Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1

by Kathryn Le Veque

  For a short while, she watched the mist-shrouded landscape pass through the small window, her mind wandering back to Erith and her family, wondering if her father was indeed planning to pursue her. She wondered if her grandmother had confessed her part in the escape, and if Lady Gray had talked her father out of his vengeance. She wondered if her father would even listen.

  Not an hour into her journey south, Ellowyn fell asleep against the gently rocking carriage.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Guildford Castle

  Thirteen days after the hasty departure from Erith Castle, the soaring keep of Guildford came into view.

  Seated in her carriage playing a card game from a deck of lovely painted cards that Brandt had purchased for her in the larger berg of Warrington about a week prior, Ellowyn heard the shouts of the men as their home was finally within sight. Sticking her head out of the window, she caught sight of the big white keep on the horizon, a pale-looking mountain against the deep blue sky.

  Cards still in hand, she looked around for the nearest knight. There was always a knight riding near her coach, usually her husband, but today he was at the head of the column. She spied Magnus and waved him over.

  “Is that Guildford?” she asked, pointing to the sight in the distance.

  De Reyne nodded his helmed head. “Indeed, Lady de Russe,” he said. “We will be there within the hour.”

  She shielded her eyes from the sun. “It seems so far away,” she murmured. Then she removed her hand and looked at Magnus. “Do you think that Brennan and Alex have reached their homes yet?”

  St. Hèver and Alex de Lara had been sent to their respective father’s holdings almost two weeks before to seek men and material for Brandt’s return to France. Their absences had been felt, mostly by Ellowyn who had become friendly with Brennan. He would talk to her as they rode along keeping her company when Brandt could not. The other knights just seemed to keep a polite distance with her. With the big, blond knight missing, she had been rather lonely.

  “I am sure they arrived at their destinations several days ago,” Magnus replied. “In fact, I would not be surprised if they were already on their way to Guildford.”

  “How many men do you suppose they will be bringing?”

  Magnus shrugged. “That is difficult to say,” he replied. “The Duke of Carlisle has an enormous complement of men, but he is close to the Scots border and does not like to diminish his strength. The same can be said for the Earl of Wrexham on the Welsh Marches.”

  She was thoughtful. “Then perhaps my husband will need to solicit men elsewhere.”

  “That is a distinct possibility, my lady.”

  Ellowyn thought on the fact that Brandt might need to spend more time in England before heading back to France and the thought did not displease her. As she pondered that possibility, she began looking around, taking an interest in the landscape for the first time in days.

  “It seems as if I have been caged in this coach for years,” she said, shielding her eyes from the sun again. “I have not paid much attention to the lands we have passed through. It seems rather flat around here, does it not?”

  Magnus looked around, too. “You come from land that has many mountains and valleys,” he said. “Compared to that, it is indeed rather flat around here. You have never been this far south?”

  She shook her head. “I have been to London, of course, but never this far south. The castle rather looks like a mountain amongst all of this flat land.”

  Magnus wriggled his eyebrows. “Do not let this land deceive you. It is very rich soil. The farmers make a small fortune off of their crops, which in turn makes the duke a very wealthy man.”

  Ellowyn simply nodded, watching closely as the village surrounding Guildford came into view. She could see a church, built from pale stone in a squat and powerful design, and the cloister surrounding it. There were people out tending the fields, beasts of burden pulling plows as the serfs toiled in the dirt. The weather was very moderate. In fact, it was rather warm and there were few clouds in the vibrant sky. The ground didn’t seem to be saturated with too much rain as the land she came from tended to be, but the fields and hedges were very green and overgrown.

  On the edge of the town, the gutters were full of muck as they drew closer to the areas of human habitation. With the warmth of the day, the smell of urine and feces wafted in the air now and again. Children ran about with their friends, playing games, while other children hauled buckets or accomplished tasks for their masters.

  There were a great many people milling about and Ellowyn put her cards away to watch the comings and goings. She was so involved, in fact, that she hardly noticed when the column came to a halt. She only noticed when de Reyne slammed his faceplate shut and bolted in the direction of the castle. Suddenly, men were shouting in chorus and the carriage was turned around, nearly tipping it at the speed in which it was moving, and making haste away from the castle.

  The cards scattered, and Ellowyn held on for dear life.

  *

  Hours later, the town was vacant and people were in hiding as the sun began to set on a bright and glorious day. A half mile from Guildford Castle, Brandt had set up a small encampment but it wasn’t meant for rest. It was in preparation for a battle.

  Ellowyn sat in Brandt’s tent with her cards, her possessions, and her husband’s material comforts. The flat copper disc was once again called into service and it sat in the middle of the tent, raised on stones, and burning a small pile of wood for warmth. Smoke escaped through the hatch in the room. It was the same tent she had stayed in nearly every night, with rare exception, for almost three weeks. She and the tent were friends now. A boring friend, but a comfort nonetheless. She was thinking on giving it a name.

  Seated on a heavy rug atop the ground, she lay her cards out absently, playing a solitary game, before losing track of what she was doing and collecting the cards, only to shuffle them out again. She knew something was going on but no one had come to tell her what it was. She knew it had something to do with the castle but beyond that, she had no idea. Boredom was settling heavy on her and she was thinking of putting her cards away altogether when she heard voices close by.

