CASTILLIA

By Christina DesJardins

Castillia, once a beautiful medieval vacation world of Mother Earth. Until for some unknown reason all of the computers went down. And all contact with Mother Earth ceased. Chaos and war broke out across the planet. The strong preyed on the weak and evil reined. Now after four generations of war a tenuous peace is attained and the kingdom of Castillia is formed. Into this medieval world are born Jarod and Samantha. Friends since childhood they must now struggle with their growing feelings for each other. Facing many obstacles and misunderstandings as their love matures. And now a greater threat against them and the kingdom looms. Before it is too late can they beat this dangerous advisory and accept their love for each other. A love that was written in the stars.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781642984965

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CASTILLIA

Christina Des Jardins

Copyright © 2018 Christina Des Jardins

All rights reserved

First Edition

Page Publishing, Inc

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc 2018

ISBN 978-1-64298-495-8 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64298-496-5 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Prologue

Pain, totally encompassing-—it slowly subsided yet was never completely absent. Birth, the beginning; death, another. At least Marium prayed that it was so. For she knew that before the sun rose again, she would be dead. Gone from this life that she had grown to treasure so much. She could only hope that her dying was not in vain.

Please, she begged to whatever God it is that rules over destinies. Please let my baby live.

The pain beat against her body like waves against the fragile sands.

Push, please, my lady, the midwife’s voice stressed from what seemed like far away. A cool compress was placed against her fevered brow. A strong hand gripped Marium’s, holding her to this world. She absorbed what strength that she could from her love, Lionel, and bore down once more. It was a futile effort.

Marium, I am here now. Do not give up. I could not live my life without your smile. For me, push, Lionel whispered frantically into her ear. For him she tried again, but it was useless. She had no strength left. Her labor had been too long. She gathered what energy she had left to comfort Lionel.

Lionel, she whispered. He drew closer. Lionel, you must save our baby. He pulled back in denial.

She knew that he wished to argue. She had not the time. She gripped his hand with a strength that surprised him I do not regret a moment. I would live it all the same way again. Do not let it be for nothing. I beg you. My time, our time, is over, but the baby …

She could say no more as a contraction racked her weary body. She prayed that Lionel remained strong.

You must do something! Please do not take her from me! Lionel railed at his God.

I am sorry, Your Lordship. There is nothing that anyone can do. Your wife is so small. The baby cannot be born. I am sorry, the young midwife said before looking to the floor.

Where is the doctor that I sent for? Lionel swung around, wishing for something to take his pain out on.

Richard, Lionel’s best friend, hearing Lionel’s roar, entered the birthing chamber. Ignoring the midwife’s orders to leave, he gripped Lionel by the shoulders.

Sit down and comfort your wife. There is nothing else that we can do. It is out of our hands.

Richard, Marium cried from her deathbed, Richard, be Lionel’s strength, save the baby. As the waves rushed over her again, she retreated into the past.

* * *

Marium, Marium! Regan, her little sister, tripped into her chamber, slamming the door behind her. Marium, she whispered breathlessly.

What is it? Marium smiled as she bent down to Regan’s height.

A knight is here. The king has sent him. He and his men are gathered in the hall. Father is very angry. The servants are all trembling in the yard. The words seemed to tumble excitedly from her lips.

A knight, what does he want? Marium stood up with concern.

I do not know. He is huge. Regan spread her small arms as far as they would go. His men are so many that they fill the hall and spill out past the bailey. They have swords and armor and horses. I saw them. Regan was deeply impressed by their visitors, Marium could see.

Father said that we are to stay in our chambers. She looked at Marium with mischief in her eyes. Together they ran out the door hand in hand while trying to suppress their giggles. Sneaking up to their usual place in the musicians’ loft, they spied down on the proceedings. Regan was right. Men filled every available space in the hall. The torches glared off their collective armor so brightly that it was as if the sun had set there.

Marium watched intently as her father paced back and forth. Her eyes scanned the men before him coming to rest on the obvious leader. She could not see his face, for he was directly below her. His hair was golden, falling past his shoulders in disarray. He was huge, just as Regan had described him, though it was all muscle; not an ounce of fat was on his battle-hardened body. He even dwarfed their father, who was no small man. His legs were spread wide, seeming to claim their castle for his own. All eyes rested on his back as he waited for some answer from their father. Marium felt instant dislike.

