The Dark Spawn (Battle Lords of de Velt Book 5) Read online

  “I know who they are,” she said after a moment. “The man seated next to Papa is Sir Cole de Velt. His father is Ajax de Velt, a great and terrible warlord from the north. The men with him are his knights, Sir Addax and Sir Essien. They are brothers.”

  Gaia was fixed on the al-Kort siblings. “I have never seen men like them before,” she said. “They are not English.”

  “I do not believe so.”

  “Where are they from?”

  Corisande shook her head. “I do not know,” she said. “I did not ask.”

  Gaia grinned as she looked them over from a distance. “They must be from someplace far away,” she said. “Mayhap they are from Rome or Athens, great warriors like those in Papa’s books. Don’t they look like that to you? Like the gods of old?”

  Corisande nodded faintly. “I can see them with wings on their shoulders, shooting bolts of fire from the heights of Olympus,” she said, grinning at her sister when the woman looked at her. “Surely, they are great warriors if they are with a de Velt and if you by chance speak to them, do not wink at them or pinch them. I will not have them returning to Olympus with tales of Alastor de Bourne’s bold daughter.”

  The smile on Gaia’s face turned to a frown as Corisande winked at her and turned away, heading back towards the kitchens. She hadn’t taken two steps when the scruffy servant who had helped her tend the soldier with the infected boil approached her from the shadows.

  “My lady,” he said nervously. “The man whose leg you lanced today is in great pain. The boil seems to be very red and angry. You should come and see him.”

  Corisande was distracted from her kitchen duties. “Of course,” she said. “Has a fever sparked?”

  “Not yet, my lady.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I took him back to the knight’s quarters, my lady. He waits for you there.”

  She paused a moment, thinking. “Then bring hot water and boiled linen,” she said. “I will send someone for my medicament bag. Gather those things and meet me in the knight’s quarters.”

  The servant nodded and ran off as Corisande turned to her sister. “Gaia, you must manage the kitchens,” she said. “I may not return for some time, so please make sure Papa and his guests are well-supplied. Will you do this?”

  Gaia nodded. “Aye,” she said. “Where are you going?”

  Corisande gestured in the general direction of the bailey. “To tend a man with an inflamed wound,” she said. “I shall return as soon as I can.”

  With that, she dashed off, staying to the recesses of the hall as she made her way towards the main entry. Gaia watched her sister until the woman departed and instead of going to the kitchens as she’d been asked, she headed straight to the dais where those fascinating men were. She wasn’t going to spend her evening in the kitchens when there were handsome males to be entertained.

  That night, Essien was the first one to be pinched by a naughty blonde with an impish grin.

  It was cold on this evening, a dusting of brilliant stars spread across the heavens as Corisande moved quickly beneath that dark sky, heading towards the stables.

  She had a particular purpose in mind.

  The stables of The Keld were quite old. In fact, a portion of them belonged to the bones of an even older building, for there had been Romans in this location at one time and Castle Keld had been built over the ruins.

  Someone told her once that the stalls where the horses were housed had, at one time, been small sleeping cells for the Roman soldiers. When the castle was built by a de Bourne ancestor, the building that contained the cells was incorporated into the stables. There were also two enormous stone troughs left by the Romans that were used by the livestock.

  One particular trough was Corisande’s destination.

  This trough was nestled deep in the earth near the stalls and was fed by a natural spring. There was a type of moss that grew on the north side of the trough and it was that growth that Corisande was looking for. It was a very old moss and it had some kind of medicinal quality to it because she had used it many times to help alleviate swelling and poison in wounds. It was hairy, and had a sort of bluish-green cast to it, but whatever it was worked very well in helping heal the sick.

  As Corisande entered the stables, she paused to light an oil lamp. It was quite dark in the stables at this time of night and she needed some light by which to see, so she collected an oil lamp used by the stable servants that had the flame mostly covered. An open flame in a stable was a recipe for disaster, so she lit it carefully.

  With a little lamp burning weakly against the darkness, Corisande made her way to the end of the stone stable where the old, chipped trough was half-buried in the ground. Holding the lamp aloft so she could get a better view, she knelt down to inspect the northern part of the trough where the bluish-green moss grew. There was quite a bit of it and she began pulling it off, collecting a goodly handful of it.

  “So this is where you went.”

  Startled by the voice, Corisande looked up to see Cole entering the stable. On her knees, bent over the mossy trough, she straightened up to face him.

  “Were you looking for me?” she asked. “I apologize if you had to hunt me down, but there is a soldier with an infected boil and as strange as it sounds, the moss on this trough is known to cure skin wounds. I must tend to the man.”

  He put up his hands because she sounded apologetic that she’d left the hall to do what was clearly a more important duty.

  “There is no need for apologies, my lady, truly,” he said, coming closer. “I was not looking for you. I came to see to my horse, who seemed to have an odd gait today. I wanted to see if he has developed a lameness, so the fact that you are here is purely coincidental.”

