Mercenaries and Maidens: A Medieval Romance bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  He could not have the constant threat of de Aughton hanging over his head. He wanted to find the man and punish him.

  “Where did you leave him?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t hear the menace in his voice.

  Her face was buried in his neck, burrowing, seeking comfort. “I am not exactly sure. To the west of Milnthorpe, along the main road. I traveled that road for quite some time before coming to Milnthorpe. Then I recognized the town and remembered where you had set up camp.”

  He snorted softly. “So you took the main road back here?”

  “Aye.”

  He shook his head at the irony. “So that’s why I missed you. My men and I set off to find you along every path and trail but the main road. We assumed that whoever took you would not stay to the main highway.”

  She pulled her face from his neck, looking up at him. “And he did not. He went through trees and fields, and I truthfully have no idea how we ended up where we did. But I just stayed to the road because I did not know what else to do. I figured that if I kept heading east, I would eventually run into a town. I was just fortunate that it was Milnthorpe.”

  He cupped her face in his big hands, smiling gently at her. He kissed her nose, her lips, listening to Brooke giggle off to his right. He turned around and looked at the girl.

  “What’s so funny?” he demanded lightly.

  Brooke grinned, looking a good deal like her mother as she did. “You kiss my mother the way I have seen women kiss their children.”

  “Is that so?” he asked. “And how is that?”

  Brooke wrinkled her nose. “Little baby pecks. Like you are trying to kiss her to death.”

  Braxton glanced at Gray and they exchanged grins. He dropped his hands from her and faced Brooke. “I am simply glad to have her back safely, as you should be.” When the girl nodded her head, he turned for the tent flap. “Now, I have some things to attend to. Edgar, keep tight watch over the ladies.”

  The young lad nodded sharply. With a lingering glance at Gray, who had settled herself back at Geoff’s side, Braxton exited the tent and found Dallas standing over by the massive fire.

  The men huddled together. Now that Dallas was to marry Brooke, their relationship had somehow deepened. There was a kinship forming that did not exist before. Now, they were to become family and Braxton was more comforted, more pleased, than he realized. Dallas would be a fine son-in-law.

  “It was de Aughton,” he told his knight in a low voice. “Gray said she left him to the west of Milnthorpe somewhere along the road. Since she took his horse, he would have to travel on foot but, I would suspect, his inclination is not to travel back to Milnthorpe. He has to know she would return to me and I would come looking for him.”

  Dallas nodded. They were joined by Graehm, having just come from inspecting Niclas’s big bay charger. “Arnside is a town around five miles to the east of Milnthorpe,” Dallas said. “He could have gone there instead.”

  “Or to any number of little villages to the south,” Braxton countered. “Organize the men into groups of four. Send a group to Arnside, Milnthorpe, and have the rest spread out over the countryside. Leave no stone unturned. I would have them report back to me by late tomorrow, whether or not they find anything. But tell them a bounty will be given to the men that find him. I want this man located and brought back to me.”

  Dallas nodded smartly and was gone. Braxton watched him march across the dim encampment, fading into the shadows. He turned to Graehm.

  “You will find me a priest,” his voice was quiet. “Bring the man here posthaste and pay him well for his trouble.”

  Graehm blanched. “Is Geoff…?”

  Braxton cut him off. “No, not for last rites. For a marriage. Actually, two.”

  Graehm’s eyebrows lifted slightly but he obeyed, disappearing into the darkness to collect his charger. With his men on the move, Braxton went back to the tent and stuck his head in through the door.

  “Gray,” he called softly. “A word, please.”

  She rose from her position next to Geoff and obediently went to him. He pulled her gently outside, under the blanket of stars that spread across the sky. It was a lovely night in spite of everything that had gone on. He crossed his big arms, facing her as the firelight flickered off his features.

  “Surely you understand that with de Aughton’s threat, the event of marriage is even more important than ever,” he said quietly. “I have sent Graehm to find a priest. Before this night is out, your daughter will be married to Dallas and you shall be married to me.”