Her father stopped his pacing. I cannot believe that the king would doubt my loyalty. This is an outrage. He threw his arms up. To demand one of my daughters as proof. I cannot allow one of them to marry a mere knight. No matter how bravely he fought during the wars. I will go to Henry myself. He slammed his fist down on the table in anger.

Lord Richor, there is no time for that. You saw the official seal on the letter. To not obey the king is treason. Besides I am no longer a mere knight. I go now to my holdings that the King has granted me. You have heard of Dragon’s Lair on our western frontier? It is a fine holding with much land and key to the defense of Castillia’s border. That is why I must hurry, to make certain that it is properly set up and maintained. I will see to your daughter’s welfare. This is the only way to ensure the peace that we have fought so long for.

Marium could see that the man had grown impatient as he slapped his riding gloves across his muscular thigh. Now let me see your daughters. Or should I declare you guilty of treason?

Her father blustered, "Lord Lionel, treason is a harsh word."

Lionel? A lion—that fits him perfectly. The beast of the jungle preying on the innocent, Marium thought to herself frantically. Father will not let him take me. Surely Anna, Dianna, or Trianna would do nicely. Her father had no shortage of daughters. She did not want to leave her home. And if she ever did wed, it would certainly not be a brute such as this Lionel.

At Marium’s side, Regan cried out as her kerchief fluttered to the rushes below. Marium gasped in horror as the Lion looked upward, pinning her with his deep-set golden eyes. Regan thankfully pulled her back away from his sight. Marium shook her head in denial. Her heart beating wildly, she leapt to her feet. Forgetting Regan, Marium ran for the safety of her chamber.

Closing the door, she leaned against it as her body continued to shake with fright. He saw me, she thought, but of course he will want to wed one of my sisters. They have all longed to be wed for some time. The wars have made such things difficult to arrange. When he sees them, he will not even notice me. "After all, my sisters are so much more womanly when compared to my petite form. Marium looked down and sighed. They all took after her father’s side of the family, while she was the only one that looked like her mother. She had long since given up on her figure, resigning herself to staying with her father long after her sisters were wed.

* * *

He knows that I have five daughters. Regan is too young. You, Marium, are old enough. Pain filled her father’s eyes as he sat beside Marium on her bed. He shook his head. No, I am being selfish. You have the right to a husband and a family of your own. Your sisters are all for it. I know that I have waited too long in finding them suitable husbands. His voice drifted off. Marium knew that he was remembering her mother.

She grasped his strong yet gentle hand in hers. Her heart went out to him. Do not fret so, Father. I do not wish to wed. I shall always stay here at your side. His face brightened, much to her relief. She hated to see him in pain. This was now the face of the father that she knew, sure of himself and of his world.

He rose, shaking his fist. Let him try and take you. His spirits revived as he drew away toward her door. Have your maid stand in for you. She is about the right age, he chuckled. We will show this young upstart something.

The space at Marium’s side grew cold. The memory of Lord Lionel’s eyes as they had seared her soul filled her with dread. He was not a man to be easily fooled. Not wanting to dwell on him any longer, she called her maid, Hannah. Always faithful, she agreed to their newly hatched plan. If she lacked fervor, Marium chose not to notice. She only wanted one thing now—to obstruct any plans of the Lion downstairs in her father’s hall.

Hannah borrowed a gown from Trianna, for she would never fit into one of Marium’s. Marium cheered herself with thoughts of Lord Lionel wedded to her maid. It only slightly eased her growing sense of apprehension. As the hour of their doom grew closer, she feared that they would be found out.

Marium’s sisters gaily paraded in their finery before her. They laughed and strutted around, excited about the stranger in their midst. They each seemed to think him handsome and longed for the match. Marium shook her head sadly, for there was not a brain among them. She, of course, could not miss the show and hid with the servants. Her father would beat her if he knew. Marium relaxed her guard, thinking herself safe as she was dressed in drab liveries. Still, she pulled her wimple closer to her face as Lord Lionel stalked into the hall.

He stood there in the center, as if he were king and not just his flunkie. He wore a fine fur-lined purple tunic; his chaperon turban slung carelessly over his shoulder. His stockings were wrapped in gold cross braid that clung to every muscle as he prowled before her sisters. They stood meekly as traks before a shearing.

