Aristide (Brethren Origins Book 3) Read online

  ARISTIDE

  BARBARA DEVLIN

  COPYRIGHT

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2016 Barbara C. Noyes

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Barbara Devlin

  The Brethren of the Coast Badge is a registered trademark ® of Barbara Devlin.

  Cover art by Lewellen Designs

  Interior art by Dar Albert

  ISBN: 978-1-945576-91-1

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to the disabled, of which I am one. We may be flawed, but no one is perfect. Some are just better at hiding their scars. Remember, we are not defined by our wounds but by our ability to move beyond them.

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  Gentle Reader,

  Much has been made of the Middle English I use in my medieval stories, and my intent was never to confound you. Rather, my hope was to offer you a different reading experience that immersed you in the period-appropriate culture, which includes language. But some have complained about the use of the Middle English pronoun ‘thou.‘ The contemporary ‘you’ didn’t become commonplace until the 16th century, so I omitted it in the first two Brethren Origins books. After listening to my readership, I decided to tone down the Middle English hybrid just a tad, by reinserting a little contemporary English to improve the reading experience.

  Another point of contention has been the relative lack of sexual experience my knights possess. Often readers tend to place 21st century ideals on 14th century men. They believed that spicy food encouraged sexual appetites and masturbation could result in insanity, blindness, and all manner of plagues on the next generation. As such, my characters are drawn to convey such nonsense, in keeping with my unique vision for my work, and I hope you enjoy my tale.

  Thank you,

  Barb Devlin

  ARISTIDE

  PROLOGUE

  London

  The Year of Our Lord, 1312

  Marriage manifested a lethal trap for the unsuspecting soul. Forever bound to a woman, when the Templar Code demanded chastity, an honorable Nautionnier Knight dangled on the precipice of damnation until he passed into the not-so-glorious hereafter, given his disobedience of the tenets that defined his existence. It was for that reason Aristide de Laurentiis studied his brother with inexpressible sympathy, on Arucard’s wedding day, and focused his attention on something important.

  His empty belly.

  In the massive great hall at Westminster Palace, beneath the most opulent hammerbeam roof Aristide had ever seen, he lingered near the food table, perused the vast array of tempting items, and filled his plate with savory selections, including an impressive helping of lampreys with hot sauce. At one corner of the sweetmeats collection, he snared a puffed pastry in the shape of a lion.

  “I believe that is intended as a decoration, great knight.” A soft, melodic voice offered wise counsel, amid the elegantly garbed nobles, and he quickly restored the item to its place and searched for the benevolent soul. In a dark corner, he narrowed his stare and spied a veiled creature. “Hello.”

  “My lady.” In deference, he dipped his chin. “Thank you, for sparing me a measure of embarrassment, and I am in your debt. It has been a long time since I mingled with such estimable company.” Then he snickered. “Wherefore do you shelter alone in darkness, when the other ladies vie for husbands?”

  “Because I am a woman, it must follow that I am in want of a spouse?” She snorted. “By your logic, I have chosen the most opportune position, near the food, if your portions offer an indication of your inclinations. Or am I to conclude that brawn does not equate brains, my lord, and you are a wasteful sort?” A hint of amusement colored her tone, thus he took no offense. “As you evidence plenty of the former but little of the latter, in our brief discussion.”

  “Indeed?” When he rounded the display, she shrank further into the shadows. “You should be careful how you speak, as thither are those who might take insult to your assertions and seek retribution, in the form of a sound beating of your bottom.”

  “Would you visit violence upon a woman half your size?” A subtle tremor in her reply indicated he frightened her. “I apologize, as I meant no affront, my lord. But you seemed so enamored of the fare that I could not resist teasing you. Pray, forgive me.”

  “Come hither, into the light.” Intrigued by the fascinating creature, Aristide grasped her wrist and pulled her into the soft glow of a wall sconce. “What is your name?”

  “I am Lady Dionysia, daughter of Lord Goncourt.” Possessed of the clearest blue eyes, and thick black lashes, she hid the rest of her face behind a veil, and he just resisted removing the scrap of cloth. “Prithee, I beg you, kind sir. Do not hold my family responsible for my breach of decorum.”

  “Calm yourself, Lady Dionysia, as I am not angry.” In his life, never had he spent any time in conversation with the fair sex, because Templars did not often mingle in social events, but he quickly reminded himself he was no longer a member of the once great Order. And unlike his brothers, he found women rather mesmerizing in their differences, thus he wished to explore those distinctions now that he had an opportunity. “If it is not a gross violation of some unwritten rule, will you consent to join me for the meal?”

  “You wish to be seen with me?” Panic flashed in her gaze, as she glanced from left to right, and he longed to reassure her. “Because no one holds court with me.”

  “What care I for what others think, as hither I am a foreigner?” Now he had to know her, and he set down his plate. “Since you seem familiar with the palace, mayhap you can direct us to a more secluded spot, that we might talk without interruption or unwanted notice?”

  “I would like that.” With a wave of her hand, Dionysia summoned, and Aristide followed. “Thither is a corridor, which leads to a larger hall and an alcove we might inhabit for a brief moment, but we must not delay for long, else we risk discovery and ruin.”

