Gayle Eden (27 page)

She stepped back. “I will.” When he nodded and spurred the mount, she met the eyes of the Celt who winked at her. Illara grinned, and hurried back to Pagan, who stood alone, watching the last of the party leave.

When all was gone, she turned and glanced up at him. “Do you wish to know, what I ran to tell him?”

“That you would do whatever he said, if…”

She laughed. “No. I told him, he’s going to be an uncle.”

“An uncle,” his breath sounded weak, his gaze searched hers.

“Aye. We are having a babe. You and I…”

Pagan clutched her hands then pulled her to him for a hug that nearly crushed her bones. “When--How soon?”

“About six months.”

“Six months…” Pagan let her lean back and went down on his knees, his cheek pressed against her stomach. Heedless of the guards and others in the courtyard, he kissed her stomach through the shirt and muttered hoarsely, “I know you will nurture it in the brightness of your soul. I am beyond myself with joy.”

Her hands smoothed his hair. “The beauty will come from you, my beast. The stubbornness from us both. We should likely consider what we will birth between us, and perhaps expect we’ll have our hands full.”

Pagan chuckled and arose, then lifted her up in his arms. “We should pray for boys.”

“Nay, for girls.”

“Nay boys...” In the Great hall he stopped and announced to all, including Lylie who sat by the hearth. “There’s going to be an heir. I am to be a father.”

Lylie knew of course, but everyone in the hall could see his smile and feel his joy, they applauded and called out good wishes.

On the way up to the solar, Illara reminded, “You’ve men to train and the herds to inspect, and it’s only mid morning. I’m supposed to go into the city and assist some of the women with the—”

“Aye.” Pagan did not set her down until they reached the bed. “We’ll get our tasks done.” He lay down and pulled her atop him, his one hand on her behind, the other at the back of her head. “For now, I am exerting my authority as lord and husband. I need you more.”

“Aye, you do.” She leaned down and kissed him. “And as I am damp with wanting you.” She bit him on his jaw line. “I need you too.”

Sometime in their joining, their bodies moist, and hands smoothing over skin, Pagan whispered in her ear, “I now know what my father felt when he wrote down each birth. And when we hold our child, no matter what sex, what joy and fear and fierce protectiveness we shall likely feel.”

She said softly back, “You were his heir and his eldest son. You have brought nothing but honor to him. You have been father and brother to Ronan. It is that depth to your love, the way you both feel, that makes it so strong. I know your family, your father, through you, through what you are and what Ronan is. Our children will know that kind of strength, the kind of honor—that cannot be bought.”

His lips grazed her throat, his breath stirred her hair, and Pagan moved inside her body. “I remember your mother’s beauty, the time I saw her at the bazaar. I had always respected your father. You have your mother’s books here to teach our children, and you have the best of them.” He seemed to lose his voice before Pagan said emotionally, “I love you, Illara. I promise, before you are unable to travel. We will go and see Thresford. It will go to a daughter, I promise you.”

“Thank you.” She was moved by his praise and the love she knew he would give to a daughter, like her father had her. “Love me now, my beast. Speak to me, as only hearts and bodies can.”

Pagan did so, wringing cries of wonder and passion from her lips, kissing her through the moans, and summoning more as he held his needs in check and slid down to taste and drink her, to send her flying on silken wings of bliss.

Time and chores were forgotten. The world became their place of beauty and passion, an oasis—where love cupped their uncovered bodies in its sure hands for a time.

* * * *

Lylie smiled and shook her head watching the hours slip away. She took her cap off and combed her hair, braiding it loose. She then put on her cape and headed out of the castle to go into the city.

She turned at the gatehouse, and peeked back at the castle, with the shutters open and the tower rooms lit. Ivo was promoted and used those upper rooms, and Beroun had been given a steward’s position. He took chambers in the west wing.