Marium fumed at the sight. Had they no pride as they smiled shyly up at him? Who did he think he was? Marium thought as she smiled to herself at their trickery.

These are all of your daughters? His eyes raked over her father.

All except Regan, she is only six. Marium felt proud as his eyes did not waver from the Lion’s.

Bring her here, the Lion ordered.

Her father flicked his wrist at one of the servants. They left the hall to see that Regan was brought forth. An eternity later, Regan entered, clutching her nanny’s hand. She was brought before the towering Lord Lionel. All mischief had left her eyes. She clung to her nanny’s bliaut with her chubby little fists, burying her face at his appraisal. Lord Lionel pulled her to him. Turning up her now tear-streaked face, he said, I will take this one. A collective gasp filled the hall. Marium barely held her place as Regan let out a continuous wail.

But she is only a baby, her father pleaded above the noise. Surely one of my other daughters will do? He pointed their way.

Lionel dismissed them with a wave of his hand. I have made my choice. He held Regan aloft as she started to squirm. In desperation, she bit his hand fiercely. Surprised, he let her go. She quickly disappeared behind her nanny. She must learn obedience. Reginald! He snapped his fingers.

Yes, Your Lordship? One of Lionel’s men saluted sharply.

Your whip. The ordered item appeared in his hand. Lionel flicked it a couple of times into the air. Marium pulled back as the cracking seemed to fill the hall. All else was silent. If any of Lord Richor’s men move, kill them. His words vibrated more than the whip before them.

Yes, sir. Lord Lionel’s men stood at attention, their swords drawn and pointed at her father’s men.

Marium could not let this beast harm her little Regan. She pushed her way to the center of the hall trying desperately to reach Regan’s side. She was immediately accosted and dragged forth. As Lord Lionel’s voice called a halt to his men’s rough handling of her, Marium remembered her dignity. Holding her head high, she approached the Lion. He watched silently, his eyes beaming with some unknown thought. Marium hoped that the contempt that she felt for him was mirrored in her gaze.

He grasped Marium’s face with his surprisingly gentle hands. Pulling her coarse wimple back, the light in his eyes spread to his face, bringing with it a gloating smile. I knew that you would show yourself.

Marium’s chin dropped. She had been had, flushed like a warble from its hole.

‘‘I have changed my mind. I shall take this one. He looked to her father with a cocked brow, waiting for a denial that never came. Marium’s shoulders slumped as she realized her fate. She would be wedded to this beast. There would be no escape. He had won. We will be wed immediately." He called for his priest.

Please, I beg you to wait. Her father rubbed his hands together in anxiety. I can have a wedding feast prepared. It should not take long.

No, I said now. Lionel pointed to the rushes before him. The priest hurried to fill the space. He pulled Marium to his side as the priest fumbled with his Bible. The priest cleared his throat as she tried to extract her hand. The Lion held it firmly, seemingly oblivious to her pitiful efforts.

The ceremony was over before Marium could bat an eye. Prayers were said as the priest read the words that would bind them for life. Lionel removed a large ring from his hand and placed it upon Marium’s trembling finger. It was so big that she had to close her hand to keep it from falling to the rushes, though she was tempted to do just that.

When the priest’s droning ceased, Marium raised her eyes from the shackle on her finger to the Lion’s so far above her. He slowly bent at the waist to place his lips to hers. She turned her head at the last moment, causing his lips to only slightly brush hers. He smiled as he pulled away, as if to say that later he would not be so easily put off.

Marium shivered as her family gathered to offer their congratulations. Her sisters fluttered like ninnies as they flashed their eyes boldly at Lord Lionel. Marium’s father clapped his hands, ordering wine and ton to be served. She stood dazed as toasts were offered. Marium’s father refused to meet her eyes as Lord Lionel, now her husband, led her from the hall. She pulled from his grasp at the bottom of the stairs. Laughing, he lifted her up against his chest. Mounting the stairs with ease, he carried her to her chamber. She did not know how he chose the right one, but there they were, in the place where she was born, where she had cried, where she had grown, and now where she was to become a woman.

