The Beast of Renald (The Northern Knights) Read online

  THE BEAST OF RENALD

  By

  AMBER DANE

  Copyright © 2013 Amber Dane

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarity to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  Copyright © 2013 by Amber Dane

  Cover Art: ParaGraphic Designs

  *Please keep in mind this is a work of Fiction and some liberties have been taken to fit in with my tale. Hope you still enjoy the novel.

  DEDICATION

  My sister, Winda, for her amazing support this past year and her belief in me.

  Thanks to Kathleen, Julie and Stefan for always being there for me to vent.

  To my readers for your patience and wonderful comments that I cannot express how much they meant to me. You are all so important! Thank you so much!

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  THE BEAST OF RENALD~ A NORTHERN KNIGHTS SERIES NOVEL

  A widow with a treasure trove of secrets…

  A brooding and reclusive Norman Warrior…

  Lady Caroline, widowed with her son by her side is devastated when she is forcefully wed to the king’s man known as The Beast. She’d survived one loveless marriage, she could survive another. But it would be hard to do when the scarred man holds her heart from first sight

  The widow’s kiss tore his soul asunder

  England has been conquered and Darc Renald agrees to go on one last quest with his king to crush usurpers, the last thing he expects is to find himself wed and saddled with the chestnut- haired widow and her young son.

  The lovely widow enters his life, igniting a dangerous passion which threatens to tear his unforgiving soul asunder

  Near Durham, England

  Thunder clapped its orchestra of beats across the ominous looking clouds as gray and black smoke swirled and billowed in great puffs up from the torched buildings to further darken the afternoon sky. A lone knight rode his large warhorse through the burning town, cinders and sparks rained down upon his chain mail clad form but he ignored them and rode on. His pennant of red and black blew with a snap in the wind and smoke as the great beast he rode with no instruction, stepped carefully over the ground littered with the dead and mortally wounded.

  A screaming dairy maid ran out in front of the knight and beast, still the knight said nothing as a man chasing the girl, caught up to her and dragged her kicking and screaming into a nearby cottage that had not yet been touched by a flaming torch or arrow.

  Burning timber stung his nose as he passed more torched dwellings. Yet a few yards away from the motte and bailey castle laid to siege by his men and William’s, the lone knight heard the cry to set the archers, but still, he did not look up and continued on.

  He had one thing on his mind and seeing that one of the main buildings and its surroundings had already fallen under his army of men, he rode on fearless and with purpose toward the great doors of the lone tower still standing. No one stepped in his way for fear of being trampled under his warhorse’s hooves.

  The knight was weary, near exhaustion from lack of sleep and days of fighting, but finally Castle Halvard had fallen and the land and all within would soon be his. What this Saxon noble had stolen had been taken back. The treasures inside the castle had been removed and sat piled high on a cart guarded by his men off to the side.

  After a few weeks of careful planning and strategy, the siege had been well-executed. The small fortress had been easy to take, once the palisade was torn down, trampled and destroyed by the king’s men.

  Halvard’s men, exhausted and undermanned, had left the place defenseless with most fleeing to the forest when Halvard had attempted his failed cowardly escape, leaving naught but a few men behind. Even if they had been equipped with more soldiers, they would still be no match for the large knight and his men or the king’s.

  The few that remained fought feebly to their last breath and greeted their deaths bravely. Those that gave up, sought the thick forest for refuge, lost and were shot down by the king’s archers. Any that got any farther would be run down by William’s men on horseback and their lives ended by sword or club.

  When would these Saxon nobles learn not to try the patience of their new king? The knight made a sound of disgust with his mouth. He despised a traitor more than he did a man’s cowardice. All this could have been avoided had Lord Halvard just done as he was bid. But it was too late now.

  The knight finally came to a halt, his lips tilting up at the corners slightly and let his eyes slide up the gray wall of the tower turning black from the soot of the nearby flames. Waiting.

  She had suffered and survived under her Saxon lord husband, but now doubts set in and Lady Caroline was not so sure she would survive under the savage Normans, especially this one looking so dangerous and riding at a painfully leisurely pace toward Castle Halvard.

  He looked so large seated on his decorated destry, the shoulder plates only made him look bigger and a triangle-shaped shield sat protectively at his side.

  She winced when Kelbie dug his nails into her thigh. His little arms wrapped in a choking hold around her quaking limbs. She tousled his unruly russet colored locks and pressed him closer to her skirts as a female voice called from the hall.

  ‘My lady, he comes. There is no time you must come away with us now if you wish to escape these Norman swine.’

