Epic Knights of Legend and Steel

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

I senhall Castle was a circle, literally, circular walls surrounded by a moat with the only access in or out being a heavy drawbridge of iron and oak. The dark-stoned walls were very tall, and somewhat foreboding, and when they crossed the drawbridge and passed through a narrow tunnel, the bailey opened up on the other side to expose the underbelly of the castle.

It was a tight fit, all of it. The keep, at least three stories, was attached to a one-storied hall, and other buildings crowded up around them. There were tunnels leading between buildings to some kind of courtyard on the other side which she quickly determined to be the stables because she could see the horses through the tunnel and smell the stench of animals when the wind shifted.

Everything was closed in and boxed up, with the tall keep and walls towering over everything. Jeniver had to admit that she’d never seen anything like it, the guts of a real English castle, and she was intimidated. She began to wonder, again, if this had been a foolish move. She’d gone so easily with the man who called himself the Earl of Coventry, without much of a fight at all. She prayed she had not willingly put herself into the belly of the beast, praying that she would see her home again. From what she’d heard about the English, she would not be surprised if he threw her in the vault for the rest of her life.

But the big earl seemed calm and reasonable enough. He had led her into the bailey, now dismounting his heavy-boned warhorse and made his way over to her. He was dressed in mail and leather, mostly, but he did have a tunic on, which she could see when the big fur cloak he was wearing blew open. He had removed his helm, revealing close-cropped black hair that was kinked up with sweat. Coupled with a square jaw and those bright, green eyes, Jeniver wasn’t hard pressed to agree that the man was very handsome, and he was at least twice her age and probably more. She studied him as he approached, seeing a man in the prime of his life.

The earl was polite about helping her from her horse, offering again to hold the puppy, which she courteously declined. She wasn’t about to turn her dog over to anyone, even the man who saved her life. So he took her by the elbow, politely, and led her into the big, squat keep that was lit by dozens of torches on the inside.

It was surprisingly bright in the dank interior and the first room they came to was a small dining hall of sorts. Two small girls and an older woman sat at a table eating their morning meal. When they saw the earl enter, and the woman with him, all three jumped up from the table.

“Papa!” the little girls cried.

They rushed to the earl, clinging on to him, and he picked the smallest one up. Then he addressed the older woman with graying blond hair and sky blue eyes that were intently focused on Jeniver.

“This is the Lady Jeniver,” he told the woman. Then he looked at Jeniver. “My lady, this is my mother, the dowager countess. You may address her as Lady Honey.”

Jeniver bobbed her head respectfully to the older, and still quite lovely, woman. “My lady,” she said with her heavy Welsh accent. “I fear that harsh circumstances have brought me to your home. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Before Honey could reply, Lily, in her father’s arms, gasped. “Papa!” she shrieked. “She has a puppy!”

Jeniver turned to look at the adorable child, who was reaching out to pet the animal. Jeniver took a step toward the child so she could touch the puppy, which began licking her hand furiously. The little girl squealed in delight as the older one began jumping up and down.

“I want to pet!” she cried. “I want to pet !”

Jeniver lowered the puppy so both girls could get their hands on him. She ended up kneeling as the girls petted and hugged the puppy, being enthusiastically licked for their efforts. Gallus, standing over the rather sweet scene, watched his happy girls for a moment before turning to his mother.

“Lady Jeniver’s party has suffered an attack,” he said. “We are still looking for her father. Will you please take her in-hand and see to her comfort? I will return to the scene of the ambush and oversee the wounded, among other things.”

Honey nodded. “Of course, Gallus,” she said. “I would be happy to see to Lady Jeniver.”

Gallus lifted an eyebrow at his mother. “Her father is the hereditary king of Anglesey,” he told her. “Show her all due respect from Coventry.”

Honey nodded again. She understood well the social rankings and graces of the nobility. Her father, the great warlord Christopher de Lohr, had been an earl as well as friend to Richard the Lionheart. Honey, as his youngest child, embodied the greatness of the de Lohrs and much of her father’s strength and wisdom. Her father had lived a very long and rich life, passing away eleven years before on the eve of his eightieth birthday. Honey’s mother, Lady Dustin, still lived in the family home of Lioncross Abbey, a dowager countess herself as a new generation of de Lohrs now took the helm. Therefore, having spawned from such a prestigious family, Honey well understood protocol.

“Indeed I will,” she said, reaching down to gently grasp Jeniver by the elbow. “My lady, will you please come with me? I am sure you would like to rest and refresh yourself.”

Jeniver allowed the older woman to guide her to her feet even though the little girls were still begging to pet the dog. Before Honey led her away completely, Jeniver turned to Gallus.

“Please, my lord,” she begged softly. “Please find my father and bring him to me, no matter… no matter what state you find him in. It is just the two of us, you see, as my mother died when I was very young, so I would be grateful if… if you could simply find him.”

