The Dragon Lord's Daughters (35 page)
Read The Dragon Lord's Daughters Online
Authors: Bertrice Small
“Thank you for coming,” Gorawen finally managed to say softly.
“Junia is my wife's little sister,
Belle Mere.
Your lord should have sent to me also. I am disturbed he did not.”
Belle Mere.
Your lord should have sent to me also. I am disturbed he did not.”
“He knows how important the harvest is to you,” Gorawen defended, “and too, he is not thinking clearly these days. The knowledge of what has happened to Junia has almost rendered him mad with grief.”
“What if my wife's sister is already with child?” Rhys said, low.
Gorawen paled. “Pray God we are spared that tragedy,” she whispered back.
“You will rest the night, and go forth on the morrow,” Argel was saying. “I have a good hot supper for you, my lords, and comfortable bed spaces here in the hall.” She was all the dutiful chatelaine.
Ysbail came into the hall, looking about her with curiosity. “We have guests?” She was surprised.
“They have come to aid us regain the children,” Argel replied.
“You will want your son back, of course,” Ysbail said, “but as for Junia she is de Bohun's whore now, and not worth having in our hall.”
“She is your daughter, lady!” Rhys FitzHugh said, shocked by Ysbail's words.
“She was my daughter, my lord. She is no longer my daughter. She is de Bohun's whore. By her own willful actions she brought disaster upon herself. She would not listen to anyone. She would, foolish creature, follow her heart. But do we not all know that the heart is not a reliable indicator?” Ysbail sat down by the fire. “I do not care if you retrieve her or not. I have no daughter,” she finished bleakly.
“She hoped to join her daughter in the household of a well-to-do son-in-law,” Gorawen said acidly. “Now her plans gone awry, she realizes she must live out her old age with the rest of us.”
Ysbail jumped up from her seat. “Do not dare to judge me!” she cried angrily. “You have his love and his heart. Argel has his care and respect. My tenuous hold on him was but my child who is now shamed and would be better off dead! A place in my daughter's house would have been one of honor and respect. What have I here? I am a second concubine whose daughter has brought dishonor to the house of Pendragon, and worse, led its heir into terrible danger!” Her narrow face was wet with tears of self-pity.
“No one is blaming Junia that Brynn followed her,” Merin Pendragon said. “Be silent now, Ysbail. We have guests, and I would not have them think ill of you. I know my daughter has been shamed. Did I not see the evidence of it with my own eyes? But I will never desert any child of mine for any reason. Dry your tears, woman, and come to supper with the rest of us.” He reached out and awkwardly patted her shoulder.
“You do not blame Junia for Brynn's plight?” She sniffled.
“Nay, I do not, nor should you, woman,” he replied. “Brynn is my son, and noble in his heart. But he lacks the experience of a seasoned warrior who would have not gone to Junia's aid when the odds were so obviously against him. A wiser warrior would have slipped away, and hurried back to Dragon's Lair to tell me what was happening. Had he, we might have rescued Junia before they took her back to Agramant. Nay, I do not blame Junia for what has happened. She is but a girl in love. I blame Brynn for reacting, instead of acting in Junia's best interests, and ours.”
She took his hand and kissed it. “Thank you, my lord,” she said.
The meal was served, and afterwards their guests were given bed spaces.
“We must leave before the dawn,” Lord Mortimer said, and his companions agreed. “If we do we may be able to reach Agramant late tomorrow.”
“If the lord does not want Junia back,” Rhys murmured to Gorawen before she left the hall, “Averil and I will take her.”
“In this house it is only Ysbail who carps and cries about Junia,” Gorawen told her son-in-law. “Her father loves her, and so do the rest of us. We will be here for her in her sorrow, but dear Rhys, I thank you for your kindness. I will tell Merin. We did not begin well, I fear, but I can see you are a good man. My daughter, I suspect, is fortunate in her husband. She is well? I have not asked before now for obvious reasons.”
“She is well, and expecting another child in the spring,” he responded with a smile. “I hope for a daughter this time. Two sons is a good start, lady. When this is over, and the matter settled, I hope you will come and spend some time at Everleigh. Your daughter misses you, and you have not seen your grandsons in months now.”
