All Things Merry and Bright: A Very Special Christmas Tale Collection Read online

  “My lord!” he said, gasping for air because he was quite heavy. “You have returned! God be praised!”

  Dane had to grin at the round priest as the man shuffled in his direction. He caught a distinct whiff of foul body odor as the man drew near, and even tried to step away, but the priest wouldn’t hear of it. It wasn’t exactly protocol to hug a duke, but Father de Tormo did just that. He hugged Dane so hard that the man grunted.

  “It is good to see you, too,” Dane said, discreetly pulling himself away from the slightly moldy smelling priest. “It has been at least two years, hasn’t it?”

  De Tormo nodded eagerly. “Two years and a few months,” he said. “How goes it in Shrewsbury? It is all your mother can speak of. She tells me that you have married.”

  Dane nodded. “I have,” he said. “In fact, my wife is with me, but she is in the carriage outside. It was too cold for her to come traipsing in here through the snow. We are on our way to Deverill to see my family for Christmas.”

  De Tormo beamed, a gap-toothed smile that was infectious. He was a genuinely kind man and his flock adored him.

  “Your mother and father will be so very happy,” he said. “Do they know you are coming?”

  “They do.”

  “Excellent. I have mass tonight and tomorrow, but I thought to go out later in the morning to visit your father.” His smile faded. “Your father does not come to church any longer. I go to the castle a few times a month to hear his confession and speak with him. He is as sharp as ever.”

  At the mention of his father’s fading health, Dane could feel his good mood fading. “I have not seen my father in almost a year,” he said. “I stopped here because I thought you could give me a truthful answer on his health. My mother will make it sound not too terribly bad, my brothers will make it sound horrible, so I thought you could tell me the truth. How is my father?”

  De Tormo drew in a long, slow breath. “I am not a physic, Dane.”

  “I know. But you have been around him.”

  De Tormo averted his gaze. “From what I have seen, he is not well,” he said with regret. “Your father was always the biggest man I’ve ever seen, tall and proud and strong. Fearsome in battle, I am told.”

  Dane nodded reverently. “He was,” he murmured. “I had the privilege of fighting with him a few times. There is no one fiercer. Men flee from my father as if the Devil himself has just appeared on the battlefield.”

  De Tormo had known Dane for many years. He knew how much Gaston de Russe’s sons loved their father, and how much respect there was. To see the old knight fading away was truly a tragedy, in many aspects, but the tragedy was never more evident than it was when he looked in Dane’s eyes.

  That was where the true sorrow was.

  “Then he has a fine legacy to remember and great sons to carry on his name,” he said, trying to be of some comfort. “I have seen Trenton. Your older brother was here only yesterday along with his wife and children. I had much the same conversation with him. And Cort and Matthieu, Boden and Gage – I have seen all of your younger brothers here as of late, at one time or another. They are all worried about your father, Dane, and I will tell you what I have told them – go home and be with him. No man truly knows how much time he has left in this world but, with your father, I suspect his time will come to an end soon. Make sure you are there when it does. Tell him how much you love him and tell him you will carry on the de Russe name with pride.”

  By that time, Dane was fighting off tears. That’s not what he had wanted to hear, but it was not unexpected. When he looked at de Tormo, it was with great mourning in his expression.

  “I stopped here on my way to Deverill because I want to light a candle for my father and ask you to pray for him,” he said. “I… I have not prayed in years, Father. My wife is a former oblate, and she prays regularly, but I do not. I have not since I was young and I suppose it is because I saw the evil of this world at a very young age. Often, I saw my mother pray for the evil to stop, but it never did. I learned long ago that God does not listen to my mother or to me.”

  De Tormo knew of Dane’s past, mostly because his own past was rather intertwined with it to a certain extent. His brother had been a papal envoy who had ended up befriending Gaston at a time when he’d met his wife, Remington. Dane had been very young, and Remington had been married to Dane’s father, a man more vile than words could express. When he wasn’t beating his wife and her sisters, who were his wards, Guy Stoneley was raping them and otherwise degrading them.

