CHAPTER ONE
It was as dark as sin in the corridor, that sooty blackness of night that not even the torches, burning low and heavy in their iron sconces, could erase. In the corridor of this black and inky building, a sea of darkness in the dead of night, he knew that they were up here. The anticipation in the air was palpable.
He could feel it.
Sir David de Lohr stood at the top of the stairs, his sky-blue eyes gazing off into the darkness beyond. Just within the past several hours, news had reached London that Richard, King of England, had been declared missing on his journey home from the Levant, and that information seemed to spur his jealous brother, John Lackland, into a series of actions against Richard’s loyalists. With Richard gone, there was nothing between John and the throne of England. Nothing but the House of de Lohr, and even in that, John was determined to remove that very large obstacle.
In this past hour, he’d gone after David’s brother, Richard’s champion and a man known throughout England as the Defender of the Realm. They even called him the Lion’s Claw, for a lion’s deadliest weapons were his claws, and Christopher de Lohr was quite deadly. He was a great man, no doubt, and a worthy target for John’s hatred. In fact, there was probably no one in England more worthy of being John’s target.
But, like the poor marksman he was, John had missed the mark. The man had struck Christopher’s wife in an ambush meant for the husband and had injured the woman. David had been present at the ambush and he’d fought off a horde of John’s personal guard who had been trying to wipe out anything with the name de Lohr attached to. A young knight, who was the cousin of Christopher’s best friend, Marcus Burton, had fallen beneath the steely blades of John’s assassins. Christopher’s wife had also been injured. In truth, it had been a bloodbath begging for vengeance.
And David would answer the call. As Christopher had gone to check on his wounded wife, David had left the apartments in search of the lowly scum who had committed the atrocity. Not the prince, of course, but his personal guard, a group comprised of the lowliest scum and assassins England had to offer. That was the putridity that John surrounded himself with. David’s offensive was completely without Christopher’s knowledge, of course, for Christopher was preoccupied with his wife and not with vengeance at the moment. Christopher tended to plan more appropriately for things like this, a time and a place for his revenge, but not David. His reaction was instantaneous. Therefore, David and several of Christopher’s soldiers had gone on the hunt.
It was time for John to pay.
Back-tracking from the section of corridor where the ambush had occurred, David and his men had followed footprints, tracks of several men running off from the residential block where Christopher was staying and heading towards the south end of Windsor where there were some old timber outbuildings that served as knight housing, now serving as housing for the collection of barons that were in attendance for John’s coming tournament and feast. Wherever the pack of jackals had been heading, it was in that direction.
As David and his men had crossed the dark middle ward of Windsor, heading to the lower ward, they came across two knights that David recognized as allies – Sir Stephen Marion, a bachelor knight of great skill and wealth, and a knight who served the Earl of Derby by the name of Brentford le Bec. David knew the men, and they knew him, and when they saw David crossing a darkened bailey armed to the teeth, they didn’t hesitate to join him when David explained what had happened to Christopher’s wife. Soon, David had two skilled knights at his disposal and the odds against John’s guard were mounting.
David and his men then ran all the way to the old building that had been constructed by the Duke of Normandy over one hundred years before, a two-storied wooden structure with about twelve rooms total. The lower ward of Windsor was dark for the most part, with weak light emitting from the old wooden structure, enough light to cast upon a party of riders outside of the building and what seemed, the closer they came, to be a struggle going on. David and his men could hear the clash of swords as they approached.
They could also hear the frightened yelp of women. Sounds like that always spurred men onward and as David and his men rushed up to the skirmish, he could see that some of the combatants were wearing the dark green and black tunic that John’s guard so proudly donned. The connection was unmistakable and David even recognized one of the men as having been part of the earlier ambush against Christopher’s wife. Realizing they had come into yet another fight perpetrated by the very men they sought, David’s sword was unsheathed in the blink of an eye and, feet first, he plunged into the melee. He didn’t even care who John’s men were fighting; even if it was an enemy of the House of de Lohr, the greater enemy was the prince’s personal guard. Like the praetorian guard of old, fearsome men who used to the bidding of the great leaders of Rome, John’s guard had the power of fear and pain.
