Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Hugh stared at him. “You swore, Davyss,” he hissed. “You swore to Uncle Simon that you would serve him. Are you saying you intend to go back on that pledge? What kind of man are you if you do not honor your bond?”

  Davyss’ features tensed. “I am a man who would accomplish what he must for the safety of his family and the strength of his country,” his passion was gaining momentum and he threw his arms out. “Do you not see what is happening, Hugh? Simon is giving England to the people, a mindless rabble who have no concept of how to run or maintain a country. This was how the country was back in olden times, before the Bastard, when different kingdoms reigned throughout the country and there was no unity. It was madness. One king and one country bring peace and prosperity to all. De Montfort threatens to ruin that and I will not stand for it. I do not think Father would have, either.”

  Hugh lowered his gaze, jaw ticking. He was reluctant to admit that what Davyss said made sense. “But you gave your word.”

  Davyss just looked at him. “Is that all the de Winter name means to you? Our word above sanity? You used to believe as I did, once. Has everything changed between us now, brother?”

  Hugh shrugged irritably and looked away. “If he catches wind of subversion, he will kill you.”

  “I know,” Davyss nodded. “That is why what I say now will not leave this room. Is that clear, Hugh?”

  Hugh looked at him with exasperation. “I do not want to see your death, brother. Do you truly think I would run back to him with this information? Of course not. Truth be known, I do not disagree with you. But whatever happens must be carefully planned and executed.”

  Davyss went to his brother, putting his enormous hands on the man’s shoulders. He shook him gently.

  “As much as I do not relish being subversive to Uncle Simon, I cannot, in good conscience, follow his politics. I do not agree with them.” He shook his brother again. “Stay with me, Hughie. All will be well in the end.”

  Hugh smiled reluctantly; he adored his older brother. Their separation had been hard on him although he was coming to think that perhaps he had been entirely to blame for it. Still, he wasn’t ready to voice those thoughts yet.

  “I am with you,” he assured him softly. “It sounds as if you already have something in mind.”

  Davyss smiled and pulled him over to the table. “I do,” he thumped the map. “Gather ’round, good men. I have a plan.”

  “What plan?”

  “It involves Roger Mortimer, the king’s cousin, and us.”

  “But Mortimer is a supporter of de Montfort.”

  Davyss shook his head slowly. “Not too strongly, which will work well in our favor.”

  In the darkness of the night, the de Winter conspirators gathered tight and bred insurrection.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  There was a massive tournament field about a half mile west of the Tower of London, a great arena where knights plied their bloody games. On this busy day, banners of competing houses snapped in the brisk wind as hundreds of people milled about, preparing for the spectacle that was soon to take place.

  It was a dusty bowl of a field surrounded by great banks of lists, fairly well built. There was a royal box on the east side of the field, center line, and other boxes for the dozens of nobles that would view the games. The guide was not yet planted in the center of the field because the mêlée would come first and they needed the field clear. Marshals and pages ran to and fro across the field, preparing it, memorizing it, getting ready for the first round of the day. A surgeon and his helpers set up on the south side of the arena.

  The tournament field was close to Hollyhock but Davyss brought his full complement of gear, tents and accessories to the arena. He wasn’t going to go home to rest in between bouts, instead choosing to have his tents and colors raised high for all to see. He was announcing the de Winters as loudly as he could, one of the most prominent families in the country and a name to be proud of. He was there to win.

  Lady Katharine, surprisingly, had chosen to attend the games. When Davyss and his men returned from the tournament field after setting up, they were met at the door by Katharine, Lucy and Devereux.

  Lady Katharine was dressed in her traditional black garments with traditional black wimple, while Lucy was dressed in a lovely red surcoat. Devereux looked stunning in the de Winter colors of black, gray and red. Lady Katharine had a surcoat and shift especially made for Devereux for this day and the results were spectacular. She looked delicious.