  Indeed, vile didn’t quite cover the deeds of the man who had fathered Dane. That was where de Tormo’s brother had come in, and although he’d died before he finally saw Gaston and Remington wed, his work on behalf of the couple, to obtain a divorce for Remington, was something Gaston had never forgotten. That was why Ferdinand had received his post at St. Denys – it had been Gaston’s way of thanking his brother for everything he’d done, and everything the couple had put him through.

  But the fact remained that the de Russe family and the de Tormo brothers were inexorably intertwined, for better or for worse, and that was how Ferdinand knew so much about the family.

  It was his duty to guide them in matters of religion, whether or not they were religious.

  “My lord, I understand your relationship with God has not been a strong one,” he said after a moment. “I understand that you believe God does not listen. I assure you that He does, and He does, indeed, answer prayers, even if the answer is sometimes ‘no’. I have told your mother that, many times, for she still does not have strength of faith, and that lack of faith has rubbed off on you. How can I tell you that your prayers to God about your father will be heard far more strongly than mine?”

  Dane’s brow furrowed. “How is that so? You are closer to God than I am.”

  De Tormo smiled faintly. “But you love Gaston, and love is very similar to faith. You believe in its strength; it has never failed you. Jesus said that if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can move mountains. And I believe love is just as strong as faith – it can move mountains. It can bring about change. It can make miracles happen.”

  Dane pondered that for a moment but, ultimately, he wasn’t comfortable with prayer. “Mayhap,” he said quietly. “But I still do not believe God listens to me. Would you please say a prayer for my father tonight? On this most holy of nights, mayhap God will listen particularly close.”

  De Tormo put his hands upon Dane’s armored forearm. “Listen to me, Dane,” he said with quiet assurance. “Say a prayer for your father yourself. Do not trust something so important to others. Your love for the man will cause God to hear you loudly. Please try.”

  Dane was starting to waver. Doubtfully, he looked at the front of the church, where the altar was, and the he looked to the prayer nave against one wall, the one that held dozens of candles, some of them lit. He knew they were prayer candles and each one represented a specific prayer from someone in great need. Well, he was in great need, too.

  He needed his father to be healed.

  With the greatest reluctance, he nodded his head at de Tormo and headed over to the banks of candles against the wall. There was no one around, and it was only his footsteps falling upon the fresh boughs. He stood there a moment, unsure what to do, before finally picking up an already-burning candle and lighting a dark candle in the front row. Once the flame ignited, he put the other candle back into its holder and took a deep breath.

  “I do not know where to begin,” he muttered. “I have not spoken to you in many years. I grew up believing you did not care for me or my mother. Will you listen to me now? I do not know why you should. I have never blasphemed you, but I have never sung your praises, either.”

  He fell silent, looking around the church, noticing that de Tormo had disappeared. Knowing he was alone made it easier to say what needed to be said.

  “God, I hope you hear me,” he said. “I have never asked for anything, but this time, I am. I am a
sking you to heal my father. He is greatly loved, God. He has children and grandchildren who need him and love him. My father was not always a man of love and peace. I am sure you know that; he was a man of war. But my father was never deliberately evil. He was a man with principles. I know he has a reputation as the Dark One, and that has followed him around most of his life, but he is not dark. He is not wicked. I know that because he saved my mother and me from a man who was truly wicked. He risked everything for us and, to me, that is the mark of a fine and decent man, no matter what others think of him. God… there are many men in the world, but only one Gaston de Russe. I know I am a grown man, but I cannot stomach the thought of losing the only man who has ever loved me unconditionally. I would gladly trade my life for his. Please… heal him.”

  By the time he was finished, he was choked up. The tears were on the surface and he swiftly wiped them away. Feeling somewhat foolish that he’d been speaking in the dark, to a God he didn’t have a relationship with, he stepped back from the bank of candles, looking around to see if there was anyone in the chapel who might have heard him. But it was still dark and empty.

