Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Nothing. All was peaceful.”

  Tevin could feel men next to him and behind him, listening to Val’s story. He could feel their concern, their rage, waiting orders from Viscount Winterton on how to proceed. From the corner of his eye, Tevin caught sight of heavy, dirty boots. He knew those boots and fury surged through him as he turned in the direction of Simon. John was standing slightly behind him, both knights distressed with what they were hearing.

  But their distress wasn’t nearly what Tevin’s was. Veins stood out on his forehead as he faced his insubordinate knights and struggled not to explode in all directions.

  “You were supposed to escort them,” he jabbed a big finger at the men. “By what right did you disobey my order and give the duty to Sutton and de Reigate?”

  John took a step back from his furious liege but Simon stood his ground. “We reasoned that, as new knights, they were in need of earning your trust and escorting the ladies was an opportunity to do that,” he said steadily. “Moreover, de Gael was expecting to gather a force against Matilda and we would serve you better in battle than as an escort.”

  Tevin was quickly veering out of control, looking for something, or someone, to focus his grief on. His body tensed as he took a menacing step in their direction.

  “I will decide how you will better serve me,” he snarled. “You were expected to ride escort and now see what has happened? Dagan and Gavril have been killed and Lady Cantia and my daughter are missing.”

  Tevin was as furious as anyone had ever seen him, Simon and John included. They had both served Tevin long enough to know that the only thing they could do was beg forgiveness. Otherwise, the situation would get violent. Du Reims was known to have a vicious temper when roused.

  “Forgive, my lord,” Simon dropped his head submissively. “Certainly we would have done all in our power to have prevented such a thing. We beg your forgiveness.”

  Tevin wasn’t satisfied. If anything, the submissive gesture only infuriated him more and as he lifted a hand to grab Simon by the hair, Myles intervened.

  “Nay, Tevin,” he said calmly, turning the coiled man back towards his sister. “It was not their fault. Had they been there, they would more than likely have been killed as well. At the moment, we have more important things to deal with.”

  Tevin allowed Myles to refocus him on Val, mostly because he knew, at some level, the man was correct. Simon and John, disobedient as they had been, were not responsible. So he returned his attention to his sister, feeling the cracks in his composure grow deeper and more pronounced. He was shattering and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Somehow, he ended up back on his knees beside Val with Myles kneeling beside him.

  “Val,” Myles put his big hand on Val’s head, tenderly. “How long were you riding before this happened?”

  Val thought a moment. “About… about an hour. Not long.”

  Myles looked at Tevin. “That cannot be too far away,” he said. “I will assemble a strike force immediately.”

  Tevin could only nod. He wasn’t sure he was capable of much more, fighting against emotions on a level he had never before experienced. All he knew was that he wanted to collapse in sorrow, yet in the same breath, he wanted to kill like he’d never wanted to kill in his life. It was an odd combination.

  As he was laboring against intense grief, he noticed Myles as the man kissed Val on the forehead and quit the room, but he didn’t give the gesture a second thought. He could hear Myles snapping orders to the others as he went, clearing out the rooms and getting the men moving. Somewhere in the chaos, the voices of Simon and John could be heard, and a whole host of men-at-arms were being roused. The viscount’s trusted men were in action once again, doing what they did best, but the viscount himself was unmoving. Tevin remained on his knees beside his sister, becoming more despondent by the moment.

  Val watched her brother, seeing the turmoil in his eyes. “There was no blood that I could see,” she told him. “Our baggage was missing as well. It was a robbery, I am sure, taking Cantia and the children simply because….”

  “Because she is the most beautiful woman they have ever seen,” his lower lip began to tremble as he closed his eyes tightly against the horrific mental images that were swamping him. The tears came and Val watched as her brother, the most powerful man she’d ever known, succumbed to bone-numbing grief. When his dark eyes opened, they were intense against his pale face.