Gallus could see a steely resolve in the woman. She knew the chances of her father being found unharmed were slim but her attachment to him was great. Gallus could read it in her face. She was young, this one, but there was a grace and maturity about her. He nodded faintly.

“I will do all I can, my lady,” he assured her softly.

With that, he turned and quit the keep, leaving his daughters and mother to care for the Welsh lady who was, in reality, a Welsh princess. Jeniver watched him go, clutching her puppy and wondering if her life was going to change from this point. She was incredibly worried for her father but knew the chances of him being untouched in the attack were not good. They had been overwhelmed, their peaceful party, and she had seen some of the carnage. She could only pray the big earl with the sultry, green eyes could produce a miracle.

Her mind on her father, she allowed Honey to take her up a flight of wide, stone steps that, strangely, were not spiral. It was actually a long flight that doubled back on itself up to the floor above. Looking up, she could see it doubled back on itself at least once more for another floor above that one. Jeniver had never seen an interior staircase that wasn’t spiral, so it was a bit of a marvel, but Honey gently pulled her away from the remarkable stairs and into one of the chambers on the second level.

Jeniver was hit in the face by the smell of lavender. Strong, pungent, clean, and fresh, she loved the scent. The chamber itself was extremely well appointed with a big, comfortable bed complete with heavy woolen drapes around the canopy, two lavish chairs next to a beautifully carved table, a tapestry on the wall that depicted some kind of romantic scene, and a warm fire burning in the hearth.

As Jeniver stood just inside the chamber door, a bit disoriented as she marveled at her surroundings and clutched her puppy to her chest, she felt tugging at her sleeve.

“Lady?” It was the earl’s older daughter. “Lady, can we pet your dog?”

Jeniver knelt down so both girls could continue stroking the puppy, which was starting to get wriggly. She eventually set the puppy to his feet and the little girls went mad, playing and chasing the puppy, which was quite happy to run wild all over the beautiful room. Jeniver tried to stop them, twice, but the little girls were having so much fun she didn’t have the heart. She stood there and watched the children play with her puppy as Honey, who had disappeared through another doorway off to the right behind a painted screen, once again emerged.

“My lady?” she said politely. “Would you join me, please?”

Jeniver had no idea what she meant but she did as she was asked, following Honey as she was beckoning her to come. Jeniver pointed to the puppy and the little girls as the puppy got underneath the bed and the squealing children slithered after it.

“I am not entirely sure it is safe to leave those three alone,” she said. “They seem to be having much fun and I am afraid they might disturb something in this lovely room.”

Honey smiled as she watched her granddaughters play with the dog. All she could see were little legs sticking out from underneath her bed.

“I fear they are quite fond of your puppy already,” she said. “Both of them like animals very much.”

Jeniver glanced at the woman. “Do they have pets?”

Honey shook her head. “Not really,” she said. “Of course, there are cats in the barn and dogs roam about the hall and bailey, but they do not have a particular pet to love.”

Jeniver looked back to the girls, who were now completely under the bed and laughing loudly. “I see,” she murmured. “I am sure my dog is very happy for the company, then. It has been a long trip.”

Honey smiled politely. “May I ask where you were traveling to?”

Jeniver’s expression softened, saddened. “We were going home,” she said, her thoughts now returned to the unknown fate of her father. “We were returning home from Paris. My father took me there to celebrate my day of birth. The puppy is a gift from him, in fact.”

Honey could see the sorrow in her face. Not knowing the details of the lady’s circumstances, she didn’t want to press. It was evident that something very bad had happened. Reaching out, she grasped Jeniver gently by the wrist.

“Come along, young woman,” she said softly. “Let us get you comfortable. We will be able to hear the children should they require our assistance.”

With a lingering eye on the children squirming underneath the bed, Jeniver allowed the older woman to lead her into a small chamber off the main room. This was a dressing chamber and was, in fact, shockingly luxurious, just like the attached chamber was. There were furs on the floor, not rushes, and rugs that were made from woven pieces of cloth. No part of the floor was uncovered, providing some protection against the wood for bare feet.

The room contained clothing hung on pegs, a good deal of it in fact, along with a big, iron tub and, marvel of marvels, a chair with a hole cut in the center of it and a bucket beneath. As Honey had the servants fill up the tub with buckets of hot water, Jeniver was marveling at the privy inside the room. It was sectioned off by a painted, wooden screen and next to the chair was another bucket with a big, flat spoon in it, buried in flakey lye that was used to mask the odor of any contents of the waste bucket.

In all, it was quite astonishing. Jeniver had never seen such a luxurious room, inside a military fortress of all things. The Earl of Coventry undoubtedly had a good deal of wealth and his family was kept most comfortably. As she turned towards the iron tub, now half-full with steaming water, the puppy bolted into the room, followed by the squealing girls.