  Caroline did not turn to acknowledge the old woman, Nesta, one of the house servants that had been kind to her since the day
she’d come here as a new bride over five years ago. She could not turn from the sight of the lone rider even if she wanted to.

  ‘Be gone, Nesta and see to your loved ones and their safety. I will be along in a moment.’

  ‘But-But, my lady?’ The uncertainty in the older woman’s voice filled the sacked room.

  Caroline shuddered as the knight below finally reached the great doors and stopped his black warhorse a few paces back. Her heart lurched in her chest. Armed knights formed a protective wall around him at a distance. She could see it from her high place in the tower just as easily as she could see the dead on the ground. He had to be someone very important to have so many at his back. One of the king’s top men, she knew just by the banner he carried. His very presence was intimidating and she swallowed hard.

  Nesta’s protests continued at her back and Caroline yelled without turning from the knight below.

  ‘Nesta! Make haste. I will see you soon. All will be well. Go now before these whoremongers set sight on what little of us remain. That is an order.’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’ The sadness in the woman’s voice made Caroline close her eyes and hot tears spilled down her dirty cheeks.

  When she opened them again, she sensed she and Kelbie were once again alone in the room. Looking back down, she froze to see the large knight looking up directly at her. Although he wore a helm that left his mouth bare and covered his nose and guarded most of his brow, she could see wisps of dark hair sticking out and those eyes…

  Caroline did not think she could manage it, but she did. She inhaled a hard painful breath and held his gaze. His sharp blue eyes shone bright and stood out in contrast against his dress of all black and silver head to toe. His thin lips were set firm in a crude line and the scar which ran from one corner of his mouth up under the helm made him look even more…

  Only one word filled her brain.

  Dangerous.

  She did not know she took a step back until she nearly stumbled over the little body clutching at her skirts. She let out a cry and the child’s whimper drew her from her reverie of the dark knight and she turned away and knelt to the boy.

  ‘Kelbie. It’s alright.’ She wrapped her arms around him as he threw his little body against her chest and let out his hearty sobs. Caroline rubbed his back in an up and down motion, then whispered soothingly in his ear to calm him.

  A noise startled her and she turned to the door. A handful of Normans, bloodied, wild and savage looking came into the room. Their height and large bodies filled the room and a sliver of cold dread slid up Caroline’s spine. She did not think any would return as the room had already been gone through and she’d thought it momentarily safe till she could gather her wits. She’d been wrong. Terribly wrong.

  One rough-looking, beefy man stepped forward and gave her a head to toe openly lust-filled perusal. Caroline pushed a terrified Kelbie behind her skirts.

  ‘Well, what do we have here? Can this be Lord Halvard’s lady wife hiding here in the tower waiting for her new caretaker with a wet one at her skirts?’

  Albeit, broken and heavily laden with their Norman French accent, Caroline was not shocked to hear the man speak in her tongue clearly. She said nothing. These Norman invaders had quickly adapted to the Anglo-Saxon tongue soon after the conquest. She herself had been taught the French tongue along with Latin by a relative during her younger years of education.

  She took another step back as the lecherous looking man came closer and another of his companions, carrying a studded mace followed suit. These Normans were crude looking. Large and barbaric. Their violent nature and intent was written all over their faces.

  Both men removed their helms from their sweaty heads and Caroline fought the urge not to vomit as the beefy one spat on the front of her gown.

  She wiped it away with a shocked cry and shouted angrily, ‘Filthy, Norman swine!’

  ‘I knew that would get your tongue to wag, lady. Who are you?’

  Caroline shook her head. What did it matter what she told them? They would kill her anyway. Being the Lady of the manor to these butcher men would change nothing, so she tried another tactic and said in the most forceful tone she could muster while her legs quaked. ‘There is a child present. Show mercy.’

  The man’s mouth dropped open, showing a row of rotted teeth as he laughed loudly. ‘Mercy she says? That word is dead to us this day. Woman, child… dead or alive. Makes no difference to us Norman cur.’

  His mockery and intent to do them harm flashed in his eyes and he reached out for her breast. The move shook her from her motionless state and Caroline struck out as hard as she could, her hand connecting with his fleshy cheek. Shock froze the man for a moment until his comrades laughed uproariously.

  The one with the spiked mace belted out around his laughter, ‘Gan. Come, you let a weakling Saxon whore, comely enough she may be, slap your piss out of you!’