  “It is my fault,” he hissed. “Had I not… I sent her away, I sent you all away, to escape Geoff and see how my plan has come to ruin. Had I only kept everyone here….”

  Val grasped his wrist, squeezing. “You did what you had to do,” she insisted softly. “You had no choice. You believed you were doing what was best for all of us.”

  He wasn’t soothed. He wiped at his eyes, fighting off a sob. “And Arabel,” he whispered miserably. “My Dear God, my daughter… what has happened to her?”

  Val could see her brother was verging on a collapse and she struggled to sit up, to comfort him.

  “Tevin, listen to me,” she held on to his big hand. “You are impeccable in your judgment, always. We all trust you with our lives. What happened… it was not your fault and you must not blame yourself.”

  He dropped his chin to his chest, lowering his head until he fell face-first onto the mattress beside his sister. “I made the decision,” he wept. “There is no one to blame but me. If Cantia and Arabel have come to ruin, I… I cannot live with the guilt. I will not live without them.”

  Seized with horror, Val grasped his face, forcing him to look at her. She was angry, exhausted, weak, tears brimming in her dark eyes.

  “Listen to me,” she hissed. “I have lost my mother and father and one brother. You are all I have left and I will not hear this, do you understand? I hate you for saying such things, Tevin. It was not your fault. None of this was. Take a stand and be the strong man that I know you are, for weakness and self-pity do not suit you. If Cantia and Arabel are still alive, you shame them with this behavior. They need your help and all you can think of is yourself.”

  Tevin looked at his sister, so pale and angry, hearing every word like a hammer in his brain. But as he gazed at her, her meaning began to set in and he realized she was right. If Cantia and Arabel were indeed alive, they were waiting for him to save them.

  Tevin was a smart man. He knew his power and he knew what he was capable of. No matter who had taken Cantia and his daughter, he had the resources and the resolve to find them. And when he did, no matter if it was Lucifer himself, he could and would defeat them. No battle in his life would ever be more important than the one to come. Perhaps all other battles he had been involved in were simply practice for this one. It was the only one that mattered.

  “I am sorry,” he said after a moment, swallowing his tears and laboring to regain his composure. “You are right, you are entirely right. Forgive me my moment of weakness.”

  Val could see he meant it. She could see the light of sanity returning to his dark eyes and she sighed heavily, with great relief, lying back against the pillow.

  “There is nothing to forgive, brother,” she murmured. “We are all entitled to moments of temporary insanity. What matters now is what you intend to do. Myles is assembling your men in the bailey.”

  Tevin drew in a deep breath, wiping his face of any remaining moisture and squaring his enormous shoulders. He stood up, rather unsteadily at first, as he shook himself and regained his composure. As he calmed, his mind began to work in only the way Tevin’s was capable. It was steely, deep, and far-reaching. He drew on those characteristics to pull him through the crisis.

  “Geoff will see the men assembling in the bailey and he will want to know why,” he said, hearing the muted sounds of men and horses. “I have no choice but to tell him the truth. There is no point in lying to the man. He will know that Cantia and Arabel have been taken and we must retrieve them.”

  Val watched him pace in the tiny room. “He
may want to ride with you.”

  “Let him. But he will take orders from me.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment, watching as the great warlord made a strong return. This was the brother she knew, the deadly and cunning warrior that no man could best. She sought to help him as much as she could.

  “As I told you, it took me about an hour to return to Rochester, and I am supposing Dagan and Gavril’s corpses are still where I last saw them,” she said quietly. “That will be your starting point. As I recall, it was a rather wooded area, so they could have traveled in any number of directions but it should not be difficult to find trampled paths through the foliage. The trees worked both for and against them. It shielded them from our party, but it will also leave a trail for you to follow.”

  Tevin nodded, his mind already moving to the ride south. He looked at his sister, seeing her wounded body as the result of the attack, and his focus shifted to her for the moment. “Has the surgeon already examined you?”