The puppy, tongue hanging out, was barking and growling playfully as it came to a dead-end in the room and turned around, now chasing the girls. The girls screamed as the little dog ran at them, clumsily, and Honey was trying to shoo them all back into the other chamber. Once they had funneled back into the lavish bower beyond, Honey turned to Jeniver rather apologetically.

“Forgive the intrusion, my lady,” she said. “Shall I help you disrobe for your bath?”

Jeniver didn’t want to be rude, but she truly didn’t feel like bathing. Her only concern was her father and it was difficult to focus on anything else. She had come with Lady Honey, thinking the woman was taking her to rest or perhaps eat, but it seemed as if Lady Honey had much more in mind. She had an entire toilette and bath planned, and Jeniver simply couldn’t think on enjoying herself, or even relaxing, while her father’s fate was unknown. Torn, she began to wring her hands.

“Please, my lady, I do not mean to be unappreciative,” she said, “but I do not wish to bathe at the moment. I am very worried about my father and until he is found safely, I am afraid I cannot think on anything else, not even your kind hospitality. Would it be possible to wait for the men to return down in the ward?”

Honey smiled faintly. “It would be better to wait downstairs where it is warm and sheltered,” she said. “Will you at least take some nourishment while you wait?”

Jeniver wasn’t sure she could eat anything at all but she didn’t want to be completely rude. “Aye, my lady.”

Honey’s smile broadened, pleased that she could provide the anxious, young woman at least some measure of comfort. “Then let us retreat downstairs to await your father’s arrival.”

Jeniver visibly relaxed. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “As I said, I do not mean to be rude, but I am greatly concerned over my father’s welfare and the welfare of our men. You are kind to want to tend me but, at the moment, I am too distracted with the unknown.”

Honey reached out and took her by the elbow, escorting her back into the lavish chamber where the little girls and the dog were back under the big bed.

“You are not being rude in the least,” she assured her. “I understand that you are concerned for your father. We shall wait for him and when he arrives, I will be happy to provide warmth and shelter for the both of you for as long as you require it.”

Jeniver was eager to return to the keep entry, as if somehow returning there would bring her closer to discovering her father’s fate. The earl had promised to return him and she would hold the man to his word. She had to, she couldn’t stomach the alternative. Edgy, she dropped to her knees beside the big bed and pulled the puppy out from underneath. Like a moth to flame, the little girls followed her, with the puppy in her arms, as she trailed after Honey back down the big staircase to the first floor.

The small dining hall where the girls and Honey had been sitting to enjoy their morning meal was still just as they had left it. Bowls of porridge were on the table, cooling, as Honey encouraged the children to sit and finish their meal, but the little girls were still very much distracted by the puppy. When Jeniver sat, uneasily, the children were nearly on top of her, trying to pet the puppy. Seeing that their guest wasn’t quite comfortable enough to be sociable, Honey clapped her hands sharply.

“Violet,” she said, softly but sternly, “sit down. Lily, you will sit, too. Finish your meal, ladies. Your father will return shortly and we must be prepared to greet the day.”

Unhappily, the little girls moved away from the puppy and reclaimed their seats, spooning cooled porridge into their mouths as they gazed longingly at the puppy. Jeniver was relieved that Lady Honey had called the girls off but when she caught a glimpse of their sad expressions, she tried not to feel guilty about it.

So she sat in silence, waiting with increasing apprehension for her father to be returned to her. Lady Honey and the girls resumed their meal silently with Lady Honey only speaking to ask Jeniver if she was hungry. Knowing she should accept something, as not to hurt the woman’s feelings, Jeniver agreed and Lady Honey immediately had servants in motion, bringing forth bowls of porridge with honey, fresh bread and butter, watered wine, bread soaked in sweet wine, and stewed apples with honey and cinnamon.

It was quite a spread and one that made Jeniver rather nauseous as she looked at it. So much food and her stomach was in knots. But she accepted some watered wine, hot and spicy, and a slab of bread with butter. The puppy was hungry, however, licking at the butter on the bread, so she gave the dog the crust, which he happily chewed.

Honey, seeing that the dog was eating most of Jeniver’s bread, had a servant bring forth some cold beef for the dog. As the puppy happily devoured the meat, Honey thought to engage her uncomfortable guest in conversation, if only to take her mind off the situation. She could read the woman’s angst in her features, her movements. Everything hinged on the safe return of her father.

“What a wonderful time you must have had on your journey, my lady,” Honey said, simply to establish a dialogue. “What did you like best about it?”

Jeniver appeared rather startled by the question, distracted as she was. But she forced herself to focus on a polite reply.

“Paris was quite entertaining,” she replied, somewhat hesitantly. “We visited a hall that provided entertainment by acting out different events throughout the course of history. We saw the entertainment three nights in a row. The first night, it was the resurrection of Christ. The second night, it was St. Columba, the Apostle of the Picts, and how he conquered the Irish. The third night, we saw the glorious battle at Hastings.”

