Mercenaries and Maidens: A Medieval Romance bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Another figure capturing her attention had been her daughter. The young woman rode on the rear of the wagon bed along with Edgar but there had, remarkably, been no harsh words between them. In fact, Brooke seemed very distracted when she realized that it was more than likely because Dallas was riding a few feet behind her. He, too, was in full armor with his shield slung and his visor lowered. Gray couldn’t see his face. Having not talked to her daughter since last night, she had no idea what had transpired between the newlyweds. Focusing on Braxton, she motioned him near her.

  “Braxton, look at Brooke,” Gray said softly. “Does she look upset to you?”

  Braxton’s helmed head turned in the young lady’s direction. “I cannot see her face. Why? Is she upset?”

  Gray shrugged. “I do not know,” she said quietly. “She has barely said a word to me all morning. Have you spoken with Dallas?”

  “Not since this morning.”

  “Do you suppose things are not well between them?”

  “If things are not, you must let them work it out.”

  She sighed, turning to face forward. “I was not attempting to interfere. But Brooke is my daughter and.…”

  “And Dallas is her husband,” Braxton cut her off. He flipped up his visor and looked at her, although not unkind. “You have your own husband to worry over, my lady. That is where your focus should be.”

  She fought off a grin. “Is that so? And when has my focus not been completely and utterly upon you, my lord?”

  He smiled at her. “Never. You are my devoted angel.”

  She smiled shyly, a gesture that enchanted him. Then her smile faded as her amber gaze fell on the road ahead. “What do you intend to do if de Clare is still at Erith?”

  His own smile faded and he too turned his attention forward. “Offer them the hospitality of Erith, of course,” he said evenly. “But it is now Dallas’ keep; that is his decision.”

  She gazed at him, his strong profile through the limited view of the visor. “Braxton, I am afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of these Houses that my mother has invited to vie for Brooke’s hand. What if they become enraged because she has already married? Erith cannot withstand a siege. There is nothing to hold back the enemy.”

  He looked at her, then. “You forget that you have the army of Braxton de Nerra within your walls. Only a fool would knowingly attack me.”

  “But you have less than two hundred men. De Clare, and others, have hundreds.”

  “One of my men is worth ten of someone else’s. Do you have so little faith in me?”

  “Of course not,” she said softly, putting a hand on his armored arm. “I did not mean to insult you. I know your reputation is great.”

  He grunted. “Great indeed. If anyone should be afraid, it should be de Clare.” With that, he turned his head and emitted a shrill whistle from between his teeth. Dallas spurred his charger forward, kicking up rocks and dirt as he did so. One rock flipped up and hit Brooke on the face, just below her left eye. She screamed and threw her hand over her cheek.

  The sound brought everyone running. Gray was already climbing from the wagon bench back into the bed in an attempt to reach her daughter. Dallas, having reined his horse around at the sound of his wife’s cry, was joined by Braxton. Everyone was racing to her side. Brooke sat on the open wagon bed and wept.

  Gray was the first to reach her. “Let me see, sweetheart.”

  She peeled her daughter’s hand away from her face to find a bloody cut underneath. Brooke continued to weep as Gray looked around for something to wipe the blood away with, taking an offered strip of boiled cloth from the wagon driver as he yanked it from one of the bags at his feet.

  “There now, love,” she smiled as she put the cloth over the cut to stop the bleeding. “It’s not bad. What happened?”

  Brooke’s luminous blue eyes were shedding rivers of tears. “The horse kicked up a rock.”

  “What horse?”

  “Dallas’.”

  Dallas was off his charger, walking beside Brooke as the wagon plodded along. He flipped up his visor, gazing at Brooke’s face with great concern. Holding the reins in one hand, he put the other on her knee.

  “I am so sorry, Brooke,” he said softly. “It was an accident.”

  Gray watched the young knight interact with her daughter, surprised at the emotion in his voice. She had not expected it. She was even more surprised when Brooke stopped crying immediately and smiled at him. It was just like magic.

