“I’d expect nothin’ less from ye, lass,” Jordan said, reaching out and taking hold of Rhoswyn’s hand. “And ye mean a lot tae this family, too. I know Helene is proud of ye. Now, come with me. ’Tis cold in here and we must take good care of ye and the babe.”
Rhoswyn allowed herself to be dragged along by Jordan, who was being very motherly and sweet with her. She cast a look at Troy as she walked away, suggesting that she was quite happy with Jordan’s attentions. It had been a long time since she’d known the warmth of a mother.
Troy moved to follow the pair but something held him back. He found himself turning towards the tomb of his first wife and two youngest daughters, going to stand next to the stone vault and gazing down upon the trio. Normally, moments like this would have been deeply painful for him. But since his marriage to Rhoswyn, since he’d been able to do so much healing, now all he felt was bittersweet memories of what had been. But he did bend over to kiss Helene’s effigy on the cheek, softly.
“You would like her,” he whispered. “She is honest and loving, much as you were, but unlike you, there are times when she scares the hell out of me. Give that woman a sword and she can do some damage. Remind me to tell you more the next time I see you.”
With a chuckle, he winked at the effigy and headed out of the vault, following the path of his wife and mother as they headed back to the great hall where the de Bocage brothers, Case and Corbin, who had come all the way to Castle Questing with their father from Northwood Castle, were trying to engage some of the older knights in an arm wrestling competition and being summarily beaten by Kieran, the strongest man in the realm. Troy could hear the shouting and laughing even as he quit the chapel.
All was well in the world again, with family and friends, and as he crossed the bailey, he imagined that somewhere, in the bright sunshine and rolling hills of a heaven that wasn’t far off, Helene was smiling and laughing, too. She was happy and at peace, and so was he. When his very large son finally made his way into the world four months later, both Troy and Rhoswyn took the baby to visit Helene when he was old enough to travel, but they also brought a very special guest with them –
Troy’s eldest son, Andreas.
Returned from fostering at his father’s request, Andreas was a gentle boy who immediately took to his new stepmother, and she to him. The journey to Castle Questing to visit Helene’s grave was part of the familial bonding and healing for them all. Perhaps some would have thought that morbid to introduce their new baby to the long-dead wife, but neither Troy nor Rhoswyn thought so in the least.
After all, it was to Helene that they owed their very happiness, and it was with great joy that Troy introduced Gareth de Wolfe to Helene and the girls. Andreas was right by his father’s side when he did so. Be joyful, Helene had told him, and he was.
Wildly so.
The darkest de Wolfe was dark no more.
* THE END *
Children of Troy and Rhoswyn
Gareth
Corey
Reed
Tavin
Tristan
Elsbeth
Madeleine
DARK MOON
A Medieval Historical Romance
By Kathryn Le Veque
Author’s Note
Another book that readers have been begging for. Welcome to Trenton de Russe’s novel!
Trenton is the first son of Gaston de Russe (THE DARK ONE: DARK KNIGHT), a product of Gaston’s marriage to Mari-Elle, his first wife. Trenton was just a little boy in that book, about eight, and he had suffered through a horrible mother who had poisoned him towards his father. Gaston spends a good portion of the book trying to mend that relationship with Trenton, who really just wants to be loved. In re-reading the passages with Trenton in them, he’s such a sad little boy with a very manipulative mother and an absent father, although Gaston tries hard to make good with him. Still, Trenton is a sad boy who turns out to be very brave. That bravery carries out into his adult life.
Several things about this book are firsts for me – firstly, it is the first book I’ve written with Henry VIII involved. Things were changing with Henry, including the coming Church of England, formal forms of address (Medieval kings were referred to as “my lord”, and in this age, we start seeing forms of “your highness”). We are essentially now in Tudor England and have passed from Medieval times around 1500 A.D., but there is still a blend of the late Middle Ages entering into the Tudor period.
In my research about Henry VIII, I learned many things about him. Of course, we all know about his six wives and his quest to have a son and heir, but there are several things about Henry that I didn’t know – for example, he was an accomplished musician and singer. He composed many songs, including Pastime with Good Company. You can listen to it here on YouTube:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_q4sclrHTtg
Henry was clearly more than the despot we are commonly led to believe – a man of great intellect and reading, of poetry and music, so it was interesting reading in breaking the stereotype of Henry VIII in my mind. And – and you’ll love this – I read that it was Henry who came up with the idea of getting paid every time someone used his songs, hence the term “royalties”. I couldn’t confirm this, as different sources said different things, but if it is true, then that term suddenly makes a lot of sense.
As I sometimes do, I have provided a phonetic pronunciation guide because of the interesting names in this novel –
Lysabel – Liss-a-bell (sometimes she is called “Lys”, pronounced “Liss”)
Cynethryn – Sin-ETH-renn
Brencis – basically like Francis, except “Bren” instead of “Fran”
Alixandrea – Alex-on-DRAY-uh (not Alex-ANN-dree-uh)
Troyes – Twah (think the French word for “three”)
I’ve also attached a family tree of sorts, listing the children from both the heroes and secondary characters of THE DARK ONE: DARK KNIGHT and THE WHITE LORD OF WELLESBOURNE, since those two stories are so closely intertwined. Even if some of the brothers and sisters of Gaston and Remington, or Matthew, aren’t mentioned in this novel, I have listed them anyway just for reference.
