Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1

by Kathryn Le Veque

  She eyed him and the elbow. But she would not take it. She began to walk, hands clasped in front of her, and he followed politely at her side. They moved in silence for a few minutes; Kellington’s head was down, watching the earth pass beneath her feet and Denedor would glance over at her every few seconds. He thought of several things to say to her but they all seemed trite or ridiculous, so he kept his mouth shut until he could think of something amusing. She was emotional and he did not want to set her off again.

  As they neared the corner of the apartments, Kellington was suddenly hit in the side of the head with something soft and large. It wasn’t a hard hit, but enough to cause her to lose her balance. She tumbled into Denedor, who grabbed her before she could fall. Furious, he looked up to see several children standing in a group a few feet away, their expressions awash with horror. There was one face in particular he recognized.

  “Will!” he snapped. “What is the meaning of this?”

  A lad with white-blond hair and big blue eyes gazed back at him with terror as one of companions rushed to pick up the leather ball that had struck Kellington. All of the boys seemed frozen with fear, mouths agape.

  “I…” the boy’s gaze traveled to the lady. “It was an accident, da. The ball flew away from us.”

  Denedor glared at his seven-year-old son even as Kellington pulled herself from his arms. She was unhurt, though it had stunned her a bit. She looked at the group of five boys, one of which was standing just a foot or so away. The child looked as if he was about to cry.

  “No harm done,” she said as she smoothed at her hair. “You needn’t worry.”

  Denedor sighed heavily, moving to where the boy stood. He clapped the lad on the shoulder and shook him gently, giving him a fatherly look of disapproval.

  “This is my son, my lady,” he introduced the offender. “This is William. Will, please apologize to the lady before I die of shame.”

  William Crosby-Denedor swallowed hard, tried to bow, but his father’s hand on his shoulder prevented it. “I am sorry, my lady. The ball got away from us.”

  Kellington could see how upset the child was and she smiled to let him know that she was not angry. “As I said, no harm done,” she looked at Denedor. “You do not have to punish him. It was an accident.”

  Denedor lifted an eyebrow at her, released his son and slapped him lightly on the back of the head. “Be more aware next time,” he scolded the boy softly.

  William nodded his head, his blue eyes curious on the woman accompanying his father. Now that he was sure he was not going to be punished, his stiff manner began to abate.

  “I have not seen you around here, lady,” he said. “Where did you come from?”

  Kellington maintained her smile on him. “From the north, a castle called Pelinom. Have you heard of it?”

  William shook his head. “I am going to Bamburgh next month,” he said proudly.

  Kellington laughed softly at his very prideful declaration. “I wish you well, young William. I hope you become a fine knight someday.”

  The child beamed, showing her his two top missing teeth. It made her laugh at him again. One of the other children tugged William’s arm and he waved as he turned away and ran off with the group. Kellington’s gaze lingered on the boy.

  “He seems like a very nice young lad,” she turned to Denedor. “It would break my heart to send him away.”

  The corners of Denedor’s mouth twitched. “It is necessary, my lady. He needs to grow up.”

  They began walking again. “And you must send him away in order for this to be accomplished?” she asked, almost accusingly.

  He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Must I explain myself again?”

  Her humor was returning. “You must. And tell me again why you already have a husband selected for your child of a daughter.”

  Denedor laughed softly as they continued their walk.

  *

  Jax left one hundred men to man the garrison of White Crag. Michael, having convinced Jax that he was not in on Amadeo’s plot, was in charge of the fortress, as Atreus and Tor were riding with Jax to Alnwick. Atreus had tried to convince Jax to wait until they could send for more troops and the other generals, but Jax would not delay. He had two siege engines and seven hundred men, and sent a runner to Foulburn for an additional three hundred men. He realized that would leave his garrisons rather lean on protection, but it could not be helped. He needed all of his men for the siege on Alnwick. And he decided, once the castle was breached, that he would burn it to the ground. That was the vindictive side of him.