  “I am all right,” she assured him in a tone her mother had never heard her use before. “I know you did not mean it. I… I think I was startled more than anything. It will heal.”

  Dallas smiled back at her, patting her knee before looking to Gray. “Is it bad?”

  Gray was still lingering on the exchange between her daughter and Dallas. It took her a moment to realize he had asked her a question.

  “Nay,” she forced herself to shift her focus back to the cut. “It doesn’t look like she’ll need stitches. She will mend.”

  “Good. I do not want anything to mar that lovely face.” Dallas looked back to his wife and gave her a bold wink. Brooke smiled broadly. Gray was astonished at them both.

  “Dallas,” Braxton was still astride his charger, plodding alongside the wagon. “A word, please.”

  Dallas tore his gaze from Brooke and swiftly mounted. Together, they spurred their chargers to the head of the column so that their conversation would not be overheard. Gray cast a glance at her husband as he cantered off before returning her attention to her daughter. Even as she tended the cut, her mind was on the exchange between Brooke and her new husband. Being a mother, and a very concerned one, she could not help her curiosity.

  “Is all well, Brooke?” she asked softly.

  Brooke could see Dallas in her peripheral vision. She kept trying to turn her head to watch him as her mother cleaned the cut. “Aye, Mama,” she said, still trying to catch a glimpse of her husband. “Everything is fine.”

  Gray’s movements slowed as she fixed her daughter in the eye. “Are you sure? He was… kind? You are not injured?”

  Brooke knew what her mother was speaking of and she flushed violently, averting her gaze. “Everything is fine, Mama. Truly.”

  Gray sighed faintly and resumed cleaning the wound. She wasn’t going to press if Brooke did not want to speak of it. As long as Brooke said she was fine, she would ask no further. Still, it was difficult to fathom that her little girl was now a married woman. She wasn’t used to the idea.

  Up at the front of the column, Braxton was amused to notice that Dallas seemed unfocused also. He kept looking back over his shoulder. Braxton finally cleared his throat loudly.

  “She is a lovely girl,” he commented casually.

  Dallas apparently hadn’t realized how distracted he had appeared. He faced forward, pretending to focus on the road ahead. “What did you wish to speak of?”

  Braxton fought off a smile. “Your wife. Did you do your duty?”

  “I did.”

  “Completely? So it can never be questioned that the marriage was consummated?”

  Dallas looked at him, then. “I performed as a husband. And she performed as a wife.”

  Braxton could see he was being truthful. He would not press further. “Excellent,” his gaze moved forward again. “Now we have a bit of a situation on our hands; Erith is now your keep. The de Clares were guests there last we saw. What is your wish as far as they are concerned? Will you continue to show them hospitality or will you order them to leave?”

  Dallas fell into contemplative silence. “I have no reason to order them away if they have come peacefully,” he said after a moment. “Of course, I would know the reason for their visit. If they have come to seek Brooke’s hand, however, I will throw them out on their arse.”

  Braxton looked at him; Dallas was usually quite calm, even in the heat of battle. It was a powerful quality in a powerful man. To hear him
speak with such force was completely uncharacteristic. Braxton fought off a grin, suspecting that the lovely Lady Brooke had somehow left a mark on the dedicated young knight.

  “As you wish,” he replied. “But we must be mindful of their numbers. They are, after all, Gloucester, and Erith is in no condition to withstand a siege. Whatever you decide to do, it must be done with great foresight.”

  Dallas nodded, thinking of the broken down fortress that was now his. Strange how the castle now seemed so magnificent to him and he felt quite naturally protective of it.

  “I will tell you what else I wish,” he went on. “I wish for Lady Constance sent back to wherever she came from. I do not want that old witch within my walls or near my wife. She is a snake.”

  “You are speaking of my wife’s mother and your wife’s grandmother,” Braxton reminded him. “You must be very careful how you approach this.”

  “Do you disagree?”

