Shadowmoor (de Lohr Dynasty #6) (4 page)

“Impossible,” he said. “There were no stone fortresses two hundred years ago. Everything was built from wood.”

Etzel shook his head. “Not on this moor,” he said quietly. “Wood is difficult to come by and when we have it, we burn it. Rock is plentiful. There has been a rock fortress here since the Romans came. But that is a story for a warm fire and a cup of ale. Will you accept my hospitality for saving my son?”

Daniel nodded as the thunder rolled overhead. “I will,” he said. “I do not plan to travel in this weather.”

Etzel nodded, releasing Gunnar long enough to mutter something to the boy and send him running off. Daniel watched the boy flee the stable, eyeing the father’s anxious expression a moment before returning to the horse. He moved to dry off the still-dripping mane.

“It is difficult for you to let the boy out of your sight,” he commented.

Etzel looked at him, agreement replacing the anxiety in his expression. “I still cannot believe he has been returned to me,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “I did not think I would ever see my son again. It is a miracle.”

Daniel rubbed at the wet black mane, like ink. “I would suggest, for the future, that you do not let him out of your sight at all if you know that Fitzroy is hunting him,” he said, looking at the man. “Although I do not involve myself in the affairs of others unless I am well paid for it, it would seem that I cannot avoid being involved in this unsavory business. Your son ran to me for help and Fitzroy was in pursuit of him. Based upon what your son told me, I chased Fitzroy away so now, it seems, I am involved whether or not I want to be.”

Etzel nodded, remorseful. “I am sorry for that, my lord.”

Daniel could see the man was truly regretful. He turned back to his horse. “It is not something I can change now,” he said. “Let me finish drying my horse and then you can explain to me what, exactly, I have gotten myself in to. I think I deserve that much.”

Etzel nodded, seemingly resigned and even embarrassed at the difficulty this stranger was now facing on his behalf. “You deserve an explanation, my lord,” he agreed. “As I said, it is a story best told by a warm fire. When you are finished with the horse, the hall is across the ward. I will wait for you there.”

Daniel simply nodded and Etzel quickly left, heading out into the driving rain beyond the stable. Daniel stood there a moment, thinking on the situation, before pursing his lips wryly and turning back to the horse. What he’d gotten himself into, indeed. He’d gotten himself into trouble that had literally run right into him. He was coming to think that he probably should have turned the other direction when he’d seen the young boy coming at him. But,
no
… he had to be a hero and help the lad out. Now he’d made an enemy out of a smarmy lord who seemed to have a penchant for abducting children.

Brilliant, Daniel
, he scolded himself.
What have you done now?

He would soon find out.

CHAPTER TWO

T
he sound of
the bubbling pot made for not only a pleasant sound to combat the rain, but those steamy little bubbles gave forth the most delicious smell.

A tall young woman with skin the color of cream and cascading hair that looked like molten bronze stood over the very large iron pot and stirred it gently with a wooden spoon. Since the kitchens of Shadowmoor were mostly outside and currently being swamped by the storm, the young woman and a few others had moved the kitchen into the hall so they could utilize the enormous fire pit in the center of the room to prepare the evening meal. Although the bread ovens were still outside and being rained upon even as the bread baked on the inside, creating steam that hissed off of the stone oven as the rain fell upon it, but the majority of the meal had been moved inside to keep it out of the elements.

This meant that a massive iron pot sat upon hot stones at the edge of the fire, and the stewed contents bubbled away quite happily. The young woman stopped stirring the contents and watched it boil for a few moments, pleased that she and her family would have a tasty stew to eat for the next several days.

It was a pea stew, made from dried field peas that she and some of the other women of Shadowmoor had collected over the summer and fall, when the peas were ripened and growing hard. The peas had all been shelled and carefully stored in big barrels because they would feed the inhabitants of Shadowmoor through the winter and wet spring.

There wasn’t a great deal of agriculture in the stark western moors where they lived, but there was plenty of what little there was. Peas, barley, carrots, some beets, and sheep kept their bellies full enough and the woman with the bronze hair kept busy with making sure the inhabitants of the castle had enough to eat. Although she was the daughter of the lord, this wasn’t a rich house. They worked very hard to keep themselves together and even harder as of late. Bad fortune seemed to have visited them quite often over the past several months. But the young woman, and her mother and father and brother, worked hard to be grateful for what they had. But at times, it was difficult.

Lady Liselotte l’Audacieux moved away from the fire now that the stew was bubbling, moving to complete a few other chores before sup. Tall, she wasn’t terribly slender but rather the right mix of narrow waist and round hips that looked most pleasing through the simple clothing she wore. She had long legs and long arms, with long tapered fingers that her mother told her were angel’s fingers, and her facial features were something just this side of heaven as well.

Dark lashes, dark brows, and hazel eyes against her pale skin made Liselotte’s beauty quite legendary, something that had unfortunately not gone unnoticed by a neighbor to the south. Lord Bramley had been demanding her hand for the past four years, ever since he saw her on the street in Bradford as she passed through the town with her father. She had been nearly fifteen at the time and Lord Bramley had demanded marriage at that very moment, to which her father had staunchly refused. And that refusal had been the beginning of a four-year-long nightmare.

A nightmare with seemingly no end. As the other women were moving about the hall, preparing for the coming meal, Liselotte sat at one of the three big feasting tables in the room to cut small green apples that her mother was so fond of. As she chopped, her mind wandered to the continuation of the nightmare and the depressing state of Shadowmoor with her brother’s abduction and Lord Bramley demands of both marriage and Shadowmoor.