  She nodded faintly. “Right before you came.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That I have a crack on my skull and I am bruised, but that I should heal.”

  “Then I am grateful for small mercies this day.” His dark eyes bore into her. “Have no doubt that I will return, and when I do, it will be with Cantia and Arabel.”

  Val smiled faintly. “Do not forget Hunt.”

  “Never.”

  Forcing a smile at his sister, Tevin moved to the doorway but paused before he left the room completely. “Val?”

  “Aye?”

  He gave her a rather reproachful look, as much as he could muster. “Do not believe for one minute that I did not see de Lohr kiss you,” he said. “Take heed that I will deal with his bold actions upon my return.”

  Val started giggling. “You will not.”

  “I will.”

  “Leave him alone or you will face my wrath.”

  He scowled. “Are you saying that you… you approve of his actions? His forwardness? His slobbering lips against your flesh?”

  “All that and more.”

  His scowl turned into an expression of outrage. “What more is there?”

  Val’s giggles turned into full-blown laughter, wincing because it hurt her head to laugh so much. She waved her brother on. “I will not tell you. Go now and find Cantia and Arabel.”

  He broke down into a smile. “I will.”

  “Do not come back without them.”

  His smile faded and a deadly gleam came to his eye. “I swear I will not. With God as my witness, I will not.”

  Val believed him implicitly.

  *

  It was morning. Lying on the same blanket that had covered her head for most of the night, Cantia could see the soft strains of early morning light infiltrating the shelter. It was cold but she had her arms around Arabel and Hunt, both children sleeping soundly in the early morning. But Cantia had never felt less like sleeping in her life.

  She really wasn’t sure where she was, and she had no idea how long they had traveled to get here. It felt like days. The men who had abducted her had hardly said a word between them, and they didn’t speak to her at all until they reached their encampment. Then, their only words were directions to enter the shelter and stay there with the children. She did, mostly because Arabel was weeping hysterically and she wanted to soothe the young girl. She didn’t even bother to speak to them or ask any questions, at least for the moment. All she wanted to do was make sure the children were well. She would deal with the rest later.

  Now it was morning and she could hear the birds chirping, awaking to the new day. She lifted her head, looking around the tent, hearing sounds all around them. People were talking and there was the soft crunch of leaves as they moved through the forest. She smelled smoke. Feeling some bravery, as well as outrage and confusion, she got up and dared to step outside.

  It was brisk and clear. Cantia glanced back at the shelter that had housed them through the night. It was made from leaves, rocks, pieces of wood, basically anything that would fit together and hold a shape. They were in an area that had some rolling hills to it and this particular shelter was backed up into the base of a rise so that the back end of it was pushed into the dirt. She stood by the door, looking around the area now that daylight had come, and she could see an entire camp spread out before her.

  There was a surprising number of people milling about, collecting wood for the fire and water for cooking. A small stream ran over to her left, about a dozen yards away, and she could see both men and women drawing water. There also seemed to be a massive cooking fire off to the right, just outside of a hedge of trees, and she could see a few people gathering around it.

  Increasingly puzzled, she stepped away from the door, growing more interested in her surroundings, when someone abruptly grabbed her by the wrist.

  Startled, she shrieked as he yanked her away from the stone and wood shelter, pulling her with him as he walked towards the massive cooking fire in the near distance. The man who had her in his grasp wasn’t particularly large, but he had a strong grip as he pulled her along. He looked at her and Cantia could see that he was older, with stringy dark hair and flashing dark eyes, and his body was lithe and wiry. Then he smiled at her, a rather insane gesture, and she was stabbed by fear.

  “See who I have!” he bellowed to anyone who would listen. “Our prize has awoken!”

  Some of the people began cheering and Cantia tried to pull away from him as he dragged her over to the cooking fire. He yelled some more, drawing a crowd, and people began to come out of their lean-tos and shacks to see what all of the commotion was about. By the time they reached the cooking fire, Cantia was nearly in full-blown panic, trying desperately to pull away from the man. As they came to a halt in a crowd of dirty, smelly, loud people, he slapped her across the face when she tried to kick him.