Eight knights and their ladies occupied chambers as guests, until Dunnewicke was repaired, houses constructed. A dozen common folk who had traveled to see the Tourney, were taking up castle duties until Pagan could decide what employment best fit them. The chapel had a priest, who would also serve the town, and there was always light glowing from the windows. Many guests simply stayed over before traveling on. The musicians lingered too, making flutes for the children and mingling among the craftsmen.

The guard who opened the gate, red beard braided and long hair likewise, each sprinkled with a bit of white, insisted, “I will escort you there and back, mistress, Lylie.” And took her arm.

Lylie glanced up at a rugged and bearded face, brown skin and did not need to look at his brawny body. She could feel it under the leather band on his lower arm. His jade eyes were unashamedly flirting. There were lines out from them, as if he smiled often, and indeed, she remembered him in the hall always laughing and full of jests. She also remembered him in the Melee, and how impressive his prowess on the field. He had been one of the first to join the brothers, and she had seen him eyeing her more than once in the Great hall.

“I’d be grateful for the escort, Sir.”

“Douglas,” he informed in a thick brogue and covered her hand on his arm with a weathered and strong one. “Call me Douglas, Lyl.”

Lylie knew that the man had a good income, and that he was faithful and loyal to Pagan.

She was still trying to get over the box that Ronan had handed her. A similar gift had been left in her chambers the night before, by Pagan. There was enough gold and jewels to buy a kingdom in them. The unspoken message—that she was a woman free to live her own life.

She loved Dunnewicke too much to leave it. She had never felt a servant and had always loved the family and Lady Anne. She would never leave—and now Illara was in need of all sorts of advice, as she was a bit nervous about being a mother.

About half way, Douglas said, “Would you be adverse, Lyl, to me paying court and warding the others who’ve an eye for you off?”

She laughed at that. “Not at all, Douglas. Not at all.”

Oh, it was going to be amusing to watch the man glare at others and pay her court. He was after all, a brawny and seasoned knight. Feeling quite young and full of life, Lylie decided she would take up Lady Illara’s offer to move into better chambers in the east wing. By this coming winter, she would no longer be shivering in bed alone, but have a nice warm body to wrap around her.

Upstairs in the bed, Illara pushed her damp hair from her flushed cheek and caressed with her palm down a muscled flank as her husband pulled her to lie atop him between bouts.

“Will we ever grow tired of this, do you think?”

Pagan chuckled and it jarred her body. He rumbled, “'Tis not likely, I will.”

“Nor I.” She ran her tongue across his skin.

His big hands skimmed down her back. “Will a babe be fearful, you think, of my mask. Of me?”

“No, my love.” She felt her eyes sting, but hid it behind her light tone. “Any children of ours, will know the truth. We will love for the right reasons, and of course, they will be fearless.”

Pagan laughed and pulled her higher on him, holding her with his arms wrapped round her body. “I’m troubled that Ronan will avoid this. He was stunned. Truthfully, most men would be, eyeing your friend.”

“Yes. She is quite lovely. But much more than that. She has her own fears and pain.” She sighed very heavily. “They could be perfect together. We are.”

“She may be beautiful, but that works not in her favor when it comes to Ronan.”

“I will keep hoping, anyway.”

Pagan raised and rolled so that he was gazing down at her. “Aye. Keep hoping, my love. We both will.”

Illara took his deep kiss, returned it lushly, and snuggled in his arms. As they dozed, his palm covered her stomach protectively. Her arms held him likewise.

* * * *

Somewhere on the road, Ronan gazed ahead into a cloud-laden sky, with each traversed mile, struggling with the choice he must soon make—to put his wife away legally, or keep her.

The End

http://www.evesromance.com

Author’s historic references and definitions; Resources and credits to the following.