But, then again, so did David.
The addition of David, two knights, and eleven de Lohr soldiers turned what had been a grunting, clanging fight into a maelstrom of blades and blood. Because it was so dark, it made the situation all the more dangerous because of the limited visibility. Men ended up fighting their allies before they realized it and as David, fast as lightning, narrowly missed cutting down one of his own men in the darkness. Still, he managed to regroup and cut down two of John’s men in quick succession. He could see Marion and le Bec fending off multiple enemy guard but over to his left, in the lightless haze, he could hear another female yelp. Instinctively, he moved in that direction.
As he passed around the side of the carriage, sword wielded defensively, he was set up on by another sword. Leaping back to give himself room in preparation for a battle, he brought his sword around and caught a glimpse of an older man in the weak light. It was only a brief glimpse but in that flash, he thought he recognized the man. He avoided striking a heavy blow against the man as he stood back, out of range, and tried to get a good look at him.
“My lord?” he said, squinting in the darkness. “Lord Hampton?”
Lyle Hampton, Earl of Canterbury, was in the fight for his life and the somewhat friendly voice in the midst of the battle threw him off. But not too far off; he managed to stop his sword and peered at David in the darkness. When recognition dawned, his eyes widened in relief.
“De Lohr!” he gasped. “David?”
David nodded. “It is I,” he said, gesturing to the carriage. “What are you doing, my lord? I thought you only arrived this morning?”
Lyle nodded. “We did,” he said, grasping David by the arm with fear in his expression. “I brought my daughters with me to Windsor but when I heard the news of Richard’s disappearance, I thought to remove them immediately and take them to my sister’s home closer to London but it seems I was not soon enough. John’s men have found me as they have found so many others this night. Have they set upon you as well?”
David nodded. “They have,” he said. “They injured Chris’ wife. You say they have hit upon more of Richard’s supporters?”
Lyle nodded. “I was told by a harried servant that the Earl of Bath has taken a blow,” he said. “That was when I decided to take my daughters and leave. Now I hear they have struck de Lohr, whom no one in their right mind would strike out. John is out for blood.”
David sighed with disgust. “He is feeling empowered with news of his brother’s disappearance,” he said. “I was tracking the men that struck at my brother when I came upon your party. Did you see Fitz Walter with these men who attacked you?”
Lyle shook his head. “I have not seen the Sheriff of Nottingham,” he said. “But the truth is that I do not expect to. He would not dirty his hands with something as mundane as this.”
David wasn’t hard pressed to agree; Ralph Fitz Walter, the prince’s second in command who bore the title Sheriff of Nottingham, was usually the one who planned dirty events such as this but he did not participate usually. He was a coward that way. David peered a bit more closely at Lyle, seeing that the man was greatly troubled.
“Have you suffered great damage, then?” he asked.
Lyle nodded, his features strained. “Emilie,” he said. “They took Emilie. I was just going after her when you came around the side of the carriage.”
David frowned. “Your wife?” he said, looking around swiftly. “Which direction did they take her?”
Lyle shook his head. “Not my wife; my eldest daughter,” he said hurried. “You’ve not met her yet. They took her back into the residence and, I fear, that mayhap they intend to take her to the prince. You know of his savagery for female flesh. David, please help her – John must not have her!”
David was already flying into the two-storied structure, dark and cold inside as he paused, listening for any sound that would point the way to an abducted daughter. He thought he heard something up the stairs but when he started to move, he realized that Lyle was right with him. David threw out an arm to prevent the man from following.
“Nay, my lord,” he said quietly. “You have other womenfolk to protect, do you not?”
The fear on Lyle’s face was turning to panic. “Aye,” he said quickly. “My other daughters, Elise and Nathalie. But…”
David shook his head, pointing back out to the carriage. “Go to them,” he commanded softly. “If you see Marion or le Bec, send them to me. Go, now; I will find your daughter.”
Lyle was very reluctant to leave but the sounds of the skirmish in the darkness outside and the frightened cries of his two remaining daughters drew him back outside. David was right; he had to protect Nathalie and Elise and trust that David would find Emilie. Sweet, blond, and delicately fair Emilie was his heart. He was terrified for her. But he knew David de Lohr and knew the man’s reputation; he knew that if anyone could save her, David could.