  There was no longer any hesitation or reluctance in Gray’s expression. She had learned to trust Braxton completely. “Then I must tell my daughter she is to be a bride,” she said softly.

  He nodded. “Would you like for me to tell her?”

  Gray shook her head. “Thank you, but no. This is something I must do.”

  He gave her a wink, a supportive gesture, and followed her back into the tent. While he took up station next to Geoff, Gray took Brooke out into the night to tell her of her future. He was not surprised, moments later, to hear the young girl weep.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “He must have turned back for Milnthorpe,” Constance said. “There could be no other explanation, my lord. When your men told him who had come to Erith, naturally, he would do everything possible to keep my daughter and granddaughter from you. He has claimed them as his possessions, I tell you.”

  Roger sat in the great hall of Erith. The fire in the heart spit and smoked, filling the room with silver haze. It was sunset, the end of a long day. He had been informed some time earlier that a party had approached and a man had entered the bailey, demanding to know who bore the colors of the blue and white standard. Then the man and his party had turned away from Erith and made haste in the direction they had come. Only curiosity, rumors, and an eventual conversation with Lady Constance had made sense of the visitor. It had not been a pleasing realization.

  Roger eyed the Lady de Montfort seated across from him, toying with his wooden cup of cheap wine as he did so. There were a great many things on his mind.

  “Braxton de Nerra,” he rolled the name off his tongue. “You failed to inform me when I arrived that he was involved with this.”

  “His involvement is purely by sheer aggressiveness, I assure you,” Constance said. “We offered him shelter a week ago and he’s not left since. He sticks to my daughter like a disease and has taken control of Brooke. We’ve been unable to rid ourselves of him. Even now, he parades them around the countryside against their will.”

  “Is it your daughter’s pleasure that he stays? Perhaps she is considering marriage to him.”

  “She is not,” Constance said flatly. “My lord, I beseech you. I very much need your help if I am to save my daughter and granddaughter from that mercenary. For your aid, I assure you that your son will marry Brooke and you shall have my daughter if you deem her suitable. Will you not help me, please?”

  Roger sighed, turning his attention back to his cup as he spun it in slow circles. “Did you know that de Nerra’s father is Baron Gilderdale?”

  It was evident from her expression that she had not known. She did not want to come across looking like a fool. “He said he was distantly related to Anjou.”

  “And he is. But he is also the son of Thomas de Nerra, fourth Baron Gilderdale. And Gilderdale is a massive war machine as I am sure you know. Anyone in Northumberland knows of Gilderdale’s military might. Where do you think Braxton achieved his connections and knowledge? He is bred from a long line of warriors. The entire family is full of blood thirsty fiends. The Scots do not even like to go against them but God knows, they have. And they have lost.”

  Constance was still trying to recover her shock, fighting off the uncertainty now that she was not in charge of the conversation. “Do you fear that he will call upon his father if you move against him?”

  “He could. Certainly it would be a risk.”

  William de Cl
are sat silently next to his father, watching the man fiddle with the utensils. William may have looked like a pimp-faced lad, but in truth, he was even-tempered and wise as his mother had been. While most de Clare men were warriors with a mean streak, William did not possess this trait. True, he was training as a knight, and a very good one, but he was not mean by character. He was the opposite.

  “Father,” the lad said. “If Lady de Montfort is asking for our help, perhaps we should. There is no telling what peril Lady Gray and Lady Brooke might be in. Even if Gilderdale does support Braxton, they cannot defeat the House of de Clare. We are greater in number than they are.”

  “I’ll not start a war with someone I have no quarrel with,” Roger said with irritation. Then he slowed himself; he was beginning to sound like a coward. “De Nerra’s reputation is well known. He’s as ruthless as they come. Obviously, the man saw a fortress without a man to run it and has taken advantage of the situation. He’s a mercenary. He only sees the value of this acquisition.”

  William watched his father closely. “Then we will help?”

