FATHERS AND SONS
Medieval Dynasties
By Kathryn Le Veque
Copyright © 1996, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2017, 2018 by Kathryn Le Veque
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Printed by Kathryn Le Veque Novels in the United States of America
Kathryn Le Veque Novels
Medieval Romance:
De Wolfe Pack Series:
Warwolfe
The Wolfe
Nighthawk
ShadowWolfe
DarkWolfe
A Joyous de Wolfe Christmas
Serpent
A Wolfe Among Dragons
Scorpion
Dark Destroyer
The Lion of the North
Walls of Babylon
StormWolfe
BlackWolfe
The de Russe Legacy:
The Falls of Erith
Lord of War: Black Angel
The Iron Knight
Beast
The Dark One: Dark Knight
The White Lord of Wellesbourne
Dark Moon
Dark Steel
A de Russe Christmas Miracle
The de Lohr Dynasty:
While Angels Slept
Rise of the Defender
Steelheart
Shadowmoor
Silversword
Spectre of the Sword
Unending Love
Archangel
Lords of East Anglia:
While Angels Slept
Godspeed
Great Lords of le Bec:
Great Protector
House of de Royans:
Lord of Winter
To the Lady Born
Lords of Eire:
Echoes of Ancient Dreams
Blacksword
The Darkland
Ancient Kings of Anglecynn:
The Whispering Night
Netherworld
Battle Lords of de Velt:
The Dark Lord
Devil’s Dominion
Bay of Fear
Reign of the House of de Winter:
Lespada
Swords and Shields
De Reyne Domination:
Guardian of Darkness
With Dreams
The Fallen One
House of d’Vant:
Tender is the Knight (House of d’Vant)
The Red Fury (House of d’Vant)
The Dragonblade Series:
Fragments of Grace
Dragonblade
Island of Glass
The Savage Curtain
The Fallen One
Great Marcher Lords of de Lara
Lord of the Shadows
Dragonblade
House of St. Hever
Fragments of Grace
Island of Glass
Queen of Lost Stars
Lords of Pembury:
The Savage Curtain
Lords of Thunder: The de Shera Brotherhood Trilogy
The Thunder Lord
The Thunder Warrior
The Thunder Knight
The Great Knights of de Moray:
Shield of Kronos
The Gorgon
The House of De Nerra:
The Promise
The Falls of Erith
Vestiges of Valor
Realm of Angels
Highland Warriors of Munro:
The Red Lion
Deep Into Darkness
The House of de Garr:
Lord of Light
Realm of Angels
Saxon Lords of Hage:
The Crusader
Kingdom Come
High Warriors of Rohan:
High Warrior
The House of Ashbourne:
Upon a Midnight Dream
The House of D’Aurilliac:
Valiant Chaos
The House of De Dere:
Of Love and Legend
St. John and de Gare Clans:
The Warrior Poet
The House of de Bretagne:
The Questing
The House of Summerlin:
The Legend
The Kingdom of Hendocia:
Kingdom by the Sea
The Executioner Knights:
By the Unholy Hand
The Promise (also Noble Knights of de Nerra)
The Mountain Dark
Starless
A Time of End
Contemporary Romance:
Kathlyn Trent/Marcus Burton Series:
Valley of the Shadow
The Eden Factor
Canyon of the Sphinx
The American Heroes Anthology Series:
The Lucius Robe
Fires of Autumn
Evenshade
Sea of Dreams
Purgatory
Other non-connected Contemporary Romance:
Lady of Heaven
Darkling, I Listen
In the Dreaming Hour
River’s End
The Fountain
Sons of Poseidon:
The Immortal Sea
Pirates of Britannia Series (with Eliza Knight):
Savage of the Sea by Eliza Knight
Leader of Titans by Kathryn Le Veque
The Sea Devil by Eliza Knight
Sea Wolfe by Kathryn Le Veque
Note: All Kathryn’s novels are designed to be read as stand-alones, although many have cross-over characters or cross-over family groups. Novels that are grouped together have related characters or family groups. You will notice that some series have the same books; that is because they are cross-overs. A hero in one book may be the secondary character in another.
There is NO reading order except by chronology, but even in that case, you can still read the books as stand-alones. No novel is connected to another by a cliff hanger, and every book has an HEA.
Series are clearly marked. All series contain the same characters or family groups except the American Heroes Series, which is an anthology with unrelated characters.
For more information, find it in A Reader’s Guide to the Medieval World of Le Veque.
Contents
Spectre of the Sword
Unending Love
Shield of Kronos
The Gorgon
Realm of Angels (Bonus Book)
SPECTRE OF THE SWORD
A Medieval Romance Novel
By Kathryn Le Veque
Dedicated to those who have provided me with such great encouragement and support over the years – my husband, my family, and my dear friends who have watched me go through the process of turning a hobby into my life’s work.