As Lyle raced back to the carriage containing his remaining daughters, David bolted up the stairs. It was as dark as sin in the corridor, that sooty blackness of night that not even the torches, burning low and heavy in their iron sconces, could erase. In the corridor of this black and inky building, a sea of darkness in the dead of night, he knew that they were up here. The anticipation in the air was palpable.
He could feel it.
He stood there a moment, accessing the situation, before crouching low, listening for any sound from any direction. It wasn’t any time at all before he heard something heavy fall and scuffling, like running, off to his left. He took off at a dead run because that was what David did; the man charged full-on into situations, sometimes before thinking, and only his incredible speed and skill with a blade had prevented those rash decisions from costing him his life.
Even now, he ran off down the hall, sword in hand, heading for the direction of the sounds with his only thoughts being that of what needed to be done, not what could possibly happen to him. It was a bravery that few men possessed. When he heard another large thump behind a door at the end of the corridor, he charged towards the door and leapt up into the air, kicking the panel open with a flying leap.
Wood and pieces of old iron hardware exploded in all directions as David crashed through the door. The chamber was dark except for a slight glow given off by the dying hearth, but it was enough light for David to see at least two of John’s guards and one small woman. He only knew it was a woman because of the clothing; heavy skirts and a cloak, he thought, and she was trying desperately to climb a massive wardrobe as both men tried to yank her down. There were upturned chairs and a table on its side, and the room in general was in disarray. Knowing that the woman as in grave danger, David launched an offensive in the dark.
One man rushed him while the other continued to try and yank the woman off the wardrobe. David had to duck as the man charged him, narrowing avoiding being sliced in the neck, and came up under the man with his blade to catch the man in the soft belly. As the first guard grunted and fell away, David threw himself at the second guard trying to pull the woman down from the wardrobe.
Unfortunately, the woman had a good grip on the furniture and the guard had a good grip on her. When David charged the man, the guard refused to let go of the woman’s foot so David ended up yanking her, and the wardrobe, off of the wall and everything went crashing to the floor as David tried to avoid being smashed by the falling furniture. He managed to escape, with his arm around the neck of the guard wearing the black and green tunic, but the woman fell on top of both of them.
In the crash, David’s sword went flying. Now, he was in trouble. The woman’s torso had mostly fallen on him and she was shrieking, struggling to get away, but the guard still had her by the ankle. David was getting kicked in the head as the woman struggled and, at one point, she brought her knee up and kicked him straight in the nose.
Seeing stars, David could feel the blood start to pour and it was getting all over her skirts as she fumbled, still trapped by the guard. He knew he had to free the woman, and subdue the guard, because he was fearful of what would happen should the man have colleagues come to his aid. Whatever he was about to do, he had to do it quickly. There was no time to spare. With that thought, David began to squeeze the man’s neck as hard as he could.
David was strong; unusually so. He had big arms, fuzzy in the forearms with blond hair, that were significantly muscular. Therefore, the guard was in a very bad position when David began to squeeze. He used his other hand to brace up the arm that was doing the squeezing, grunting with exertion as the woman over his head struggled and fought. Sometimes her fists found David’s skull but he couldn’t pay any attention to that; he was more concerned with killing the man in his arms. It was either kill or be killed. Mercifully, the man in his grip quickly weakened.
Boot falls were suddenly in the doorway and due to the fact that David had a woman on his head, he couldn’t see who it was. Fearful it was one of John’s men, he suddenly shifted so that he ended up flipping the guard in his arms over so that he was now in the dominant position. The action caused the guard to lose his grip on the woman, who scrambled to her feet now that she realized she was free.
Without the encumbrance of skirts covering his head, David could see that, indeed, one of John’s soldiers was in the doorway and when he saw David, he charged with a yell. David, now on top of the guard he was wrestling with, yanked the guard up to use him as a human shield as John’s soldier charged them both. The guard in David’s arms took a sword to the gut meant for David and David let go of the guard long enough to lash out a big fist and catch John’s charging soldier in the face. The soldier fell back, face shattered, and the guard with the sword to the gut fell to the floor dead as David leapt to his feet, grabbing his own sword a few feet away.