Note: I have read of both (rope) being used as a dividing line during jousts prior to the 15th century, and also bales used. I imagine like modern shows of horsemanship I participated in as a young teen, there were all sorts of dividers depending on who set up the field and where. However, we have an idea of what a joust is, so I used bales in my story. (Sourced from research “À la toille: A joustheld on either side of a barrier. Prior to the early 15th century, jousts were conducted in the open rather than on either side of a low wall, which made the event much more dangerous. The first reference found in chronicles is found in a pas d’armesheld by Pierre de Bauffremont c. 1442, described in Engerrand de Monstrelet's Chronique. See Chronique: The Journal of Chivalry #16for a reprint of this encounter. Also known as the tilt. Champion for Ordeals: In trials by combator judicial duels, frequently held in England and on the continent prior to the 14th century, these champions were professional fighters hired on the sly to champion a tenant unable to defend himself. Technically such championing was illegal, but difficult to prove. The deterrence came from the Continental penalty that the losing champion lost his hand, since in order to take to the liststhey had to swear to the charge, and in losing, they were forsworn.

King Henry* had forbidden Tourney’s, but they went on anyway. Prince Edward, when a teen, was nearly injured in a Tourney that turned into a free for all brawl. The gave way to the more strict Round Tables (more formal jousts and blunted weapons) That still did not mean there weren’t Knights killed, injured, or it turning into a near war between enemy knights. There is the romance, Pageantry side, and the violent, high-risk side to these events. More than one knight or lord was accused of (murder) during them. This Tourney would have taken place, even though I made King Henry more generous about it than he likely would have been.

Key figures of my time used, are easily researchable, and with so many events taking place in that space of history, you will find some interesting reading via the list below. This book and these characters are set in fiction, but true stories from the middle ages are just as incredibly full of drama as anything I could write. I encourage readers to enjoy reading that as much as “fictional stories” Which makes it incredibly easy to imagine all the characters we could imagine, did likely exit then! Notice the endnote about someone we all admire—Robin Hood.

Baron’s rebellion, Simon de Montford

Gathered from various sources: Simon de Montfort, 6th Earl of Leicester (1208 – August 4, 1265)—e principal leader of the baronial opposition to King Henry III of England. After the rebellion of 1263-1264, de Montfort became de facto ruler of England and called the first directly elected parliament in medieval Europe. de Montfort is regarded today as one of the progenitors of modern parliamentary democracy.

His dispute with King Henry came about due to the latter's determination to ignore the swelling discontent within the country, caused by famine and a sense among the English Barons that King Henry was too quick to dispense favor to his Poitevin relatives and Savoyard in-laws. In 1248, de Montfort again took the cross, with the idea of following Louis IX of France to Egypt.

However, at the repeated requests of King Henry and Council, he gave up this project in order to act as Governor in the unsettled and disaffected Duchy of Gascony. Bitter complaints were excited by the rigor with which de Montfort suppressed the excesses of the Seigneurs and of contending factions in the great communes.

Henry yielded to the outcry and instituted a formal inquiry into Simon's administration. Simon was formally acquitted on the charges of oppression, but Henry disputed his accounts. Simon retired in disgust to France in 1252. The nobles of France offered him the Regency of the kingdom, vacated by the death of Queen Blanche of Castile, but he preferred to make his peace with Henry, which he did in 1253, in obedience to the exhortations of the dying Grosseteste.

He helped King Henry in dealing with the disaffection in Gascony. The reconciliation was a hollow one. In the Parliament of 1254, Simon led the opposition in resisting a demand for a subsidy. In 1256-57, when the discontent of all classes was coming to a head, de Montfort nominally adhered to the Royal cause.

He undertook, with Peter of Savoy, the Queen's uncle, the difficult task of extricating the King from the pledges, which he had given to the Pope with reference to the Crown of Sicily; and Henry's writs of this date mention de Montfort in friendly terms. At the "Mad Parliament" of Oxford (1258), de Montfort appeared side by side with the Earl of Gloucester at the head of the opposition. His name appears in the list of the Fifteen—to constitute the supreme board of control over the administration. The King's success in dividing the Barons and in fostering a reaction rendered such projects hopeless.