He laid Marium gently upon her bed. Her body shook as she fought the sobs that cried for release. She watched as he surveyed her chamber. His predatory eyes missed nothing. He smiled as he turned toward her, his eyes caressing her skin. He moved to her side. The Lion from her childhood books come to life. Marium’s bed cried in virginal protest as he placed his weight upon it.

She wiggled away, but he pulled her back, his eyes growing even more intense. He leaned over her with a strong arm on either side, barring any further escape. Marium turned her face. Lionel took her chin between his fingers yet said nothing. As she returned his gaze, she bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. He drew closer. She could feel his breath as it caressed her cheek before slipping past her ear. A tingle traveled the length of her spine.

So small, yet so brave. My little warrior comes to her sister’s rescue, and to face such a beast as I? He laughed, a deep echoing sound that caused Marium to jump. Who shall rescue you?

She could keep her tears at bay no longer. Sobs racked her body as the fear bubbled up to the surface.

Lionel pulled her to his lap. His strong arms engulfed Marium as his voice, now gentle, flowed over her body. Do not cry. I have no wish to harm you. Never fear me, my little warrior. I have searched an eternity for you. Now that I have found you, nothing shall ever come between us. I shall protect you till my dying day, and love you even after. His lips met hers, washing away her fears, replacing them with a new and unfamiliar feeling that slowly filled Marium’s entire being. He stole her heart with that one small kiss.

* * *

Marium then drew her last breath.

No, Marium. Tears fell from Lionel’s eyes in disbelief.

The midwife felt Marium’s rounded stomach. The baby, it is still moving. She looked to the grief-stricken lord. He saw nothing but the still form of his wife. She turned to his friend. Your Lordship, we must do something.

Richard placed his hand on Lionel’s shoulder. Lionel, we can still save the baby.

I cannot do it! He looked longingly at his wife. Please do it for me, Richard.

Lord Richard took out his knife. Swallowing hard, he steadied his hand before placing the knife’s point to Marium’s pale skin and making the incision. He had done this before on traks, to save a calf, but never on a woman. His hands shook as he set the blade aside. He reached into the womb to pull forth a slightly blue baby. Turning it upside down, he smacked its bottom. The baby let out a surprisingly loud wail.

Lionel, your child …

Lionel turned his face away as he raised his hand. Take it away. I do not want to see it.

Hannah released her hold on Marium’s other hand. She took the screaming baby from Richard and bound it in swaddling. They then left Lionel to grieve alone. Lionel searched the lifeless form before him. It was only a shell. Gone was the laughter, the girl so full of life that he had spied in the musician’s loft so long ago. So long ago, yet too soon. Five short years with the woman for whom he had waited half a lifetime. He lunged from his chair. Stalking the chamber in a rage, he smashed the nearest object, then shook his fist at the unseen God that would take his beloved Marium from him. Anything but her, he could handle an army of men, but not this. His shoulders slumped as he dropped back down by her side. His cheeks burned with the tears that he had not felt since he was a boy. The candle burned down and finally sputtered out. He stayed at Marium’s side, no longer counting the time. He was empty. His love was gone.

* * *

Sitting in the chairs near the roaring fire, Richard poured Lionel another tankard of ton. They drank in silence. Outside, the storm was still raging. The same storm that had kept the doctor from reaching the castle in time.

Richard broke the silence, What about the baby?

I do not want it. You take it home to Gisela, Lionel refused to meet Richard’s eyes and instead stared at the flame.

Is that what you want? The baby is all that you have left of Marium and the love you shared. Richard jumped as Lionel threw his tankard into the fire. The flames roared out of the hearth, mimicking his anger.

Just take the baby. What kind of father would I be?

Marium thought that you would be a good one.

Lionel stood up. She also thought that I would be a good husband. She was wrong. He ran his hands through his mane. How could I have let her get pregnant? The doctor warned us that she was too small. Some husband, some father. He leaned against the mantle wearily.

Very well, I will take the baby,—Richard rose—but first you must look at it. It is the least you can do.

Hannah approached the men as if on cue. The bundle in her arms remained silent as she handed it to Lionel. Lionel’s body shook as if the entire weight of the world rested within his arms. With his callused hands, he slowly pulled back the blanket. A perfect little face was exposed. It frowned as the cold air touched its warm cheeks. Its eyes opened in curiosity. Turquoise met gold. Lionel smiled. The baby had Marium’s eyes. He pulled the blanket down further. A little hand reached out and gripped his finger. With that small gesture, it had firmly grasped Lionel’s heart. Taking the baby back to the chair before the fire, Lionel sat to finish his inspection. The baby made no sound as it too inspected its father.

