Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I would like to give you a bit of advice, my lady,” he said as the door to the church loomed before them; he could see his men waiting outside. “I do not presume to discount your opinions because they are your own. They are not truth as I know it. But if I were you, I would think twice before insulting men who have spent their lives fighting and killing for their cause. The men that serve me are battle-born, hard to the core, and have demonstrated that fierceness in battle time and time again. The stories I could tell you about them would give you nightmares for the rest of your life. You have expressed your reservations to me so let that be the end of it. From this moment on, you are the wife of Sir Davyss de Winter, Champion to our illustrious King Henry and an honored knight of the realm. Whatever you think of me personally, I should like you to at least show some respect for that position. It is an important one. Is that clear?”

  She paused just as they reached the door, the sunlight glistening off her miraculous hair as she turned to look at him. “Our parents made this arrangement, my lord, and for that fact alone, I will respect my father’s wishes. My acceptance of this marriage has nothing to do with you or your standing. I do it because my father wishes it.”

  “And I do this because my mother wishes it.”

  “Then we are clear.”

  Davyss took her outside to his waiting men, who couldn’t help but notice she was far calmer with him than she had been with them. They assumed Davyss had worked his usual magic and convinced the lady to be calm and compliant. He was particularly good at convincing women of his wishes.

  The lady was mounted on Davyss’ charger and he mounted behind her. With a piercing whistle from Davyss, the group thundered off in the direction of Castle Acre Castle.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “She does not want anything to do with me. Do you now see how miserable you have made us both?”

  Lady Katharine sat patiently as her eldest son ranted. In the lavish solar of Breckland Castle with its massive walls and elaborate gardens, Davyss had been pacing around for over an hour. His source of agitation was his new bride, now locked in a chamber in the powerful keep of Castle Acre Castle. Davyss was afraid what would happen if he didn’t lock her in, so he had bolted the door and headed for his mother’s castle to let her know what, exactly, he thought of her little matchmaking scheme.

  “It matters not how either of you feel,” Katharine replied steadily, carefully stitching the petit poi in her hands. It was a colorful collection of birds. “You are married and that is the end of it.”

  Davyss’ jaw ticked faintly. “It is not the end of it. She hates all I stand for, Mother. She will not be an agreeable or compliant wife in the least.”

  Katharine continued to stitch. “Is that what you were expecting?” she didn’t look up from her hands. “Mere agreement and compliance?”

  “What else is there?”

  Katharine lifted her thin eyebrows. “There is much more, my son. Perhaps that is why I arranged this marriage so you would understand that there is more to life than kings and compliant women.”

  He faced her, a scowl on his face and his hands on his slender hips. “What are you talking about?”

  Katharine glanced up at him, a hint of a smile on her old lips. “You have seen thirty years and four, Davyss. What have you learned in that time? That the more men you kill and the more power you wield, the more women will fall at your feet unconditionally? Have you ever had a conversation with a woman that was not foolish courtly flirting? Have you ever known a woman to show strength of character or courage in the face of adversity? Or do you simply view them as sheep as you select your dame du jour from the flock?”

  His scowl was gone by now. After a moment, he sighed heavily. “I am sure you are driving at a point but I cannot see what it is.”

  “Aye, you can,” Katharine set her needlepoint down. “I am trying to tell you that there is more to life than fighting, dying and cheap women, Davyss. You are a wise, intelligent man and God has given you excellent character and judgment. You are at an age where you need to understand that family is as important as those things you have fought all your life to achieve; a good wife, intelligent and strong without political aspirations, and sons to carry on your name. And, if you are lucky, you and your wife will be fond of each other like your father and I were. It makes life worth living to rise every morning to the face of someone you are very fond of. It means more than all the money and power in the world.”

  He lifted a dark eyebrow at her. “If you wanted me to experience a fond wife, then you have most definitely cursed me. She shall never be fond of me.”

  “She will make a man out of you.”

  Both eyebrows lifted in outrage. “Is that what you think? That I am not a man yet?”

  Katharine’s smile broke through. “You still have a great deal to learn. Telling a woman how powerful and handsome you are is not the mark of a true man.”

  He snorted and turned away. “I doubt there is anything my new wife could teach me.”

  The old woman’s smile faded. “Allow me to tell you something about your new wife, Davyss, and perhaps you will understand what type of woman it is that you have married,” she set the needlepoint on the table and leaned back in her chair. “From a young age, Lady Devereux has known the true meaning of service and charity. Her mother started the poorhouse on the northern edge of Thetford several years ago and your wife helped her mother feed and shelter the needy. I have heard tale that she has gone without so that others less prosperous could have just a little. I began hearing rumors of this years ago so I started giving money to the poorhouse to continue the charity work that Devereux and her mother started. All the while, I kept my eye on this girl. I knew she had depth of character and morals that most women could only hope to bear. And I knew, someday, that I would marry one of my sons to her.”

  By this time, Davyss’ belligerent expression was gone. “I know that place you speak of.”

  “Of course you do. You pass by it every time you come from London to visit me.”

  “They call it La Maison d’Espoir, I believe.”