There was blood all about the room with two dead men and furniture smashed on the floor. David turned to the woman, who was standing fearfully by the door at this point, but she suddenly ran off, fleeing him as he chased after her.
“Lady!” he called. “Lady, wait! Do not go outside!”
The woman wasn’t listening. She was a little thing, and very fast, and she raced down the steps and out into the darkness where she had last seen her father and sisters were. David was on her heels, taking the first two steps of the staircase before planting his buttocks on the banister and sliding all the way down to the bottom in a swift, slick motion. It was a much faster way to descend the stairs but by the time he got there, the woman was already out in the ward beyond.
As David barreled out of the building, he could see Lyle several feet away with his arms around the woman. There were also several bodies on the ground but there didn’t seem to be any more fighting going on. The skirmish was oddly still. David was still holding his sword defensively, blood smeared on his face from his bloody nose, as he made his way cautiously into yard. He could see le Bec and Marion in the darkness, instructing David’s men to gather their wounded.
“David!” Lyle called over to him. “You have my thanks. I am indebted to you for saving my daughter!”
He was indicating the woman in his arms and David pointed at her with his sword. “Is she well?” he asked.
Lyle nodded, greatly relieved. “She seems to be.”
David simply nodded, his gaze moving over the blond figure being smothered by Lyle, before his mind moved to his wounded soldiers and away from the woman he’d just saved. His thoughts were moving on to the prince and his cohorts, and what more havoc they would wreak that night.
“I would suggest you retreat to your rooms and not try to leave this night,” he said to the earl. “It is not safe for travel. Consider it in the morning if you must but for now, take your daughters back inside and bolt them in. Put your men out in the corridor on watch and do not let anyone up those stairs that you do not know. If you need assistance, send one of your men to me or to Chris. We will come.”
Lyle was still holding the young woman tightly, looking at the carnage around them. “It is like this with all of Richard’s supporters this night,” he said, dread in his tone. “I have been fortunate and I pray that others are as well.”
David was looking around, too, watching as his soldiers helped the two of his men who seemed to have been wounded. He nodded wearily. “As do I,” he said. “I am on to check on William Marshal and others, including Derby and Bath. I fear what may have befallen them this night. Oh… and, my lord?”
Lyle paused to look at him. “What is it, David?”
David lifted a pale eyebrow. “Reconsider leaving Windsor altogether,” he said. “Now, more than ever, we must band together. If we do not, we weaken, and John will succeed gaining ground against Richard. Send the women away if you must, but now is not the time for you to leave.”
Lyle knew that but he was concerned with his daughters. Still, David had a point. “I will consider it,” he said.
That wasn’t good enough for David. “There is a tournament on the morrow,” he said. “That is when we must show John his attempts to weaken us have failed. He must know that he cannot defeat Richard’s supporters. You must be there.”
Lyle understood the logic behind that. It was why he had come to London in the first place, to attend the tourney in support of the king. Even though it was John’s tournament, it was essential that Richard’s presence was heavily felt and now, with the king rumored missing, it was more important than ever. Reluctantly, Lyle sighed.
“Very well,” he said. “I will be there.”
With a curt but reassuring nod, David fled. Lyle watched the man go, still hugging his daughter, who had been struggling to pull herself together. She was a strong lass, but still, the events had shaken her. Now, she stood quietly as she watched the powerful young knight and his men move off into the darkness. They were heading back to the middle ward, back to where some of Richard’s supporters had been lodged. She sniffled.
“Who was that, Papa?” she asked.
Lyle watched David walk away until the darkness swallowed him. Then, still clutching his daughter, he went to the carriage and opened the door, ushering out the younger pair.
“That was David de Lohr,” he told her. “You will remember that I have spoken the name. His brother, Christopher de Lohr, is the king’s champion and, mayhap, the most powerful knight in the realm right now. He and his brother have recently returned from the Holy Land and John is not pleased by this. He was hoping that Christopher and David would never return.”