Lionel was filled with awe at this perfect little baby. He wrapped it again, then pulled it firmly to his chest. Your mother is gone now, but I will love you enough for both of us. Hannah and Richard left the hall, knowing that their work was finished. Lionel would never part with the baby now.

* * *

Richard called his men to a halt atop a grassy hill. His steel-blue eyes took in the surrounding countryside. A group of bayloc trees beckoned in the distance. He knew that they gathered around a small pool of water. He had been this way many times before but never with so heavy a heart. With a sigh, he led his men to their shelter for the night. They had traveled far enough this day.

Dismounting, he led his horse to the water. It sucked greedily as he knelt to wash the remnants of the trail from his face and neck. Richard stood and looked back the way that they had come. For as far as the eye could see, trak grass waved in the breeze. On the horizon, he could just make out the Tribortitis. They rose in stark contrast to the gently rolling hills of the plains. Above him, two graygons soared through the sky. The scene was deceptively peaceful, its beauty mocking the death of Marium just a few days before.

Richard was weary of death. He longed to be home, a word that he thought would never be in his vocabulary. After three generations of war, his world had come to a tenuous peace. Thirty years of his life at war. He now had a place called home. Waiting there were his wife, Gisela, and his three sons.

Richard wondered if Marium would have lived if things had been as they once were, when Castillia had been a vacation paradise, entertaining the masses that flocked there each year. People that pretended to be knights in shining armor or damsels in distress. When the biggest decision of the day was whether to go jousting or to slay a fire-breathing dragon. Where your every need was taken care of by the computer system. If you tired of the medieval game, you could tour one of the many reservations where the natives of Castillia lived. The Tribors, a short, squat people from the Tribortitis mountain range; the Assaks of the western plains; or the Plados, a genetic experiment by Old Earth’s original explorers.

Then one day, the unthinkable happened—the computers stopped functioning. They usually repaired themselves, but not this time. And since all transportation to and from Castillia was controlled by computer, they could only wait until a rescue ship came for them. Yet after six months of waiting and no ship in sight or any other form of communication from any other planet, only one conclusion could be reached: Some catastrophe had happened to the main computer located on the mother planet, Earth. Panic swept across Castillia. Total chaos erupted as the strong preyed on the weak. Times became desperate as people were killed for their possessions, and food became scarce.

A few good men banded together to defend their families and homes. They gathered what supplies they could and started rationing them. Defending their castles and villages, they started farming projects, hoping to grow enough to see their small group through the coming winter. They barely made it, as they were constantly forced to fight off other people attempting to raid their small stores and vandalize their crops. During the winter, they trained their villagers in the art of combat. They also chose a leader from among them, their new king, Richard the Great.

Spring came, and they were ready. Richard the Great and his army swept across the land, pushing the wicked before them and restoring order. By winter, their numbers were tenfold. The northern corner of Castillia was under the protection of King Richard and his army. The people wept with relief, for they now had hope.

The next spring, their hopes were dampened; evil had recouped. The wicked now had armies also, and the wars raged on. Years flew by as they defeated one enemy only to be confronted by another. Richard the Great was mortally wounded on Duner’s Hill. Lionel’s grandfather had been at his side. Richard the Great’s only son, just fifteen, picked up his father’s sword. Calling the men to follow, he carried on the fight. Many men died, but for the survivors, the battle that day was won. As Richard the Great’s soul flew up to the heavens, his men cheered for their new king, Richard’s son Cecil, now called Cecil the Brave. Following their new king, the people of Castillia won many more battles.

Lionel’s and Richard’s grandfathers and then fathers had fought at King Cecil’s side. Together they made a lot of headway in their quest for peace, yet it still took another generation of bloody battles and another king to bring about the promise of peace. King Cecil died along with a battalion of his men on the western border. His son, Henry the Wise, now ruled the land.

There were still minor skirmishes on the southern border, but there were no longer the full-scale wars of the past. The people rejoiced, and the land began to thrive once again. How proud Richard was that his family had played such a large part in bringing about the peace.