  “Aye, they do. The House of Hope.”

  He actually looked surprised. “She is a part of that place?”

  Katharine nodded, eyeing her son and realizing the information was having its desired effect. If nothing else, she knew her son well; he was hot-tempered and conceited, but he was not afraid to admit when he was wrong. It was a good trait.

  “Not only is she a part of that place, but she has seen to its operation since her mother passed away,” Katharine said. “Do you remember that epidemic that swept through the town about five years ago?”

  He nodded. “I was in London at the time. I remember you told me of it.”

  His mother dark eyes were piercing. “Do you know that she nursed a great many people during that time?” When he shook his head rather weakly, she continued. “While others fled the area, including her father, your wife and her mother stayed to nurse the sick. Eventually Devereux and her mother were taken ill with the same affliction; the mother died but Devereux was spared.”

  Davyss stood there, staring at his mother as he processed what she had told him. Eventually he found a chair and sat, struggling to come to grips with the situation.

  “Then I am sure she is selfless and true,” he replied. “But she holds no respect for me at all.”

  “What do you think of her?”

  “Are you seriously asking me that question after all I have told you?”

  “I am asking what you think when you look at her. Is she beautiful?”

  He thought on the silken blonde hair and gray eyes. “Aye,” he admitted. “She is damn beautiful, in fact. I have never seen such beauty.”

  “And if you had seen her in London, would you have pursued her based upon her beauty alone?”

  “Absolutely. She is a fine prize for any man. I will be the talk of court when people see the beauty of the woman I have married.”

  Ka
tharine cast her son a rather disapproving look. “Based upon her appearance alone she is worthy to be seen on your arm, eh? Was there nothing else you found attractive about her?”

  He pursed his lips irritably, thinking on their brief encounter. “She… well, she was rather humorous.”

  “Humorous?”

  “She made me laugh.”

  “I see,” Katharine looked down at her sewing so he would not see the smile on her lips; he sounded utterly distressed that the woman had the power to make him laugh. “So she is beautiful and humorous. And this distresses you because she does not view you in the same light?”

  He could hear a mocking note in his mother’s tone and he refused to look at her. “She despises me. She said as much.”

  Katharine shrugged. “Perhaps she will overcome that with time,” she said softly. “Give her a reason to respect you, Davyss. Sometimes esteem is more than simply handling a sword better than most or bearing the honor of the king. It comes from the heart, not the hand.”

  He looked at her. “She is not perfect, either. She is proud and arrogant.”

  Katharine picked up her needlepoint and resumed. “Perhaps,” she said faintly as she began to sew. “If I were you, I would try to get to know her before making such judgments.”

  He lifted an eyebrow, hearing his own words in them. Rising from the chair, he exhaled sharply and puffed out his cheeks. He wasn’t sure what to think anymore.

  “What would you suggest I do, then?” he ventured. “You started this. What brilliant stars of wisdom do you have for me in dealing with my new wife?”

  Katharine scrutinized her son; he favored her with his dark hair and hazel eyes, something that his father had lamented. Grayson Davyss de Winter had been a handsome man, no doubt, but his son’s handsome appearance had eclipsed him. Davyss was a spectacular example of the male species and he was well aware of the fact which was why, his mother suspected, he was so baffled at Lady Devereux’s reaction to him. The possibility that the woman would not swoon at his feet had never occurred to him.

  “Shave off that forest on your face and cut your hair,” she told him. “You are not usually so shaggy in appearance”

  “I have been traveling for weeks.”

  “That is no excuse for your lack of attention to your appearance,” she sniffed. “You may want to bathe as well. I can smell you from here.”

  Davyss gave her a look that suggested he thought her to be ridiculous. “I apologize that I am so offensive.”

  His mother fought off a grin. “And bring her a gift,” she said. “Go into my chamber upstairs and collect what you will for her.”

  “Like what?”

  “Jewels. Clothing, if you think it will fit her. You just married the woman; ply her with gifts.”

  He puckered his lips wryly. “Anything else?”

  Katharine shook her head and returned her attention to the needle in her hand. “You will have to figure it out for yourself.”

  He pursed his lips irritably, his gaze moving to the window that overlooked the bailey below. Business went on as usual below, in sharp contradiction to the unexpected turn his life just took.

  “I do not need this additional burden,” he muttered. “I have more pressing problems in London at the moment. I do not need the addition of a cantankerous new wife.”

  Katharine stopped sewing, casting him a sharp glance. “That is exactly what you need.”

  *

  The room wasn’t particularly large or well appointed. In fact, it was rather sparse with its single unused bed and old table. Having only heard of Castle Acre Castle, Devereux had been told it was a mysterious place, full of military implications, and now she found herself in the heart of it. It only heightened her sense of misery.

  It was an enormous compound with massive ramparts built up around an enormous bailey to the south and a motte to the north. She’d never seen anything so large.

  The group had entered the castle on the southwest side of town through a massive stone gatehouse, entering the complex that was vast and fortified. Several hundred soldiers were in residence at this time because of de Winter’s presence and they were camped out in the enormous bailey, creating a quagmire of mud, chaos, men and animals. A vast great hall sat in the middle of the bailey along with several outbuildings. The whole area smelled like a swamp.