  As he headed south with his army, he knew it would be at least two days before the messenger reached Foulburn. After that, it would be at least a day before the army could mobilize and be on the road to Alnwick. Foulburn was at least a three day march from Alnwick, so Jax expected to beat his reinforcements to de Vesci’s seat by two days. A lot could happen in two days.

  He rode at the head of the column of seven hundred, lost to his thoughts. Tor and Atreus rode somewhere in the middle, shouting encouragement to the weary men, rallying them to Jax’s cause. It never took much prompting to rally the men because Jax was, in fact, generous with them. They lived and died by the man they both feared and admired.

  As dusk advanced on the first day of their march, Atreus approached Jax. On a normal battle march the men did not rest, but Jax’s men had been in heavy battle for nearly two weeks and were understandably weary. Atreus was trying to think of a non-challenging way to convince Jax to rest the men for a few hours that night when Jax, sensing his presence, spoke.

  “We will make camp in the trees up ahead,” he told Atreus. “If only for a few hours.”

  Atreus had been riding several feet behind him. “How did you know it was me?”

  Jax didn’t look at him. “Because I know your charger’s footfalls.”

  “And how did you know what I was going to suggest?”

  Jax did turn to him, then. “Because you worry like an old woman.”

  Atreus snorted and Jax turned back to the road ahead so the men behind him would not see his grin. Atreus reined his charger next to Jax and they continued on for several minutes in silence as the dusk around them deepened. The sky was shades of purple and blue, and the nightbirds flew overhead and startled the chargers. It was a lovely May evening.

  “Jax,” Atreus said slowly. “Never have I questioned your wisdom in all things but I have a concern, if I may be so presumptuous.”

  “What is that?”

  “Do you suppose that laying siege to Alwick is truly the best thing to do?” he quickly explained. “They will know we are there for the lady. What if de Vesci uses her as leverage against you?”

  “Her father will never allow it.”

  “Her father is the baron’s vassal. He will do as he is told.”

  Jax flipped up his visor and looked at him. “Then I will listen to your suggestion.”

  “You are not going to like it.”

  “I will listen.”

  Atreus paused an appropriate amount of time before speaking to let Jax know how serious he was. “Negotiate for her.”

  Jax stared at him long moment. “I do not negotiate.”

  “Not even for Kellington?”

  “She is mine.”

  Atreus could see that he was not in the reasoning mood. “She is, my old friend, but there is still that little matter of her father and the fact that she is not officially betrothed to you. If you simply raze Alnwick, take the lady and marry her, you could be adding theft to the long list of grievances against you. What if her father is killed in the process? Is that really how you want initiate this marriage?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Precisely that. For the lady’s sake, would you not wish for this marriage to start off on the right and proper path? She’s not some object to be stolen at your whim.”

  Jax continued to stare at him until he finally made a face and looked away. “All right, I’m liste
ning. What path would that be?”

  Atreus fought off a smirk. “Hold the army off and try to negotiate with her father. Perhaps he will agree to your terms. But I would be prepared to give up Pelinom in exchange for the lady. In fact, I would be prepared to give up Norham and White Crag, too. Is she worth the asking price?”

  Jax realized he wasn’t at all distressed with the thought of handing back three hard-won castles. If it would return Kellington to him, he would hand over the Welsh Marches, too. In fact, he would hand over everything if it would only get her back.

  “She is worth all that and more,” he said quietly.

  “You may have to give up Foulburn as well and vacate Northumberland.”

  He turned back to Atreus with a twisted mouth. “Then I shall come live with you on the Marches,” he snapped without force. “It does not matter what they want in exchange. If it will return Kellington me, then I will give them everything.”

  All of the humor fled Atreus; he gazed steadily at Jax, understanding in those few brief words just how important the lady was to him. Though he suspected how much she meant to him and had said as much, he was still astonished by the declaration. It seemed unbelievable coming from a man who lived and breathed death.