  One of the voices was Brandt. He was giving a directive to someone, more than likely Dylan. The two men were practically inseparable. Ellowyn watched the tent flap with anticipation, cards still in her hands, waiting for Brandt to make an appearance. She didn’t have to wait long.

  He blew into the shelter, slapping back the tent flap so violently that he nearly pulled half the tent down. Ellowyn put her arms over her head as the tent lurched dangerously but Brandt managed to steady it. When Ellowyn finally lowered her arms and looked at him, he smiled sheepishly.

  “Greetings,” he said softly, perhaps wearily. He let go of the supporting pole and made his way towards her. “Have you eaten?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet.”

  He pulled off his helmet with a heavy sigh, tossing it onto the pile of his possessions. “Good,” he muttered, scratching his scalp as he faced her. “Then we may at least share a meal together. Considering I have not seen you all day, I am grateful for whatever time I can spend with you.”

  Ellowyn watched the man, his exhausted movements, his pale and shadowed face. He stood there, pulling off his gauntlets as she watched him closely. His expression was hard, his eyes distant.

  “What is the matter?” she asked softly. “Why are we here and not within the walls of Guildford Castle?”

  Brandt tossed the gloves down and rubbed at his eyes. “Because it would seem that Arundel is occupying my castle,” he said, looking at her. “He says that the king asked him to garrison my property while I was in France but I know that to be a lie. I have given him until the sun sets to be off the grounds.”

  “Or what?”

  He sighed again. “Or I will lay siege and kill every one of Arundel’s men,” he said. Then, he grunted ironically. “Fitzalan and I have fought together, many
times. I know the man. He thought perhaps that I would not return from France and set about staking his claim early for my holdings.”

  Ellowyn was confused by the entire situation. “Is he your enemy, then?”

  Brandt shook his head. “He is a greedy bastard. His father and my father had a tenuous relationship and the son carries on the tradition. He occupies my castle while I am away, takes my revenue, rapes my lands….” He righted a stool that had been lying near his bedroll and planted it next to where Ellowyn was sitting. He plopped on it heavily. “When I docked in London, I had over two thousand men with me. When we departed for Erith, I sent three-quarters of my men here with sixteen of my lesser knights. Arundel’s commander tells me that when the army tried to return to Guildford, he sent them to one of my lesser castles at Farnborough. De Reyne and several soldiers ride there now to collect them and bring them back here. I have sent le Bec to Canterbury for reinforcements.”

  Ellowyn cocked her head. “You are allied with Canterbury?”

  He nodded. “The House of de Russe and the House of de Lohr has long been allied,” he replied, rubbing at his eyes again before refocusing on her. “James de Lohr, the Earl of Canterbury, is a friend. Le Bec can make it to Canterbury in a few days, but we cannot expect reinforcements from de Lohr for a couple of weeks at the earliest. I am therefore hoping that Arundel’s commander obeys my directive and vacates my castle by the dictated time.”

  Ellowyn gazed up at him as he rubbed his eyes again. The man was so very weary, burdened by days and months and years of strife. She began to think back to moments when she had seen her father weary or in particular pain, and how her mother had rubbed away the worries and the ache. It always seemed to work for her father. Perhaps it would work with Brandt. She felt strongly that she needed to do something for the man. He appeared edgy and brittle.

  Silently, she stood up and moved in behind him as he sat on the stool. Brandt tried to turn around to look at her but she put her hands on either side of his head, forcing him to face forward. With her hands still on his head, she got in behind him so that she was right up against his back. His head was level with her breasts.

  “Relax your head,” she requested, gently pulling it back so it was resting against her chest. “Just… relax.”

  Brandt did as he was told, leaning his head back slightly until it came to rest against her. He didn’t even ask her why. He simply did as she asked. He was rewarded for his obedience when Ellowyn’s fingers began to gently massage his sweaty scalp, his temples. It was heavenly. Brandt groaned with delight and closed his eyes as Ellowyn proceeded to rub his head, her fingers applying slight pressure, ironing out the worries and stress he was overloaded with. Her gentle fingers moved all over his scalp and forehead, and partially down his neck but his hauberk prevented her from doing much with his neck and shoulders.

  So she focused on his head, rubbing his temples and tenderly stroking his forehead. It was a gentle touch, a loving touch, something Brandt had never experienced before. He had so much on his mind, including the weight of a young prince’s dreams and the expectations of the royal father. If he failed, Edward failed, and the monarchy’s quest in France failed. Everything rested on one man’s shoulders. Days like today, he felt the burden more heavily than others.

  Ellowyn seemed to sense that. By magic or intuition, she seemed to sense what was troubling him and was prepared to do what she could to help him in a way he’d never been helped before. It was on a deeper level, an emotional level, and he’d never known such comfort. He was quickly becoming languid, dozing, enjoying every rub, every stroke. He felt her kiss the top of his dirty head.

  “You have had a very trying day,” she whispered. “Right now, at this moment, I want you to think of nothing else but peace and relaxation. Can you do this?”