Gorawen nodded. “I will come,” she promised, “but first we must make everything all right for sweet Junia. And it will not be finished until my lord has slain the de Bohuns, father and son, Rhys. And if Junia still loves her Simon, she will grieve deeply, I know.”
“What if the son is innocent of the father's evil?” Rhys asked.
“It will matter not to Merin, for the younger de Bohun did not protect Junia from his father's wickedness. Junia was a sheltered and well-born virgin. In all her life she never met such evil as the de Bohuns have shown her. They will not have broken her spirit, for I know Junia is strong-willed. But they have ruined her future, and insulted this family's honor. Honor must be avenged, Rhys. You know that yourself.”
“But you did not have me slain. You had me marry Averil,” Rhys said.
“You did not rape Averil before the vows were said,” she reminded him.
“You believe he is the one?” Rhys was shocked that an honorable man professing to love an innocent girl would violate her.
“If he is not then it is worse, for that would mean he stood by while the deed was done. But it no longer matters,” Gorawen said. “Junia is ruined.”
“We will bring her back,
Belle Mere,
” Rhys responded.
Belle Mere,
” Rhys responded.
“I know that Junia will be safely returned eventually,” Gorawen agreed, and then she left him to get his rest. She found Merin awaiting her in her chamber. She went to him, and kissed him softly. He was seated in the chair by her hearth. She sat down in his lap with a sigh.
“I wish I could go with them,” he told her.
“I know,” she replied, “but they have a better chance of regaining the children if de Bohun does not see you. He will see you soon enough, my lord. Is that not so?”
“I think about killing him,” Merin Pendragon said. “I debate with myself if it should be slow and painful, or quick and sure. Should I kill his son before his very eyes, or should I wait and kill the father before the son? I think of stripping the flesh from de Bohun's bones while he yet lives. Of cutting him open and pulling his innards out, and feeding them to the dogs. Should I blind him with a red-hot poker, or slice off his nose and give it to the castle cats as a plaything. I am filled with such dark thoughts, Gorawen, and I do not like it.”
“You should not,” she agreed. “Such thoughts make you no better than the man who saw to your daughter's public violation. Kill de Bohun swiftly, my lord. See the son wed to Junia, and then send him to hell with his father as quickly. Do not draw it out. If Junia yet loves Simon de Bohun you must not add any more to her pain than is necessary for honor to be satisfied. She will say she will never forgive you, but she will one day.”
“What if she is with child?” he asked the question she had hoped he would not.
“It can be managed, my lord,” Gorawen told him.
“I have always suspected you had such means at your disposal, my love,” he remarked quietly.
“Junia cannot be allowed to have a child with de Bohun blood,” Gorawen said. “It is unlikely she will ever know what I have done, my lord, and so we may spare her that sorrow. It will be far easier to find a husband for a widow with a good dower and no children than a widow with another man's babe.”
“I agree,” he said. “So it is settled, then. And all that remains is to reclaim the children.”
“It is settled,” Gorawen replied to him, and she kissed him.
In the morning Lord Mortimer, his son, and Rhys FitzHugh left before the dawn. Ahorse, and carrying torches they followed the winding narrow track to Mryddin Water, reaching it as the sun slid above the horizon. It had rained in the days since Junia and her brother had been abducted by the de Bohuns, but even so the evidence of the crime was still visible in the sandy ground.
“If I thought we could kill him ourselves at Agramant, I would,” Lord Mortimer said in a tight voice.
“Nay,” Rhys replied. “ 'Tis the Dragon Lord's privilege, and his alone. However, it could not hurt to ascertain Agramant's weaknesses, could it?”
Roger Mortimer grinned. “God, Rhys, 'tis good to be together with you, and out on the hunt. Marriage is a bloody bore!”
“Not for me,” Rhys said with an answering grin.
“Well, if I had a wife like Averil . . .” Roger began.
“You didn't deserve a wife like Averil Pendragon.” His father chuckled. “I am not even certain you deserve the wife you have, my son.”
The three men rode the day long, stopping to relieve themselves, eat and give their animals a rest. The countryside through which they rode was quiet, and they saw no one.
Then just as the sun was preparing to set they saw the dark stone towers of Agramant ahead of them. Lord Mortimer raised his hand to slow their advance, and they stopped as he contemplated their next move.
