“He… he wants to marry you?” she asked in disbelief.
Emilie nodded firmly. “As if I would ever let him!”
Nathalie closed her mouth, staring at her sister as she digested the situation. She had known that David had been interested in her sister and, as of late, she had known that Brickley seemed to be paying a good deal of attention to Emilie as well, but marriage… he wanted to marry her? That had never entered her mind. It simply wasn’t true! Nathalie went from stunned to wildly jealous all in one breath.
“It is not true!” she gasped.
Emilie didn’t catch the inflection of resentment in her sister’s tone. “I am afraid it is.”
Nathalie was beside herself. “I… I think you are mean and hateful and terrible!” she raged, jumping off the stool and knocking it over. “I cannot believe Brick would want to marry you! Why would he? You are nothing special, Emilie. You are not special at all!”
Emilie’s head came up, astonished at her sister’s rage, and it was in that instant that she realized she may have said too much. In that moment, she could see that months of her sister’s pranks against Brickley were all for show. The old feelings were still there. Concerned, she put the wax stick aside.
“Nathalie?” she said, going after her sister, who was rushing across the room and throwing herself onto her bed. “Nathalie, wait… I did not mean… do you still have feelings for him? But I did not know! I thought that was long over with!”
Nathalie’s face was pressed into her pillows, angry tears coming from her eyes. “Leave me alone!”
Emilie felt terrible. She didn’t know what more to say or do. All she knew was that she had hurt her sister deeply, something she’d never meant to do. Gently, she put a hand on her sister’s shoulder.
“Nathalie, truly,” she said softly and sincerely. “I did not know you still had feelings for Brick. I would have never… I would not have said such things had I known. I am sorry, sweetheart. I did not know.”
Nathalie wouldn’t speak to her sister; she lay there with her face in the pillow and wept. Filled with sorrow, Emilie simply sat there with her hand on her sister’s shoulder. Mayhap that is why she has been so distant from me as of late, she thought. She was masking her feelings for Brickley, trying to pretend she no longer felt anything for him. As Nathalie lay there and wept, Emilie felt progressively worse. She could only imagine how she would feel if David didn’t return her feelings or, worse, had feelings for someone else.
Saddened, Emilie sat with her sister until the young woman’s tears quieted. It was odd, but she felt closer to Nathalie now than she had for months. Both of them drawn together over Brickley. As Emilie sat there, she began to wonder if she couldn’t put in a good word with Brickley on Nathalie’s behalf. She had vowed to hate him, and never speak to him again, but she would break that vow if only to help Nathalie. Perhaps Brickley needed help in focusing his attention elsewhere.
For her sister, she was willing to speak with a man she very much hated.
She was willing to do what she could.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
One week later
Brickley was bent over the leg of his rouncey, a big and leggy horse who still had a good deal of his winter coat on him. The grooms at Canterbury had tried to shed the animal of it but he still looked shaggy in patches, like he was losing the hair some place and not others. He looked like he had a disease, patchy and rough as he was.
Out in the stable yard on a blustery day, Brickley was trying to figure out why the horse seemed to be walking gingerly. He thought that he might have a split in his hoof but he couldn’t seem to find it. The stable master couldn’t find it, either, so now Brickley stood on a patch of dry ground trying to make sure his horse was sound enough for the trip ahead. They had hundreds of miles to travel and he didn’t want to do it with a horse who would go lame on him.
It had been a quiet few days at Canterbury since Emilie had discovered what he had done with de Lohr’s missives. As Lyle had requested, Brickley had stayed clear of Emilie. He’d gone about his duties, going into the countryside and into the nearby towns to recruit men for Lyle’s forces, and he’d been fortunate enough to come away with one hundred and thirteen men between the ages of fourteen and forty.
There had been one young man, living with an elderly farming couple near the edge of a village, that Lyle had asked him to recruit because he knew the parents. He’d even recruited one man and his three sons who had just lost their mother, men who had been looking for a purpose in life. They had come with him willingly. It was those men, and the rest, who were on the eastern side of Canterbury in a section of bailey that was fairly spacious, encamped there, and learning the rules of the Canterbury army from the seasoned sergeants.
Brickley had been schooling the men for days but he had broken away to see to his own personal needs before they departed, one of which was the horse he was currently inspecting. As he continued to study the hoof, he heard a soft voice come from behind.
“Brickley?”
The sound startled him, mostly because he knew the voice. His heart began to race. He dropped the hoof and turned around to see Emilie standing in the stable entry. She was dressed in a simple gown of soft woolen fabric, yellow in color, and her blond hair was braided and draped over one shoulder. She looked beautiful. He couldn’t stop staring. But he knew he should answer her.
“My lady?” he said politely.
Emilie just stood there, looking at him. Her features were fairly unemotional, at least for her. The last time he had seen her, she had been shouting at him, so he supposed the emotionless expression was better than the alternative.
“We must speak,” Emilie said.
Brickley brushed off his hands, trying not to feel too much hope at her words. “I am your servant, my lady,” he said. “What did you wish to speak on?”