  “Do you love her, Jax?” he asked softly.

  Jax averted his dual-colored gaze, his appearance suggesting great turmoil within him. “She is bold, willful, disobedient and sassy,” he said flatly. Then his expression turned painful. “But she is also beautiful, kind, wise, and compassionate. I think I loved her the first moment I saw her. She consumes me.”

  “My God,” Atreus breathed. “Truly?”

  “Truly. And if you repeat what I have just said, I will slit your throat.”

  Atreus knew he was serious, on both accounts. “Have no fear, my lord,” he said quietly. “Your secret is safe with me. But it will not be a secret for too long if you indeed return everything to Northumberland to get your lady back.”

  Jax didn’t say anything for a long while. They entered a stretch of forest and the army instinctively closed ranks to protect itself. Jax made sure his men were prepared and on alert before turning to Atreus.

  “Do you suppose I should purchase Pelinom from de Vesci?” he asked. “It is where Kellington grew up. I think she would like to continue living there.”

  Atreus’ eyebrows lifted, surprised by the question. It was so unlike Jax to think of someone else. “Perhaps you should ask the lady.”

  Jax nodded thoughtfully. “Good idea. We can live wherever she wishes.”

  The army broke ranks a few minutes later to set up camp. Atreus and Tor directed the men as Jax sat astride his charger and supervised, the great horned helm atop his head eerily outlined in the moonlight. Even though Atreus involved himself with the men, he couldn’t help but remain awed by his conversation with Jax. The man was being pulled apart by emotion, something he had never before experienced. That could be dangerous, especially when it came to Jax de Velt. The man was devastatingly unpredictable as it was without the added element of emotion. Love.

  Atreus prayed that he and Tor could control the man should the negotiations not go in his favor. He began to suspect they might be in for a battle so bloody, so brutal, that it would surpass all previous de Velt sieges.

  He prayed that de Vesci and Coleby would hand over the lady before it destroyed them all.

  *

  “I have a proposition for you, Denedor,” Keats said. “Please, sit.”

  Denedor was in de Vesci’s fine solar. The baron sat near the lancet windows on a chair built especially for him, one that was designed to take pressure off his hemorrhoids. They were so bad that he could not ride a horse any longer. Keats stood near the hearth with a cup of wine in his hand, his handsome face strained with worry. It looked as if the man had aged years over the past several hours. Denedor sat expectantly.

  “How may I be of service, my lord?” he asked politely.

  Keats drew in a long breath, eyeing de Vesci as he did so. “Your liege and I have been speaking,” he began. “He is very fond of you.”

  “And I of him.”

  “He says that you are a fine knight.”

  “I am honored.”

  “He also says that you have more female admirers than you can handle, yet you do not seem to take interest in them. Why is that?”

  Denedor cocked a blond eyebrow. “I suppose because none have sufficiently caught my attention,” he said. “Moreover, I am a busy man. I have many duties at Alnwick that keep me occupied and I have a son to raise.”

  Keats digested that statement. “Then it is not because you have vowed never to marry again after the death of your wife.”

  Denedor’s brow furrowed. “Nay, my lord. I have done no such thing.”

  “Then if the proper marriage prospected presented itself, you would consider it?”

  Denedor shrugged. “Of course.”

  “Then consider my daughter.”

  Denedor hadn’t been expecting that; in hindsight, he supposed he should have given the line of questioning, but the proposal still came as a surprise. His gazed moved to de Vesci to see the man’s reaction; he was gazing steadily at his captain. Apparently, he had already discussed and approved of this.

  Startled, Denedor stood up and turned away from the men. His initial sensation was excitement; nothing had pleased him so much in a very long time. But on the heels of that came darker thoughts. This was no ordinary situation and would certainly be no ordinary betrothal.