  Dane knew that Grier was waiting patiently for him outside and he didn’t want to leave her in the cold too much longer, but something was keeping him in the church. He just couldn’t seem to leave. He stared at his prayer candle as it flickered before impulsively dropping to his knees and making the sign of the cross over his chest. He hadn’t done that since he’d been a small boy. On his knees in front of the glowing bank of candles and their warm light, he folded his hands and closed his eyes.

  “Please,” he whispered fervently. “God, I kneel before you as a sign of respect. I cannot promise that my faith will ever be strong, but I do have faith in my love for my father. There is no stronger bond than that between a man and his son, and since you had a son, you understand what I mean. I ask you to heal my father and to make him whole or, at the very least, let him live to see my son when he is born. My father means so much to so many. We need him, God. Please… please give us that gift. On this night of nights, give me my father’s life.”

  With that, he suddenly lurched to his feet and blindly turned for the church entry. There were tears clouding his vision and he blinked them away. He was embarrassed and, perhaps, even a little bewildered. He’d prayed, and that was so very alien to him. Perhaps it had even been stupid.

  He was almost in a panic to leave.

  He looked around, briefly, to see if de Tormo was lurking in the shadows, but the priest remained missing. Dane continued out into the snowy church yard, passing by a man wrapped in a heavy, white woolen cloak who was heading into the church. He brushed the man because the snowy path kept them from moving too far out of the shoveled path of travel, but the man didn’t waver. He merely lifted a hand as if to apologize for the brush. Dane also lifted a hand, simply to be polite, and continued on his way.

  The land was settling in for the coming night, and everything was becoming quite dark now. The Shrewsbury escort had begun to light torches to see their way through the coming night, since it would be dark by the time they reached Deverill. Dane’s boots crunched on the snowy path and he could see Grier as she stuck her head outside of the window again, now looking up at the night sky. As Dane walked past the front of his escort, he signaled the men to begin pulling out. Horses began to move forward as Dane went straight to the cab.

  “We should be to Deverill shortly,” he said. “Bundle up, sweetheart. The air is getting colder.”

  Grier watched him as he moved to collect his horse, which was standing right next to the cab with a soldier holding the reins.

  “Did you find Father de Tormo?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I did. He will come to Deverill tomorrow, so you shall meet him then.”

  As Dane mounted up, Grier turned her attention back to the sky. “I look forward to it,” she said. “Did you notice what a beautiful night it is tonight?”

  Dane was gathering his reins. “Probably not,” he said. “But I did notice the clouds off to the east. It looks as if we may have snowfall for Christmas.”

  Grier could see the clouds, too, but her attention was on the clear sky above. “That would be nice,” she said. Then, she pointed. “Look at that star, Dane. Have you ever seen anything so bright and shining?”

  Dane glanced up as he moved his horse forward. Almost directly above them was a very bright star with a backdrop of deep blue sky. There were other stars around it, and the sky was rather brilliant with them, but that star in particular was quite bright.

  “Lovely,” he said, returning his attention to his wife as the cab began to move. “It seems appropriate, since this is Christmas Eve. Didn’t the Magi follow a bright star to Bethlehem where the Christ Child was born?”

  Grier nodded, her gaze on the sky for a few moments longer before settling back in the cab. “Indeed,” she said. “They followed it to a stable where our Lord lay in a manger.”

  “Must have been scratchy.”

  “Dane!”

  He grinned. “Sorry,” he said, turning to wave a big arm at the escort behind him, men who were cold and a little slower to move. “But when you think about it, that must have been very stinky and uncomfortable.”

  She frowned at him. “That is sacrilegious!”

  He was trying not to laugh. “It is realistic.”

  “Our Blessed Mother had no other choice but to give birth in a stable and you will not judge her for it.”

  Dane shook his head. “Never,” he said. “One has to do what is necessary, I suppose.”

