Lyle simply nodded, noticing that Emilie couldn’t even bring herself to say David’s name after all of these months. The pain of his departure was still fresh. All that aside, he also knew that Lillibet was perpetually punishing Nathalie and Elise for their constant pranks, finally coming to a head when the girls turned their venom on David those months ago. Horse dung in the pillow of a man who had just found out his brother had perished had not been the smartest thing they’d ever done, although in their defense, they didn’t know anything about David’s brother.
Still, between Emilie and Lillibet, they had overridden any protests from Lyle and taken matters into their own hands. Nathalie and Elise were never alone, alone to concoct wicked plans, and were therefore put to work – they would help bake bread and churn butter, they helped the stable master with the horses (since they liked horse dung so much), and Lillibet had task after task lined up for them, mostly sewing or reading the bible out loud. That had curbed their wicked streak and the men of Canterbury rejoiced.
But his daughters’ punishment wasn’t a big concern of Lyle these days. His concern was, and had been, Emilie since David had departed after his brother had died. Her existence had been a painful one. Two days after David had been informed of his brother’s passing, he suddenly left without a word to anyone except Emilie, and she couldn’t even speak of it for days. Lyle finally stopped asking until one night, after she’d had too much wine, the story all came spilling out.
Refusal to marry… possible marriage to his brother’s widow… affairs to settle… Emilie was not a priority. All of these things came spilling out of Emilie’s mouth as Lyle and Brickley had sat in stunned silence. Neither one of them had any idea that all of this had gone on. Lyle had been somewhat dubious of his daughter’s explanation on David’s flight but Brickley had believed her implicitly. And that’s where the problems begin.
Lyle seemed to think that Brickley, with David perhaps gone for good, thought that he now stood a chance with Emilie again. His pursuit of her had been far subtler than it had been before, mostly agreeing with her assessment of David and being quite chivalrous to her when he happened to be around her. It wasn’t anything strong, or obvious, but Lyle could tell that Brickley’s interest in his daughter had resumed. He had reminded Brickley on more than one occasion that Emilie was still pledged to David but Brickley tried to pretend he was quite innocent to Lyle’s meaning. Lyle knew that he wasn’t.
He knew that Brickley had a plan in mind.
Gazing down at Emilie as she looked up at him, Lyle had to shake thoughts of Brickley from his mind. Even if his daughter had given up on David, Lyle hadn’t. He just didn’t think the man was capable of what Emilie said he was capable of. Perhaps he was blinded by the de Lohr name, but he didn’t think so. He simply thought there was more to the situation than Emilie had told him.
“Come out of there,” Lyle said after a moment, waving her up the stairs as Roland and Cid, down in the storage room chasing rodents, barked behind her. “Come up to the hall and let us eat. I am famished.”
Emilie obeyed, gathering her skirts to take the narrow stairs up to the floor above. She called to the dogs, who were lonely these days without Nathalie and Elise to play with. The younger girls were so busy with whatever Lillibet planned for them that they simply hadn’t time. So Emilie mounted the steps with the bored dogs moving up behind her, climbing the stairs with their dog-paws. By the time she came to the level above, which was a small alcove in the small hall, her father was standing in the middle of the room speaking with a soldier. Upon second look, the soldier looked most frantic in expression and gesture. The man was pointing to the gatehouse. Emilie frowned.
“Papa?” she said. “Is anything the matter?”
Lyle looked at her, surprise registering in his expression. He waved the soldier along and the man fled from the hall, out of the keep. Lyle held his hand out to his daughter.
“Come with me,” he said. “Hurry.”
Emilie took his hand and together they raced from the keep with Cid and Roland running behind them. “Where are we going?” Emilie asked.
Lyle didn’t answer her. He simply led her down the steps to the bailey and then ran towards the gatehouse, still clutching her hand.
“Papa?”