  “My lord,” he turned back to Keats. “Your daughter is determined to marry de Velt. She cares deeply for the man. What you are asking….”

  “De Velt is not suitable marriage material,” Keats cut him off. “You know the man and his reputation, Denedor. If you were in my position, would you allow your daughter to marry him?”

  Denedor could see the father’s pain. He slowly shook his head. “Nay,” he said quietly. “But your daughter wants him nonetheless. I doubt she would take kindly to a betrothal between her and I.”

  “It is not her choice.”

  Denedor sensed desperation and he understood that. He would have liked nothing better than to agree to the betrothal. But not like this. He did not want to marry a lady who was in love with someone else. It was not fair to either of them.

  “That is where I believe you are wrong, my lord,” he said steadily. “What you ask… it would make the lady miserable. She is still very much in the de Velt mindset. Given time, she will more than likely forget about the man, but right now, it would only aggravate the situation were I to agree to marry her.”

  Keats perked up. “Then you will agree?”

  Denedor held up a hand to quell any misunderstandings. “Were de Velt not involved in all of this, I would marry her today. But he is involved.”

  “Do you fear him? Is that the issue?”

  Denedor shook his head. “I do not fear the man. What I am concerned with is the lady. Marrying a woman who is in love with someone else is no way to start off a marriage. She would end up hating me and I could not bear it if your daughter grew to despise me. That is no way for two people to live.”

  Keats sighed heavily and looked to de Vesci. The baron, sensing it was his time to assert himself on his captain, shifted in his chair and reached for his chalice of wine.

  “Denedor,” he said in a low tone. “I have known you most of your life. You are the finest knight in my stable. I know that you were very attached to your wife, God rest her. I know that it nearly destroyed you when she died. What Keats is offering you is a chance to reclaim that happiness and have more children. Do you not understand that?”

  Denedor nodded. “Of course I do, my lord, and if I were to remarry, Lady Kellington is such a woman that I would stop at nothing to woo. She is bright, intelligent and beautiful and in the short time I have spent with her, I would be lying if I said that she does not already have me somewhat smitten. But the lady is endeared to someone else and if I accept t
his betrothal and marry her, then there will always be some manner of shadow between us because she will forever see me as the man who took her from de Velt.”

  “She will get over it.”

  “Perhaps. But perhaps not.”

  De Vesci scratched his chin, sipping on his wine. “Coleby is determined to marry his daughter off so that de Velt cannot have her. Once she is married, he will have little cause or claim to her.”

  Denedor raised an eyebrow. “You speak of de Velt. He will murder her husband and marry her anyway.”

  “Not if he does not know where she has gone,” de Vesci’s small brown eyes narrowed. “Marry the girl and take her to Ireland. I have family there and you would be provided a castle of your own and lands. De Velt would never find you there.”

  “De Velt will tear this country apart looking for her,” Denedor said flatly. “If he feels for her as she says he does, then nothing will stop him.”

  De Vesci sighed irritably. “So what do you want in order to agree to this? Money? A title?”

  Denedor shook his head. “You misunderstand, my lord. You do not have to bribe me to marry the woman; I’ve already said that is not the problem. The problem is de Velt. If he is to be discouraged from the lady, then it will have to come from her lips. That is the only way I can imagine he will back off, if at all. If he truly wants her, nothing will stop him.”

  De Vesci and Keats looked at each other, pondering the truth of that rationale. Keats finally shook his head. “She is stubborn,” he said. “She will never discourage de Velt no matter what we do to try and convince her. Unless…”

  De Vesci sat forward in his chair. “Unless… what?”

  Keats turned his golden brown gaze to Denedor. “Unless… unless Denedor can charm her to the point where she forgets about de Velt. From what I’ve heard, you charm with little attempt. Perhaps if you put some effort into charming my daughter, she will forget about de Velt altogether. It is worth a try.”

  “Your daughter is well on her way to charming me senseless. I feel like a giddy squire every time I am around her.”