  “Hell no. But you must be very careful when throwing her bodily from the keep. You do not want to appear cruel or controlling. More than that, the old woman is of the Northumberland Grays. It would do Erith absolutely no good to offend the whole of Northumberland.”

  Dallas looked at him, a twinkle in his eye. “Will your father not ride to our aide?”

  “My father will be leading the attack against us.”

  “Marvelous,” Dallas snorted ironically. “A most twisted predicament we find ourselves in.”

  Braxton could only lift his eyebrows in agreement, his gaze moving back over the scenery around them. It was lush and quiet. Erith was only a few miles to the north. They would be arriving soon and his trepidation sparked.

  “If I can make a suggestion, Dallas,” he ventured.

  “Of course, my lord.”

  “Do not address me so formally in moments like this.”

  “Of course, father.”

  Braxton’s head snapped up, seeing Dallas silently laughing at him. He smirked. “Whelp,” he muttered insultingly. But he grew serious. “I would suggest you send word ahead to Erith announcing not only your marriage to Lady Brooke, but your impending arrival as the new lord of Erith. If de Clare is still there, they must know immediately. And be forewarned.”

  “Do you believe that entirely wise? It might give them time to build up a righteous rage.”

  “Indeed it will. But I would rather meet that rage head-on than wait until we are at Erith and trapped by the de Clare army within her crumbling walls.”

  Dallas turned his head, lifting a gloved hand in Graehm’s direction. The stocky knight was almost to the rear of the column but caught the gesture and spurred his charger forward. He met up with Braxton and Dallas at their position near the front.

  “Aye?” he answered Dallas.

  “Send word ahead to Erith announcing the marriage of the Lady Brooke Serroux to Sir Dallas Aston.”

  “Very good,” Graehm saluted sharply, grinning. His gaze moved to Braxton. “And you, my lord? Am I to announce your marriage to Lady Gray?”

  Braxton’s focus was on the road ahead as if he could see Erith in the distance. He began to seriously wonder what lay in wait for them. With Constance’s treachery, he could only imagine. And he knew she would not take the announcement of the marriages well. But he didn’t care.

  “Absolutely,” he said. “You will let the world know that Braxton de Nerra has taken a bride.”

  Graehm was gone. Braxton glanced over his shoulder at Dallas to notice that the young knight was staring at him. They gazed at each other a moment, a thousand words of curiosity and foreboding filling their air. Braxton faced forward again.

  “Put the wagons and the ladies to the rear,” he said quietly. “Put the men on alert. Knights with shields slung.”

  Dallas moved swiftly to carry out the order. The last glimpse that Braxton had of his wife was as the wagon made a sweeping turn for the rear of the column.

  His visor went down and his shield went over his left knee.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Gloucester didn’t simply release a barrage. He released chaos.

  As soon as Braxton’s army neared the outer perimeter of Erith, the three hundred men that Roger de Clare had brought with him attacked from the woods. The fortress was hardly manned, being that it provided no protection whatsoever. Roger had wisely sent his men into the cover of the trees to attack de Nerra’s army.

  The first volley of arrows struck the men at the front of Braxton’s column. He lost four men right away, pierced through their bodies and heads with Gloucester arrows. Braxton himself was hit, but only in the wrist. The arrow didn’t even lodge itself; it simply pierced him and fell away. Knowing they had walked right into an ambush, Braxton did the only thing he could. He called a retreat.

  But there were de Clare men lining the woods for several hundred yards. Even in retreat, they found themselves in a full-scale battle as Roger’s army almost completely encircled them. Braxton’s heart was in his throat as he thundered his way to the rear of the column where Gray and Brooke were; he found them laying in the wagon next to Geoff, being shielded from the arrows and fighting by none other than Norman and Edgar. When the soldier driving the wagon was hit with an arrow to the neck, Braxton leapt from his charger and took the reins himself.