Thank you for encouraging me to reach for the stars!
‘Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine?’
~ Percy Bysshe Shelley
CHAPTER ONE
Year of our Lord 1203 A.D., November
Hyde House, London
“Take her, du Bois.” The command was a staccato hiss. “Even as we speak, there are assassins on her tail. You should have been out of here an hour ago.”
A massive knight with brilliant blue eyes was in motion before the command left the old man’s lips. In the dark corridors of the manor house with its mossy walls and cracked floors, he took the small lady by the arm and pulled her towards the stairs. Behind him, the old man who had issued the orders followed on their heels.
“You must leave London this night,” he went on, almost tripping as
he took the steps too fast. “I’ve arranged a safe haven for you in Ealing at Courtenay’s lodgings, but that is of course providing you can even make it there.”
They reached the bottom of the steps, continuing back into the bowels of the neglected old house. There was a sense of urgency in the air, bordering on panic. The knight felt it, even without the elderly man shuffling along behind him or the snarling lady in his grip. But he was a professional, a knight born and bred. He would not allow the fear or panic to touch him. He had a job to do.
“I can make it to Ealing, my lord,” he assured the old man in a tone that suggested no counter comment. “But your men must buy me some time. Just enough time to get her out of London is all I need.”
“No promises, du Bois. Be on your way.”
The old man followed the pair into the kitchen; the hollow chamber would have been pitch black had it not been for the torch the old man was carrying. As the knight grasped the iron latch that would lead into the kitchen yard where his charger waited, the old man reached out to grab him.
“Rhys, listen to me,” the man’s eyes, yellowed with age, bore into him. “I realize this is sudden and I further realize that until a few hours ago, you had no knowledge of the political upheaval transpiring. But hear me and hear me well; this is a mission in which you must not fail. If you do not get this lady to safety, much will be lost. England will be lost.”
Rhys du Bois gazed into the elderly man’s eyes as they reflected the torchlight. Hubert de Burgh was an old man now, having served his share of Plantagenet kings. He was the Chief Justiciar of England, wielding as much power as the king himself and this mission was no folly. As Rhys opened his mouth to reply, the front door to the manor house swung open, spilling forth a collection of men in wet armor. They brought torches with them and more weapons.
Rhys’ first instinct was to go for his broadsword until he realized that he recognized the men. The group headed towards him, splattering rain on the floor and walls.
“Rhys,” the big man in the lead spoke. “Why have you not left yet? We’ve already had two groups of assassins killed within a half mile of this place. You’d better leave right away and we’ll do what we can to cover your retreat.”
“We were just leaving, my lord,” Rhys assured his liege. “The lady had a bit of a… delay.”
The group of knights came to a halt. Two or three ran up the stairs with weapons drawn as a couple ran past Rhys and Hubert and the lady, throwing open the door and entering the soaked kitchen yard. Lightening flashed, showing their heavy broadswords poised and ready. They were looking for a fight, waiting.
The big knight flipped up his visor, his sky blue eyes fixed on Rhys. “What delay?” he demanded softly. “This is no time for foolishness, du Bois. You must remove the lady immediately.”
De Burgh cleared his throat softly, eyeing both Rhys and the cloak-covered lady. “It was not du Bois’ fault, Chris,” he said quietly. “They lady was… well, she was….”
A portion of the cloak suddenly flew back and the figure beneath was revealed. Luscious golden-red hair was bunched up around her slender shoulders, the face of an angel evident in the weak light. She would have been an exquisitely beautiful creature had the countenance of her face not been so dark. Her dark green eyes flashed furiously.
“I was locked in the closet,” she announced. “If those murdering blackhearts want to kill me, let them try. They shall have to get to me first. I was perfectly safe until de Burgh and his guard dog wrested me from my place of safety. And now they want to take me out into this horrific weather where all manner of creature can take aim to kill me? ’Tis lunacy!”
Christopher de Lohr, the Earl of Worcester and Hereford, gazed at the angry little woman before him. He tried to keep his cool, knowing time was of the essence. Besides, having a wife with much the same flaming disposition gave him the practice of keeping his calm when faced with a furious female. Still, it was a struggle.
“Lady Elizabeau Treveighan,” he greeted her calmly. “Allow me to explain the situation to you. You are in serious jeopardy. As the daughter of Geoffrey of Brittany and now the only surviving child that is not in captivity with the passing of your half-brother Arthur, you are the target of your Uncle John’s madness because you have been declared Arthur’s successor to the throne. Do you understand this, my lady?”
Even angry, she was a delectable little doll. Her sweet face was scrunched with rage. “I do not want to be his heir,” she snapped. “What of Eleanor? She is Arthur’s older sister. Give her the throne; I do not want it.”