  “Wherefore should anyone judge us so unfairly, when we are innocent?” In the dark, he admired her silhouette, as the female form posited something new and enticing he had never before pondered with any serious reflection. “So, do you come hither, often?”

  “Aye.” At the end of the passage, she veered left and then disappeared into a niche on the right. “My father and His Majesty are old friends, thus we enjoy the King’s favor.”

  “How fortunate.” A stone bench perched before an elaborate, stained glass lancet window, and he eased to one end, while she occupied the other. “And are you in the habit of baiting the Sire’s knights? Do you do so because you believe the Sovereign protects you?”

  “I am sorry, my lord, if you are vexed with me.” Poised and refined, she adjusted her wimple, which failed to conceal her fiery red locks. “Despite your impressive stature, you appeared lost, and I am not sure why I spoke out of turn, other than a sincere desire to spare you any discomfit.”

  “Ah, you mistake my interest, because I am captivated, not vexed.” What he would give to glimpse her face. “You have not asked, but I should make you free with my name, which is Aristide. Tell me, Lady Dionysia, wherefore do you hide behind a veil?”

  “Because my presence often makes others uncomfortable.” That was the last response he expected. “And I know who you are, great one. In fact, everyone knows of you and your friends.
However, what remains a mystery is how you came to England and garnered His Majesty’s patronage. While you have not stated as much, I believe I detect a hint of a French accent, or am I mistaken?”

  “You are clever, as well as beauteous.” He chuckled. “I am from La Teste-de-Buch, a small town on the Arcachon Bay, in Aquitaine. Do you know it?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “What brought you to our shores, if I may impinge on your cordiality, Sir Aristide?” Laughter pealed from the great hall, and Lady Dionysia hunkered low, and he wondered what caused her disquietude. “And how can you call me beauteous, when you have seen naught more than my eyes?”

  “Thither are different kinds of beauty, my lady.” From what he spied of her expression, it was clear she underestimated her qualities, but he did not make that mistake. “Not the least of which is what resides in your heart.”

  “And you think you know me, thus?” Bereft of any trace of vanity, she averted her stare. “Despite the fact we just met and have formed no real acquaintance?”

  “Some things cannot be contrived, my lady.” Something within him awakened, and he coveted and nurtured the new and alluring experience. “Might I beg a dance, when the musicians play the Quadrille?”

  “You would partner me, in public?” Again, her response gave him pause. “Sir Aristide, we should return to the great hall, before our absence is noted.”

  “Why should I not?” Indeed, he cared not for the opinions of the perfumed peacocks that filled the palace, because he desired not their approval. “And let us retrace our steps, if you are concerned about being caught with me, but I will have your word, as a lady, that you will dance with me, if only once, this eventide.”

  “I had thought the reverse, great one.” With grace and elegance, she rose, and as he stood, he caught her hand and brought it to his lips, savoring the subtle gasp she emitted. “All right. Since you insist, you have my word.” She led him back to the feast. “But I should caution you to beware, as within the palace the walls have ears, and you know not whom you might call friend or foe.”

  “A sensible warning I shall heed. Whither are you sitting?” At the food table, he located his plate, which he retrieved. “Is your father in attendance?”

  “He is, but I do not join him.” When a guard approached, she turned aside. “Have no fear, great one, as I will find you.”

  “Sir Aristide, the King commands your presence.” The guard stretched upright. “Now.”

  “Of course.” Nodding, Aristide glanced at Lady Dionysia and discovered her gone. Although he sought some sign of the mysterious creature, he spied no sign of her. “I am at your service.”

  “This way, Sir Aristide.” The sentry flicked his wrist.

  At the imposing dais, the Sire presided over the festivities. When he noted Aristide’s arrival, the King’s smile faltered. Had Aristide committed some inadvertent but egregious error?

  “Majesty.” Aristide bowed his head. “I answer your summons.”

  “Sir Aristide, we observed you making solicitous overtures to Lady Dionysia.” The King narrowed his stare, and Aristide clenched his gut in anticipation of a sharp rebuke. “This pleases us, as she is the daughter of a longtime ally, and we would ensure her future with an adventitious match. But the lady is damaged, thus we could not give her to just anyone, and we must reflect and proceed with prudence regarding a union. Might we rely on you for that task?”

  A chill of angst traipsed Aristide’s spine, as he considered the King’s proposition, though the prospect of marriage did not necessarily surprise Aristide. Indeed, ever since Arucard imparted the news of his impending nuptials, Aristide wagered every Nautionnier Knight would be similarly shackled, because the strategy made perfect sense.

  From a judicious perspective, if the Crown wished to control the Nautionnier Knights, a wife and children served the purpose well, especially for former Templars for whom kinship and loyalty were a way of life, and those principles fueled his response.

  “Sovereign, I suspect the same can be said of me, given my ignominious history, and we are none of us perfect, excepting you.” Aristide peered at the dark corner and smiled, as he surmised the bride-to-be in question loomed therein. For some strange reason he could not fathom, she called to him, to his sense of honor and duty, to his need to protect and defend those who could not champion themselves. “Know that if I am to wed, if it fulfilled your ambition, and if the choice were entirely my own, I would pick Lady Dionysia as my wife.”