  That only brought a long look from his wife, who did not appreciate his sense of humor. Dane wouldn’t have thought anything of it had he not remembered that not a few minutes before, he’d been begging God to heal his father. Perhaps God didn’t appreciate his humor, either.

  Casting a rather sheepish look heavenward, Dane hoped his heartfelt prayers weren’t just negated by his humor. As he said, his faith wasn’t particularly strong, but his love for his father was.

  Musty mangers aside, he hoped God understood that.

  Part Two:

  Home

  Deverill Castle

  DANE HAD BEEN right; Grier had never seen so many people all from the same family.

  Deverill Castle was a behemoth of a structure, with massive sand-colored walls, an enormous bailey, a great hall situated in the bailey, and then another smaller hall inside the keep itself.

  It was inside this smaller hall that everyone from the de Russe family was gathered. When Dane and Grier arrived, they were accosted by men and women that Grier didn’t even know. Everyone wanted to hug her and kiss her cheeks, and she smiled rather fearfully as strangers embraced her. Having no siblings of her own, and no family members, to be embraced by such a large family was somewhat intimidating at first.

  But she knew she could come to like it.

  The first person she saw was Trenton de Russe, a mountain of a man with a grin on his face as he kissed her cheek. Trenton introduced her to his wife, Lysabel, a lovely woman with blue eyes and a sweet face. She was carrying their baby son, Rafael, and Grier fawned over the infant as Trenton stood by proudly. But Trenton and Lysabel were pushed aside by another de Russe brother, Cort, a god of a man with a quick wit, followed by Boden, whom Grier already knew from his time serving her husband at Shrewsbury. He greeted her like a long-lost sister.

  Next was another de Russe brother, Matthieu, who didn’t look like the rest of the brothers too much. His hair was copper, his eyes green. He introduced his four boys, all young men who had little interest in a new aunt. The next two de Russe siblings were Gage and Gilliana; Grier had met Gage before, about a year ago when Gaston and his sons had come to Shrewsbury, but she’d never met Gilliana, the youngest de Russe child. Gilliana was a lush beauty with auburn hair and green eyes, and according to Gage and Boden, had suitors lined up from London to Cornwall. But she was quite sweet and Grier liked her immediately.

  Just a
s she was warming to their conversation, it was cut short by the oldest sisters, twins Adeliza and Arica. They were identical copies of one another with eleven children clamoring at their feet. They were both quite lovely, and very kind, and Grier was pulled into their orbit, with one on each side, and she could hardly pull away. She cast Dane a rather helpless glance as the sisters closed in around her, including Gilliana, and they all went to sit over near the blazing hearth.

  Dane stood with Trenton as the women seemed to cluster over near the hearth where the children were playing and running around, teasing each other. Even Lysabel went to sit with them, handing her son over to Grier, who took the baby with delight. Dane had to smile at his wife as she played with the toothless infant.

  “You must be very proud,” he said to Trenton. “You have a fine son.”

  Trenton wasn’t humble about it in the least. “He is big and smart,” he said. “Already he can sit up on his own and I swear to you that he is trying to talk. At only six months of age!”

  Dane laughed softly at his serious and sometimes deadly brother; he never thought he’d see the day when the man would dote on an infant.

  “Watch out when he does,” he said. “Already, I can see that he rules your house and hold so when he can finally give orders, you will find yourself subservient to an infant.”

  Trenton shrugged. “I do not care,” he said. “I am happy to play the fool for my son.”

  Dane simply nodded. “I am sure I will say that as well come the spring when mine is born.”

  Trenton looked at him in surprise. “Grier is with child?”

  Dane nodded. “We have come to surprise Father with it.”

  Trenton laughed with joy, slapping his brother on the shoulder. “He will be thrilled,” he said. “So will Mother. Congratulations, old man. Considering we are the oldest of the de Russe siblings, it is about time we start having sons of our own.”

  Dane chuckled. “We are also the most accomplished and seasoned of the siblings.”