idea when that would be, she resolved to remain there until the tournament began again and the hunt for her inevitably died down. Then, perhaps, she would go in search of the de Lohr encampment and seek protection. She knew, without question, that David would protect her. She had to find him.

  The prince has been known to take any woman he fancies for his own pleasure.

  In her case, that unfortunately happenstance had almost come true.

  In the cold and in fear, she waited.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The mass competition was still about an hour off when David returned to the cluster of tents lodged within the tent city. Leeton, Edward, and Thomas Dudley, a knight known amongst friends as ‘Dud’, were with him as they entered the tent, making note of the men preparing for the mass competition.