Emilie’s voice was worried, inquisitive, but Lyle still didn’t answer. Even as they approached the gatehouse as the night fell, they could hear the clash of swords. The gatehouse was shadowed, with soldiers gathered up near the half-open portcullis, but Lyle pushed his way through, dragging Emilie behind him, when he suddenly came face to face with the reality of it.
David de Lohr had returned and Brickley was trying to keep the man out of Canterbury.
Shocked, Lyle watched a very bad scene indeed; Brickley was bloodied and struggling from David having cut the back of one of his knees, severing tendons. Brickley was dragging the leg behind him, trying to fend off David, who was as swift as the wind as he repeatedly attacked Brickley, trying to beat the man down. It was a fight that wasn’t long for the going; with Brickley badly injured, it was only a matter of time before David overwhelmed him and, more than likely, killed him. It was a graphic and heart-wrenching scene.
It was one not lost on Emilie. Upon seeing David, she started to cry out but Lyle slapped a hand over her mouth to quiet her. Any sound from her would distract one or both knights, possibly giving one of them the edge of the other. That being the case, someone was likely to be killed and Lyle didn’t want his daughter to be any part of the scene playing out before him, a scene that had been years in the making, ever since that day in December when David first set eyes on Emilie. Aye, it had been that long in the making. Now, the very thing he had feared all along was coming to pass.
Brickley was in bad shape. His leg was uncontrollable from David’s very wise tactic to disable his enemy early on in the fight, so he was fighting from a kneeling position as David struck at him again and again, kicking him over, and kicking him again when he was down. Somehow, Brickley would manage to keep his torso away from David’s blade and use his good leg to shove the man away so he could regain his feet, but it wasn’t pretty to watch. It was like watching death throes.
Lyle had a feeling that he was about to lose a good knight and the knowledge saddened him. In fact, the entire situation did, but he understood the bare bones of what he saw before him – a knight’s pride. That was really all it was. Brickley had been foolish enough to believe Emilie and thought he was doing her a favor by keeping David away, while David believed that Brickley had no business in his affairs. David was in the right; Brickley had put himself into a situation that didn’t involve him. One man’s romantic pride over another man’s chivalrous ego.
But it was a situation that involved Emilie. She’d spent the past three months trying to forget about David because she was convinced that he’d gone to Lioncross to marry his brother’s widow. That was truly what she believed. Or perhaps she had simply talked herself into it because of the stress of the last conversation she’d had with David. He had refused to marry her before leaving and she took that to be a sign that he did not want to.
So she’d spent the past three months miserable with sorrow, struggling daily to forget about the man she loved, but the truth was that she couldn’t forget about him. Even when he sent her missives, and he’d sent several, she’d simply burned them, and happily. She didn’t want to read of a wedding announcement or, worse, perhaps even a statement that he had been sorry to ever agree to a betrothal. She’d told him not to come back and she truly hoped he wouldn’t. She didn’t know what reason he would have for coming back. He’d made it clear that she was not a priority.
… but here he was.
Stunned, and horrified, she watched as David beat Brickley down with his sword. Brickley was wounded, unable to move, and David was simply toying with him, but there seemed more to it than that. There was anger in David’s movements and she watched, as they all did, as David finally wrested Bri
ckley’s sword from him and tossed it aside. At that point, everyone expected David to slay Brickley right in front of them. In fact, Emilie was so terrified that she was about to witness Brickley’s death that she yanked her father’s hand away from her mouth and called out to him.
“David, don’t!” she cried. “Do not kill him!”
David, in full battle mode, suddenly came to a halt and turned in the direction of the half-open portcullis. It was darker now as the sun set, and fatted torches upon the wall illuminated the scene on the road below, casting shadows into the night.