  That was a lie. An utter, complete lie. Cole had seen her leave the hall and he’d followed. He’d spent the entire evening listening to Alastor when his mind was really on the man’s daughter as she hovered on the fringes of the great hall, making sure the meal ran smoothly. He kept wishing she would come and sit at the dais, but she didn’t. Instead, she had departed the hall and a younger girl with similar features joined the table, but she seemed to be quite interested in Essien, much to the man’s horror.

  But Cole didn’t have time to laugh about it.

  He was focused on the lovely Lady Corisande.

  When she left, he left, using the same excuse he’d just given her to relief himself of the table. God only knew why he had followed her. He still didn’t know. All he knew was that after their brief conversation earlier that day, she was lingering in his thoughts, subtly but unmistakably.

  Curiosity, more than anything, had brought him into the stable.

  He was wondering why she fascinated him so.

  But Corisande didn’t seem to suspect anything was amiss with his weak excuse. At least, he thought it was weak. To make it appear stronger, he headed over to the stall where his fat, black stallion was tethered, contentedly dozing.

  “I am sorry to hear about your horse,” she said as he went to the stall. “I could make a mustard plaster for the leg if you think it would help.”

  Cole slapped the beast on the rump, pretending to eye the hind legs. “That is kind of you,” he said. “Is healing animals among your talents, too?”

  Moss in one hand and lamp in the other, Corisande wandered over to the stall. “My mother was a great healer,” she said. “Her knowledge in herbs and medicines was unsurpassed. She taught me what she could, so I know a little something about healing men and animals.”

  “And you enjoy it?”

  She looked at him as if surprised by the question. “I do,” she said. “There is something satisfying about helping a man regain his health. Or helping a horse with a lame leg.”

  She smiled as she said it and Cole smiled in return. “And it will be greatly appreciated,” he said, thinking he should probably look like he was examining the legs, so he bent over and began feeling carefully around the fetlocks. “I’ve
not met many women with a talent for healing. In fact, I cannot recall one. Usually it is a man’s profession unless the woman is a midwife. I assume you do that, too?”

  Corisande watched him gently squeeze the legs of the horse. “I have delivered two babies in my life,” she said. “Midwifery is an exacting profession and, frankly, not something I prefer. For an unmarried young woman, it is a little unseemly.”

  He glanced at her. “That is the most shocking statement I have heard today, in a day of many shocking events.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That you are unmarried.”

  “Why?”

  He stood up and looked at her. “Because you are beautiful and clearly accomplished,” he said. “You should have a line of men outside the gatehouse, waiting for their turn to woo you. But given you have older brothers, I would wager to say that they have scattered that line of men before it gathers. Protective brothers do that.”

  Corisande laughed softly. “Is that because you have chased away your sisters’ suitors?” she asked. “It takes one to know one, as it were?”

  He shook his head firmly. “Christ, they can have them,” he said dismissively, moving to the other side of the horse. “In fact, I go from village to village trying to pay men to take my sisters away, although the eldest one is already married. Allaston married a Welsh warlord a few years ago.”

  “Allaston,” she repeated. “That is a lovely name. And you mentioned the other two were Effie and Addie?”

  He bent over another leg. “Allaston, Effington, and Addington,” he said, grunting as he lifted the hoof. “My mother’s name is Kellington, so those were the names she insisted on naming my sisters. But we call them Allie, Effie, and Addie.”

  Corisande leaned against the stone wall of the stall, watching him inspect the hoof. “You speak fondly of them,” she said. “Not many brothers do that. I am fortunate that my brothers and I get on well. I do not know what I would do without them.”

  He dropped the hoof and stood up. “To get on well with siblings says something about one’s character, I think,” he said. “It speaks of the capacity to be tolerant, to consider others, and to appreciate the strength of family bonds. I am sure your brothers would kill for you, just as I would kill for my sisters. I consider myself fortunate to have such a family.”

  She cocked her head as she listened to him. “Most men do not speak that way of their families,” she said. “That is a rare trait.”

  “What trait?”

  “That you love your family.”

  He frowned, but it was all for show. “Bah,” he said. “They are pests, all of them, although my brothers are good lads. And my father is the greatest knight in the realm.”

  “And your mother?”

  He looked at her. “She is my rock.”

  “That is very sweet.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She died a few years ago. I miss her every day.”

  His voice softened. “I am sorry,” he said. “I can only imagine what a great loss it was. But she has a fine daughter to be proud of.”

  It took Corisande a moment to realize that he meant her. “Me?”

  He burst into soft laughter, displaying big, white teeth with canines that protruded just a little. It was a dashing smile. “Aye, you,” he said. “Who did you think I meant?”

  She grinned, embarrassed. “I have a sister, you know.”

  His brow furrowed thoughtfully. “The little blonde lass who joined us in the hall?”

  Corisande’s smile vanished. “She joined you?”

  He nodded. “When you left, she came to the table,” he said. “She sat with Essien. She seemed quite interested in him.”

  Corisande rolled her eyes. “Because he is handsome and new,” she said. “Gaia has an eye for a handsome man. I’m afraid your knight may not be rid of her easily.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Ah,” he said. “Well, we shall be leaving on the morrow and she will not be able to follow him.”

