Epilogue
Four Years Later
Lerryn Castle, Cornwall
“You’ve not told her yet?”
Aidric shook his head.
“Nay,” he said, eyeing Gerard and Bennet. “How could I? She was pregnant and ready to deliver my son. I do not wish to upset her, not now.”
The men understood, for the most part. “You cannot put this off,” Britt said. “We must leave, Aidric, and you must come with us.”
Aidric held up a hand to silence him. “I know,” he said, bordering on irritation. “But let her give birth to this child and then I will tell her. At least let me enjoy the birth of my son before you drag me off to battle.”
No one could really blame him.
The new Lord Lerryn was very proud of his home, his properties, his wife, and his growing family.
Two years ago, Cleodora had presented him with a white-haired infant he gleefully named Achilles and Aidric couldn’t have been prouder.
The boy never left his side, nor did his wife, and he truly adored his little family in the wilds of Cornwall.
But the only reason Edward allowed him to retreat to Cornwall was because Aidric promised to rally to Edward whenever the king needed him, as he did now.
There was a great undertaking about to happen and Edward wanted Aidric to be part of it.
That was why Gerard and Bennet had come.
Bennet had another reason, however. His wife, Celyn, had become good friends with Cleodora shortly after she married Aidric, during the brief time they’d spent in London before returning to Cornwall.
Celyn wanted very much to return home to see her family on the Welsh marches, but she also wanted to visit Cleodora, who was pregnant with her second child, so Bennet brought her along—and even now, she was assisting in the birth of Cleodora’s child.
But there was more.
Gerard, Bennet, and Aidric were under orders to go to the Welsh marches to intercept Eleanor de Montfort, who was heading toward Wales and a marriage with Llewelyn ap Gruffudd.
Eleanor was the daughter of Simon de Montfort, Henry and Edward’s great enemy, and Edward was not keen on the marriage.
He wanted it stopped until he could fully evaluate it, and any potential political implications, so he wanted his trusted men on the task.
Bennet planned on leaving his wife with her family on the Welsh marches while he went about Edward’s task, but there were two problems at hand—Cleodora had delivered her child late and Aidric, fearful of his pregnant wife’s mental state, hadn’t yet told her he was leaving.
Now, all they could do was hope Aidric told his wife in time for them to capture Eleanor.
“I do not know why you are so excited,” Gerard said, though he was jesting. “It will be another white-haired lad who looks nothing like you.”
As Bennet chuckled, Aidric cast Gerard an expression of distinct displeasure. “At least I have sons,” he said. “What about you and that de Royans widow? Are you going to let her slip away?”
Gerard rolled his eyes. “Do not change the subject.”
“I’m not,” Aidric said. “I’m simply asking if you intend to marry that woman. She’s a fine prize, you know.”
“She’s too old.”
“She’s not too old.”
“Then maybe I’m too old.”
Aidric looked at Bennet, who was legitimately the oldest man in the group, for support. He grinned and shook his head.
“Manny, I married in my fourth decade,” he said. “I have three very young children and I do not regret one moment of it. You are not too old.”
Gerard didn’t want to talk about the de Royans daughter who was, in fact, a widow at nearly thirty years of age.
She already had two fine sons, young boys who adored Gerard, but Gerard was being cagey about marriage.
Orion, who was closest to him, thought it was because he felt he didn’t have anything to really offer a wealthy widow and was afraid of rejection, but anyone who saw the way Aurelia de Royans St. Cadix looked at Gerard would know his fears were for naught.
She was enamored with him.
“Did you ever think you would find yourself in a moment like this?” Gerard asked after a moment.
It was a change of subject, one that brought about momentary confusion from both Aidric and Bennet.
“What moment?” Aidric asked.
“This,” Gerard said, motioning to the small but fine hall they were sitting in. “Your own hall, a fine home, a wife and children. Did you ever think you would find yourself in a moment like this?”
Generations of de Sausters had made it an elegant, rich place.
Lerryn Castle was strong, remote, and rich from the fishing that it operated through the nearby village of Fowey.
It was a rather large industry that Aidric had inherited, something he’d known nothing about initially, but he’d learned quickly from Cleodora’s grandfather.