“What you want is of no matter,” de Lohr replied evenly. “Eleanor of Brittany is, even now, a captive at Corfe Castle. If we do not remove you to safety, you too shall be either murdered or captured.”
There was more fear in her features than true anger. “But Eleanor is the true heiress.”
De Lohr sighed patiently. “But you are free. Eleanor cannot be Richard’s successor while she is bottled up in Corfe’s dungeons.” He took another step in her direction, an enormous man with an intimidating manner. “By virtue of the fact that you are not captive or prisoner and by virtue of the fact that you are Geoffrey’s sole remaining living child, you have been named successor. You must accept this and I promise that we shall all get along much better.”
She wasn’t happy in the least; her expression said so. “I would know who made this decision that I should take Arthur’s place and not Eleanor. Who on earth has the power to make this so?”
De Burgh interjected. “I did, my lady,” he said softly. “While John lives, only madness shall rule in England. The country will not survive. We need a true and noble ruler, my lady. We need you.”
The anger faded from her features, replaced by some trepidation. “But I am not a true royal,” she insisted, more softly this time. “I have not been groomed for this duty.”
“You will be.”
The way de Burgh said it made the statement sound as if there was no argument. Even de Lohr looked at him as he spoke the words; there was power and decision in them. They all knew the stakes. They were the opposition to the crown; this was treason of the highest order.
Elizabeau knew it too and the more she thought on it, the more frightened she became. But she refused to let them see her fear. “If that is so, then why are you sending me out into the dead of night with only one man for protection?” she asked. “Every man under John’s belt is out to carve a piece of me.”
De Lohr cocked a blond eyebrow. “You have been pledged to a nephew of Emperor Otto the Fourth, a marriage which will solidify the unity between the Holy Roman Empire and England. France will be boxed in from both sides with the Holy Roman Empire to the east and England to the West. The emperor’s troops will help us secure your throne once the marriage has taken place. Phillip’s power will be seriously limited and your Uncle John will be neutralized.”
Elizabeau gritted her teeth impatiently. “I know all of that. But you still have not answered my question.”
“And what is that, my lady?”
“Why are you sending me into the dark with a lone knight for protection?”
De Lohr, who had once been the right hand of Richard the Lion Heart and the man known throughout the realm as the King’s Champion, cast a long glance at Rhys. The man is in for one hell of an experience with this one, he thought dryly.
“This isn’t simply a lone knight, my lady,” he said after a moment. “The man holding you within his grasp is one of my very best. Make no mistake; he is a man of great experience and strength.”
“He is a mere knight. How dare you trust my life to someone so… so simple.”
De Lohr held up a finger. “Ah, that is where you are grossly mistaken, my lady,” his reply had an edge of sharpness. “The knight you have just insulted is the fourth son of the Duke of Navarre. He has lineage and nobility to match your own. If I were you, I would have a little more respect.”
Elizabeau inevitably looked up at the man
holding her arm; he was in full armor, a broad bear of a man made more enormous by the protection he wore. All she could see, and all she had ever seen of him since they had been introduced a scarce half-hour earlier, were his eyes, nose and part of a mouth beneath the mail and three-point helm. Everything else was covered with well-used armor or buried under layers of dirks and weaponry.
She locked gazes with him, eyes of the most brilliant blue she had ever seen. They were so bright that they glowed. There was a strange jolt to the moment, as if something was buzzing inside her head, and she quickly tore her gaze away. The brilliant blue eyes of the knight were unnerving. In fact, the entire evening had been unnerving and she was struggling with her equilibrium.
“Then I apologize,” she said, though it was not directed at anyone in particular. “But I simply do not understand why I am not kept here, under guard. Surely it will be much more difficult to kill me if I am locked up in a fortress.”
De Lohr was finished discussing the subject. He snapped his fingers at Rhys, who began walking again. “I will meet you in Ealing,” he told du Bois, eyeing more knights racing from the front of the house and through the kitchens. “For now, I will hold back the pursuers. But I cannot guarantee that you will not be followed. You will have to be vigilant.”
Rhys nodded sharply. “Understood, my lord.”
Elizabeau opened her mouth to protest but Rhys jerked her through the kitchen door and silenced whatever words she had been preparing to spout. De Burgh and de Lohr followed.
It was pouring rain as he led the lady out into the elements. The kitchen yard was full of mud, horses and armed men as Rhys leaned over and swept the lady into his arms, lifting her up onto his destrier. He did not handle her gently and she glared at him as he roughly settled her. But he ignored her as he mounted behind her, adjusting his stirrups to account for his altered position in the saddle. The lady tightened her cloak against the weather.
“Lady Elizabeau,” de Burgh was standing next to her left leg, watching her fuss with her hood. “Please understand that we are doing this for your own good. You must make your rendezvous with your betrothed and du Bois is ordered to escort you there. This marriage must take place if England is to survive. You must survive.”
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