Honey could see that the young woman was struggling to carry on a conversation and not appear too preoccupied.

“How delightful that must have been for you,” she said. “My father took me to Paris once, also. It was just the two of us at first, as my mother encouraged him to make it a special trip between us, but my Uncle David joined us once we arrived in Paris and brought his daughter and my cousin, Michaela, with him. We had a glorious time, especially when my Uncle David became drunk one night in a tavern near the Seine and then he was determined to fight every Frenchman in the inn. When my father tried to stop him, my uncle punched him right in the nose. It was a terrible sight until my angry father wrapped Uncle David up in a coverlet he confiscated from one of the sleeping rooms, tied the man up in it, and left him lying on the floor of the tavern to sleep it off. I have never seen my uncle so angry as he tried to free himself from the trussed-up coverlet.”

Honey was giggling, which made Jeniver break into a smile. “Did he manage to free himself?”

Honey shook her head. “Nay,” she replied. “He eventually exhausted himself and passed out on the floor. We found him there the next morning, still tied up, sleeping peacefully.”

She snorted at the humorous memory and she had also succeeded in distracting Jeniver from her anxiety somewhat. It was a very funny story the way Honey told it.

“Did you come from a large family, my lady?” Jeniver asked.

Honey nodded. “Very large,” she replied. “My father was Christopher de Lohr, Earl of Hereford and Worcester. There are quite a few de Lohrs in England.”

Jeniver cocked her head thoughtfully. “De Lohr,” she repeated. “I have heard that name.”

Honey nodded. “You should have,” she said. “My father was a well-known man in Wales as well as in England.”

“And he has passed away?”

Again, Honey nodded. “He did, about eleven years ago,” she replied. “My mother is still alive, however. She lives at Lioncross Abbey, which is on the Marches. That is where I was born.”

Jeniver thought on the castle, and the family, that she had heard tale of. The House of de Lohr was a well-known one in England and she was rather impressed by the woman’s lineage.

“But now you are here, in England,” she said. “Have you been here a long time?”

Honey nodded. “Since I married my husband,” she replied. “Antoninus de Shera hailed from Cheshire, son of a very ancient family rumored to have descended from a lost Roman legion. The entire male line of the family had Roman names, as do my own sons. Fascinating, is it not?”

By now, Jeniver was interested in their conversation and the fear she was feeling for her father had been somewhat eased. “Your husband was the Earl of Coventry?” she asked.

Honey shook her head. “Nay,” she replied. “The Earl of Coventry was a title held by my older brother, Henry, a title granted to him when he married a woman of royal blood. Henry was a very good knight, you see, and served King Henry well on several occasions. But Henry died unexpectedly, with no heirs, so instead of the title reverting to the crown, it was passed to me and, through me, to my eldest son, Gallus.”

Jeniver was growing increasingly interested in the history of the House of de Shera. “I understand the little girls belong to the earl,” she said, “but does he have sons?”

Honey shook her head. “Sadly, he does not,” she replied. “Unfortunately, his wife died last year from a fall from her horse. They only had the two daughters.”

Now, Jeniver was starting to understand something about the great Earl of Coventry. Where she had once been unsure of the man and his motives, now she was starting to understand a bit of the man’s history. Honey seemed quite pleasant and coming to understand that the earl was a widower, she was starting to feel some pity for the man. He was human, after all. What a difficult thing it must have been to be a man raising two small girls without the benefit of their mother. However, given her own circumstances, Jeniver understood the situation well.

“I am sorry for him, then,” she said quietly. “I lost my mother at a very young age as well. I am an only child so I understand what it is like for a father to raise a girl-child alone.”

Honey smiled sadly. “Your father seems to have done a remarkable job,” she said. “You are an articulate and polite young woman.”

That brought a smile to Jeniver’s lips. “You are kind to say so, my lady,” she replied. “And I thank you and your son very much for your hospitality and graciousness. I am sorry not to have said so before now.”

Honey waved her off. “You have shown me your gratitude since the moment you entered Isenhall,” she said. “You did not need to say so as well.”

Jeniver bobbed her head cordially, feeling comfortable enough with Lady Honey that she actually began to eat some of the food that had been brought to her. The puppy, having eaten all of his cold beef, was sleeping in her arms and becoming heavy. Jeniver shifted the dog so he wasn’t so much dead weight in her arms as she spooned some of the stewed apples into her mouth.

As she was sipping her warmed wine, the earl’s daughters slithered off their chairs and came to her, petting the sleeping dog. Jeniver smiled at the girls, who were really being quite gentle now that the puppy was sleeping, but as a calming air settled about them, the door to the keep suddenly flew open and chaos was introduced into their midst.

Terror had arrived.