Cantia’s gaze moved to the dead woman, her attention lingering there for a moment. Thoughts of her own past hovered in her mind. “Nay,” she looked away. “She died when I was very young. I do not remember her at all. In that respect, I think you were very fortunate to have met your mother. I wish I had.”
Arabel reached out a bony hand to Cantia, who took it snuggly. “I think I was fortunate, too,” she said, squeezing Cantia’s hand. “She said that I am meant to protect my father. I think I shall protect you, too.”
Cantia smiled gratefully as they moved to the doorway, opening the panel to reveal the brilliant sunset beyond. Streamers of orange and yellow brushed across the sky and they all paused, gazing up into the coming night because it was so beautiful.
“Soft strokes of the colors of sunset that appear vibrant against the deep blue sky,” Arabel uttered softly, repeating the words her mother had spoken to her as she looked up at the brilliant night. “Father, do you think she meant to leave this sunset for us?”
Tevin followed his daughter’s gaze. Then he kissed her cheek and managed to stroke Cantia’s shoulder affectionately. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so satisfied or so free.
“I do not think she meant it for all of us,” he said softly. “I think she only meant it for you. It is the last gift she could give you.”
Arabel liked that thought. As she looked up into the glistening clouds, somewhere, someway, she could see Louisa winking at her.
She winked back.
EPILOGUE
July 1156 A.D.
“Mother,” the young man was very serious. “I am quite capable with a sword. You must not worry.”
Cantia was seated in the solar of Thunderbey Castle, gazing up at Talus and wondering when her little boy had grown up. At sixteen years of age, he was already as tall as his father although he lacked Tevin’s bulk. That would come with time, she knew, but it was difficult for her to separate the young man from her little boy. She had already been forced to do that with Hunt before she was ready, as he was now the powerful Steward of Rochester at the young age of twenty-one years. He had Brac’s good looks and sensibilities but Tevin’s heart and soul. It was a wonderful combination.
Now, Talus was her second oldest, an extremely handsome young man with her lavender eyes and Tevin’s features. He even had his father’s long, copper colored hair. But she wasn’t sure she was ready for him to grow up completely.
“Mother?” Talus said impatiently. “Did you hear me?”
Snapped from her daydreams, Cantia sighed heavily. “I heard you,” she said. “Where is your father? What does he have to say to all of this?”
“He sent me here to tell you.”
Cantia’s eyes narrowed. “He did?” She set aside her sewing and stood up. “Where is he?”
Before Talus could reply, there was much chatter and laughter descending from the upper floors. The small solar was tucked back in the big, box-shaped keep of Thunderbey underneath the stairs, so any movement up and down the stairwell always tended to sound like a herd of cattle running about. Noise echoed.
Eleanor du Reims, the image of her gorgeous mother at fifteen years of age, was the first down the stairs with her siblings close behind. She held on to the youngest child, Kinnon, who was only four years of age, but Tarran, Tristen and Elizabetha were clustered in behind her, antagonizing each other. As children verging on young adulthood, they tended to be confrontational with each other. As Cantia listened to Tarran harass his younger sister, she called out to them.
“Tarran,” she said in a threatening mother tone. “Stop pestering your sister. All of you come in here, please.”
The gaggle of children wandered into the solar, Kinnon running to his mother and lifting his arms to her. Cantia picked up her youngest, a blond little boy who looked a great deal like Hunt had at that age. She looked at the group around her.
“Talus,” she addressed her son. “Your father is taking an army to Wales and I am quite sure he did not ask you to join as a full-fledged warrior. I believe he is taking you and your brothers as squires.”
Talus was grossly unhappy as Tarran and Tristen beamed. At thirteen and nine years of age, respectively, they had recently been called home from fostering at Pontefract Castle because it had been heavily besieged by the Scots twice in the past two years, and Cantia was frantic to bring her children home. Begrudgingly, Tevin had ridden north to bring the boys home, who weren’t quite so sure what their mother was all worked up about. Their father said it was something about the irrational Scots. Now, with the prospect of accompanying their father to the Welsh border on behalf of King Henry I, they were thrilled. But Talus was jealous because his younger brothers had seen more war action than he had.
