Davyss shrugged. “I would not know,” he said quietly. “You have not written to her nor have you spoken to her. I am going on the assumption that she knows nothing, as evidenced by her missive.”
Elizaveta grunted unhappily. “So she writes you a missive, seeking me, and very clearly stating that she has picked up where my grandmother left off, which means that she is now sending information to the Scots,” she said in disgust. “Well, I will not do it. I will not write her. I do not want to have anything to do with her.”
Drake was finished with the missive at this point, listening to his wife’s anger. “Do not be so hasty, love,” he said. “This may be a grand opportunity and one we should not pass over.”
Davyss looked at him curiously but Elizaveta was still angry. “I will not write her,” she said again.
Drake put his hand on her shoulder. “Listen to me first,” he said. “For what your grandmother did, I cannot believe you would not be beyond a bit of vengeance yourself.”
Now he had Elizaveta’s curiosity and she looked up at him, reluctantly. “What vengeance?”
Davyss lifted a dark eyebrow, contemplating. “What if you were to send your mother a missive with information my father and I give you,” he said. “False information, of course, that would mayhap lead the Scots into an ambush, just as they once used such information to ambush us. A bit of retaliation with Dallan’s name on it is not such a bad thing, is it?”
Elizaveta went from staunchly refusing to respond to her mother to being quite interested in what her husband had to say. It was a brilliant plan, truthfully, one that she was quite eager to listen to. So was Davyss.
And so, the plan was laid….
Edward, who was in London at this time, held an audience with Davyss and Drake de Winter two weeks later, men who were two of his most powerful earls, and saw the brilliance of Drake’s suggestion much as Davyss had. Although Elizaveta still had not delivered their child and Drake had not wanted to leave her side, Elizaveta had insisted he go to London to meet with Edward because she truly felt this plan of Drake’s was quite important.
More than that, she too saw it as retribution for Dallan de Winter’s death and she was eager to participate, to make amends for the betrayal no one in the de Winter family ever spoke of. Whether or not they spoke about it, however, she remembered it every single day, so when Drake had the opportunity to meet with the king and lay out a plan against the Scots, she was most supportive of it. Therefore, Drake reluctantly went to London.
The problem was that these days, the Scots refused to engage in open battle and were content with raiding the English countryside in Northern England, and Edward very much wanted to have the Scots in one place in order to subdue them. This false information to feed Agnes du Reims made that possible. After a meeting with Edward that lasted all night where plans were laid for an ambush in Carlisle, Drake and Davyss rushed back to Norwich just in time for the birth of Dair du Reims de Winter.
The time had finally come.
Drake had barely entered the keep when Denys, excited and wide-eyed, told him that his wife was giving birth. In a panic, Drake had raced up the stairs to their chamber only to be prevented from entering by Devon, who told him the women were inside the chamber assisting with the birth. It was a man’s duty to wait it out, and wait they did.
Terrified, and light-headed, Drake had been held at bay by his father and brothers for a thankfully short amount of time before Daniella appeared and informed Drake that he had a fat, healthy son. Drake remembered being picked up off the floor after that and given wine before his mother came out of the chamber and, along with his father, carefully helped the man inside to see his wife and child.
It was a screaming, red-faced infant with a crown of black hair that greeted him. Drake laughed until he cried, enchanted by little Dair. His son. He couldn’t stop kissing the baby or his wife, who was understandably exhausted after her two-day ordeal.
But Elizaveta was well, thankfully, and recovered quickly, quickly enough that five days after the birth of Dair, she was able to write a missive to her mother, with Drake and Davyss’ input, telling the woman that she was well and that the English were gathering in Carlisle for a peaceful meeting of the barons, and that the information should be relayed with all haste to the Scots.
Agnes, overjoyed to hear from her daughter who evidently forgave her all of her failings as a mother by the tone of her informative missive, was quick to send the information to Eustace Maxwell, who gathered his allies to move on Carlisle, hoping to catch Edward himself unaware. It was quite a shock when they were the ones caught unaware by a twenty thousand-man army. William de Wolfe, Cortez de Bretagne, the House of de Winter, and many more warlords were united and waiting for the wholly unprepared Scots army.