Emilie clasped her hands in front of her; she hadn’t moved from the entry and her manner was very formal. “I just wanted you to know that I have been doing a good deal of thinking since I discovered you burned David’s missives,” she said, “but I had to wait until I had calmed sufficiently before speaking to you about it.”
Brickley tried not to appear too wary about the subject matter at hand; he was coming to wonder if she was going to start screaming at him again. “How may I be of service, my lady?”
Emilie thought a moment. “I wanted to ask you if you had read them before you burned them.”
He nodded without hesitation. “I did, my lady.”
“What did they say?”
She really didn’t react to the fact that he’d read her private missive, which he found somewhat surprising. He’d expected the screaming to start right about then. But there was no screaming and her question had been civil. He answered.
“He spoke of your beauty, which is understandable,” he said. “He spoke of being in London. He mentioned that his brother’s wife had lost the child she was carrying. He said that he would look forward to your replies.”
Emilie digested the information. Hearing what David had written about really wasn’t why she had come but she had been curious and thought to ask him. Now, they would come to the real reason behind her appearance.
“I see,” she said. Then, she paused. “You know that you are very wrong to have done what you did.”
Brickley shrugged, a faint gesture. “I suppose that depends on how you look at it, my lady.”
“It is wrong any way you look at it.”
He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Let us turn the situation around,” he said. “If you were interested in de Lohr but he kept sending messages to Nathalie, messages of romance, how would you feel? If you had the chance to keep those messages from her, would you?”
Emilie frowned. “I would not hurt my sister,” she pointed out. “In fact, that is why I am here. If you wish for me to forgive you for what you did to my missives, then you will do something for me.”
Brickley was interested in her forg
iveness more than he was in what he had to do to obtain it. “Anything, my lady.”
Emilie lifted an eyebrow. “Anything?”
“That is what I said, my lady.”
Emilie considered what she might say next. “Nathalie has feelings for you,” she finally said. “She has for quite some time now. I want you to make my sister happy any way you can. That is the only way I will forgive you, Brickley de Dere. That will mean you are seriously remorseful for the horrible thing you did to me. Will you do this?”
Brickley frowned. “Make your sister happy?” he repeated. “How am I to do that?”
Emilie shrugged. “Speak to her,” she said. “She is very fond of you. Say kind things to her and make her smile. Show her that you are interested in her.”
Brickley’s frown turned into an expression of disbelief. “My lady, you know I am always willing to do as you ask, but in this case, surely you do not realize what you are asking,” he said. “You know that Lady Nathalie and Lady Elise have had a campaign of terror against me ever since we returned to Canterbury. I have had dog shite in my boots, and the ropes on the bottom of my bed cut so that the bed collapsed when I laid down, and any number of small things that have been outrageous at best. I have no recourse against them because your father forbids it. And now you expect me to say kind things to your sister and make her smile?”
Emilie looked at him knowingly. “Why do you think she has been doing those things?” she asked. “It is because you have broken her heart. If you are kind to her, she will stop.”
Brickley sighed heavily and turned back for the horse. He was quickly growing disinterested in the conversation.
“My lady, I should like for you and I to be on speaking terms again,” he said. “I miss being able to even speak casually with you. I do not like having to spend my days avoiding you because your father has ordered me to. But if the only way to gain your forgiveness is to whisper sweet words in Lady Nathalie’s ear, then I tell you now that I will not do it. I am sorry, but I cannot. I am old enough to be her father and I will not show romantic inclinations towards a sixteen-year-old girl.”
Emilie regarded him. “But you want to show romantic inclinations to me, and I am only two years older than Nathalie is.”
Brickley lifted up the horse’s hoof, not looking at her as he spoke. “You are different,” he said. “You have always been graceful and mature. Lady Nathalie is not.”
Emilie watched the man pick at his horse’s hoof. “Then you will not even try?”
Brickley shook his head. “As much as I would like your forgiveness, I cannot do as you ask, my lady,” he said. “I am sorry that we find ourselves in this position. Even if you go through your entire life hating me, please know that I am sorry for that. I am sorry for everything.”
He sounded quite sincere in his apology and Emilie, who had been stiff and formal with him in manner since the start of the conversation, could feel herself relenting just a bit. Although she still wasn’t sure if she could ever forgive him for being so deceitful, she supposed that in some small way, she understood his point of view. He had been doing what he needed to do in order to keep de Lohr away because he felt so strongly for her.
Emilie understood well what it was like to feel strongly for someone. But she still wasn’t sure she could forgive him for his actions and she felt rather badly about it, badly that their relationship had soured so. She thought about him going off to war now and it was possible he would not return. Would she feel guilty for having not forgiven him if he was killed in battle? She wondered. She watched him pick at his horse’s hoof for a few moments, pondering what the future might bring.
“My father says the army is leaving tomorrow,” she said. “Where are you going?”
“North,” Brickley said. “We received a missive two days ago that said armies were gathering around Tickhill Castle, which is north of Nottingham Castle, our original destination. Tickhill is an important stronghold and one that William Marshal evidently wants to purge, so that is where we shall go.”