“But I have my own sword,” Talus argued. “Father will not allow me to use it because he knows how upset you become. He….”
Talus’ argument was cut off when the door to the keep opened and the grating of mail could be heard. Tevin made an appearance in the solar entry as Elizabetha and Tristen ran to him, both of them trying to talk to him at the same time. Tevin threw up his hands.
“I cannot understand more than one conversation at a time,” he said, bending over to kiss Elizabetha on the forehead and putting a fatherly hand on Tristen’s shoulder. “What is all the fuss about?”
“What is it ever about?” Cantia sighed. She went to her husband, kissing him. “Talus has informed me that he will be accompanying you as a warrior and not a squire to the Welsh Marches. Is there truth in this?”
Tevin looked at his tall son, wriggling his eyebrows at the lad. “I told him he could bring his weapon,” he admitted as he looked at his wife. “Lord Marmion swore to me that Talus is already a very good warrior, and I must concur. I have seen Talus in practice and the lad has no equal.”
Cantia lifted an impatient brow. “I realize he was the shining hero of Tamworth Castle when he fostered, but I also know that he is only sixteen years of age. I am not entirely sure he should be fighting Henry’s wars. He is not even a full-fledged knight yet.”
Tevin’s gaze was a mixture of warmth and disappointment. “Do you not trust my judgment any more than that?”
Cantia sighed again and set Kinnon down, who was beginning to squirm. “Of course I do,” she said, more gently. “But you are also a proud father and… Eleanor, why don’t you take the children into the hall? The nooning meal should be ready.”
Eleanor took Kinnon and Elizabetha, but the older boys seemed inclined to hang around until Tevin gave them a threatening glare and pointed to the door. Only then did Tristen and Tarran move, however slowly, with the other children. Talus, however, didn’t seem to think the request pertained to him until Tevin literally grabbed the boy by the shoulder and pushed him towards the door. Unhappy, Talus followed the rest.
When they were finally alone in the solar, Tevin looked at his wife. Outside in the ward, he could hear the shouts of sentries, alerting the castle to an incoming rider, but he ignored the cries as he focused on his wife.
“I know you are unhappy about my going to the Marches,” he said softly yet sternly. “You have made that clear, and I have made it equally clear that I must go. I am too important to the king’s arsenal and he is determined to unite England and Wales, so I must do this. It is important.”
Cantia didn’t have a logical reply for him because she knew he was right, so she frowned verily and he put his arms around her, pulling her close.
“You are too old to be fighting,” she protested weakly. “You must leave it to the younger men. You have already put in your time, Tevin. You fought for Stephen for years and now Henry. I do not want you on the front lines any longer. I want my husband home.”
“And I am home,” he chided gently. “You wanted Talus home, so I brought him home. Then you wanted Tristen and Tarran home because you were afraid for them, so I brought them home as well. Eleanor came home from Kenilworth when she was twelve because you could not bear to be away from
her, and Elizabetha and Kinnon have yet to even foster and I am not entirely sure they ever will. We are all home with you, Cantia, and if it were up to you, we would be all bottled up safely in the bosom of Thunderbey for the rest of our lives.”
Cantia was deeply frowning by now. “There is nothing wrong with wanting to have my children and husband safe and home. We have seen enough fighting and battles, you and I.”
He kissed her forehead. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured. “But England is only safe so long as the next generation is prepared to defend and preserve her. Talus is ready to do that, as are Tarran and Tristen. You must let them grow up, and I must show them how. Will you please let me do that?”
Cantia tried not to let depression overwhelm her. So she simply hugged him, knowing she couldn’t adequately voice her protests to the point where he would understand her. Not this time. He was right and they both knew it.
“Life seemed much simpler during the days of Rochester,” she complained. “When did it become so complicated?”
