David was close to Canterbury. He knew this because he was starting to come across more traffic the more he traveled; people were heading into the town, or coming from it, and he passed the small castle of Denstroude off to the north, which he could see on a rise in the distance. Denstroude was a holding of Canterbury, an outpost of sorts between Canterbury and the sea, so he knew he was coming nearer to the town. Up and over the next rise, he could see it in the distance.
The sun was directly overhead as he spurred his fat white rouncey into a gentle canter, loping towards the town. He was hot as Hades beneath his clothing, wanting to strip out of what he was wearing and possibly even take a swim. He remembered that Emilie had mentioned something about a lake where they might go fishing. He was looking forward to that lake and spending time with her, even though their time together would be very brief.
There as a great deal happening in the politics of England these days. John was on the move and Christopher, as well as William Marshal and several others, were trying to stay one step ahead of him. Seasons full of skirmishes had been David’s life for the past several months, months of fighting, of dealing with the politics that England had become, and of dreaming of a certain brown-eyed lady that he was becoming increasingly enamored with. In his case, it was very true that distance and separation had made the heart grow fonder.
His heart was fonder of her still.
For the first four months, he’d written to Emilie but had received nothing in return. It hadn’t really concerned him until the fifth month, when he was coming to think that she had either decided not to ever write to him or that she was somehow being prevented from doing so. There was no way of knowing. But after he’d written the fifth missive to her, he decided that he would only write one more to her if he didn’t receive a response. The sixth missive would be his last because he didn’t want to make a nuisance of himself if he wasn’t wanted. He was greatly disappointed at the thought but there was no use crying over it.
Fortunately for him, Emilie wrote to him after his fifth missive. She had explained that Brickley had intercepted David’s missives and went on to say many wonderful things, things that almost made him forget about the punishment he was going to deal Brickley de Dere when he saw the man again. But not quite; David was determined to punish Brickley in any way he could, any time or any place, and he wondered if he was about to see Brickley when he arrived at Canterbury. That being the case, he would be torn with what to do first – punch Brickley in the face or greet Lady Emilie. He figured she would frown upon him beating Brickley to a pulp before even acknowledging her, so he settled on greeting her first off. But if Brickley was in his line of sight, he hoped the man had sense enough to run.
Canterbury was a very old town built atop of an ancient Roman town, and it had a spectacular cathedral that could be seen for miles. The castle was in the center of town, near the River Stour, and he made his way across the bridge towards the castle, passing by the inhabitants of the town as he headed towards the castle.
Canterbury Castle wasn’t particularly large but it had an enormous curtain wall around it, protecting the four-storied keep if one included the sub level, a hall, stables, and outbuildings. It also had a large gatehouse and David announced himself as he approached. Confused sentries, who evidently didn’t recognize his name, made him wait outside of the gatehouse, on the road, while seeking approval for him to enter. Fortunately, it wasn’t long in coming.
Passing beneath the gatehouse, he emerged into a fairly large ward, noting the great hall to his right and the big, square keep to the left. He couldn’t see the entry to the keep so he assumed the stairs were on the opposite side. Slowly, he dismounted his weary animal, collecting his saddle bags as he turned the beast over to a pair of young stable boys who had come running to collect the animal. He grinned when his horse rubbed his foamy lips into the hair of one of the boys as they led him away. He could hear the child groan as the other one laughed.
“David!”
A shout caught his attention over near the keep and he turned to see Lyle briskly heading in his direction. He smiled, slinging his saddlebags over one broad shoulder.
“Greetings, my lord,” he said.
Lyle seemed quite happy to see him. “Welcome,” he said. “I did not know you were coming. Why did you not send word?”
David shrugged. “I could make it here just as fast as a messenger,” he said. “My brother and I were in London and I thought to come visit Emilie before following him back to Lioncross.”
Lyle put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of the bright sunshine and towards the keep. “London, you say?” he repeated. “We have had word that there has been a good deal of fighting up north, near Nottingham. I assumed you were in the middle of it. In fact, I sent Brick and eight hundred men north to reinforce Richard’s ranks, as requested by William Marshal. Something about a battle brewing at Tickhill Castle. Have you seen Brick and my army?”
David nodded. “I saw him at a distance, a handful of times, but I did not speak with him,” he said. “Has he not returned to Canterbury yet?”
Lyle shook his head. “He has not,” he said. “I told him he could visit his son at Barnwell Castle, so I would assume that is where he has gone. I am sure he will return soon.”
David shifted the load on his shoulders. “More than likely,” he said. “The situation has quieted for now.”
Lyle’s brow furrowed. “Quiet?” he said. “There is no more fighting?”
David shrugged. “Tickhill fell,” he said. “It was a nasty battle. There has been scattered fighting all throughout the midlands and only last month, my brother and I ended up in Norfolk for a skirmish but it seems that John and his mercenary army has pulled back to regroup. We know they are bottled up in Nottingham but for now, the situation is quiet. That is why Chris is heading home and I thought to visit Canterbury before I followed him.”
Lyle listened to the news with great interest. “What of Richard?” he asked. “What do we know of him?”
