A Blessed de Lohr Christmas (de Lohr Dynasty Book 9) Read online

  Marcus was met with silence. He didn’t dare look at Christopher for fear he’d see the man’s emotions on his face, telling him that the situation couldn’t be fixed. Feeling increasingly emotional, he cleared his throat softly.

  “When we went through that ordeal with Dustin those years ago, David accused me of being out for some kind of revenge against you,” he said. “Even all these years later, those words still ring in my mind. We’ve never talked about what I did those years ago, Chris. Since it happened, we haven’t really discussed it. I thought that it was better to let things lie since the situation was over and done with, but I think that was a mistake because it occurred to me once that I never apologized for what I did. Certainly, I told you I would stop pursuing your wife. I told you that I would stop fighting you for her, but I never apologized for what I did. I think there was a long period of time when I did not think I had to because I did not think I’d done anything wrong. But once I fell in love with my wife, I realized how wrong I’d been. I should have never fought you for Dustin, Chris. A man’s wife is sacred. I cannot tell you how sorry I am. It is sorrow and guilt I will live with for the rest of my life, whether or not you choose to forgive me.”

  He was met with silence. Marcus dared to turn to Christopher, who was laying back against the cold, dry hay. His hand was up by his head, holding the compress, but other than that, he wasn’t moving.

  “Chris?”

  Still no reply or movement. Moving from his position by the vent, Marcus crawled over to Christopher only to see that the man’s eyes were closed. He didn’t even look like he was breathing. In a panic, Marcus put his ear to Christopher’s chest, listening for a heartbeat. With the snow howling outside, whistling through the eaves, he couldn’t hear anything. He put his fingers to Christopher’s neck and thought he felt a pulse.

  “Chris?” he said, shaking him. “Chris, wake up. You mustn’t sleep. Chris?”

  There was no response. In fact, the harder Marcus shook the man, the less of a reaction he got. Christopher’s arms ended up going slack and the compress fell to the hay. Marcus slapped him, twice, but it was too noisy an action so he stopped.

  Christopher was limp.

  Lifeless.

  Horror welled in Marcus.

  “Nay,” he breathed. “Oh, God…nay. This cannot be. Chris, answer me!”

  He grabbed the man by the arms and shook him one last time. Christopher’s head bobbled around, but he didn’t open his eyes. With nothing else to do, Marcus pulled Christopher up against him and held him tightly.

  “Please, no,” he whispered, the tears coming. “Please do not leave me. Do not put this burden on me, holding you while you breathe your last. Do not go before you hear how sorry I am for everything, Chris. David was right. I was jealous. I was trying to seek vengeance upon you, somehow, because you had everything I wanted. You were so great, but you were no greater than I was. Or mayhap you were. I thought I deserved everything you had but, in the end, I failed. I did not show any of the honor or integrity I thought I had. You were greater than I.”

  By the time he was finished, he was weeping. Holding Christopher tightly, he rocked him gently, weeping into the man’s hair. What he didn’t see was David, with no ladder to climb, heaving himself back up into the loft.

  Marcus didn’t see anything but his own grief.

  “You are everything I wanted to be,” Marcus sobbed. “You said that Peter has a heroic streak in him, but he gets that from you. You are a hero, Chris. You are my hero. Mayhap I tried to steal your wife so that I could be you. I was fighting so hard for something out of my control, just as I did as the younger brother to a man who didn’t care about anything he would inherit. That brother of mine who told me I was a sinner, a worthless whelp, as he gave over my family’s legacy to the church when he inherited it. And I could do nothing to stop him. Mayhap in you, I saw a chance to reclaim… something. I do not even know. All I know is that I love you as the only brother I have ever truly had and for everything I have done, I am sorry. Sorrier than you’ll ever know.”

  He faded off into sniffles of grief, still rocking Christopher’s limp body. Behind him, David had heard everything. He had heard the apology, the soul-baring confession, but more than that, he saw his brother limp in the man’s arms.

  His heart was in his throat.

  “Marcus?” he said, his voice trembling. “What is wrong?”

  Marcus turned sharply, startled by David’s appearance. But he couldn’t stop the tears. “He has gone to sleep,” he said, his lower lip quivering. “He will not awaken. David… you are my brothers and I treated you so terribly. I am so sorry for what I did, for all of the horrors I put you and Chris through. I know you will never forgive me and I do not blame you, but I had to tell you. I have tried to tell Chris, too, but he has gone to sleep. I am afraid he will not wake up.”

  David had walked into a wall of emotion that had just collapsed on him, stone by stone. Marcus’ apology had knocked the wind out of him but the sight of Christopher’s limp body had swept his feet out from beneath him. He crawled over to Marcus and Christopher, separating the two of them rather roughly, struggling to feel for a pulse on his brother’s neck. It was there, but it was faint. He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply with relief.

  “He knows you are sorry,” he said, looking up at the man with raw emotion in his face. “He’s always known, Marcus.”