  The look that crossed the face of the one he’d called Gan, made Caroline’s blood run cold. Lust and loathing crossed his ugly features and she shrieked when he snatched her up in his meaty fists. She fought vigorously as Kelbie’s loud wails suddenly filled the room and she managed to rake her nails down the exposed neck of another man that came to help Gan. Over their vulgar remarks of what they planned for her, she heard the other men shouting to quiet the boy.

  ‘Mama! Mamaaaa!’ Kelbie howled at the top of his little lungs as two men held her down by the wrists on the bed. Panic and cold fear swept over her for herself and her son.

  Caroline called out to him. ‘Kelbie. ‘Tis all right. Be quiet for Mama.’ her voice broke off on her sob.

  These Normans cared not if you were woman or child. They killed all in their path. If only she could get him to be quiet, she opened her mouth again and was stopped when the one called Gan covered her mouth with one of his hands, nearly covering her nose and cutting off her breath.

  He gave orders to the other men and one grabbed her son and carried him quickly from her sight out of the room. Caroline turned into a wild woman. Terror and rage like she’d never known filled her and she fought the three men on the bed until Gan swatted her against the temple with his fist.

  Dazed, Caroline heard through the spinning fog that enveloped her, their distorted voices and she felt and heard what she thought was the bodice of her gown being torn open. Hands were soon upon her touching, bruising and adding more pain to the throbbing in her head.

  Then just as darkness threatened to take her, she heard a distinct male bellow and the heavy weight on the bed was lifted. The pain, the hands were gone and something soft soon covered her. She wanted to say something, ask about her son. But nothing came forth but an angry sob. She should have gone with Nesta. Just as she closed her swollen eyes, she thought she heard a soft curse.

  Caroline woke to a splitting headache and something hard pressing against her back. Her first thought was Kelbie and she sat up with a jarring pain from her head to waist with a cry.

  ‘Kelbie!’

  ‘He is here, my lady,’ a woman’s soft voice came close to her ear and a warm hand rested on her shoulder.

  Caroline looked at the rotund woman kneeling next to her. Warmth and concern marred the woman’s wrinkled and dirt smudged features. Still it was a face that seemed familiar, but Caroline could not place it.

  The woman smiled, her eyes crinkled at the corners and she said. “He still sleeps, my lady. Sound like a babe. Aye, safe too.’

  Caroline looked around. She was on a makeshift pallet on the rush covered floor and in what remained of their great hall that had not yet seen a torch. The room soon came into focus with the few lit rushlights spread around them. ‘Twas not yet night and the gaping hole in the roof showed the skies still billowed with black smoke from the fires that had been set. Much time had not passed at all.

  The minimal lighting lent to her view of a room filled and spilling over with the sick, wounded and dead. The stench in the room of blood and burnt flesh was overpowering and
made her gag. She took a few quick breaths to ease the feeling, now was not the time to lose her stomach. She needed to stay focused.

  Near every exit, she spied Norman soldiers standing guard. Hot tears pricked her lids and Caroline turned back to the woman next to her. ‘Where-‘

  ‘All the children are clustered in one of the rooms off the hall there, my lady. Very few injured. Mostly from running over one another.’

  ‘How many live?’ Caroline asked, fearful. Her throat was dry and hurt.

  ‘All of the village children by my count and some of the castle folk that did not escape, live, my lady. Except for the poor souls in here. Still, no children were killed.’ The woman gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

  Glad, saddened and shocked all the same, Caroline could not help but ask. ‘Truly?’

  ‘Aye. They live, my lady. The leader, he arrived and the bloodletting quickly stopped. He rode up like a wraith through that black smoke, he did, slowly. Not charging, my lady and just like that-’ the woman made a gesture with her hands, ‘All the fighting ceased.’

  Caroline was confused and thought for a moment that she still lay asleep from what this woman was telling her. It made no sense and could not possibly be true and yet, the memory of the lone knight on the large charger came back to her. Was he the leader?

  He had to be. The arrogant and sure way he had ridden through the carnage towards the castle and the entourage of armed men at his back came back to her. All of it had spoken of authority. Then the memory of the Normans that had nearly raped her surged forth.

  Caroline’s heart thudded loudly in her chest with the thought and her hands slid over the bodice of her gown. Someone had pinned the torn material back in place. Someone had saved her. Her hand shot to her temple and she felt the swollen and tender flesh there.

  ‘Aye, my lady, ’tis bruised well and good it is. The healer is making her way over here again and a good paste will fix that up right.’

  ‘Forgive me, I know your face, but I do not know-‘