Meanwhile, this is quite a story, and a very powerful love story, but it brings up many of the questions that arose in THE DARK ONE: DARK KNIGHT. Is love more powerful than anything, morality be damned? Or do things like honor supersede it? Unfortunately, Trenton is facing his own moral dilemma, and these are all valid questions, to which I tried to find some answers. But one thing is certain – in the case of Trenton, much like his father, love is never a simple thing.
Enjoy Trenton and Lysabel’s story!
Hugs,
De Russe and Wellesbourne Family Tree
Children of Gaston and Remington de Russe
Trenton (Gaston’s first marriage to Mari-Elle de Russe)
Dane (Remington’s first marriage to Guy Stoneley)
Adeliza
Arica
Cortland (Cort)
Matthieu
Boden
Gage
Gilliana
Children of Matthew and Alixandrea Wellesbourne
Lysabel
Rosamunde
James
Thomas
Emeline
Daniel
William
Children of Nicolas and Skye de Russe
Robert
August
Milo
Laria
Children of Jasmine and Antonius Flavius
Mary (Jasmine’s daughter)
Sophia
Celestina
Gisella
Viola
Children of Mark and Caroline Wellesbourne
Sebastian
Quentin
Lucius
Children of John and Lizbet Wellesbourne
Adam
Joyelle
Cecily
Luke
Stephen
De Russe motto: Et est spes est virtus
�
�In Valor there is Hope”
CHAPTER ONE
July, 1518 A.D.
Stretford Castle, Dorset
Seat of Benoit de Wilde, Sheriff of Ilchester
They could hear screaming.
It was dark this night, a moon so dark that it was barely seen hovering over the shadowed landscape. It was an omen of what was to come, that dark moon, a harbinger of ends and the gateway of beginnings. In truth, it was a night of great foreboding and the screaming of the woman didn’t help matters. It simply complicated them.
They couldn’t take the screaming into account.
They had a job to do.
Slapping sounds and more screaming. Four men, heavily armed and dressed in black, were on the darkened grounds of Stretford Castle, which was more of a manor house than an actual fortress, and the sounds coming from the second-floor window above their heads were distressing. A woman was being thrashed; that much was clear. She was being beaten within an inch of her life and they’d been listening to the sounds since they’d made their way across the clogged moat on a raft they’d brought with them.
The sounds, however, had worked to their advantage because the soldiers on duty were also distracted by the noises. Lured by them, in fact. They’d seen one man on the wall walk, his attention turned towards the window where the screams were coming from as he’d rubbed at his groin, stimulated by the sound. That stimulation had been the last thought on his mind before a silent arrow had slammed into his back, taking him down as the four men used a grappling hook to pull themselves over Stretford’s sand-colored walls.
With the wall sentry out of commission, the men had stowed their raft and slinked across the side yard, through the garden, and to the walls of the manor itself. They were prepared to enter any window in order to reach their target, but they suspected their target was the very man beating the woman on the second floor. Rumor had it that de Wilde was a brute, a nasty bastard that the king despised, so they rightly assumed that their best option in finding this man was directly over their heads.
Follow the sounds of the screaming woman and they would find him.
“I shall go first.”
A very big man with smoky gray eyes and a square jaw hissed the words. Clad in black leather from head to toe, he was protected against weapon strikes for the most part, but the nature of his job prevented him from wearing the technology of the day, the heavy plate armor that knights currently wore. In fact, he preferred the outdated chain mail, which he wore around his neck and shoulders. For this job, he needed to move swiftly and silently, and he couldn’t do that in clanging plates of steel.
Crouched next to him was a younger man in much the same dress. He watched the big man gather the rope on the grappling hook they’d used to mount the wall.
“Why should you go first?” he whispered. “Let me go in first and catch him off-guard. Then you can come in after me and capture the man while I have him occupied if, in fact, this is the man we are looking for. It could very well be someone else, you know.”
The man with the gray eyes cocked a dark eyebrow. “The man up there is in that room beating a woman to death,” he said. “You know de Wilde. You know his brutality; we have all heard rumors of it and, now, we hear the reality. The world will be a better place without him, so shut your lips and let us get on with it. Henry is waiting for him.”
But the second man shook his head. “Trenton, listen to me,” he said, grasping him by the arm as if he were about to tell him something life changing. “Let both of us go up at once. He cannot fight off both of us at the same time. Timothy and Adrian will bring up the rear.”
Sir Trenton de Russe eyed the young, eager knight who had been his partner in crime for the past six years. Sir Anthony de Witt was a brilliant egotist who sopped up glory and excitement like most men sopped up gravy from a trencher – the man literally fed off of the thrill of an operation like the one they were in the process of performing. As agents for the king, this was their vocation – the king commanded, and they fulfilled. If the king told them to remove an enemy, that was exactly what they did.