Tevin laughed softly. “You mean the days of Charles and Gillywiss?”
Cantia smiled in spite of herself as she remembered the outlaw, from so long ago, who had changed the course of her life.
“I miss him,” she admitted. “I miss his eccentric ways. Do you remember when he came to our wedding dressed as a woman? I would not have known it was him except he was wearing one of my old surcoats.”
Tevin snorted. “I remember that Simon flirted with him and then nearly killed him when he found out he was a man.”
That brought soft laughter from Cantia. “And Arabel,” she added. “She was oddly attached to him after that.”
“She knew he had brought her mother to her. It endeared him to her.”
“It endeared him to us all.”
“She told me that he had visited her at the abbey a few times. Did she mention that to you?”
Tevin nodded as he thought on his frail, intelligent daughter who had, at age eighteen, decided to pledge herself to holy servitude. It had seemed to be the right decision for her, but he missed her tremendously. What was it he had told Cantia? You must let them grow up. It was easier said than done.
Tevin sighed, his cheek against the top of Cantia’s head. “Times did seem simpler back then but I know they were not. Time has a way of easing memories until all you can recall is the good.”
Cantia was forced to agree but she was prevented from replying when Talus suddenly burst back into the room, holding something aloft in his hand.
“Father,” he sounded eager. “A messenger just came from Lohrham Forest!”
Tevin looked startled for a moment, glancing at his wife. “Myles,” he muttered, moving to his excited son and collecting the missive the young man held. He stared at it a moment before breaking the seal. “It must be about….”
Cantia was beside him, literally twitching with excitement and apprehension. “Oh, it must be,” she said anxiously. “Hurry and read it. What does it say?”
Tevin had the missive unrolled. By this time, the other children had wandered back into the solar because they, too, had seen the messenger from their position in the great hall. Knowing they had all been awaiting news from Lohrham Forest, the small castle where Myles and Val had lived for many years, they were anxious as their parents were to hear the contents of the missive. Tevin could see his brood in his periphery but his gaze was fixed on the carefully scripted letters.
“I have prayed daily for them,” he muttered, trying to bring the message into focus. His eyes weren’t what they used to be. “Two stillborn children in the past sixteen years and now….”
Cantia was beside herself. “Now what?”
Tevin read slowly. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself. Then, as Cantia watched his face, a smile gradually spread across his lips. She swore she saw the glint of tears in his eyes as he began to read aloud.
“My sister gave birth to a healthy boy four weeks ago,” he announced. “They christened the child Christopher and he is doing very well. Myles says he has never seen a child eat so eagerly.”
Cantia closed her eyes. “Thank God,” she breathed, hugging her husband tightly. “Oh, thank God. They have waited for this child for so very long. Finally, a healthy son.”
Tevin was beyond words at the moment. He was so thankful on behalf of his sister and of Myles that he was nearly weak with it. All he could do was wrap his arms around Cantia and thank God for his own blessings. He had been given so many that it was difficult to count them all. He knew, without a doubt, that he was the most fortunate man alive.
Tevin, Talus, Tarran and Tristen went to the Welsh Marches after all to assist Henry I of England in his quest to unite England and Wales. Although the battles, for the most part, were not successful, all four survived and the three young men, sons of the great Earl of East Anglia, went on to fight for Henry for many years while their father retired to Thunderbey Castle to live out the remainder of his life with his wife by his side.
Three years after the birth of Christopher, David de Lohr was born to Myles and Val. Christopher and David grew up to serve Richard the Lion Heart in The Levant, and eventually became two of the more powerful noblemen in the High Middle Ages. Christopher was granted the title Earl of Hereford and Worcester by King Richard, while David was eventually granted the title Earl of Canterbury when he married the heiress. Both men were strong supporters of the crown and major players in the annals of history.