  ARISTIDE

  CHAPTER ONE

  London

  The Year of Our Lord, 1314

  It began with a dance. Two people, veritable strangers, came together in a dark corridor, in fulfillment of a promise made, joined hands, their bodies swaying to the gentle beat of the music, and the harsh stone walls transformed into some ethereal place whither naught mattered but the beat of their hearts in rhythm with their mingled rush of breath. They shared bits of humor to dispel the mutual discomfort, as their gazes met, and they conversed in a language imperceptible to the human ear, but they spoke, nonetheless. His sturdy male form grazed her softer female curves, by accident, at first, but on purpose, as he grew bold. By the time the melody ended, they moved as one entity, and they were strangers no more.

  “You are quiet, brother.” Demetrius snickered. “Afraid, yet?”

  With a rude jolt, Aristide returned to the present.

  Autumn ushered in the demise of England’s lush verdure, as leaves shriveled, the grass turned brown, and flowers withered, heralding nature’s approaching winter slumber. For him, the transformation mirrored the impending change in his existence, as he bade farewell to abstinence, given his recently scheduled nuptials. Still, dissimilar to his brothers, he embraced the new and exciting chapter in his life.

  Because, unlike his fellow knights, he chose his bride.

  Indeed, it appeared the fates aligned, because His Majesty honored Aristide’s petition, Lady Dionysia would be his wife, and that suited him just fine. With brilliant eyes of blue, harkening a comparison to the crystal waters of the Mediterranean, and fiery red hair, which he studied, at length, beneath her wimple when they met for the second time, at Demetrius’s wedding feast, the woman fascinated him.

  “Ready to ride, screaming mad, for the coast?” Demetrius clucked his tongue. “You might drown yourself in the cold waters and spare yourself a world of torment.”

  “Indeed, he is right.” With an equally mocking countenance, Arucard chuckled. “Mayhap you prefer to fling yourself from the cliffs in Chichester, to elude the vicar’s noose.”

  “Is that your preference to our connubial bed?” Nestled in Arucard’s lap, as he cradled her in the saddle, their preferred method of travel, Isolde drew back his thick cloak and sniffed. “If it pleases you, I shall arrange a stall in the King’s stables for tonight, whither you might take your ease with the other beasts.”

  Despite her sharp rebuke, Aristide was not fooled for an instant, because Arucard and Isolde enjoyed a blessed union, which Aristide hoped to imitate, in his own right, with Dionysia.

  “And you may join him.” Likewise seated in Demetrius’s grasp, Athelyna peered at her husband. “Since your comment suggests you consider death more desirable than marriage.”

  Aristide winced, in anticipation of the forthcoming groveling, which he also knew well. In advance of his marriage, he prepared to surrender a measure of pride, as had the Brethren husbands, in their quest for matrimonial bliss. Indeed, he would consider himself lucky to follow their example.

  “Oh, my sweet Lily, I was just teasing Aristide, as my brothers baited me on the eve of our wedding. But it was a small price to pay for such bounty.” In a now familiar display of affection, Demetrius kissed her forehead. “Besides, you cannot oust me from our chamber, else who will keep you warm, if you banish me from your side?”

  “Ah, my Isolde, I love you.” Arucard whispered in her ear, and she giggled. “What say you, my beauteous bride?”

 
“I think you should ride ahead and check the road.” Then Isolde burrowed under a blanket, which Arucard tucked about her.

  “Isolde is correct, in that we near London’s environs, and I should ensure safe passage.” With that, Arucard heeled the flanks of his destrier.

  “And I should survey the area to the north.” Demetrius veered toward the verge. “Thither could be bandits lurking about, ready to attack unsuspecting travelers, including our party.”

  “I will come with you.” Confused, because they journeyed with a compliment of one hundred soldiers from the garrison at Chichester, and both knights could have sent guards to patrol the immediate vicinity, Aristide slowed his mount. “Or mayhap I should go in your place, because you hold Athel and would not endanger her.”

  “Nay, that is not necessary, and trust me, she is in no peril.” Peering over his shoulder, Demetrius winked. “I shall return, momentarily. And I will raise the alarm if I require assistance.”

  As Demetrius charged the rise, Aristide glanced at Morgan and frowned. “Wherefore do I get the impression they do more than they claim?”

  “Because they do.” Leering, Morgan rubbed his chin. “And I wager it has naught to do with our safety.”

  “I do not understand.” Geoffrey narrowed his stare. “Do you imply something nefarious?”

  “Thither is naught nefarious about their actions, I suspect.” In a vulgar display, Morgan thrust his hips in an exaggerated fashion and waggled his brows. “In fact, it makes sense, given Arucard has yet to produce a son.”

  “But Athel is with child.” Pondering the implications, Aristide scratched his temple. “How do you explain Demetrius’s behavior?”

  “How do you think?” Shrugging, Morgan held Aristide’s gaze. When Aristide could form no reply, Morgan exhaled in unmasked frustration. “Pleasure, you sad sack of brainlessness.”