Finally he said, “Roger, you will remain here while Rhys and I enter the castle. If we are not back within two days' time, return to Dragon's Lair, and tell the lord.”
Roger nodded. He was disappointed, but he did not argue. “I will wait two days,” he said. And then he watched as his father and the lord of Everleigh continued onward towards the castle of Agramant.
Chapter
17
17
L
ord Mortimer and his companion were granted entry into Agramant just before the drawbridge was drawn up, the doors shut, and the iron portcullis lowered for the night. Dismounting, their horses were taken to a stable, and a house servant brought them into the great hall of the castle.
ord Mortimer and his companion were granted entry into Agramant just before the drawbridge was drawn up, the doors shut, and the iron portcullis lowered for the night. Dismounting, their horses were taken to a stable, and a house servant brought them into the great hall of the castle.
Hugo de Bohun was already at table with his son, and Junia. He looked surprised to see them, but motioned them forward. “Come! Come! Eat! You look as if you have traveled a long ways this day. We have venison, and it's been well hung, my lords.” He looked for a servitor as they took their seats next to Simon. “Wine for my guests, you lazy bastards!” he shouted. Then he shoved a large loaf of bread down the table at them as his servants brought pewter plates piled high with venison, and goblets of wine. “Eat!” he commanded them again. “Then you will tell me what brings you to Agramant. Who is this with you, Mortimer?”
“Lord FitzHugh of Everleigh,” Lord Mortimer replied.
Hugo de Bohun grunted, and his curiosity satisfied, went on eating.
Rhys could not look at Junia without being noticed, but from the brief glimpse he had had of her when they entered the hall she appeared unharmed. He wondered where young Brynn was. Then hungry, he took his knife from its scabbard and began spearing pieces of the meat and eating them. It would all be revealed in due time.
When the places had been cleared away Hugo de Bohun looked to Lord Mortimer, and said, “Why have you come to Agramant? We rarely have visitors.” He leaned back in his chair.
“Merin Pendragon would like his son and his daughter returned, and he is willing to pay a goodly ransom for them, my lord,” Lord Mortimer said.
Hugo de Bohun laughed uproariously as if Lord Mortimer had just told the most amusing jest. “I will keep to the laws of hospitality, my lords,” he replied, “but come the morrow return to the Dragon Lord and tell him there is no amount of ransom that I would take in exchange for his children. My son is soon to wed Aceline de Bellaud, but he would keep his little Welsh whore as well. As for Pendragon's son, he resides in my dungeons where he will eventually die, as I have given orders he is to have no food or water.”
“Jesu, de Bohun, Brynn Pendragon is but a lad!” Lord Mortimer said.
“But when he is dead,” the lord of Agramant continued, “I will return his body to his father so he may see that Arthur's line is finished, and bury his only heir.” Then he laughed. “As for the wench, she will remain with Simon until he is bored with her, and then I will give her to my men for the castle whore.”
“Why have you done this?” Lord Mortimer asked.
“The Pendragons are our enemies,” Hugo de Bohun replied.
“The feud between you has been dormant for years now,” Lord Mortimer said.
“Until my weakling of a son met Pendragon's daughter by Mryddin Water, and she lured him with her wiles from the path I had chosen for him to take. He wanted to marry the little slut with her meager dower instead of the fine landed heiress I had chosen for him. He would have run away with her, but that I put a stop to it.”
“Surely you did not think Pendragon would have a de Bohun for a son-in-law, my lord?” Lord Mortimer said, shocked by the venom in his host's voice, and puzzled by the silence of young Simon de Bohun.
“Willful, both of them,” Hugo de Bohun responded, “but I put a stop to it. I followed my son that day he planned to meet with his wench. I thought at first to kill her and be done with it, but then I decided instead to break her father's heart. I made my son take the girl as my men and I watched. How she howled when he stole her cherry from her. Her brother, a lad I will admit with more guts than my own son, tried to save her. Now he will end his days in my dungeons. I have beaten him twice, but he will not utter a single cry, and I admire him for it. But he will, before I am through with him, beg for mercy, and when he does I will give him the gift of death to reward him.”
“My lord, you are a monster!” Lord Mortimer said, genuinely disgusted.
Hugo de Bohun laughed. “Have some more wine, my lords, and then I will have my son's leman dance for us. She is quite skilled at the dance, are you not, whore?” He looked down the board at Junia, leering.