Beautiful Eleanor Britton du Reims married the Earl of Newark, Geoffrey Hage, at seventeen years of age and gave birth to the first of four sons, Kieran, the very next year. Kieran Hage went on to become one of the more powerful knights in the arsenal of King Richard, serving in The Levant with his cousins Christopher and David de Lohr. He also ended up marrying a rather strange Irish heiress and returned to her homeland with her, forsaking the family honor and relinquishing the title of Earl of Newark to his younger brother, Sean. At least, that was how the Hage family recorded the event, but some scholars disputed that finding.
Finally, Huntington Penden became a powerful warlord in his own right as Steward of Rochester Castle and his own son, Brac, assumed the title upon the passing of his father. Arabel du Reims eventually became Mother Superior at Yaxley Nene Abbey in Leicestershire, devoting her life to the contemplation of heaven versus Walhalla and trying to find her answers within the word of God. She was relentless in her search for the truth and developed a reputation within the ecclesiastical community as a whip-smart scholar, a fair superior, and a strict task master.
When she finally discovered the verity to the great question that had driven her most of her life, her mother, indeed, was waiting for her.
She had her answer.
* THE END *
AUTHOR NOTE
While Angels Slept is a novel that was six years in the making. It was also a novel that took on a mind of its own and essentially wrote itself. What a wild adventure!
Tevin and Cantia are the ancestors of several other Le Veque characters, as noted at the end of the epilogue. Their daughter, Eleanor, is the mother of the great Kieran Hage, hero of The Crusader and Kingdom Come. Tevin’s sister, Val, is the mother of two of Le Veque’s greatest and most prolific characters, Christopher and David de Lohr, central characters in Spectre of the Sword, Archangel, Dark Steel, and The Lion Heart to name a few. They pretty much pop up everywhere. The tough part is knowing that Christopher and David’s parents die when the boys are young, but Le Veque chooses not to write about that part. It is left to the reader’s imagination. And in case you are wondering about Arabel’s affliction, she was born with Spina Bifida, and Louisa died from tuberculosis.
Before everyone goes crazy with the fact that Valhalla, or Walhalla, is from Norse mythology and not German mythology, think again. Read about the intermingling of Norse, Germanic and European mythology and learn some interesting facts. It would seem that folks like to borrow each other’s gods and heavens, and just change the
name a little. It makes for interesting reading.
Please enjoy an excerpt from a coming novel (possibly 2020) titled THE CHAMPION.
This tale is the next generation of the du Reims/de Vaston/MacRohan families (Godspeed, High Warrior) wherein Bric MacRohan’s youngest daughter, Kira, is much pursued by the sons of du Reims and the cousins of de Vaston. Since these families all grew up together, the pursuit of Kira becomes a point of contention between three very close families – and makes for some great moments. Kira is partial to Beckett du Reims (who is our hero), the second son of Dashiell and Belladonna (Godspeed). However, all is not well as a nephew of the Duke of Savernake, Bentley de Vaston (Godspeed), Creston of Ashbourne, will not give up pursuit.
The setting for this excerpt is a day of falconry with lovely (and spoiled) Kira and her suitors.
Kira had awakened to a brisk tugging on her arm. Before she was fully awake, Portia was scrubbing her sleepy face with warmed rosewater and brushing her hair brutally. As Kira yawned and struggled to remain upright in the midst of Portia’s harsh attentions, the sun broached the boundaries of the eastern horizon and began its steady ascent.
Forced to down a nourishing concoction of milk and herbs and a touch of whiskey, Kira gradually became lucid in the face of the old woman’s brisk care. Entirely nude as she stood in the center of the room in preparation for donning her durable riding clothes, she watched Portia without interest as the woman busied herself at the massive wardrobe.
“’Tis a bit of chill in the air this morn,” the old woman muttered, garbing her young charge in a soft linen shift. Grasping the heavy woolen riding gown of scarlet hue, she lowered it to the ground for Kira to step into. “The hawks will not be amiable this morn in the cold temperature.”
Kira straightened and pulled at the gown as the old woman hooked the ties. “It doesn’t matter if they fly or not. As long as Beckett and I are together, I don’t care what the birds do.”