Marc, sometimes called St. Marc, had been generous with his time and knowledge, and he’d been thrilled to have an elite knight as a grandson.
Sometimes Aidric still felt like it was surreal.
“Nay,” he said. “This is not something I ever saw myself with. Who knew I would own a fishing fleet?”
Gerard looked at him, grinning. “And your wife hates fish,” he said. “There is great irony there.”
“True,” Aidric said. “She says that eating fish is like eating a relative.”
“The siren legend?”
“Exactly.”
“Still,” Gerard said as he stood up, picking up the fire poker to stir the embers in the hearth, “you have a good life here. No one deserves it more, Aidric. You are missed in London, but I do not blame you for staying here.”
Aidric sat back in his chair, looking at the rich furnishing in the hall and the pile of dogs over near the hearth, sleeping. “I will never leave it,” he said. “Except, of course, to go to the Welsh marches and capture Eleanor de Montfort. You do realize she is going to have a sizable escort.”
Gerard nodded. “We know,” he said. “That is why we are stopping at Lioncross Abbey on our way north to collect three hundred men from de Lohr.”
“Why did you not bring royal troops from London?”
“Because an army would move slower,” Gerard said. “We need to move swiftly and moving three hundred men who are already in the marches made logistical sense.”
“Where is Eleanor supposed to be now?”
Gerard put the fire poker away. “When we left for Cornwall, she’d not even left London yet,” he said. “Assuming she departed within a week or two of our departure, she should be somewhere in Nottinghamshire.”
“That does not give us much time.”
“Nay, it does not,” Gerard said. Then, he pointed to the upper floors. “Go and tell your wife to hurry up. This is not a game. We all have a schedule to keep.”
Aidric started to laugh, which was good for him considering he’d been sweating out the birth of his second child with a great deal of anxiety.
Anything Gerard or Bennet said, or did, was meant to distract the new father and, so far, it had worked.
Cleodora had been in labor since early that morning and it was just after the nooning meal now, so it hadn’t been terribly long as births went.
But to Aidric, it was still terrifying, no matter how long it took.
“Papa!”
A little voice bounced off the walls and Aidric looked up to see his young son, Achilles, being brought in by Filly.
Achilles St. John had his mother’s white hair, but his father’s hazel eyes and features, making him a strikingly handsome little lad.
Once Filly entered the hall, she put the boy on his feet and he ran to Aidric, who swung him up into his arms, kissing little cheeks as the child giggled.
“No child yet, my lord?” Filly asked.
Aidric shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Not yet. But soon, hopefully. Then you’ll have two children to take care of.”
Filly grinned. “I do not mind, my lord,” she said. “Achilles is a joy.”
He grunted. “A joyful terror, but I’m glad you think so.”
He had no sooner said the words before Celyn descended the main stairs, a smile on her face as she looked directly at Aidric. Bennet, seeing his wife, went to her, but her focus was on the new father.
“Go and see your wife, Aidric,” she said. “The baby has come.”
“It has?” Aidric said, fear and elation in his voice. “And how is my wife?”
“Well,” Celyn said. She was a lovely woman with dark hair and a fine-featured face. “Both mother and child are doing very well, indeed. Hurry, now. Take the young lad up to see his new sibling.”
Aidric was already on the move with Achilles in his arms. “Is it a boy?”
Celyn shook her head. “I am not permitted to tell you,” she said. “Cleo wants the privilege.”
That put Aidric on the run. He raced up the stairs as Achilles screamed in delight, rushing to the master’s chamber where his wife had given birth.
He stopped running by the time he reached the door, looking at Achilles and putting his finger to his lips, indicating for the child to be silent.
In response, Achilles put his hands over his mouth.
With a grin, Aidric pushed the door open.
The chamber was warm, smelling of cloves.
The midwife and her sister were there, two women from the village who had delivered his first child as well.
They were quite competent. Over on the enormous bed, Cleodora was sitting up, her white hair braided neatly, as she held an infant to her breast. With a smile of pure delight, Aidric approached the bed.
“Look, Achilles,” he said, pointing the infant out to his son. “Mama has a new baby. See?”