  Marcus had stopped openly sobbing but the tears wouldn’t stop falling. “Tonight seemed like the night to speak on something we’ve not spoken of since it happened,” he said. “As that old woman said, it is a night of peace on earth and good will towards men. It is a night of forgiveness and family. David… you and Chris are the only family I have. I have always considered myself your brother, in spite of everything, but I realized I had never apologized for what I did. Tonight… that is my gift to you and Chris. An apology from a man who has nothing more to offer you. I am sorry.”

  David sat there, staring at him. In truth, he’d never seen Marcus so vulnerable. The man was always supremely confident, defiant and stubborn in everything he did, so this confession of sorts was something David never thought he’d witness.

  David may have been quick to temper and quick to judge, but he was also surprisingly intuitive. He could see that Marcus meant every word.

  “You and I have had some contentious moments, that is true,” he said. “It is no secret how angry I was at you for what you’d done to Chris those years ago. Strangely enough, he was never as angry as I was. He even defended you at times. I’ve never seen a man with more patience but that is because he loves you. He considered you his brother, too. Even when Chris and I were not speaking to each other for a time, he never stopped loving me. It was my fault, our separation, but he forgave me. And he has forgiven you, too. It seems that Chris has a bigger heart than both of us, Marcus.”

  Marcus nodded. “He does, indeed,” he said, looking at Christopher as the man now lay between him and David. But his focus eventually moved back to David. “I hope we will be able to return to the relationship we once had, David. Men grow up, they mature, they realize their failings… and I have done that. You are my brother in every sense of the word and I have missed you.”

  A smile spread over David’s lips. “As I have missed you,” he said. “It is Christmas, after all. It is time for blessings and a new beginning.”

  “May we have that?”

  “I would like that.”

  Marcus smiled, reaching out to take David’s hand, who squeezed it tightly. It was the moment they’d been hoping for, a bright and shining moment of forgiveness and grace.

  The healing had begun.

  But they couldn’t dwell on it, at least not at the moment. Christopher was their priority and they returned their focus to the man.

  “Andra gave Chris a poppy potion,” David said. “It is possible that the potion is making him sleep like this. I suppose all we can do is wait until it wears off.”

 
“And if it does not wear off?”

  David looked at his brother, pasty and pale on the hay. “I do not know,” he said honestly. “I cannot believe that it will not. I have to believe that he will awaken, Marcus.”

  Marcus nodded, feeling despondent, but also feeling lighter of heart and more joy than he had in years. It was a strange combination. He and David were reconciled and as far as he was concerned, that was the greatest Christmas gift he could ever receive. As he settled back to wait out the night, the sounds of voices could be heard. It was faint, and over the rush of the wind, but unmistakable.

  Male voices.

  Marcus was up in a flash.

  “You stay here,” he told David, grabbing his sword. “I am telling you what you told me – cover up with hay and stay still. If it is the Welsh, I will lead them away.”

  David opened his mouth but Marcus was gone, dropping through the hole in the loft with his weapon in hand. Already, David could hear some shouting as, down below, the animals began to make noise, as if they were restless.

  There was panic in the air.

  Quickly, David began to grab armfuls of hay to cover up Christopher, listening as a horse suddenly thundered out of the stable. Rushing to the vent, he caught a glimpse of Marcus racing out of the stable yard while men began to shout, chasing after him.

  It was chaos in the stable yard as a host of Welsh began to run after Marcus as the man disappeared into the snowy night.

  But that didn’t mean more men wouldn’t be around to check the stables, so David covered Christopher up with an enormous pile of hay, making it all look quite natural, before he began to hear noises down in the stable again. Convinced the Welsh were upon them, he grabbed his weapon and kicked hay over any remaining possessions that were exposed. Without time to cover himself, he ducked behind a support post that was big enough to shield him.

  Someone was climbing into the loft.

  “Uncle David?”

  It was Peter. David came out of his hiding place, his weapon lifted defensively as he looked at Peter with both surprise and concern.

  “What happened?” he hissed.

  Peter had the wide-eyed look of someone feeling the rush of battle. “The Welsh saw Andra with my tunic,” he said. “They were men from the battle in Kington, six of them, who had come to demand shelter for the night. They stole some things, and slapped Lady Sianet when she told them she didn’t have any food or coinage. They burst into the kitchen just as Andra grabbed my tunic and that is what you heard – they were coming out into the yard because they were convinced Andra and Sianet were hiding an Englishman.”

  David lowered the weapon. “And they followed Marcus out?”

  Peter nodded. “I saw all six of them running after him, but I do not know if all of them went after him past the gate,” he said. “They only saw one tunic, so mayhap they believe that was the only man hiding. Still… they might come back here to make sure.”

  David nodded, thinking on their options at that point. “It is not as if we can leave,” he said. “It looks as if the weather is easing, but it is still cold and snowing, and we cannot risk traveling with your father tonight. He… he’s gone to sleep, Peter.”

  Peter’s brow furrowed, greatly concern, and he began to look around the loft. “Where is he?”

  David pointed to a big pile of hay. “Underneath that,” he said. “He is warm and cozy, and there is room to breathe. Do not worry about him. But he cannot travel.”