Richard stopped his musings as the smell of fresh roasted slog tantalized him. His squire brought him a trencher carved from a crusty bread. In it, pieces of the slog were mixed with broth and some ground roots. Richard’s thoughts drifted to home as he ate. How he longed to be there, wrapped in Gisela’s arms. Home at Graygon Heights, awarded to him by King Henry for the services of him and his family during the wars. Lionel had also been given a castle and land that he now called Dragon’s Lair.

Richard had done well raising traks, a hybrid of the Mother Earth’s sheep. They were a hearty animal, widely used for their fur and meat; they had three horns, the center of which was used to make a powerful aphrodisiac. Then another good fortune was bestowed upon them—Richard had discovered zerocs, a valuable gem that came in many clear colors, on his land.

Richard sighed as he lay between his trak furs. Gazing at the twin moons of Castillia, he wished that he were home, once more, with his wife and sons. The youngest had only been born two months before. That was why he had refused to let Gisela travel the arduous journey to Dragon’s Lair. How she would grieve when she learned of Marium’s death. He did not look forward to breaking the news to her.

* * *

It was late the next night as Richard and his men rode over the drawbridge to Graygon Heights. It groaned under the collective weight of the horses, welcoming Richard home. As he dismounted, he could see Gisela’s silhouette in the doorway. He hurried into her embrace. She led him into the hall, where there was food and ton waiting for him and his men before a blazing fire.

As Richard sat, Gisela knelt to help him with his boots. Their eyes met. Gisela’s were full of a thousand questions. When seeing her husband’s weariness, she forgot them, only wishing to ease his burden. Richard gazed down at Gisela. She was so lovely with her midnight-black hair and olive skin. Still slender after three children, his hands could almost span her waist. How blessed he was. Lionel’s loss only brought it more to mind. Richard and his men ate silently. Richard finished quickly, then led Gisela to their chamber.

Gisela helped Richard to undress, then massaged the aches from his body in a steaming bath. The aches in his soul she would see to later. After finishing, Richard spoke for the first time since arriving home.

I love you, Gisela, he whispered as he held her close.

And I love you, my husband, but what is wrong? If you hold me any tighter, I shall not be able to breathe, she teased as her fingers tried to wipe the worry lines from his brow.

I have terrible news, my love. Richard waited for her to brace herself. We have lost Marium. Richard caught Gisela as she collapsed against him in grief. He waited as the tears soaked his robe.

I should have gone with you. I might have been able to help Marium, Gisela cried.

No one could have saved her. At least the baby lived. Gisela looked up with some pleasure. Healthy—hopefully it will help to heal the wound in Lionel’s heart, though I know that it will never fully mend. Richard wished to change the subject. He was tired of death. His hands started to travel the well-known path of his wife’s body. I need you tonight, Gisela, to chase these demons away. How my heart has ached for your loving touch, Richard whispered into her ear, his lips finding their way to hers.

* * *

Gisela entered the hall. Mathew, her two-year-old, was playing with blocks by the hearth. Rachael, the nanny, sat in a rocker, urging Marcus, Gisela’s newborn, to take a bottle; as usual, not much coaxing was needed. Good morning, Rachael.

And you, my lady. I did not let the children wake you this morning. You were up so late, waiting on Lord Richard.

Gisela turned to Mathew to hide the blush that stained her cheeks. If Rachael only knew how late he had kept her up. Thank you. How are you, Mathew? No kiss for your mother? He ran to her on chubby legs, then planted a wet kiss on her cheek. He giggled as she pulled him to her lap. Rachael, where is Jarod?

Need you ask? The men are practicing in the yard with their weapons. I have no doubt that he shall be there also.

I wish that he would spend as much time with his tutor.

He is just so bright. Already he is smarter than his tutor. Rachael laughed. I think that you should send him to that new school that King Henry has planned.

I know. Richard has told me over and over. Five is so young to be sent away. I just want my baby to stay with me a little longer.

Baby? You had better take a closer look. He will soon be taller than you. Prepare yourself, for they must all sever the apron strings sooner or later.

I’ll opt for later. Gisela looked to the door as the object of their conversation ran into the hall.