They had planned it that way.
Eustace survived the route but Arn and William Douglas, as well as John and Robert Maxwell, did not. They were obliterated by the de Winters and several other English warlords, all of them ambushing the Maxwell army just as the Maxwell army had once ambushed the de Winter army those months ago. Young Dallan de Winter’s death had not been in vain; in this retaliatory strike, his death had been the catalyst to weakening the Scots and perhaps preventing many more English deaths. At least, that was the way Drake and Davyss looked at it. Out of the bad came something good.
Dallan would have been proud.
That was how Elizaveta looked at it, too, when Drake returned from the north to tell her of the overwhelming victory. With the Maxwell’s defeated, the de Mandevilles eliminated, and peace in general in the de Winter family, life was looking better and better every day. Family, brotherhood, laughter and love was what life was all about.
It was a message that young Dair de Winter would grow up with and teach his own children and from his parents’ great teaching, the de Winter legacy would live on.
It was Cortez de Bretagne’s toast from those years ago that came to have such meaning – may the union of Elizaveta and Drake bring honor to the de Winter name.
Finally, it had.
* THE END *
GREAT PROTECTOR
A Medieval Romance
By Kathryn Le Veque
Richmond (Teutonic):
Great Protector
PROLOGUE
1384 A.D.
London, England
The old stable was dark and dank, smelling of horses and urine. The icy fingers of winter extended from the walls as an armored figure cautiously entered the structure.
Sir Richmond le Bec’s breath hung in the damp air, a dense fog that vaporized as he passed through it. Hesitantly, he moved deeper into the stable, his blue eyes observing all within the confines of shadowed stalls.
“Richmond!”
Richmond turned in the direction of his whispered name. Without delay, he moved deep into the bowels of the structure.
At the far end of the stable in a corner stall, two figures huddled for warmth against the cold December night. There was no light to illuminate the musty straw, only the dim moon glow casting weak beams of light. Richmond could make out the forms of a man and a woman.
“My lord?” he asked softly, puzzled. “I have come as ordered.”
A face became clear in the obscure light, features the young knight was well acquainted with. Young Henry, Duke of Hereford and King Richard’s cousin, gazed at his mighty comrade, already powerful and established at the tender age of twenty-two. Le Bec was a warrior to be trusted without hesitation.
Tears suddenly spilled down the duke’s cheeks, quickly dashed away by his female companion. Richmond could see that the man’s arms were occupied; he held a bundle.
“Richmond, I must ask of you a most vital task,” Henry whispered, gazing tenderly at the parcel he cradled. “You must take this parcel and guard it with your life.”
Richmond gazed at the bundle curiously, wondering what was so important to have Edward III’s grandson reduced to tears. His perplexed attention shifted f
rom the heap of blankets to the two cloaked figures once again; it took Richmond a moment longer to realize that Henry’s companion was not his wife.
The mystery deepened. Yet, he did not hesitate in his obedient response. “Without question, sire.”
Henry sniffed loudly and his companion shakily wiped at her own face, revealing a delicate beauty of porcelain features. Shocked, Richmond recognized his superior officer’s wife, the Lady Ellyn.
“My lady,” he said with concern. “Are you…?”
Henry did not allow him to finish. He thrust the bundle at Richmond. “You must take this precious package and see that it is delivered to the Earl of Berkshire, William de Lohr. He’s expecting it.”
Richmond grasped the bundle with mailed hands, only to discover that it was a very soft, very limp mass of swaddling. When the woolen blankets let out a weak cry, he nearly dropped the parcel out of pure astonishment; he was holding a child.
“God’s Teeth,” he muttered, clutching the babe against his broad chest. His bafflement increasing by the moment, his eyes sought the duke. “Henry…. what is this?”
Henry put his arm around the woman, who began to weep softly against his shoulder.