Cleodora was grinning at her son. “Come, Achilles,” she said, patting the bed next to her. “Come and see your new sister.”
Aidric audibly gasped. “A lass?” he said with utter joy. “We have a daughter?”
Cleodora nodded, holding up an arm as Aidric tucked their son up against her.
She put her arm around her little boy as the child leaned over to get a look at the white-haired infant tugging on his mother’s breast. Aidric hovered over them, seeing half of the infant’s beautiful face pressed up against his wife’s flesh.
“She’s magnificent, my angel,” he said, leaning over to kiss Cleodora on the head. “What a beauty like her mother she will be.”
Cleodora lifted her mouth to his, relishing a few sweet kisses. “I hoped you would be pleased,” she said. “You kept calling her ‘Bastien,’ so I know you were expecting a lad.”
He shook his head. “I was not expecting anything,” he said. “I was only hoping for a healthy child and a healthy wife. Are you well, my angel? Truly?”
He was hovering over her now, kissing her head again, and Cleodora allowed herself to indulge in his comfort.
She needed it because she wasn’t going to tell him that the baby had been born with the cord around her neck and it had taken some doing to free her.
Other than that, the birth had been uneventful, but Aidric didn’t need to know that one small complication.
The baby was well enough and feeding normally, so there didn’t seem to be any damage.
“I am well,” she said. “Ameline came rather quickly, I think. She was anxious to meet us all.”
“Ameline?”
“That is what I have named her.”
“It is a beautiful name.”
“Ameline St. John sounds like the smartest, loveliest lass in all of Cornwall.”
“All of England.”
She smiled, looking up at him and kissing him again. Her free hand was on his face as she gazed into his eyes. “Now that your daughter has come,” she said, “when are you leaving us?”
His brow furrowed. “Leaving you?” he said. “I just got here.”
She snorted softly. “I meant leaving for the marches,” she said. “You must go quickly if you are to intercept Eleanor de Montfort.”
Now, he was frowning. “Who told you that?”
“Did you think Celyn did not know?”
He hissed at the realization that Bennet’s wife had told her everything. “Of course not,” he said. “But I wanted to tell you myself.”
“When? When you return?”
It was his turn to snort. “You were preparing to have a child,” he explained, rather lamely. “I did not want to upset you.”
“So now the child is here,” she said. “I am not upset. But I would like to know when you are leaving.”
He sighed, sitting down on the bed next to her and pulling Achilles onto his lap. “Very soon,” he said. “Probably in a day or two.”
“Then I must help you pack.”
He put his arm around her, hugging her as he held Achilles and she held their daughter. His family. His beautiful little family.
God, he was loath to leave them.
“I have already packed my things,” he said. “You have a much more important task ahead of you in tending my new daughter.”
“Your new daughter?”
“Of course she is mine. She looks just like me.”
Cleodora laughed softly, shifting the baby, who was now sleeping, off her nipple. That gave Aidric a much more clear view of the little one.
“Ah,” he said softly, touching the baby’s cheek. “She is truly beautiful, my angel. A fine tribute to the siren she descends from.”
Cleodora was gazing at her daughter, peacefully slumbering. Very softly, she began to sing:
“Close your eyes gently, there’s nothing to fear,
Dream while my sweet song is all that you hear.”
Aidric remembered her singing that lullaby to their son when he was born and, for some reason, it brought tears to his eyes.
He was coming to discover that the birth of his children made him exceptionally emotional.
He’d never imagined fatherhood would be something as fulfilling as this, something that filled a gap in his soul that he didn’t know he had.
But then, he looked at his wife.
The Jewel, the Pearl, the courtesan. A woman who had endured more horrors than most now found herself the center of his world, a glorious creature that he could hardly believe he deserved.
When he looked at her, he felt the same thrill as he did the first time he ever saw her.
That ethereal creature that was beyond his reach.
But she wasn’t beyond it any longer.
She had become the very thing he treasured so dearly.
For the commander of the Guard of Six and one of the Seven Jewels of London, life had become what they made of it. A splendid world that belonged only to them, and now to the children they had created with their love. There was a name for such a place, one that summed up their life perfectly.
Heaven.
Their world was, indeed, heaven.
* THE END *