And they did it without an army.
Only their wits, skill, and cunning.
Like tonight. They’d been sent to capture Benoit de Wilde, the Sheriff of Ilchester and a strong opponent of the king’s agenda. De Wilde held his position by legacy, meaning his father and his father before him had held the post, and de Wilde had been a thorn in Henry’s side long enough. He made it no secret that he thought the King of England to be a vile piece of work, and Henry had enough of the man when de Wilde had stolen a mistress away from the king.
Literally, spirited the woman away so Henry couldn’t get to her.
Perhaps that didn’t seem like a deadly offense to most, but to Henry VIII, it was a clear sign of disrespect and disrespect would lead to retaliation. At this time in his life, he was almost ten years into his reign and he’d already established himself as a strong king who didn’t tolerate opposition.
That was where Trenton de Russe came in.
God, but he was deadly.
A deadly man from a long line of deadly men, his father being the deadliest of all. At least, that was the general opinion until Trenton grew into adulthood and came into his own. Because his father, Gaston de Russe, had served Henry VII for many years, Trenton and Henry’s son, the future Henry VIII, had grown up with one another. Trenton was several years older, but young Henry looked to Trenton as the older brother he’d never really had – powerful, intelligent, respectable, and talented. He’d long admired the man and when he became king, Trenton had been offered a most special post—
The Crown’s Own Agent.
It meant that whatever Henry needed Trenton to do, the man did. He and his team of three specialized knights could do it all, and they often did. They were masters of many trades, and most of them deadly, as Benoit de Wilde was about to discover. When Trenton de Russe was on a scent, nothing short of God’s intervention could prevent him from completing his mission.
In fact, that was the very thing Trenton was thinking of as Anthony begged him to alter his plans slightly. Instead of Trenton going in head first and alone, he and Anthony would go in together and create a distraction. That meant that one of them could surely capture de Wilde, with Timothy and Adrian backing them up. It was a safer plan, but not nearly so fun. Yet Trenton suspected Anthony had suggested it so he could share in some of that glory that seemed to follow Trenton around.
Whatever the case, it was time to move.
“Then get up there, you glory whore,” Trenton growled, picking up his iron grappling hook and preparing to throw it to the window above. “Move when I move. And watch out for the guards when you climb.”
Anthony nodded eagerly. Taking the second grappling hook, he moved down the wall, his gaze fixed on the large window overhead, emitting both light and screams. The screams were growing weaker, however, and now there were growling words intermingled with them. A woman was sobbing. Trenton caught Anthony’s attention and nodded, once.
The grappling hooks flew up and hooked onto the edge of the stone windowsill.
There was no time to delay. The sentry with the arrow through his torso hadn’t been discovered yet, but it was only a matter of time. Trenton and Anthony heaved themselves up the wall, deftly climbing the rope until they both reached the windowsill at nearly the same time.
Unfortunately, they were met with an obstacle. Because the windows were set back from the sill, they hadn’t a clear view of them until they were upon them. Now, they saw that the windows were made from crown glass, cylinder shapes in a pattern that comprised the window itself. The windows in the center were fixed, but smaller side windows were open for ventilation. This meant they would have to go through the glass, which was heavy and imperfect, and secured with wood or iron braces. They really couldn’t tell. All they knew was that they had to get through it.
Trenton released his grip and slid down the length of the rope until he w
as on the ground, followed by Anthony a split second later. As Anthony and the others watched curiously, Trenton dislodged his grappling hook, gathered it up, and swung it again, this time harder. It sailed up at the edge of the broad window, lodging itself in the top of the windowsill now. Without pause, he began to haul himself up again.
Anthony, puzzled at what he was doing, followed suit and, soon enough, he had his grappling hook wedged into the top of the stone window frame, too. But Trenton was already halfway to the window. Not to be outdone, Anthony followed eagerly and recklessly. He was grunting, making some noise, as Timothy and Adrian looked around the grounds, concerned that they were going to be discovered.
But preserving their secrecy fled when Trenton suddenly took a big swing on his rope and broke through the window, creating something of a racket. As Anthony sailed in behind him, and Timothy and Adrian began to swiftly make the climb, Trenton’s main focus was on the man who was now standing near the blazing hearth.
From his periphery, Trenton could see the woman on the bed, which was an elaborately carved vessel of dark oak and a heavy entablature supported by the posts. It was rich and extravagant. In fact, the entire chamber was rich and extravagant, but Trenton wasn’t much looking at his surroundings. His focus was on the man at the hearth who, startled to see two men bursting through his window, rushed to pick up the fire poker that was leaning against the wall.
There was panic in the air now, the shock of armed men hurling into the chamber. Anthony was closer to the hearth than Trenton was, purely from the sheer momentum that had taken him through the window and into the room. He was still running, his booted feet falling on the chunks of the thick, heavy glass he’d just come flying through, and he was still running as he tackled the man who had just managed to grasp the fire poker.