“My daughter,” Henry whispered, gazing at the bundle in the knight’s massive arms. He tore his eyes away, meeting his friend’s stunned expression. “De Lohr is expecting her. You will take her to Lambourn this night and remain as her Great Protector.”
Richmond shook his head, his bewilderment expanding. “Remain as her protector? But…?”
Henry let out a harsh sigh, putting both arms around the Lady Ellyn as her sobbing deepened. “God’s Blood, le Bec, do you need for me to spell it out? She’s my bastard, the result of a liaison between me and the Lady Ellyn. Her husband has threatened to kill the child, for he knows it not to be his. You must take her.”
Richmond was shocked as well as baffled. “But…. Captain de Worth would never do such a thing. He’s King Richard’s household captain, sworn to uphold the codes of chivalry.”
“He’s also an enraged husband whose wife has managed to bear another man’s child,” Henry snapped savagely, clutching Lady Ellyn fiercely. “Charles de Worth doesn’t love her, Richmond. Only I love her. We have created this child with our love and you have been delegated the duty of protecting my daughter until she becomes of age. Will you do this for me?”
Richmond blinked; reeling with the shock, he was literally speechless. But his astonishment gave way to a surge of defiance. “I… Henry, I am a knight, not a nursemaid. Why would you….?”
“Because you are the only man I can trust for this most important task,” Henry insisted. “Do not question my orders, Richmond. You will do as I say.”
Richmond’s jaw went slack, his eyes wide as Henry’s command sank deep. “But you would demand that I remain at her side, always, as her…. her guardian? I am not trained for this variety of work. I am a warrior, Henry.”
“You are a knight of the realm,” Henry’s tears were drying, his pale eyes sharp. “And I am a prince of the realm. Damnation, Richmond, you shall do as I say without reserve. There is nothing more important in this life than the child you clutch. Nothing.”
Richmond swallowed hard, his gaze once again moving to the plump bundle. His stubbornness was dissolved by the very real fact that he could not deny a direct order. He was, in fact, a warrior, and sworn to obey without question.
“I… I am a knight,” he repeated weakly, knowing the basis for his argument was slipping through his fingers. “Fighting is my vocation, not child-rearing. How can you ask this of me?”
“You are my friend,” Henry’s voice was equally feeble. After an eternal pause, he sighed with great emotion. “Richmond, as my friend, will you grant my request? I need you, more than I have ever needed you. Will you help me?”
Richmond’s head came up from the warm bundle of swaddling, his blue eyes locking with those of his friend, a man he had come to know well during his years of training at Kenilworth. Aye, he was a knight, a warrior to the very core. But he was also a loyal friend, a man whose dedications ran deep.
Gazing into Henry’s desperate face, he nodded faintly. “Completely, sire.”
Henry’s moist gaze came to rest on the parcel cradled in the knight’s steel-clad arms. Richmond’s eyes returned to the child as well, the Lilliputian face partially obscured by the heavy blankets. With thick, timid fingers, he carefully drew back the folds.
A newborn squirmed restlessly, trying to capture tiny hands within her toothless mouth. Richmond stared at the babe, a perfect little cherub with a thatch of dark hair. The longer he gazed at the child, the more a peculiar warmth settled over him; as with all things tiny and new and perfect, there was a certain enchantment to be experienced.
“Her name is Arissa,” came a soft voice.
Richmond glanced up from the infant, finding himself looking at Lady Ellyn’s anguish-filled green eyes. Wiping the remainder of her tears from her face, she gently tore herself free from Henry’s embrace and moved towards the massive knight.
“The Lady Arissa,” she repeated softly. “She’s five days old, having been born on the first of December. She’s a good girl, healthy and beautiful.”
Richmond stared at the woman, his gaze shifting between her lovely features and that of the babe’s mewling face. “It…. it will take me several hours to reach Lambourn, my lady. I…. that is to say, obviously, I cannot feed her. What shall..?”