  It was an effect not lost on Davyss. While Hugh escorted his mother to the carriage and Philip helped Lucy, Davyss went straight for his wife. He kissed her hands sweetly before kissing her cheeks.

  “You are breathtaking,” he told her sincerely. “I shall be the envy of every man at the tournament.”

  Devereux blushed prettily. “And I shall be the envy of every woman at the tournament,” she grinned impishly. “What a pair we make.”

  He kissed her, leading her towards the carriage. “The happiest pair in all of London, I would wager.”

  She smiled as he led her up to the elegant de Winter carriage and helped her inside. Her surcoat had quite a train on it and he tucked it into the carriage after her. With a wink to his wife, he shut the door and slapped his hand on the side of the carriage. It was the driver’s signal to depart. Davyss mounted his new Belgian charger, a great black beast with hairy fetlocks, and cantered after the carriage as it rumbled down the avenue.

  After some morning fog, the day had bloomed surprisingly clear. The sky was brilliant blue with great cotton puff clouds skittering across it in the brisk breeze. Although there was some humidity, it wasn’t overbearing. Lucy had only to been to one tournament and her excitement was palpable; she kept pointing and jabbering about the knights, their ladies, and anything else that captured her interest. She wanted to eat custard and drink sweet wine. It was like being accompanied by a five year old with all of the chatter going on and Devereux just sat back and smiled. She was lovely and funny.

  Lady Katharine, however, did not think so, and Lucy soon realized that the elder de Winter woman was growing annoyed with the constant conversation. About the time they reached Davyss’ encampment, Lucy had shut her mouth completely.

  There were three tents raised; a large one and two smaller ones. The tents were made from very fine brocade in an elaborate black and gray pattern. On the door flap of the larger tent was a giant red de Winter dragon. There were soldiers guarding the area and several squires running about, young men that Devereux had seen traveling with her husband’s army. When the carriage came to a halt, Davyss suddenly appeared to help the women from the cab.

  Lady Katharine exited first and went straight into Hugh’s capable hands. While he led his mother away, Lucy was handed over to Philip and Devereux was brought out last. Davyss took her straight into the large tent.

  It was well appointed and comfortable inside. Devereux was properly awed by the opulence of the de Winters, as she always was. There was apparently no end to their money. Davyss sat her down on a small stool while he called two of the squires to help him dress.

  His armor was on a stand in a corner of the tent and the two squires went about dressing him. Clad in linen breeches, a padded linen tunic and his heavy boots, he put his arms up as the squires placed the mail coat.

  “The mêlée is first,” he told his wife. “That should go for the rest of morning. After the nooning break, the joust will commence.”

  She cocked her head. “I have heard that the mêlée is to be outlawed. Is this true?”

  He shrugged. “The Church is attempting to outlaw it. In years past, the mêlée could be quite violent. Men would be captured and held for ransom, much like real combat, and people tend to get carried away with the spirit of the thing. I have seen a few men fall to serious injury all in the name of sport.”

  “But what of the mêlée today?” she wanted to know. “Will it be violent as well?”

  He shook his head.
“Men are not so voracious these days. It will be mock combat and nothing more.” He looked at her and shrugged in disappointment. “They pin flags on our backs, put clubs in our hands, and expect us to call it honorable combat.”

  She thought on that a moment and, satisfied, moved on. “Do you know who you are competing against in the joust?” she asked as the squires pulled the mail hood over his head.

  He shook his head and his shoulders, settling the heavy chain mail on his body. “Aye,” he grunted as the mail chaffed. “My first card is against Sir Paris de Norville, who rides for the Earl of Northumberland.”

  “Do you know him?”

  Davyss grinned. “I have known de Norville for many years,” he replied. “A more arrogant man you will never meet. I look forward to bragging rights when I plant him on his arse.”

  “Do you not like him, then?”

  Davyss laughed. “I like him a great deal,” he looked up and winked at her. “But I am still going to send him to the ground.”