  Corisande felt a distinct sense of disappointment to realize he was leaving so soon. “Tomorrow?” she said. “So soon? We thought you would be our guests for a few days, at least. I am sure my father would like to come to know his ally better.”

  Cole wondered if he heard a hint of hope in her voice, if by saying her father she really meant her. Personally.

  He leaned against his horse.

  “I must return to Pelinom and tell my father what transpired here today,” he said. “But I should like to return soon, with your permission, and spend time coming to know an ally better.”

  There was a spark there, something they could both feel, something burning low in the belly as if something between them had been kindled. A hint of interest, a shadow of attraction.

  It was there.

  Corisande began to feel the least bit giddy because of it.

  “You are always welcome at The Keld,” she said. “I do hope we see more of you. And your men, too, although your knight may not wish to return if my sister makes herself a terrible nuisance.”

  Cole fought off a grin. “I will leave him home.”

  “Where is home for him? I mean, where is he from? My sister asked and I did not know.”

  Cole gestured in a general southerly direction. “A land very far away,” he said. “Addax and Essien are princes to their people, from a kingdom called Kitara.”

  Corisande was interested. “Truly?” she said. “Where is it?”

  “Far away,” he said. “In a land of ancient kings. There is an enormous river that runs through that desert land and Kitara is on that river. It would take you years to reach it.”

  “If it is so far away, what are they doing in England?”

  “They were young when there was an insurrection in their country,” he said, moving to the end of his horse where she was standing. “Their father was killed, so they were forced to flee. Truly, their life story is something quite amazing. They made their way to The Levant and ended up under the care of Christian knights. When the wars were over, they traveled to Ghent where they were trained, and knighted, and then they came into the service of my father. They are brilliant men and fine warriors.”

  “They are princes,” Corisande said. “They should be treated as such. God’s Bones, they should not be sleeping in the knight’s quarters. They should be in the keep, in a fine chamber with a soft bed.”

  She seemed a little panicked that she had royalty in her house and had not given them proper treatment. But Cole smiled and put a big hand on the fingers that were holding the moss.

  “They are knights,” he stressed, a twinkle in his eyes. “The knight’s quarters suit them quite well.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “I am.”

  He removed his hand from her fingers, which had only really lingered there for a brief moment, but Corisande felt his flesh against hers like a brand. It was difficult to think of anything other than the feel of his hand against hers, something she’d not experienced in a very long time.

  “If you say so, then I will not worry,” she said, trying not to appear distracted. “When you return, I hope you bring them. I should like to hear of their travels and of the land of Kitara. It is a beautiful name.”

  “Sounds like a woman’s name, doesn’t it?”

  She nodded. “Indeed,” she said. Then, she paused a moment. “My lord, may I ask you a question?”

  He nodded. “You may,” he said. “But I would be honored if you would call me Cole.”

  Corisande smiled bashfully. “Thank you,” she said. “But only if my family is not around. They may not like it if I become too familiar. It will sound disrespectful.”

  He chuckled. “I will assure them that you have my permission,” he said. “What is your question?”

  Her smile faded. “I am not quite sure how to ask this,” she said. “I have not yet seen my father since the events of the afternoon, and I am not sure he would answer me truthfully. I sense that you wou
ld not lie to me.”

  “I would not lie in any case. What is it?”

  “The man… the Scotsman from today,” she said. “I have been wondering… was he a prisoner?”

  Cole wondered what brought on the change in subject, but he answered truthfully. “Aye.”

  “Was he trying to lure my father into a war?”

  Cole shook his head. “If you wish to know more, then you must ask your father. I have told you all I can.”

  She understood. “Thank you for being honest with me,” she said. “But I do hope he was not trying to lure my father into a war. We have seen enough of that.”

  He peered at her strangely. “Here?” he said. “At The Keld?”

  She shook her head. “Not here,” she said. “But my father trots out his army every time there is an action against the king in the north. He does not like the man very much. There are a few barons this far north who support the king and there are others who do not. Disputes arise. In fact, there was one a few months ago and my father went to support Prudhoe Castle against Lord Lanchester. It seemed that Lanchester wanted Prudhoe for the king and d’Umfraville called upon my father for assistance to chase him away. That was a rather… messy battle.”

  Cole hadn’t heard of that particular skirmish, but he wasn’t surprised. John’s loyal barons were generally unscrupulous and targeted major castles from time to time with the intention of holding them for the king.

  “The men of The Keld were fortunate to have you,” he said. “I am sure you tended to them quite ably once they reached home.”

  She looked at him oddly. “I tended to them at the battle,” she said. “I am my father’s surgeon.”

  Cole stared at her a moment before his eyebrows slowly lifted. “You went on a battle march?”

  She nodded. “Of course,” she said. “Anytime my father’s army is called out, I go with them. The men have a much better chance of surviving if I am able to tend to them quickly.”

  It took him a moment to digest that. Women weren’t surgeons and they certainly didn’t go on battle marches. At least, he’d never heard of anything like that in his life. But at The Keld, that was evidently the situation – the chatelaine healer was also the surgeon. Her practice of tending the ill and sick crossed over into battlefield.