Two young women, heavily wrapped in expensive cloaks, climbed from the carriage as the earl’s men began to gather around them, collecting baggage, preparing to move the earl and his family back into their lodgings for the night. Even though the battle was over, the sense of fear had not left them. The group was moving swiftly, back into the old residence block. They were determined to make it back inside as de Lohr had instructed, to safety, until John and his assassins had their fill of whatever blood they were seeking and crawled back into their dark and savage holes for the night. Quickly and quietly, they moved.
“Must we really leave, Papa?” one of the younger girls asked. “You only just brought us here. We have never been to Windsor before and I do not want to leave so soon!”
Lyle, who still had Emilie in his arms, looked at his daughter in horror. “Your sister was nearly ravaged, men were injured, and still you do not want to leave?” he scolded. “Are you truly so foolish?”
The middle daughter, at sixteen, hung her head sheepishly as soldiers hurried the family back into the building, back to the four rooms they’d been assigned when they arrived. There was no more talk at that point, only the desire to reach safety. Lyle managed to usher his three daughters back into the single chamber they shared, a rather small room but cozy. It was good enough for the three girls with a very big bed to sleep on.
Once the women were safely away, Lyle retreated to a sitting room to discuss the events of the night with his men and plan for their future at Windsor, if any. Lyle fortunately hadn’t lost any men in the attack but there were a few wounded, mostly gashes that were tended. As he talked, his men listened, and eventually they prayed, grateful for their lives that night.
It could have been much, much worse.
As the men prayed and talked in the antechamber, the three girls who were now back in their chamber were laboring to calm themselves after their harrowing experience. As Nathalie and Elise retreated to the big bed and hugged each other fearfully, Emilie lingered over near the window that overlooked the darkened lower ward.
Emilie….
A lovely girl with a little nose, small but curvy lips, and brown eyes of enormous proportion, she was very doll-like and porcelain in her appearance. She had a decidedly delicate façade but behind that angelic beauty was the heart of iron and a will greater than that of the king himself. She had proven that only moments ago when John’s guards had tried to ravage her. She fought and kicked, and would not let them have their way. Emilie Adalind Letizia Hampton, in spite of her size, was nothing to be trifled with.
Along with the will of iron, she had steady nerves as well. She wasn’t easily rattled. As her sisters huddled together, frightened, Emilie simply stood by the window as she reflected on the events of the evening.
That knight….
Emilie lingered on the warrior who had saved her, a man she’d never seen before until that very night in the heat of battle. Of course, she’d heard the name de Lohr from her father, many times, as one of the greatest houses in England, but she’d never actually seen a de Lohr. They were elusive and legendary, these de Lohrs, mythical men like Arthur and Galahad. Not that she’d seen much of her savior in the darkness other than cropped blond hair and a lightning speed she’d never witnessed in any man. When he’d burst into the room where she’d been trying to evade John’s men, she’d caught an indication of that impressive flash of movement. Even in those quick actions, there had been something different about him. Mayhap even something intriguing. Too bad she’s run from him before she’d realized who he was.
David de Lohr. Odd how just a brief glimpse of the man was enough to peak her interest. Even in the midst of a mortal crisis, she had been drawn to something about him. Emilie had known her share of suitors and she’d even encouraged one. Or maybe even two. But there had also been the de Grez brothers from Rochester. Aye, she’d definitely encouraged them as well, so that would make at least four suitors she had encouraged. But she hadn’t been serious about them, much to their dismay. She’d never been serious about any man.
Until now.
Mayhap this night would see that particular opinion changed in the form of David de Lohr. Odd how so brief a glimpse, and in a violent situation nonetheless, has changed it.
In spite of the aggression they’d suffered that night, and in spite of the fear in the air, they weren’t leaving Windsor. There was a tournament on the horizon that her father had promised to attend in order to show support for Richard. David de Lohr would undoubtedly be there. He’d suggested sending the women away, but Emilie wasn’t going to let that happen. If David was attending, she would be as well. A power-mad prince wasn’t going to change that.
She wasn’t leaving.
Smiling, Emilie turned away from the window.
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