Mother, you are awake. I thought that you would sleep all day. Jarod rushed to hug his mother. Little Mathew frowned as her attention wavered. Is it true that father is home? Did Aunt Marium have her baby? The smile left Gisela’s face at the mention of Marium’s name. What is wrong?

Nothing. She tried to smile once more. I will let your father explain later. Now how are you doing this morning?

I have been practicing weapons with the soldiers. I am getting very good with my sword. Jarod jumped forward, thrusting at some unsuspecting enemy. Gisela smiled at his antics. Jarod was dark like her; the other two boys were fair like their father. Jarod had Richard’s steel-blue eyes, though. Gisela felt sorry for the many girls that would soon lose their hearts to him, as she had done long ago.

Should you not be at your studies? Jarod stopped his sword play at his mother’s question, a frown forming on his face.

Oh, mother, I am already good at them. I want to be a great warrior like father. Raymond says that he will be proud when he sees how good I am becoming.

I believe that I wish you to read and write first. Then we can worry about weapon skills, Richard countered as he entered the hall behind Jarod. Jarod turned at the sound his father’s voice, then ran into his arms. Richard grabbed the boy and flung him over his shoulder.

Father, wait till you see! Jarod cried excitedly as Richard carried him to the door.

What I want to see is you at your studies. Now get to it. He patted Jarod’s head as he sat him down.

Jarod hugged his father’s legs. I am so glad that you are home.

Richard, maybe you should take Jarod into your study first. I think that some explaining needs to be done. Gisela’s eyes met Richard’s, the meaning clear.

Very well. Come, son. Jarod grasped his father’s outstretched hand. Gisela noticed as they left that Jarod had inched up further in height. Someday he might even top his father. She sighed at the thought. She wanted him for at least a few more years. She must make it a point to find him a better tutor.

1

Dragon’s Lair

Gisela, we have already discussed this. Jarod is thirteen. Most boys his age have been in school for years already. It is time. Richard sat on the bed beside his wife. His arm around her shoulders. Now stop crying, you know how much he longs to go. If he thinks that you are sad, he will want to stay. Jarod will be back to visit us every chance that he can get.

Gisela wiped her tears. I am sorry. I know that I am being silly. It is just that I miss him already. She rose, pasting on a smile. Now let’s go out and see the two of you off. Richard followed her from their chamber.

Outside, Jarod’s younger brothers gathered around, excited yet not wanting him to go. Do you promise to write? We want to hear of all of your adventures, Mathew said.

Of course I will write. If I have time. Jarod lifted his brow, smiling at his brothers’ sad faces. I will write often, and I shall bring you both fine presents when I come home on visits. They both smiled at this. Jarod then turned as his parents came down the steps. Mother,—he kissed her hand—you are not fooling me. He wiped at her damp cheeks. I will be home soon. Do not be sad.

I love you, Jarod. Remember everything that I have taught you. I promise not to worry much. She held him close. Already he was taller than her and solid, not lanky like most boys at his awkward age. She let him go then kissed her husband goodbye. Stepping back as they mounted their horses, she held Mathew and Marcus to her side. Together they waved them out the gate. As soon as they had cleared the drawbridge, Gisela ran up to her chamber and cried as though her heart was breaking.

* * *

Jarod opened his eyes. For a moment, he did not remember where he was. Then it came to him—Dragon’s Lair, Uncle Lionel’s castle. He and his father had stopped for a visit on the way to his new school. They had arrived late in the night, having been delayed by an unsuspected storm—the curse of this part of the country. Uncle Lionel had seen them directly to their chambers. There, Jarod had eaten at a small table before a blazing fire, then exhausted, he had crawled between the furs on his bed.

Jarod looked around his chamber, the light of day revealing what he had not noticed the night before. Lionel was obviously doing well with his holdings also. Rich tapestries hung from the walls. A thick rug lay before the hearth. A large tub was hidden behind a screen to the side. He examined a coat of arms above the doorway. It was not Lionel’s, so it must have been Marium’s. It was strange that with the thought of her name, Jarod could still visualize her—so tiny and fair, a smile always on her face. He could remember her voice, soft and caressing, as she had bent to brush his knees where he had scraped them. It had been so sad the way she had died in childbirth. Jarod tried to remember if the baby had been a boy or a girl. He did not think that he had ever asked. At that age, he had found it easier not to talk about it. The child must be eight by now. Jarod had seen Lionel many times in the years since its birth, but he had never seen the baby. It was a rough journey between the two castles, much too treacherous for an infant.