Lady Ellyn moved away from him, swiftly retrieving a small satchel tucked into the straw. “I have packed clothing and two milk bladders. You may feed her cow’s milk. Even goat’s milk will do, and she should be ready to eat in two or three hours. She will tell you when she’s hungry.”
His dark eyebrows rose slightly. “She will tell me?”
Lady Ellyn forced a tremulous smile, running a tender finger across a tiny satin cheek. “When she screams like a banshee. ’Twill make your hair stand on end.”
Richmond looked to the babe uncertainly. “Is that so? In that case, my lady, I shall prepare myself. I think.”
Henry stumbled to his feet. Richmond glanced at the duke, wondering how a young nobleman of eighteen years managed to become involved with a married woman of twenty-five. A most perplexing circumstance, one that Richmond found himself swept up in.
Richmond’s gaze lingered on the babe a moment longer before looking to his royal friend. “Henry, certainly I do not mean to be difficult, but you are aware that I am sworn to King Richard. If I am to disappear, ’twill reflect poorly on my reputation. The king will….”
Henry shook his head firmly, pulling Lady Ellyn into his embrace once more. “I petitioned for your services this morning, Richmond. As far as my cousin is concerned, you are returning with me to Kenilworth.”
“What of Lady Mary?” Richmond asked softly. “Surely your wife will inform Richard that I am not in your personal service when I fail to appear at Kenilworth.”
Henry kept his gaze on the babe. “You needn’t worry about her. As you know, my wife and I have lived apart for several months due to her fragile health. Your primary concern in this life is the child you hold; whether you serve by my side or at Lambourn makes little difference,” his pale eyes sought out Richmond’s bright blue eyes imploringly. “You must do this for me, my friend. You are the only man I trust to accomplish this task.”
Richmond’s gaze lingered on the duke before returning to the dozing child. Observing the sweet face, the chubby cheeks, the peculiar warm feeling enveloped him again. He’d never held a baby in his entire life until this moment and was struck with the wonderment and apprehension it provoked. He also realized that he was holding his destiny.
The tiny little life in his arms somehow managed to ease the sting of rebellion in him, convincing him with her tiny coos that she was worth his devotion. Unknowingly, she was melting his staunch facade.
“At your service, my lady,” he whispered to the babe, the corners of his mou
th lifting slightly. “’Twould seem that you and I are to be constant companions.”
Henry sighed raggedly, his relief evident as Richmond accepted his mission. Arissa’s parents gazed at her a moment longer before turning away, seized by the finality of the moment.
“Take her, Richmond,” Henry’s voice was raspy, tight. “Now, before I break.”
Richmond did not hesitate. Without another word, he swept the child into the icy winter night, ignoring the renewed sobs of the heartbroken mother. He would do as ordered, just as Henry and his companion were doing what was necessary to preserve the life of their child.
The child in his arms cooed, distracting him from his thoughts. Casting her a glance, he was somewhat surprised to see that her eyes were open. In fact, she was gazing up at him and he found himself peering closely at the cross-eyed babe.
A beautiful infant, he thought, although he was no expert on children. But staring into the flawless little face, he realized he was at least willing to learn the finer elements of raising a child. Aye, he would guard her because above all else, he was a knight and he would complete his sworn duty or die in the attempt.
The babe cooed again and his gaze sought her once more, thinking she sounded much like a small animal. A kitten. When his eyes met with the wee little face, perfect and porcelain and curious, he would swear until the day he died that she was smiling at him.
CHAPTER ONE
My Lord Glendower:
As former Captain of the Household Troops for our glorious Richard II, I am obliged by my oath of loyalty to our former king to divulge information that, utilized correctly, should support your claim for Wales’ independence and perhaps magistrate King Henry’s submission at the very least.
I would relay this factual happening: On or about the first of December, 1384, Henry, being separated from his wife Mary de Bohun, fathered an illegitimate child. The child, a girl, was whisked into obscurity for safe keeping. It has taken me eighteen years to trace the whereabouts of the babe, now entering womanhood, and my reliable sources tell me that she is residing in Berkshire, masquerading as the Earl of Berkshire’s eldest daughter.