  Roger pursed his lips, looking at Constance and watching her anxious features. It was apparent that he was still weighing his options, struggling not to show his reluctance and trying to see the larger picture in all of this. He did not want to provoke Gilderdale, but there was something valuable at the end of all of this. Perhaps the risk would be worth it. When he spoke, it was to Constance alone. “If I do lend aid, have I your vow that Lady Brooke shall wed my son and Lady Gray shall wed me?”

  “Of course, my lord,” Constance agreed.

  “And Erith shall become William’s holding?”

  “Indeed it shall.”

  That was enough for Roger. He had just acquired a castle for his youngest son and a wife for himself. He was anxious to have more sons to carry on the de Clare name; there was no guarantee the three he had would survive to perpetuate the family. One had to plan for all possibilities of the future and Lady Constance’s suggestion of marriage to her widowed daughter had been an attractive one. Unexpected, but attractive nonetheless.

  “Then we shall send for more troops to reinforce Erith as we search for de Nerra and his bunch,” he abruptly stood up, startling William. He reached down and yanked his son to his feet. “Go tell the captain of the guard to send a rider home to Bronllys Castle to assemble two hundred of our men. Send to Caerphilly Castle for five hundred more. If we are going against de Nerra, then I would be prepared. The men will proceed to Erith immediately for further orders.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Constance said sincerely, perhaps a bit dramatically. “I am sure my daughter will thank you as well when she is free of this menace.”

  Roger lifted an eyebrow at the woman. For some reason, he was coming not to like her. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something untrustworthy and intolerable about her. He hoped he hadn’t just consigned himself to a nasty fight against Gilderdale.

  “We shall see,” was all he said.

  When the men had left the hall and she was all alone with the dim flicker of the hearth, Constance sat at the table and smiled. De Nerra might have been able to defeat her in her attempt to rid him from Erith, but he would not defeat Gloucester. Roger de Clare would squash him and the de Montforts would once again be in favor with a political marriage. And Constance would return to the life of luxury she deserved.

  Her smile grew.

  *

  To the south of Milnthorpe near an ancient mound built by the Saxon forefathers, Graehm located a small church. It was a dark and boxy structure with few windows. Vespers had ended and the two priests that lived at the church were locking up for the night. It seemed they weren’t very interested in Graehm at first; in fact, they seemed rather fearful of him and his purpose. But the promise of a sizable donation to their cause was enough to prompt the older priest to ride with Graehm back to Braxton’s encampment. Even though the man loaded himself onto the oldest mule Graehm had ever seen, they were still able to return to Braxton’s camp within an hour.

  Once arrived, there was little time for introductions or niceties. Although it wasn’t exactly how Gray would have planned a wedding, and it certainly wasn’t how she would have planned a wedding for her daughter, it really didn’t seem to matter. She stood next to Braxton as Brooke stood next to Dallas, her daughter still sobbing intermittently as the priest said the mass. The ceremony itself was short, to the point, and before Gray realized it, both she and her daughter were married women. Even when Braxton kissed her lips, her cheeks, and both her hands, it did not seem real. Even so, she knew in her heart it was the best thing she had ever done. She felt content, and she felt at peace.

  Brooke, however, was a completely different story. She was terrified of the tall blond knight eleven years her senior who was now her husband. He had hardly said a word to her but had shown an inordinate amount of courtesy and patience. When the priest blessed their union, he leaned down and, very properly, kissed her cheek. He came away with tears on his lips.

  Graehm, Norman and Edgar had witnessed the ceremony. The priest scribed marriage certificates on pieces of vellum he brought with him and had each man sign their name. In Norman and Edgar’s case, writing their name was the only thing they knew, as neither of them had acquired the skills of reading or writing. Then the priest sanded the documents and handed them over to the respective grooms, whereupon Braxton paid the man more money than he had earned the entire previous year. It was a tidy sum.

  And with that, Lady Gray de Montfort Serroux became the Lady Gray de Montfort Serroux de Nerra, and her daughter became the Lady Brooke Serroux Aston.