Jarod’s wandering thoughts ceased at a knock upon his door. His father entered, greeted by Jarod’s welcoming smile, a smile that was an exact copy of his father’s. The older Jarod became, the more he looked like his father. He had slanted brows over steel-blue eyes. Eyes that could go from warm and inviting to cold and menacing if the need arose. A chiseled nose over a strong chin and in between, an almost too sensuous mouth. But Richard was blond, his fair skin tan only where the sun had kissed it. Jarod, on the other hand, had his mother’s darker skin and hair so black that it seemed to shimmer blue. Some likened them to day and night.

Come, Jarod, when I leave you at school, you will not be able to lie abed all day, Richard teased, knowing that his son was quite energetic. Rarely could he be found anywhere near a bed once the sun had risen.

I will hurry, maybe you should start on those stairs now. That way, I will not arrive too soon before you. Jarod’s eyes twinkled as his father blustered.

Ungrateful scamp, hurry yourself, and maybe there will be something left on the table to break your fast. Richard turned and left.

That got Jarod out of bed. He knew that with his healthy appetite, his father could make good his threat. Jarod’s mouth was already watering from the aroma that drifted into his chamber. He inhaled deeply. He could smell freshly baked logroll, a native dish whereas everything you could want was rolled and covered with dough. Then it was baked under stones to a crusty perfection. It was handy to carry along while herding the traks. Having finished a hearty breakfast, Jarod followed Lionel and his father out onto the steps overlooking the yard. The soldiers were there, practicing with various weapons. Jarod scanned the yard below, watching the practice. Off to the side, a man was instructing a small boy with a sword.

What is this, Lionel? Is that Sam out there? Richard asked with some concern.

Jarod watched the boy. He was very quick with his sword, making up in agility what he lacked in size. He thought that his father was worrying unnecessarily; after all, he had been much younger when he had started with the sword. Although at eight, he had been much larger than the boy. The boy must be cursed with his mother’s height.

I did not know of it at first. Lionel watched with pride. After I learned of it, I had to admit that Sam is very good. It cannot hurt anything. The men are very careful, and it is good for one to know how to defend oneself, especially out here along the border. Lionel defended his judgment.

Jarod did not understand either of the men’s concern, so he tried to reassure Lionel. Your son is very good for his age.

Both Richard and Lionel began to laugh. Yes, my son is very good indeed. Lionel’s eyes twinkled mischievously. Jarod chose to ignore them and turned to the yard. He watched as the practice stopped. Sam noticed them standing on the stairs watching. Recognizing Richard, Sam threw down the sword and ran up the stairs.

Lord Richard, it has been so long. Sam hugged Jarod’s father around the legs.

It must have been some time ago. I thought that last time, we decided on ‘Uncle Richard.’ Richard tousled Sam’s short hair.

Just then, Sam noticed the young man with Richard. He was staring with his steel-blue eyes. He looked so severe until he smiled, lighting up his entire face. Sam felt scorched by the sun as the boy held out his hand to her. Young man, you are very talented with your sword. Of course, you need some more meat on your bones. Then you will be a force to be reckoned with. Jarod watched as the smile abruptly vanished from Sam’s face. It was instantly replaced with a look of intense rage.

Young man? Meat on my bones? I will show you force! With that, Sam kicked Jarod’s shin, then turned and ran up the stairs.

Jarod looked after Sam, rubbing his sore shin, which hurt less than his wounded pride. Touchy, isn’t he?

Richard and Lionel burst out laughing. Lionel whacked Jarod on the back as he continued to laugh, I am sorry, Jarod. We should have told you that Sam is Samantha, my daughter. Usually she plays along when someone mistakes her for a boy. I do not know why she got so mad at you.

Jarod, digesting this bit of information, followed the men up the stairs. A girl? Well, that did explain Sam’s small size. It also explained the way she had thrown herself at Jarod’s father. No self-respecting eight-year-old boy would do that. Now he had to figure a way to go about making up for his error.

* * *

Samantha gazed into her mirror. What had come over her? To act like some village brat. She wiped harshly at the tears forming in her eyes. Many people had mistaken her for a boy