“You are truly a pig's turd, my lord,” Junia replied sweetly.
“Junia, for God's sake, do not enrage him,” Simon told her nervously.
But de Bohun merely laughed heartily again. “His mother was a good woman, but she gave me a weakling for a son. But this little bitch will give my son strong bastards, will you not, girl?”
“Go to hell, my lord,” Junia answered him in pleasant tones.
Now Rhys took the opportunity to lean forward and look down the high board so he might see Junia, and she get a good look at him. To his host it would appear no more than Lord Mortimer's companion was interested in seeing the girl. Junia's eyes met his but a moment, and then she glanced away. It had been enough for Rhys to see that her spirit was indeed not broken as Gorawen had said. The urge to get up and strangle Hugo de Bohun with his bare hands was a strong one, which he wisely pushed away.
“Do not be foolish, de Bohun,” Lord Mortimer said. “Your son has had his way with the girl, and you have accomplished your purpose to ruin her. Who will marry her now, especially with her little dower portion? Ransom her. Surely you do not want your son's bride brought into Agramant under such circumstances. The de Bellaud family will desire their daughter be happy, and it is an insult to them that your son's mistress will be in residence when the blushing bride arrives. Surely your coffers can benefit by the addition of two fat ransoms. You can beggar Pendragon, and accomplish your revenge more easily.”
“Why do you tell me this? Are you not the Dragon Lord's friend?” de Bohun asked suspiciously.
“I am his friend, but I have known all his children since their birth. It pains me to see Junia like this, and to know that young Brynn lies starved and beaten in your dungeons. If you kill them, what is left to you? But if you take all of the Dragon Lord's wealth from him in exchange for his children, the daughter ruined without chance of marriage, and the son damaged, you will have destroyed the entire family in the end. Is that not a greater revenge, Hugo de Bohun?”
“I must think on it, and especially of why you, who claim to be Pendragon's friend, would even suggest it to me,” Hugo de Bohun replied.
“You have the upper hand, de Bohun,” Lord Mortimer replied. “How many men do you know who prefer their children to their wealth, eh?” He chuckled. “As for me, Pendragon's lands match with mine. I could use them. A man must think of himself, eh?” And he chuckled again in such a knowing manner that de Bohun laughed, too.
“For all your civility, Mortimer, it would appear you are a man after my own heart, though you hide it well. But as I said, I must think on it.” Then turning away from Lord Mortimer, he looked back down the high board, and said, “Get up on the table and dance, you bold Welsh bitch! I want my guests well entertained.”
“There is no music, my lord,” she said. “I cannot dance without music.” Then rising from the table she began to leave the hall.
But de Bohun was around the table and after her, with Simon also in pursuit. The older man caught Junia first, and raising his hand hit her a heavy blow, and then another and another. “When I give you an order, whore, you will obey me!” he shouted.
“For mercy's sake, Father, leave her alone,” Simon said, and he pulled his sire away from Junia whose nose was bloodied. “She is right. She can't dance without music.”
“Then,” Hugo de Bohun said angrily, “find one of the servants to play for her. I would have her dance for our guests.”
“Let her go up to my chamber, Father,” Simon cajoled. “Her nose is bleeding, and she is already showing a bruise on her cheekbone. She is hardly a pretty sight, is she?”
“The bitch deserves a good beating,” he growled.
“And I will give it to her later, I swear it,” Simon promised. “You can stand outside my chamber and hear her cries.”
“Nay, I will stand in your chamber, and I will watch as you punish her,” he said with a cruel smile.” Then he looked at Junia. “Get upstairs, you little bitch, and wait for your master to come.”
Junia ran from the hall without another word. At the high board Rhys FitzHugh again pushed back his urge to slay Hugo de Bohun. Junia was being foolishly brave. She could have avoided a beating by simply saying there was no music instead of defying Hugo de Bohun. This was a man who very much enjoyed giving pain, but then Rhys realized that it was Junia's very defiance that was keeping her alive. Had she lost her courage and gone to pieces, Hugo de Bohun would have given her to his men and been done with it. She would have never survived. Poor gentle Simon found it near impossible to stand up to his father. He could not save her, and Junia realized it.