  Devereux smiled at her husband, who seemed truly devilish about the entire thing. She continued to watch as his squires suited him with other pieces of armor, including massively armored gloves. Davyss also had the advantage of having pieces of plate armor, which most knights did not have. These were newer measures of protection, expensive and heavy pieces of metal that covered his chest and arms. Over that, the squires draped him with his tunic bearing the de Winter coat of arms.

  Davyss was a very large man, made larger by the mail and armor he wore. It was a truly intimidating sight. When he was properly and completely dressed, he turned to his wife with a smile.

  “Are you ready for an amazing spectacle, my lady?” he asked.

  She stood up from the stool, suppressing a smile at his enthusiasm. “I suppose,” she sighed dramatically. “But if you end up with bumps or cuts or your brains hanging out, I will not lift a finger to help you. Not one finger.”

  He scowled good-naturedly. “You cruel woman,” he scolded. “’Tis your duty to tend me if I am injured.”

  She shook her head firmly. “Not when you naughty little boys run about and try to hurt each other. I have no sympathy for men who will not grow up.”

  He laughed at her, taking her hand and kissing it sweetly. Their eyes met and she melted into him, smiling broadly and kissing his cheek.

  “Please be careful today,” she whispered as she kissed him again. “I should like my husband whole and healthy tonight.”

  He nodded. “I will do my very best,” he promised. “I shall endeavor to make you proud.”

  Her smile faded as she gazed up into his spectacular face. “You already make me proud.”

  Davyss’ smile faded as he met her gaze, feeling the heat from the gray orbs. He held her hands tightly and kissed her mouth gently, his eyes closed as he savored the feel and smell of her. It was enough to set his heart to racing.

  “I love you, Lady de Winter.”

  “And I love you.”

  With a final kiss, he took her out into the sunshine of the new day.

  *

  Devereux, Lucy and Lady Katharine had a box right next to the royal box, which contained none other than Simon de Montfort. When Devereux arrived, Lady Katharine was seated next to Simon in his box, involved in a serious conversation with him from the expression on both of their faces. Devereux took a good, long look at the man who now ruled the country before taking her seat next to Lucy. He looked old and careworn, this man who had taken on the burden of an entire country in an effort to effect change.

  There were people everywhere, piling into the lists and cheering wildly for their favorite competitor. Lucy already had her hands full with custard and spun sugar, eating to her heart’s content as she pointed out different knights to Devereux. They had no idea who the men represented with their fancy shields and tunics, but it was quite a sight to see with all of the colors. Devereux was caught up in the pageantry of it all, feeling the excitement build, until Lucy suddenly stiffened beside her.

  She thought it rather odd that Lucy suddenly stopped talking and looked as if she had seen a ghost. She was looking over to her left where the general population was sitting. Devereux’s brow furrowed with curiosity as she tried to follow Lucy’s gaze to see what had the woman so rattled. She finally nudged her.

  “What is the matter?” she asked. “Why do you look so?”

  Lucy, realizing she was being watched, abruptly faced forward. “Nothing is the matter,” she said unconvincingly. “I do believe the mêlée is about to start. Do you not want some refreshment before it begins?”

  Devereux wasn’t stupid; something had Lucy shaken and she peered around the woman’s backside to see what she could see. All she saw were people everywhere; men, women and children all trying to get a good seat for the coming spectacle. She saw nothing out of the ordinary. She was about to turn away when a young women suddenly approached the edge of the box and began waving her hands frantically.

  “Lucy!” the woman called. “Yoo hoo; Luuuuuuuucy!”

  Lucy looked frozen with fear. Devereux, at a loss with the woman’s behavior, nudged her again.

  “That woman is trying to gain your attention,” she pointed it out as if an obviously screaming woman wasn’t enough. “Do you know her?”

  Lucy looked sickened as she turned in the direction of the woman. Weakly, she smiled and waved, but that wasn’t enough; suddenly, the woman was ducking under the barrier of the box. But she wasn’t alone; as she stepped up onto the benches, she pulled two little girls along with her.