David shook his head. “Still a captive, my lord,” he said. “The ransom for his release is still being gathered.”
Lyle sighed faintly, thinking of what that meant for the country. He was certain he wasn’t the only lord thinking such things. He looked at David and started to say something but it suddenly struck him just how exhausted and hot David appeared. He was sure the man didn’t want to discuss politics anymore, considering how he had lived and breathed them for the past several months.
“We will not discuss such things today,” Lyle said, pulling David towards the keep. “Come and refresh yourself; Emilie and her sisters are at the lake, which is right outside of these walls to the south. They go there nearly every day in this heat. She will be quite happy to see you.”
David smiled weakly. “I can only stay the night and then I must be gone by morning,” he said. “As much as I would like to linger here at Canterbury, unfortunately, I cannot. Duty calls.”
Lyle ushered David up the stairs to the second floor entry of the keep. “I understand completely,” he said. “Come in and refresh yourself, lad. I will have the servants bring you water to wash the heat from your body. This year has been quite warm and I am sure it has made your travel somewhat miserable.”
David didn’t say much after entering the keep; Lyle seemed to do most of the talking at that point. David simply listened, speaking out once in a while. Lyle took him to a small chamber next to his solar, a chamber that was probably meant as a servant’s alcove, but it had a sturdy bed and that was all David really cared about. Lyle sent the house servants running in all directions, bringing cool water and linen rags to wash with, and they even brought Lyle’s personal soap, which smelled of pine.
David was grateful for the hospitality and as Lyle stood in the doorway and chatted, David stripped down to his linen breeches and washed every part of his body that wasn’t covered with fabric. If he was going to see Emilie after having not seen the woman for months, t
hen he didn’t want to smell like a sty.
All the time he soaped and rinsed, including his hair, Lyle spoke to him quite amiably, but as David dried the water off his face, the mood in Lyle’s tone changed.
“I assume that Emilie told you what happened with the missives you had sent her,” he said quietly. “About Brick, I mean.”
David paused, looking at the man as he realized the subject, and then continued drying his face. “She said he had intercepted most of the missives I sent to her,” he said, wiping off his neck. “She said that he burned them.”
Lyle nodded, trying not to appear too contrite at the behavior of his captain. In truth, he felt as if he should apologize to David about it but he wasn’t sure that was entirely appropriate. It wasn’t his fault, after all. But he still felt somehow responsible.
“I appreciate that words regarding Brick’s behavior were not the first words out of your mouth when you arrived,” he said. “If Emilie has already explained it all to you, I will not go into detail, but suffice it to say that I told Brick that he was to stay away from Emilie. He is not permitted to go near her after his lapse in judgement when it came to your missives.”
David thought on that moment as he set the linen towel aside. “I received her missive weeks before Brick and your army made an appearance up north,” he said. “I had told my brother what Emilie’s missive had said and he made sure to keep Brick away from me and with the other commanders. I never really saw him at all.”
Lyle nodded. “That is good,” he said. “But to be truthful, David, I have been thinking on the situation quite a bit and it seems to me that this is something that will not mend itself. Brick is a stubborn man and used to getting his way in all things. In fact, if you marry Emilie, the situation will only grow worse. Brick will be subjugated to you and that will only cause problems.”
David was about to turn for his saddlebags to collect a clean tunic but he froze when Lyle mentioned marriage. He looked at the man, fighting down the hope that bloomed in his chest at the mention of marriage to Emilie.
“If I marry Emilie?” he repeated. “Does that mean you have made a decision?”
Lyle fought off a grin. “I have,” he said. “I have thought about this a great deal. You are all that Emilie can speak of. I hope you are as enamored with her as she is with you.”
David didn’t want to admit just how enamored he was. He didn’t like to speak of his feelings so. But the mere fact that he had ridden all the way from London to see Emilie certainly said something about his feelings for her.
“She is in my thoughts constantly,” he said.
Lyle laughed softly at the restraint of the knight. “Is that so?” he said. “Every day, in fact?”
“Every day.”
“Then you have not changed your mind about her? You offered for her hand once.”
“I remember. And I have not changed my mind.”
That was what Lyle wanted to hear. “It is my sense that you and Emilie will be good for one another,” he said. “Besides, she needs a husband who can handle her stubborn nature and I believe you are just such a man. Moreover, when I pass away, she will be the Canterbury heiress and the earldom will pass to her husband. I want it to pass to you, David. You are a worthy man.”
David stared at the man a moment longer before breaking into a massive grin that threatened to split his face in two. “The earldom does not matter to me, although I am deeply honored for the consideration,” he said. “All that matters to me is your daughter. That is all I have ever cared about. As her husband, I swear to you that I will not fail her, in any way.”
Lyle put a hand on David’s bare shoulder. “I know you will not,” he said. “May I offer my congratulations on your betrothal, David. I will be proud to call you my son.”
David was nearly giddy with joy. Of course, his offer for Emilie had weighed heavily on his mind on the trip to Canterbury but he wasn’t going to bring it up within the first ten minutes of his arrival. He didn’t want to seem crass or overbearing. He was, therefore, delighted that Lyle had brought it up and it was the best news he could possibly hope for. Now, he was officially betrothed.