  “That will be enough from you, woman,” he growled, his mad-like grin vanished. “Behave yourself.”

  Cantia’s hand flew to her stinging cheek. It hadn’t been a hard slap, but it had been enough to smart. “Behave myself?” she repeated, angry and afraid. “You abducted me and my son, and you have the gall to tell me to behave?”

  The crowd snickered as the man just looked at her. Then, that crazy grin returned. “Ah,” he said, almost sweetly. “Listen to her speak. She is a fine, fine lady with a noble background. Is that not correct, little chicken?”

  Cantia glanced around at the crowd nervously. “Who are you? Tell me your name.”

  The man snorted. “Still, she makes demands. This is a woman used to having her way.”

  The crowd cheered and jeered and Cantia was struggling not to become completely terrified. “I was not making demands,” she clarified, hoping she didn’t sound arrogant. She didn’t want to appear demanding in front of this rather rough group. “I was simply asking a question. Who are you and why did you abduct us?”

  Without letting go of her wrist, the man bowed deeply. “M’lady,” he said mockingly. “I was under the impression we were saving you.”

  Cantia’s fight came to a halt, stumped by his statement. She looked at him, shocked. “What… what do you mean?”

  The man mimicked her expression. “Were you not in danger? Were you not about to be abducted by that knight, perhaps even worse?”

  Cantia was at a loss, suddenly not feeling so completely frightened. “You saw what happened?”

  The man nodded confidently. “We had been trailing your party for some time,” he said. “We saw the knight kill his two colleagues and set upon you. So we saved you and your children.”

  He seemed very proud of himself. Cantia was completely baffled. “You saved us?” she repeated. “What in the world is going on here? Why were you following us?”

  The man shrugged. “Because you were there,” he said simply. “To tell you the truth, we were going to rob you but when we saw the knight turn against you, we decided to act. Perhaps it was because
of the children or perhaps it was because we still seek your riches. I do not know. Perhaps we may kill you after all.”

  Cantia was back to fear again. “Please do not kill us,” she begged softly. “If it is money you seek, then I can promise you a handsome reward if you return us to Rochester Castle.”

  The man’s careless and rather humorous posturing fled and he peered at her, clearly interested.

  “Rochester Castle?” he said, somewhat incredulous. “Is that your home?”

  She nodded eagerly. “Aye,” she replied. “My… my husband is Viscount Winterton. He will pay you a great deal of money if you return the children and me unharmed.”

  The crowd rumbled restlessly and the man seemed to lose some of his confidence. In truth, he looked rather uncertain.

  “Winterton,” he repeated. “Is he not part of East Anglia?”

  By his tone, Cantia wasn’t so certain that was a good thing. She didn’t like the way he said it. But she didn’t back out, not after she’d already divulged the information.

  “Aye,” she said, eyeing him, eyeing the crowd. “Please return us to Rochester. I will make sure you receive a goodly reward.”

  The man let go of her wrist. He seemed to be oddly subdued, unusual for a man who had been so animated moments before. He looked around the fire, at the faces of the dirty and destitute people, seemingly lost in thought. Cantia watched with mounting apprehension as he seemed to ponder her offer.

  “He will kill us,” he finally said.

  Cantia shook her head. “Nay, he will not,” she insisted. “You did indeed save us from a rogue knight. My husband will greatly reward you, I promise.”

  The man’s gaze lingered on her. “Winterton is a man without mercy. I should know. His army burned my village and destroyed my home. My family and I had to take refuge in the forest because we have nowhere else to go. Now we live here, with these fine people, and we take what we want.”

  With that, he grabbed her wrist again and yanked her roughly in the direction they had come. The crowd yelled and cheered as the man spouted all of the terrible things he planned to do to the prisoner.