  Devereux watched with curiosity until one of the little girls jumped up onto the steps in a very independent gesture and turned in Devereux’s direction. Staring back at her were Davyss’ features lodged within a tiny, beautiful face. And there was a second child who looked just like her. The longer Devereux stared at the girls, the more she gradually came to realize who they were.

  The battering ram hit. The hammer dropped. Devereux suddenly couldn’t breathe as she gazed at those two small little faces. Dear God, she thought to herself, it cannot be. But there was no mistake as the dark-haired, hazel-eyed twins drew near. As Devereux reeled with shock and Lucy tried not to panic, the woman came upon the pale pair with the lovely little girls in tow. She bent down and kissed Lucy on the cheek.

  “I have been looking everywhere for you,” the woman exclaimed. “I saw the de Winter tents and knew you would be around here somewhere. ’Tis good to see you again.”

  Lucy wished a hole would open up in the ground and swallow her up. “’Tis… ’tis good to see you too,” she gulped. “Are… are you here with your father?”

  The woman nodded. “He is competing in the joust,” she said. “He says he will leave the mêlée to the younger men like Davyss and Hugh.”

  Lucy didn’t dare look at Devereux as the woman suddenly fixed on her and smiled brightly.

  “My lady,” she greeted with a small curtsy. “I am the Lady Avarine du Bois. These are my daughters, the Lady Isabella and the Lady Angela.”

  Devereux stared up at the woman as if she had just spoken to her in tongues. It was difficult to process anything at the moment as she struggled to deal with her surprise. Avarine was a pretty woman with blue eyes and dark hair, and seemed genuinely friendly. As Devereux looked at her, all she could see was her husband making love to the woman and producing twins. It was selfish and foolish, she knew, but that was all she could see at the moment. Her sweet husband all over this woman’s body, touching her and kissing her… it was enough to set her head to spinning.

  “My lady,” Devereux forced herself to respond.

  But that was as far as she went. Avarine smiled and planted herself next to Lucy as Davyss’ twins sat on the bench in front of Devereux and began pulling each other’s hair. Avarine stilled the fighting hands as she turned to Lucy.

  “It has been such a long time since we last saw one another,” she said to Lucy. “I have seen Hugh and Philip, over by the tents. Is Davyss h
ere?”

  Lucy was quickly growing horrified. “Aye,” she said in a strangled voice. Then she pointed in Devereux’s direction. “This is….”

  But she was too late; Avarine didn’t hear the muddled start of the introduction to Davyss’ wife and she spoke over Lucy’s words. She was clearly wrapped up in her own world, her own excitement.

  “He has not seen his girls since they were very small,” Avarine said. “Do you not think he will be surprised? They have grown so much. They are so lovely and smart now, a perfect tribute to their father. I know he will be proud of them.”

  Lucy thought she might faint, trying to hush the woman discreetly but Avarine was oblivious. She rattled on.

  “My father hopes to speak to Davyss again regarding marriage,” she was gazing out over the arena, her blue-eyed gaze searching eagerly for the powerful form of Davyss de Winter. “I know that Davyss does not want to marry, but that was years ago. Perhaps he has changed his mind. It is only right that we marry, after all; we already have two children together. We would make a lovely family, don’t you think? And I think a son next year in the image of his father would be wonderful.”

  Lucy grabbed the woman by the wrist, so hard that she clawed into Avarine’s tender flesh. But she didn’t still the woman’s rattling mouth before Devereux shot to her feet and bolted from the box. Lucy let go of Avarine and began to run after her.

  “Devereux!” she cried, tripping over a bench and falling to her knees. “Devereux, wait!”

  Devereux heard Lucy’s cries but she could not respond. She was verging on complete hysteria, listening to Avarine speak of Davyss and of the children they had together. It hurt so badly that she couldn’t breathe. She was Davyss’ wife but she had miscarried his child. Avarine had two children by Davyss and wanted more. It was Davyss’ right to have more children like the beautiful twins.