The evening had been ended with the terrible scene between de Bohun and Junia. Simon had slipped away after the girl. Lord Mortimer and Rhys watched as Hugo de Bohun rummaged among the firewood by the hall's hearth. Finally he drew forth a stick about a foot and a half in length, and the thickness of his thumb. He smiled cruelly.
“This will do nicely,” he said to them. “The servants will show you to a chamber, my lords. We will speak again on the morrow.” Then he was quickly gone from the hall.
“I think young Simon made an error in judgment saying he would beat Junia,” Lord Mortimer said, shaking his head. “De Bohun realized it was a ruse and called his son's bluff. Junia is in for it now, I fear.”
“My wife's sister is brave, but foolish,” Rhys agreed. “With de Bohun in the chamber watching, Simon will have to lay his punishment on hard. Junia will be sore come the morrow, but she will survive.”
Simon had hurried to his chamber knowing his father would be close behind him. He burst into the room, and Junia turned, startled. “He wants to watch, damn him! I don't want to beat you, but if I don't he will, and it will be the worse for you, my darling. I am so sorry!” He took her into his arms, and felt her tremble.
“I do not know how much longer I can be brave, Simon,” Junia told him, her young voice quavering.
“Try to bear the first few blows, and then yell your head off,” he advised her. “That will please him, and then perhaps he will let me let you off. And Junia, do whatever I order you to do no matter how it angers you. He needs to feel I am as much a monster as he is. If I hear him refer to me again as a weakling, I will kill him,” Simon said grimly. “Why is a gentle man considered weak, and a brutal one strong?”
The words were barely out of his mouth when the door to the chamber flew open, and Hugo de Bohun entered. “Here,” he said, handing his son the stick he had chosen. “Wield that well, and the little bitch will learn her lesson fast enough.” He sat down on the bed. “Well?” he demanded.
“Take your gown and chemise off, girl!” Simon ordered Junia. “I'll not have them damaged. Do you think good coin for clothing grows on bushes? Hurry up, now! It is past time you were taught the lesson of obedience.”
Hugo de Bohun looked at his son, approval in his dark eyes. He watched as Junia quickly obeyed, his glance moving swiftly over her pretty little body. Again he regretted his decision to let Simon have her. She really was a toothsome piece.
“Get over here!” Simon barked at the girl, and when she came he tucked her beneath his left arm, turning her delightfully round little bottom towards his father. Then raising his arm he brought the thick stick down on Junia's rump. At the fourth blow she began to whimper. By the sixth she was howling. By the tenth she was begging for mercy. Simon looked to his father, but Hugo shook his head.
“Give her a bit more,” he said. “She can take it. If you want, I'll do it.” He licked his lips in anticipation.
“Nay, I will finish what I began,” Simon said, and began beating Junia once again. At the thirteenth blow she began to sob piteously, continuing to beg him to stop.
“Give her twenty,” Hugo order his son.
“Nay, fifteen will be enough or I'll not have my pleasure of her tonight,” Simon said. “Those strips on her buttocks will burn for three days as it is.” He brought his weapon down on her twice more, and then shoved her to the floor. “There, wench, I hope you have learned your lesson. In the future you will address my lord father in a proper manner, will you not?”
“Yes, my lord Simon,” Junia sobbed.
“Now kiss the rod that has chastised you, wench, and thank me.”
Junia did as he commanded, whispering, “Thank you, my lord Simon.”
Hugo de Bohun stood up. “By the rood, my son, I didn't think you had the balls for punishing a woman, but you have proved me wrong. I will leave you. Fuck her well tonight, and you, wench,” he bent and pulled Junia up by her long dark hair, “give your master the pleasure he deserves. He has done well.” Then Hugo de Bohun left them.
Other books
Everlasting Hunger (The Hunger Mate Series) by Dorsch, Brandy
Chimera-44 by Christopher L. Eger
Ask the Dust by John Fante
Word and Breath by Susannah Noel
Her Best Friend by Sarah Mayberry
Galactic Bride by Kelly S. Bishop
Broken Heart 10 Some Lycan Hot by Michele Bardsley
At His Pleasure: Addie Learns the Ropes by Salt, Emme
What Happens in Vegas: A BWWM Alpha Male Romance by Stacey Mills, Cristina Grenier
El misterioso caso de Styles by Agatha Christie