A great battle of warriors had taken place in the road outside of the gatehouse, a great battle until David had cut the tendons behind Brickley’s left knee. With Brickley down, the battle had turned into a death watch. But with Emilie’s voice piercing the night, David turned to see her standing behind the portcullis with Lyle’s arm around her shoulders. She appeared pale and frightened, but David had never seen a more beautiful sight. It also served to fuel his rage, knowing that Brickley had, since nearly the beginning of their association, tried to keep David from Emilie. He wanted her for himself.
He still wanted her for himself.
So David tossed his sword away, into the soft grass, and turned to Brickley in fury. His big fists, gloved, began to pound into Brickley’s head and face, sending the man to the ground.
“That is for the slugging me the jaw at the mask at Windsor,” he snarled, pulling Brickley up so he could slug him again. “And that – is for pursuing Emilie even when she told you she did not want you. You are a foolish and idiotic man, de Dere. I should have taken your head off long ago but I didn’t do it. I thought I was being magnanimous but I can see that you only thought I was being weak. Trying to keep me from Emilie tonight is the last nail in your coffin. Tonight, I am going to end this.”
He pounded Brickley a few more times as the man tried to defend himself. David kicked at Brickley, too, in his bad leg, and Brickley struggled not to cry out. Over by the portcullis, Emilie was watching with such horror that she couldn’t take anymore. She was sickened and frightened and overwhelmed with everything. Before Lyle could stop her, she darted underneath the portcullis and ran out onto the road.
“David, stop!” she begged. “Please – no more!”
Breathing heavily with rage and exertion, David turned around to see that she was only a few feet away. The fear on her face had an impact with him. He was in battle mode and fully prepared to beat Brickley to death, but the sight of Emilie’s face stopped him. He staggered back, away from Brickley and away from Emilie. Yanking his helm off, he tossed it aside as his pale eyes blazed.
“He told me that you do not wish to see me,” he said, pointing to Brickley. “He told me that you burned all of my missives. I told him I would not go until I heard it from your lips, Emilie, so tell me now – do you want me to go? If you tell me to leave, I will and I will never come back. I will never bother you again.”
Words of dismissal were on her lips; they really were. But the longer she gazed at David, the weaker she became. God, she loved him so. She knew she did. All of those months of separation were beginning to dissolve, mixing with fonder memories, until she couldn’t really remember the anger and sadness she had towards him. The heart was funny that way. But there were unanswered questions that needed resolution before.
“Did you marry your brother’s widow?” she asked.
He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “I have no idea why you think I would do such a thing,” he said, exasperated. “You said it before but I do not know why you did. I never said anything to make you think that was my intention.”
She wouldn’t back down. “You said you had to go and see to her,” she said. “You refused to marry me before you left and by your own words you were going to tend to a woman without a husband. I did not misunderstand you when you said that.”
He grunted, shaking his head. “Then you wrongly assumed,” he said. “I will be honest with you, Emilie; I left Lioncross weeks ago. I have been traveling through England coming to terms with my brother’s death and trying to understand if I have really been treating you as poorly as you say I have been. If I have, it was never intentional. I do not love my brother’s wife and no matter what sense of duty I have towards her, it is not in the romantic sense and it certainly had nothing to do with marrying her. It is you I adore. Is that clear enough for you?”
Emilie nodded, feeling somewhat subdued by his words. But it didn’t erase the fact that he hadn’t been willing to marry her before he left. Confused, and hurt, she simply nodded her head.
“It is,” she said quietly. “But my assumption is not totally my fault. There has always been something in you that has been unwilling to commit to marriage. You told me when I first met you that you were not the marrying kind. We have been betrothed for quite some time and still no marriage. I will tell you this; if you intend to return to me now and not marry me, then I would have you not return at all. I will not be waiting for you until I am old and you are old and there is no point in marrying at all. I told you before I would not be a convenience, someone to come to when you are lonely or in despair. I would have a husband and children and a home of my own. If you are not willing to give me these things, then let me find someone who is.”