  The wagon barreled back down the road as fast as the horses would go. His only thought at the moment was to get the women to safety. Gradually, the fighting fell away from them and they were alone, tearing down the road towards Milnthorpe. He could hear Brooke weeping softly in the bed of the wagon but he did not stop; he continued for another mile at least, far enough away so that he was sure they were clear of the fighting. But he did not trust Gloucester not to follow him. He drove the wagon off the road, across a small brook, and continued into a heavy thicket.

  By this time, Gray had lifted her head. Realizing there was no longer a war going on over her head, she climbed onto the wagon bench beside her husband and held on for dear life as he drove a crazy path through the foliage. Braxton felt her presence but didn’t look at her; he could not afford the diversion. His primary focus was to get them to safety.

  They finally reached a cool, grassy area imbedded in a cluster of white birch trees and Braxton pulled the wagon to an unsteady halt. It was silent but for the singing of the birds overhead. As Gray turned to Braxton, the thunder of hooves behind them startled everyone. They turned to see Braxton’s charger rushing up behind them, riderless. The horse had followed his master all the way from the battle, very well trained to stay with his lord.

  When they saw it was only the destrier, everyone emitted varied sighs of relief. Braxton’s gaze lingered on Gray a moment, just to see for himself that she was all right. She smiled wanly. He patted her cheek, bailed from the wagon, and went straight to the team of horses. Gray watched him unfasten the tack.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Braxton uncoupled the team as Norman and Edgar ran up. The boys began unstrapping the leather connecting the animals.

  “I must return,” he told her.

  “But why are you unhitching the horses?”

  “Norman and Edgar return with me.”

  Gray didn’t say anything, but her wide-eyed expression conveyed much. Braxton couldn’t linger on her fear, however; she was safe and that was all that concerned him. He had a job to do.

  When he had helped the boys as much as he was able, he went to the wagon and motioned Gray down off the bench. She slid into his waiting hands and he put his arm around her shoulders as he led her back towards his now-grazing charger. She laid her head on his shoulder, clinging to him.

  “I will go back and fight off de Clare, but I wanted you safe,” he explained, trying to alleviate her fears. “It should not take long. Skirmishes like this usually don’t. But you will say here until I come for you. Is that clear?”

  They had reached the charger and now faced each other. “Aye,” Gray nodded, dread in her eyes. “Please be careful, Braxton. Nothing ab
out Erith is worth dying for.”

  He smiled at her. “It is Dallas’ fortress now. He might have something different to say about that.”

  She rolled her eyes miserably. “Do not be glib,” she begged. “I am serious. I would rather have you safe and whole than any piece of that old fortress. It has only brought me misery. But to lose you would.…”

  He kissed her swiftly once, twice, then slanted his lips over hers hungrily. “You will not lose me,” he whispered against her mouth. “I will return.”

  Norman and Edgar were already mounted, riding up beside him. Braxton kissed her one last time and vaulted onto his charger, gathering the reins.

  “Stay here,” he ordered softly. “Make a fire and shelter, and anything else to keep you comfortable until my return.”

  Gray was trying not to cry. “When will you be back?”

  “Hopefully before nightfall.”

  Brooke wandered up beside her mother, her lovely face pale and tear-streaked. Gray put her arm around her daughter to comfort her.

  “Dallas,” Brooke sniffled. “You will make sure he is all right, too?”

  Braxton smiled at the young woman. “Dallas is a fine knight, Lady Aston. He can take care of himself.”

  Seeing that Gray was distracted comforting her daughter, Braxton spurred his horse back through the trees. Norman and Edgar followed close behind. In little time, they were back on the road and heading back into the heat of battle.

  The skirmish was still going when Braxton and the boys returned. Braxton plunged right into the fighting, wielding his sword against the heavily-armed de Clare men. Norman and Edgar stayed to the outskirts as they usually did, dragging the wounded out of the fighting and trying not to become one of the casualties themselves. It was close-quarters fighting now that the archers had been called off for fear of hitting their own men.