Emilie relaxed her stiff stance, leaning against the doorjamb of the entry. “David’s last missive said that he had been fighting most of the spring,” she said. “Has there been a lot of fighting going on since we left London, then?”
Brickley nodded and dropped the hoof, feeling up the horse’s leg to feel for anything out of the ordinary. “Aye,” he replied. “It seems that John intends to take this country by force and your father is joining forces with the rest of Richard’s allies to stop it.”
She was silent a moment. “That means the House of de Lohr.”
He glanced at her. “Aye,” he said. “They have been in the thick of it.”
“At some point, you are going to see David.”
“That is very likely, my lady.”
Emilie came away from the door, moving towards him. “Brickley, I know you have made it your personal mission to separate me from David, but I will tell you now, as we were once friends, that you must stop this behavior,” she said. “David knows you intercepted the missives he sent that were meant for me. It is quite possible he will seek you out to punish you. If he does, remember this – there is no hope for anything between you and I, ever, and even if David is somehow no longer part of my life, there is still no hope for anything between you and me. Challenging David or trying to kill him will not change that. Am I clear on this point?”
Brickley’s movements as he stroked the horse slowed. “You are.”
Emilie wondered if that was really the truth. “I do not want to hear any stories of you and David fighting one another because of me. I am not only telling you this, I am begging you as well. Please, Brick. No more.”
Brickley simply stood there for a moment before faintly nodding his head. It was enough for Emilie. She turned and left the stable, leaving the man standing there with his horse, fighting off the feeling of devastation their conversation has brought down upon him.
More and more, he was coming to see that, perhaps, there really was no hope for anything between them. It was something he would have to reconcile himself to. But he foolish also hoped that separation might cause Emilie to see things differently. Maybe upon his return, the situation will have changed. It was something to hope for.
He would cling to that hope.
*
Christopher and his mighty army were not in time to save Tickhill Castle from being consumed by John and his forces. Led by Sir Dennis and his band of mercenary generals, they were a surprisingly strong and disciplined army and the crown troops lay siege to Tickhill for nearly two weeks before retreating. John was anchored in deeply at Tickhill and Christopher reluctantly decided to pull back to a safe distance to anticipate John’s next move. Tickhill was lost for the moment and it was difficult for him to admit it.
As Christopher knew, the army was not to stay at Tickhill. After establishing jail-like security in and around the fortress, the army banded together once again and moved northwest toward York. Christopher found himself chasing after the army as a mother after an unruly child. The mercenary army would attack every fortress in their path and the crown troops would be there to defend and repel, losing a few castles but saving more than they lost.
It was frustrating, exhausting work, for John was grimly determined to seize England castle by castle, hoping to shut off the north from the rest of the country and conquer it keep by keep.
Christopher knew the tactical planning to be Sir Dennis’. The man was a cunning soldier, if not a bit reckless. He had a huge army with voracious fighters that he used handily, moving from one castle to the next with incredible speed. Christopher had a devil of a time keeping up with them.
February moved into March, and March into April. His thirty-sixth birthday came and went on the battle field, the same day that Edward suffered a nearly mortal wound to the groin. The knight hovered one step above death for nearly a week before showing any improvement, and Christopher sent him back to Lioncross as soon as he was able
to travel. Edward carried with him a special written message for Lady de Lohr from her husband, and Christopher had slept the night before with the message clutched to him, knowing it would soon be touching Dustin’s own hands. He missed her more than words could express.
Spring came and went, moving into summer and Christopher found himself in East Anglia outside of Norwich. He had relatives here but did not stop to visit. The justices had been sending him regular communication regarding Richard’s situation; a circumstance still unimproved. Richard was well, still being held captive, and the justices were in the process of raising the ransom demand. All they asked of Christopher was to control John as best he could. More and more of Richard’s troops were coming home from the Holy Land every day and soon Christopher would have another army larger than the one presently under his command waiting at Windsor. With over four thousand men, he would surely destroy John and regain the seven keeps he had been unsuccessful in defending.
With the heated summer months, the battles seemed to wane and eventually there was a strained stand-off. John still held seven castles but he had made no more advances and the majority of his field army, including Sir Dennis, had retreated to Nottingham. The situation was at a stalemate, a state Christopher guessed would remain for a length of time while John rethought his strategy. At the beginning of August, he saw his opportunity to return to Lioncross for the first time in almost a year.
David saw it as an opportunity to go to Canterbury, albeit briefly.
Brief or not, that was where he was headed.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
August Year of our Lord 1193
Canterbury
It wasn’t the heat but the moisture in the air, turning everything into a steam bath.
As David moved along the road out of Rochester, heading east, he was sweating rivers beneath his tunic and mail, and he was quite certain that the slightly-rotten smell in the air was coming from him. The Thames was to his north, bleeding its mixture of salt and fresh water scent in to the air because at this point, it was more sea than river. Sea gulls cried over his head, searching for food.
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 137