Betrothed. It was a word that, in the past, he’d had an aversion to. There was no secret about that and it was something he’d even told Emilie. Now, hearing the word didn’t give him the shakes like it had in the past and he attributed that to the fact that this was a welcome betrothal as opposed to one that might have been forced on him. In any case, he didn’t react to it as he thought he would. He was genuinely thrilled at the prospect.
“Thank you, my lord,” he said. “I hope to live up to the pride you have in me.”
Lyle could see that the man was nearly bursting with joy but he restrained himself, perhaps out of embarrassment or perhaps because he simply didn’t know how to express himself. Either way, it was rather humorous to watch the man fidget and grin. Lyle laughed softly and clapped him on the bare shoulder again.
“Get dressed,” he said. “Let us go and find Emilie and tell her the good news.”
He turned for the chamber door to leave but David stopped him. “She does not know?”
Lyle paused in the doorway, shaking his head. “I thought to tell you first,” he said. “I knew you would come to Canterbury at some point whereupon I could render my decision. You should be the one to know first, shouldn’t you?”
David snorted. “How did you guess that I was coming here?” he said, digging into his saddlebags and pulling forth a pale linen tunic. “Was it the eight missives I have sent your daughter?”
“That was an excellent indication,” Lyle said wryly. “Finish dressing. I will wait for you in my solar.”
He stepped through the door, shutting it softly. When he was gone and David was alone, he shook his fists in the air in a great gesture of victory, so very excited that Emilie now officially belonged to him. He was happy; nay, beyond happy. He’d never been so overjoyed in his life. He felt as if he was living a dream, a surreal confection of happiness and excitement that he’d never thought he’d experience. It was something that usurped nearly every profound or proud moment in his life.
The joy of a new wife. The joy in being granted the woman he loved.
Quickly, he finished dressing, extremely eager to see his future bride.
*
The heat was sticky. Even the grass was sticky, although it was moderately cool beneath the great willow trees that flanked the castle’s lake. On this lazy summer day, with the blue sky above and birds singing in the trees, Emilie lay beneath the canopy of the tree upon the cool but sticky grass, watching Nathalie and Elise splash about in the lake.
It was a rather large lake that was deep in the middle, and Elise wouldn’t venture too far in because the fish weren’t much afraid of people and would swim up to her and nibble on her legs and toes. Twenty men-at-arms from the castle had escorted the three sisters and Lillibet to the lake but one piercing scream from Elise would bring them all running, arms brandished. When they saw that it was simply Elise being afraid of the fish, they’d go back to their posts, sweating and grumbling. That had happened four times today alone.
Emilie didn’t mind the fish. She could swim very well and would often swim out to the middle of the lake while Nathalie and Elise begged her to come back. She could stay in the water for hours, or at least it seemed like hours, and she had already been swimming a good deal today, which is why she was now laying on the grass, dozing in the heat. In her damp linen dress, a very simple dress that she used to swim in, and her hair braided and piled, in a big mess, atop her head, she was barefoot and content. Beside her, Lillibet was knotting with three balls of colored silk thread, creating some kind of creation for the hands or neck. Lillibet liked to knot, or knit as some called it, and she produced beautiful things that most often ended up in Emilie’s wardrobe.
Emilie yawned as she watched Nathalie splash around in the water while Elise, with her box of wooden people, now sat on the shore of
the lake and played with them. Emilie yawned again, thinking seriously on taking a nap, as the heat lulled her towards sleep.
“Your father is coming, Emilie,” Lillibet said, spit flying onto Emilie’s leg. “There is someone with him, although I cannot see who it is.”
Lillibet’s eyes were quite bad at a distance so it was difficult to see things that were far away, like approaching people. But Lillibet knew Lyle by form; she knew his form very well. Emilie, however, simply yawned again. She didn’t really care about her father and some unknown man.
“Mother, did you see the apricot grove as of late?” she asked sleepily. “I have been dreaming of apricots all day. The last I saw, it was heavy with fruit. Did the servants harvest it?”
Lillibet was still knotting but her focus was on Lyle and the man at his side as they drew closer. She thought she remembered seeing the man with Lyle, once, at Windsor. In fact, the closer they came, the more she realized that it was Emilie’s Sir David. She peered closer to confirm that was who she was seeing before gently thumping Emilie on the leg.
“Emilie!” she hissed. “The man with your father –!”
“I do not care who it is,” Emilie mumbled sleepily. “What about the fruit? Will you please get me some? I have a yearning for apricots.”
“Emilie, it is Sir David!”
Emilie’s eyes flew open and she sat bolt-upright, turning to see that her father and David were only about twenty feet away. They had come very close before Lillibet and her bad eyesight could identify them. Horrified at her appearance, Emilie’s gaze fell upon David and suddenly, she could hardly breathe.
David. He was smiling at her, that handsome face that had haunted her dreams, and she couldn’t think of one coherent thing to say to him. He had promised to come and visit her, but that had been eight months ago. Eight long months. And now, here he was, looking like a blonde god from the high reaches of heaven. He looked magnificent and whole and healthy.
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 138