  Built within a circle of ramparts to the north was a powerfully constructed keep, although the keep had been partially demolished by Henry II because it had been an unlicensed fortification eighty years prior. Lady Katharine’s ancestor, William de Warenne, had built it during the conflicts between Empress Matilda and King Stephan, giving rise to a very fortified and illegal bastion. Henry, when he assumed the throne, went through the countryside destroying all of these unlicensed castles in the hopes they would never be used for an uprising ever again. But somehow, he failed to demolish all of Castle Acre Castle’s massive keep. Two stories of it still remained.

  Davyss had brought her to the second floor of the crumbling keep and left her in one of the two chambers, bolting the door from the outside. He’d barely said a word and she, exhausted from her day of struggle and upset, hadn’t shown any resistance. From the lancet windows to the north and west, she could see the small town beyond. It was a quiet place, certainly not as large as the berg she came from. Thetford was much bigger. As the day waned, her sense of homesickness and despair grew.

  He left her with no food, no drink. Devereux spent a good deal of time and energy attempting to figure out how she could climb out of the windows and not kill herself, but the room was so barren that there was nothing she could make a ladder or a rope with. She could have jumped, of course, but it was several feet to the ground and she didn’t want to break something. So she gave up on the idea of escaping and sat down in the chilly room, waiting for the moment when de Winter would decide to let her out again. She was thirsty and growing hungry. As the wait became excessive, so did her animosity.

  It was late afternoon by the time she heard the door rattle. Startled from hours of silence and inaction, she instinctively leapt to her feet as the door opened. The first face she saw was that of the de Winter priest. She took a closer look at him, noting he had wild gray hair, wild gray eyes, and huge scarred hands. He didn’t look like any priest she had ever seen. She couldn’t help but notice he stood somewhat behind the door, as if using the panel as a shield against her.

  “My lady,” he greeted, eyeing her warily. “I came to see if you required anything to make your stay more comfortable.”

  She lifted a well-shaped eyebrow at him. “Can you seriously ask me that question as you look at this desolate room?” she wanted to know. “I have been locked in here for hours with no food, nothing to drink, and no comforts whatsoever. And you think to now come and ask me that question?”

  He looked around the room, sighing faintly. Then he took a step inside and stopped using the door as a shield.

  “Perhaps we started out on the wrong note,” he said with some regret. “My name is Lollardly. We were not formally introduced earlier, but I am Sir Davyss’ personal priest.”

  Devereux eyed him. “Is this how the de Winters normally treat women? Locking them in cold rooms with nothing of comfort?”

  He grunted softly and scratched his head. “My lady, this was not my doing. It would be exceedingly more pleasant for us both if you would stop being so confrontational. I realize this day has been something of a shock for you but surely you know this was not my doing. I was following orders. If you choose to hate me because of my sense of duty, then so be it. But you should also realize that our association will be as pleasant, or as adversarial, as you make it. The choice is yours.”

  Devereux simply stared at him. Without a response, Lollardly saw no need to stay and he began to close the door quietly. Just before he closed it completely, Devereux spoke.

  “Lollardly?” she said.

  He stopped. “My lady?”

  She took a step towa
rds him, her expression a mixture of loathing and resignation. She finally settled for complete resignation.

  “If it is not too much trouble, I should like something to eat,” she said quietly. “I have not eaten all day. And perhaps a fire would be nice; it is cold in here.”

  Lollardly nodded firmly, as if she had just given him an intense command. “It shall be done, Lady de Winter,” he said. “Anything else?”

  She felt as if she had been struck by an unseen hand at the formal mention of her new title. It took her a moment to recover her shock and distaste.

  “My things,” she said. “Everything was left behind at my father’s house. I will need my things.”

  Lollardly nodded. “A few of Davyss’ knights rode for your father’s home a few hours ago. They should be returning shortly.”

  She frowned at the thought of warriors handling her clothing and personal items. She hoped her father had sense enough to have his servants pack her trunks before the knights got their blood-stained hands on everything.

  “Will there be anything else, my lady?” the priest interrupted her thoughts.

  She eyed him, shaking her head after a moment. “Nay,” she replied softly. “Except… well, if this is to be my bed, there is no mattress on it. I will need one.”

  “We are already seeing to that, my lady.”

  There was nothing more to say and he shut the door softly. She didn’t hear the bolt slip through the bracket but she couldn’t be sure that there wasn’t a knight out there, just waiting for her to open it. If it was a test, she would pass it. Quite frankly, there was no use escaping and returning to her father. He would only turn her back over to her husband.

  So she sat on the floor against the wall opposite the hearth and waited. Except for an occasional bird flying past the windows, her environment was largely silent. Her thoughts had settled somewhat from the turbulent day although her distain at what had happened was still a powerful thing. She mostly blamed her father but knew, deep down, that the man had only been doing what he thought best for his daughter. An advantageous marriage that had been proposed to him by Lady Katharine de Winter had been both a surprise and a blessing. Only a fool would have refused. If she was honest with herself, she understood why he did it.