  Peter’s gaze lingered on the hay before looking back to his uncle. “Marcus may need help,” he said. “There are three horses down in the stable. I should go after him to see if I can help him.”

  David had the same concern, so he couldn’t very well deny him. It was Marcus against six Welshmen. More than that, Marcus had ridden out in nothing more than heavy tunics. No mail, no protection. It had been a risky but heroic move. What was it Christopher had said? That Peter had the de Lohr heroic streak? David smiled faintly. It seemed that Marcus did, as well. Whether or not they were all related by blood, Marcus had the same selfless heroic streak in him that they all did.

  And that’s what made them brothers.

  “Then go and help him,” David said reluctantly. “But you will ride out in full protection. Get your mail coat on; get everything on. Where is Lady Andra, by the way?”

  “With her mother,” Peter said as he began to grab at his mail coat and hauberk, dry but already rusting from the river adventure. He began to pull things over his head as David moved to help him. “Uncle David… I have been thinking that we should reward Andra and her mother for helping us. Don’t you think so?”

  David settled the man’s hauberk over his head and shoulders. “Chris said we would,” he said. “Have no fear that they will be amply rewarded. But we have to get home alive first.”

  With the hauberk on, Peter slapped on his helm and made his way over to the hole in the loft. “I will take one of the horses and when day breaks, there are two more horses for you and Papa to take home,” he said. “If I do not make it back here, I will see you at Lioncross.”

  David looked at his nephew; big, strong, intelligent. He was the apple of Christopher’s eye. He hoped his brother would forgive him for sending him out to help Marcus in a very dangerous situation. But it couldn’t be helped and, as Christopher had said, the lad had a heroic streak.

  David could see in his eyes that he wanted to prove it.

  “Very well,” he said. “Be very careful, Peter. We do not need a dead hero.”

  Peter smirked. “My father was dead, once.”

  David slapped him lightly on the side of the head. “We were fortunate to get him back,” he said. “I do not want to chance that with you.”

  Peter grinned before dropping down through the hole in the loft. David peered down into the stable, watching Peter quickly saddle one of the shaggy Welsh horses and take the beast out into the night. He lost sight of his nephew fairly quickly. David returned to his brother, who was sleeping, sheltered and warm, beneath a massive pile of hay.

  All he could do now was wait.

  But David didn’t sleep that night. Too much had happened. He sat next to his brother, listening to the wind die down until the eastern sky began to turn shades of purple and pink. The storm clouds had rolled away, leaving a winter-white landscape and a glorious morning.

  But Peter and Marcus had not returned.

  Andra returned to the stable when the sky began to lighten, bringing steaming wine and bread with her, informing David that the Welsh had returned the night before after chasing Marcus around for hours. The men had just left, heading back to their village, and Andra suggested that David and Christopher do the same.

  It was time to move.

  Andra helped David uncover Christopher from his hay coffin. Removing the last of it and brushing the chaff away from his face, Christopher awakened with surprising ease, which nearly drove David to tears. After what he’d witnessed the night before, he wasn’t entirely sure the man would awaken in the morning.

  But he did.

  Christ was born in a stable and it would seem that, in some small way, Christopher de Lohr’s life was spared in one.

  A blessed event, indeed, on the most blessed day of the year.

  Christmas.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A BLESSED DE LOHR CHRISTMAS

  Lioncross Abbey Castle

  “I see something!”

  Dustin heard those words and it spurred her into action.

  Sitting in the great hall of Lioncross, where she’d been all night long, those words from Jeffrey at the keep entry had her heart racing. The sun had been up for over an hour and the land, so gorgeous and white, held no joy for her.

  Only fear and heartache.

  The children were already up, playing with their little toy wagons or poppets in front of the hearth as the servants brought in the Christmas morning meal, which wasn’t much at this hour. But later in the day, it would be a massive feast with ro
ast beef and other delicacies to celebrate the season and the gathering of the families.

  But Dustin hadn’t been able to think of any of that. She had been waiting patiently for her husband to return all night. But so far, he hadn’t shown his face. The army had returned but without four out of the seven knights who had ridden out with it. It was Max and Cabot who had told her of seeing Christopher fall into the river, with Peter and David and Marcus going after him. It had been a horrific story, in truth, and Dustin had tried very hard not to panic.

  But now with the shouting in the bailey… now, there was hope.

  God, please let it be Chris!

  Emilie and Gabrielle were with Dustin as they ran to the keep entry, out into the winter wonderland that had taken over Lioncross’ vast bailey. Men were everywhere, running towards the gatehouse where the portcullis was slowly lifting. Inch by inch, the ropes strained against the heavy iron fangs as the gate slowly lifted.

  But no one was waiting outside once it cleared.

  Even so, someone was evidently approaching because the sentries were still calling out the position of the riders. Dustin remained stoic, almost detached, while Emilie and Gabrielle held hands for support. No one wanted to panic, no one wanted to voice the possibility that it wasn’t their husbands returning at all.

  No one wanted to entertain that thought.