David sighed heavily at her somewhat painful speech. “I did not want to marry you before I left for Lioncross because my focus, at that time, was solely on my brother’s death,” he said, his voice dropping in volume because people were listening. He felt as if he was laying his life out for all to hear but he had little choice at the moment. “I knew I could not give our marriage the attention it deserved. I would have been distracted and distraught. Is that how you would want our wedding to be? With the groom grieving his brother’s death and unable to experience the joy of the wedding?”
Emilie’s brow furrowed. “Then why did you not tell me that?”
“You did not give me a chance,” he said. “You were so busy trying to force me to marry you before I left that you did not give me that chance.”
He was right. Emilie was coming to realize that she had created some of the issue between them with her willingness to quickly assume the worst. It was a bad fault she had. Still, she knew she wasn’t completely to blame.
“Mayhap that is true,” she said softly. “But it was not as if you were willing and talkative on the morning you left. You did not say very much to me at all, only that you had to leave and see to your brother’s widow. What was I supposed to think, David?”
David shook his head, realizing they both shared some fault at the situation. “I am sure you had no other choice than to think what you did,” he said. He turned to look at Brickley, seated on the ground several feet away with his head in his hand. His attention returned to Emilie. “Did you really burn my missives?”
She nodded without hesitation. “I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I did not want to read a wedding announcement.”
He shook his head. “I would never marry Dustin,” he said again. “Moreover, she and Christin do not need me. Marcus Burton has stepped forward to take care of them and they shall be his burden from now on.”
Emilie felt much better after hearing that. “For their sake, I am glad.”
He shrugged his shoulders, unwilling to go into the entire fiasco of the battle between him and Marcus and the reasons why Richard had sent him back to Canterbury. He gestured at Brickley.
“He needs a physic,” he said. “Have someone tend him. But not you.”
She turned to her father, gesturing frantically to the man and pointing to Brickley. When Lyle began to send men to Brickley’s aid, she turned to David, fighting off a grin.
“Why can I not tend him?” she asked.
David was moving towards the swords and helm he’d tossed away. “Because if you do, I will kill him,” he said. “Is that clear enough.”
“It is.”
“Did he try to woo y
ou while I was gone?”
Emilie shook her head. “Not that I was aware of,” she said. “Even if he did, I am sure you know me well enough to know that it would not have made a difference.”
David bent down, picking up his sword and Brickley’s, and then collecting his helm with his other hand. “I know you well enough to know that you are maddening and stubborn and bewildering at times,” he said, looking her in the eye. “But I also know that you are sweet, intelligent, gentle, and kind, and I love you with all my heart. If you are still willing to marry me, I would very much be willing to marry you.”
Emilie’s lips blossomed with a full and beautiful smile, touched deeply by his words. God, she was so glad to have him back. Gazing into that handsome face seemed to melt away every sorrow and every disappointment he’d ever created, real or imagined.
“Aye,” she murmured. “I am still willing. Happily so.”
Bloodied, exhausted, and beaten, with two swords in one and a helm in the other, he walked up to her and bent down, kissing her quite lustily in full view of the entire castle of Canterbury. Men began to whistle and clap, encouraging David’s show of affection, and Emilie threw her arms around David’s neck and held him fast. Finally, he was back, and he was here to stay.
Finally, David had come home.
*
He wasn’t going to stay.
In his second floor room of the gatehouse, Brickley had packed the last of his possessions into his saddle bags, crammed full of things he had accumulated over the years. Five days after his beating at the hands of David, he had determined he couldn’t stay at Canterbury any longer. He couldn’t watch the woman he loved marry a man who came and went as he pleased without any recourse. If Emilie wanted to be stupid with her life, then that was her affair. He didn’t have to stick around to see it.
Limping from the injury to his left leg, he was still well enough to move around and he could certainly ride. He thought he might travel north to East Anglia and see if the earl could use another knight. He’d fought under East Anglia at Gowergrove and he rather liked the man. Besides, anything was better than remaining here.
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 153