  It was nearly midnight by the time everything was said and done. The priest would spend the night with them because traveling the roads in the dark was not safe, even for armed men. They gave him a bedroll and plied him with food and drink. Braxton’s men were spread out and several campfires burned throughout the dark, eerie oaks. Gray stood with her arms around her daughter, comforting her as they watched Dallas and Norman pitch another tent under the half-moon sky.

  Braxton had walked the perimeter to make sure the posts were set for the night. He couldn’t remember ever feeling lighter of heart. For the first time in his life, he was actually happy. When he returned, it was to stand behind his new wife and daughter, watching as Gray gently stroked her daughter’s arms, whispering soft words to the girl. He felt rather guilty, knowing Brooke was frightened and upset by the turn of the day’s events. But it had been in her best interest. And he knew Dallas, and the man’s character, better than she did. She had nothing to fear.

  He moved from behind them and stood alongside. He cast a sidelong glance at Brooke, intermittently sobbing with her head on her mother’s shoulder.

  “Brooke,” he said quietly. “May I express my pleasure at becoming your father?”

  Both Gray and Brooke looked over at him; Gray was smiling faintly and Brooke was hiccupping with a finger in between her teeth. She blinked her luminous brown eyes at him.

  “T-thank you,” she replied only after her mother gave her an encouraging squeeze.

  Braxton smiled at her. “May I tell you something?” She nodded and he continued. “I realize this night has been upsetting and surprising to you. I know you were not prepared for this. But you must realize that Dallas was not prepared, either. This is as much a life change to him as it is to you. And I promise you that I would have never suggested this to either of you if I did not, for one moment, believe it was the right thing to do. Do you believe that?”

  Brooke’s sniffles were fading and she removed the finger from her mouth to wipe the tears from her eyes. “A-aye,” she said quietly.

  “Good.” He reached out and pushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. It was a gentle, fatherly gesture. “Dallas is a very fine man. I have known him many years and he has never once shown me that he is anything other than chivalrous, kind and wise. If you searched your entire li
fe for such a man, you could not have found a better one. I know he will make a fine husband and you must give him that chance. Will you do this?”

  Brooke slowly lifted her head from her mother’s shoulder, her gaze moving to the tall man tying off the last of the tent lines. She sniffled again, but it was only remnants. Her tears, for the most part, were gone.

  “Aye,” she said, her eyes still on him. “But… but I do not even know him.”

  “Nor he, you. All he knows of you is a scrapper who fights with boys. Now show him a wife he would be proud to have.”

  She looked at him, her big eyes blinking thoughtfully. “How do I do that?”

  Braxton’s smile broadened. “Ask your mother. She is far more knowledgeable in these areas than I.”

  Brooke turned to her mother, who wriggled her eyebrows in response. “I am not sure if I am more knowledgeable, but I have had some experience. All I can tell you is to be kind, patient and obedient. The rest you must learn on your own.” She gave her daughter a squeeze. “I like Dallas. I believe he will be a fine husband for you.”

  By this time, Dallas had finished the tent and was half way over to them. Brooke saw him coming and her eyes widened. But she admirably controlled herself and settled down as he came upon them. It would seem that Braxton’s words had some impact on her.

  “Norman and Edgar are going to bed with Graehm tonight, my lord,” Dallas said to Braxton. “Lady Brooke and I shall have the smaller tent while you and your lady wife share the larger one.”

  Braxton nodded his acknowledgement, thinking it would perhaps not be much of a wedding night with Geoff a few feet away. But he said nothing to that effect; impatient as a bridegroom though he may feel, he was well aware of the logistics of their sleeping arrangements.

  “It has been a long day,” he said. “I would suggest that we all retire and take what sleep we can. We will leave for Erith before dawn.”

  He took a step back in the direction of the larger tent, noticing that Gray hadn’t moved. She was still standing with her arm around her daughter. Dallas was standing there, looking between Brooke and her mother, and the mood was becoming awkward. Though not unfeeling, Braxton could see Gray’s reluctance and he understood. Yet he would do what needed to be done; moving to the women, he took Gray’s hand and gently pulled her away from her child.