Of course, Liselotte’s father had refused to turn over his daughter and his fortress, but that left poor little Gunnar in a terrible position. Liselotte adored her younger brother, ten years younger than she, and his predicament was a heartbreaking one. More than once, she had tried to leave Shadowmoor to go to Bramley Castle so she could exchange herself for the boy, but her father had confronted her every time and prevented her from leaving. He told her that he was praying very hard for divine intervention and he was certain that God would hear their prayers and send help for young Gunnar.

As long as Lord Bramley thought he could get something for the boy, he wouldn’t harm him, so Etzel had been convinced his son was safe for a time. But that time would run out. Meanwhile, life went on at Shadowmoor as Etzel prayed and Liselotte conspired to make another attempt to reach Bramley Castle without her father stopping her. Unlike her father, she wasn’t convinced that divine intervention was possible. The only thing Bramley would understand was an army bigger than his was, but Shadowmoor could provide no such army. The situation, therefore, was precarious.

As Liselotte sat and cut up the small apples that would soon be boiled with spices for a tasty compote, her father entered the hall and headed in her direction. As Liselotte looked up, her father seemed to be waving his arms all over the place.

“Leese!” he cried. “Have you heard? Gunnar has returned!”

Startled, Liselotte nearly dropped her knife. “He
has
?” she exclaimed, a hand flying to her mouth in shock. “But – but how? When?”

Etzel patted her on the shoulder, his round face alive with excitement. “Only now,” he said. “He escaped Bramley and a knight happened to rescue him and bring him home. We must offer prayers to God for His great mercy!”

Liselotte was looking up at her father, still stunned with the news. “A knight
found
him?” she asked. “Who is this knight?”

Etzel continued to pat her on the shoulder. “A very big and important knight,” he said. “I do not know his name. He saved Gunnar and that is all I need know. He is in the stable with his horse but will be here soon for the meal. What is on the menu this night?”

Liselotte set her knife down. She didn’t feel much like cooking any longer, more than eager to see her brother and see for herself that the lad was in good health. In fact, her heart was nearly bursting with eagerness to see the little lad she was so very fond of. It was difficult to keep the tears from her eyes, tears of pure joy.

“Pea stew,” she said, wiping at the tears that threatened to escape, “and the last of the boiled mutton. There is also cabbage boiled with vinegar and cinnamon.”

Etzel made a face. “More peas,” he said unhappily. “Is there nothing else?”

Liselotte shook her head patiently. “Papa, there is not anything else and you know it,” she said. “The peas and mutton will fill bellies and that is all we need to be concerned with. Now, where is Gunnar? I must see him.”

Etzel was looking over at the bubbling pea stew as he spoke. “I sent him to your mother,” he said. “He is in the keep so that she may see him. I have also told him to make sure his chamber is prepared, as the knight can sleep in his chamber and Gunnar can sleep with me. I’ve not seen my son in twenty-three days and I do not want him out of my sight.”

Liselotte understood. Gunnar’s abduction had been very hard on her father. He adored the boy, who was smart and funny and sweet, in great contrast to Etzel’s eldest son who had turned out to be massive disappointment. There were three l’Audacieux siblings but only two were close to Etzel’s heart.

The eldest was not discussed and for good reason.

Brynner l’Audacieux had gone the path of proper education to become a knight and had, in fact, been knighted at Okehampton Castle in Devon six years ago. He had, by all accounts, been one of the finest swordsmen in England, at least according to his trainers, but he was also very emotional and volatile, and after meeting, and losing, a certain young lady almost three years ago, Brynner had turned into a drunk who had no interest in his sword any longer or the knighthood.

This included anything to do with Lord Bramley; he had never lifted a finger to help his family against the man. These days, Brynner sat in his chamber and drank, or he wandered the moors aimlessly before returning to Shadowmoor to drink some more. Etzel had tried to help him; they had all tried to help him. But Brynner didn’t want any help. He was still stuck as his life had been three years ago when Lady Maud had decided to marry his closest friend.

Resigned to his eldest son’s fate, Etzel simply didn’t speak to the man any longer and barely acknowledged him even when he saw him. Disappointment and sorrow had separated him from Brynner, and he didn’t like for anyone in the family to speak the man’s name. It was simply too painful.

Which is why Etzel was so attached to Gunnar. Liselotte knew this, which was why she was so glad, for her father’s sake, that Gunnar had returned. He was the only thing that kept the old man going. She patted her father’s hand as she stood up from the table.

“I would see to my little brother now,” she said. “I must see him with my own eyes.”

Etzel watched her go. “He is well, daughter,” he said, happiness in his voice that Liselotte hadn’t heard in weeks. “I promise you that he is.”

“I believe you, but I must still see him.”

Etzel smiled sadly at the daughter he knew harbored much guilt about her brother’s abduction. It wasn’t her fault but she had taken the lion’s share of the blame for it. Four years of Lord Bramley’s antics against her, against everyone at Shadowmoor, had been a heavy burden for the stoic young woman to bear.

But the immediate crisis was thankfully over with and there was much reason to rejoice for the moment. As Etzel went off to find a full jug of ale from the vault that ran beneath the hall, Liselotte continued to walk across the hard-packed earth of the hall, heading for the great door that would spill her out into the rainy yard beyond. She was most determined to see Gunnar and hug the boy before yanking his ear and making him scream. The thought made her smile. She loved to tease the lad because he put up such a fuss, but it was all done in good humor. There was never any malice between the two.

It was a silly joy she never thought she would know again considering Bramley had taken Gunnar and the man’s terms of release were non-negotiable. She never thought she would again pull at his little ears. At least, that had been her sad thoughts mere moments before. But Gunnar had come home.

A knight had brought him home
. Liselotte wasn’t nearly so curious about the knight as she was simply eager to see her brother, so she didn’t linger on thoughts of the heroic stranger. Just as she reached the entry to the hall, the big door heaved back and caught her as she put her hands up to open it. Caught off balance, she stumbled back as a big hand shot out to steady her.