  His eyes were closed as he leaned back against her. “I can try,” he mumbled.

  She smiled at his sleepy reply. “I want you to think of a peaceful lake on a warm summer’s day, and of cool grass beneath your feet,” she murmured. “I want you to think of me sitting next to you on the shores of this lake. I want you to….”

  She was cut off by a rattling snore. She laughed softly, continuing to rub his head, pleased that he had fallen asleep against her. At least for a few moments, she had given him that peace she had hoped for. The poor man was exhausted.

  As she stood there and rubbed his head, she realized it was the first time she had seen the man with his guard down. Even in times of intimacy between them, and there had been several since they had been married, he hadn’t fully let his guard down. There was always some manner of control to his behavior. But at this moment, he was at his most vulnerable. Underneath all of the pomp and circumstance, he was just a man with all of the needs of a man. Ellowyn intended to provide for those needs. She intended to take care of him.

  Brandt’s snoring was deep and even. He was dead asleep against her, sitting up, as she massaged his scalp. It went on for several minutes until the tent flap slapped back again and Dylan appeared. Before he could say anything, Ellowyn barred her teeth at him threateningly and he came to a wide-eyed halt, seeing that Brandt was sleeping the sleep of the dead as his wife drilled her fingers into his head.

  “Wake him and you shall feel my wrath,” she hissed softly. “Let him rest, for Pity’s sake.”

  Dylan’s gaze moved from her face to Brandt’s and back again. He was apologetic. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said quietly but politely. “He must know that Arundel is on the move. They are vacating the castle.”

  Brandt’s head popped up and he was on his feet before Ellowyn realized it. “Well and good,” he growled, moving for his helmet and slapping it back on his head. “Is the portcullis lifted yet?”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  “Then move my troops in and make sure anything that is Arundel is cleaned out,” he said. “I do not want that man’s stench in my castle.”

  Ellowyn ran after him. “Wait!” she called. “Where are you going?”

  He paused before quitting the tent and she bumped into the back of him. He took her hand and brought it to his lips for a sweet kiss.

  “I will return,” he assured her, looking remarkably awake for a man who had been passed out moments earlier. “You will remain here until I do. I will have someone bring you something to eat.”

  She peered at him closely. “Are you well?” she asked, concerned. “You were so exhausted and….”

  He kissed her hand again, her palm, and her lips swiftly in that order, cutting her off. “I can move mountains,” he assured her quietly. “You, Lady de Russe, have that effect on me.”

  She smiled as he winked at her and quit the tent. She could hear his voice outside, relaying orders and receiving information. Listening to his strong, confident voice kept the smile on her face for some time to come. Returning to her cards, she settled in to wait for Guildford to be cleared.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It was a spectacular castle.

  Near sunset, Ellowyn’s carriage was escorted into the extensive grounds of Guildford Castle and gazing from the coach window, she could immediately see the majesty and wealth of the Duke of Exeter. The castle was truly something to behold.

  The entire complex was surrounded by a massive ditch that was partially filled with water. It was a moat of sorts, with steep sides that made it treacherous and uninviting. An enormous gatehouse built into the colossal outer wall protected a vast bailey that contained a number of wood and stone outbuildings and stables, the roofs heavily thatched. It looked like an entire little village in the bailey.

  The most obvious feature of Guildford was the gargantuan motte, or hill, on the northern edge of the complex upon which a tall, block-shaped keep had been built. There was another moat around the motte and there were any number of defense structures surrounding the motte, most notably the dozens of spiked logs jutting out from the sides of the hill. It gave the motte a rather terrifying and unenticing appearance.
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br />   As the carriage pulled through the bailey, Ellowyn could see Brandt and Dylan standing at the base of the stairs that led up the side of the motte to the keep on the top. They were speaking with three knights, all of them dressed for battle, and as the carriage drew close, Ellowyn saw Dylan advance menacingly towards the three unknown knights. Brandt put out an arm to stop the man, eventually putting himself between Dylan and the knights. His demeanor seemed to be very threatening. As Ellowyn watched, Brandt lashed out a massive fist and caught one of the knights squarely in the face. He sailed backwards, into his companions, and the entire trio went down.

  The carriage turned away from the view and she could no longer see what was happening as it eventually came to a halt. Before anyone could assist her from the coach, Ellowyn opened the door herself and climbed out. The first thing she did is rush straight to Brandt and the knights now picking themselves off the ground.

  “Are these the men who tried to steal your castle?” she asked.

  Brandt hadn’t seen her coming. She had run up behind him and caught him off guard. He turned to say something to her but she was already fixed on the knights who were now standing, one of them with his hand to his face. Ellowyn advanced on the group, fingers pointing.

  “Are you Arundel’s men?” she demanded.

  The man with the hand over his bloodied nose scowled at her. “Who in the hell are you?”

  Ellowyn felt Brandt come up behind her, preparing to deliver another crushing blow for the harsh question, but she put out a hand to stop him. She was used to taking charge because Deston had let her. It seemed that her behavior and sense of control would not be contained in a different environment. Wherever she was, she was in control. She was well prepared to punish and scold, protecting what was hers. She was not afraid.