Epilogue

Year of Our Lord 1268

Axminster Castle

Douglas’ eldest daughter was in a flood of tears.

“They are arriving and no one is ready to greet them,” she sobbed. “Papa, they will think that Marcus is marrying into a family of animals.”

Douglas was trying very hard not to smile at his dramatic daughter. Isabel was to be married on the morrow, to the heir to the d’Vant Cornwall empire and, much like her mother, she simply wanted everything to be perfect. Unfortunately, with nine siblings, things could be far from perfect.

A bit chaotic, actually.

“Your mother has everyone moving for the hall, sweetheart,” he said steadily. “Your sisters will ensure the younger ones’ good behavior. You needn’t worry.”

That didn’t ease Isabel’s tears. “What about Atlas?”

“What about him?”

Isabel began to weep anew. “Papa, he throws things,” she said. “He throws food, his own waste—everything. I do not want him in the hall. He will embarrass me!”

Douglas couldn’t help the laughter then. He chuckled, kissing her forehead as he tried to comfort her. “He is only three years of age,” he said. “Sometimes children are a bit wild at that age. You are the eldest of ten children, Izzy. How can you not know this?”

Isabel did, and that was perhaps why she was so upset. Her sisters weren’t so bad—all six of them—but the three boys were what her father termed as “lively.”

Wild was more like it.

Nicholas, the eldest son at fourteen years of age, seemed to have outgrown his wild streak, because he’d been fostering for a few years and the master knights of Kenilworth wouldn’t tolerate it. Dallas was the next son, at eight years of age, and he, too, fostered at Kenilworth, but he hadn’t quite outgrown playing jokes on his sisters or stealing coin from his father. Atlas, the baby at three years of age, was the one Isabel was worried about. A feces-throwing, food-spitting abomination.

“Please, Papa,” she said. “Not Atlas. Please don’t allow him in the hall.”

Douglas took pity on her. “He’s too young for something like this, so do not worry,” he said. “He’ll stay in the nursery.”

That seemed to ease her mind a great deal. They were standing in the foyer of Axminster, dressed in their finest, and as Douglas helped her wipe the last of her tears, the troops started to arrive.

De Lohr siblings, to be exact.

Aurelia, Matilda, and Beatrice were the first down the stairs. They were young women now, looking a good deal like their mother and their paternal grandmother with their blond hair and fine features. They were well bred, well mannered, and very excited about Isabel’s wedding because a wedding meant young men in attendance. They were hoping to meet some. That particular hope was giving Douglas palpitations because all three girls—at nineteen years, eighteen years, and sixteen years of age—were considered marriage prospects. Carrying the de Lohr name made them more appealing than most.

He wasn’t ready for that.

As the girls clustered around Isabel in the entry, smoothing her dress and making sure her hair was perfect, Douglas stood out of the way, turning his attention toward the stairs as two of his three sons descended. Nicholas, a tall and well-built young man, was the first one down, followed by Dallas, who looked very much like his grandfather. Nicholas was the one dark-haired sibling of the group, taking after his paternal great-grandmother, who sported nearly black hair. He had inherited that trait along with his grandmother’s gray eyes, which gave him a strikingly handsome appearance.

Both boys flew past Douglas on their way to the entry door.

“We are going to the gatehouse, Father!” Nicholas said, opening the door for Dallas to rush through. “We will meet the incoming party!”

They were gone, the door banging back on its hinges. Douglas went to the door and called after them.

“They are being admitted by Lucius!” he said, referring to a knight who had joined him a few years ago after Jonathan returned to Wolverhampton. “Try not to knock anyone over in your haste! Slow down!”

His plea fell on deaf ears. The boys continued to bolt and Douglas shook his head at their enthusiasm. But he also caught sight of someone he recognized coming through the inner gatehouse and quickly shut the door.

“Iz,” he said to his eldest. “Marcus is approaching.”

Isabel lit up with excitement. “He’s here?” she gasped. “Open the door, Papa!”

Douglas shrugged with uncertainty. “I did not know if you were ready to see him yet,” he said. Then he waved a hand at her eager sisters. “Back away. Let this moment be between your sister and her intended. Go—back up the stairs.”

He made a sweeping motion toward the staircase, prompting Aurelia and Matilda to grab Beatrice by the hand and pull her along. They rushed back up the stairs just as Douglas opened the door.

Marcus was standing in the doorway.

Big and blond, like all of the d’Vants, Marcus smiled when he saw Isabel, but his focus moved to Douglas standing by the open door.

“Good day to you, my lord,” he greeted Douglas. “I hope my appearance is welcome. I simply could not wait to see Isabel. May I?”

Douglas smiled at the young man he’d grown fond of. “Of course you are welcome, Marcus,” he said, indicating for him to enter. “Isabel has been waiting for you. Had you not come to us, I am sure she would have gone to you.”

“Papa!” Isabel scolded. “Do not say such things!”

Douglas shrugged. “It is true,” he said. “You want to see him as badly as he wants to see you.”

“But you are not supposed to say it!”

She frowned at him until Marcus filled her field of vision. Then she could not see or hear anything else but him. With a smile at two young people very much in love, Douglas shut the door and quietly made his way to the stairs. He was just heading up when he caught sight of his wife and children at the top of the steps.

All of them.

He silently motioned for them to back up so they would not be seen by the couple in the entry.

“Back,” he muttered at them as he reached the top of the steps. “Those two want to be alone, so let them be alone.”

Mira, her blonde hair wound up attractively on the top of her head, had a three-year-old on her hip but strained to catch a glimpse of her eldest daughter and the woman’s betrothed.

“I really must go down, Douglas,” she said. “Marcus’ parents have arrived and I should greet them.”

Douglas shook his head. “Nick and Dallas are escorting them to the hall,” he said. “It will take a few minutes, so we can wait. Let Izzy and Marcus greet one another after such a long separation.”

Mira snorted. “Long separation,” she scoffed. “It has only been a week.”

“Back when you and I were courting, a week of separation was like a year.”

Mira laughed softly in agreement, remembering well those days. On her hip, the Monster of Axminster stirred and rubbed his blue eyes sleepily.

“I want apple, Papa,” Atlas said. “Apple!”

Mira lifted an eyebrow to support her child’s request. “You cannot keep us trapped up here, Douglas,” she said. “Iz and Marcus can go into the solar, but we must be able to use the entry.”

The children behind her were in agreement. Douglas looked at his brood—the older girls Aurelia, Matilda, and Beatrice were followed by the younger girls, Alessia, Madeleine, and Rosamund. Rosamund had red hair, the color of molten metal, but the others were blonde. An entire family of blonds. Mostly, anyway. Even Atlas, when he would let them wash his hair, had a bright shade of blond.

Such a beautiful family.

And they were all his.

Reluctantly, Douglas stood aside, letting the younger girls down the stairs. Aurelia took Atlas from her mother and headed down the steps, followed by Matilda and Beatrice. That left Douglas and Mira standing at the top, watching Isabel become offended at the sight of her siblings invading her moment with Marcus. She dragged the young man into the solar, and when Madeleine and Rosamund tried to follow, she slammed the door in their faces. But that only lasted a moment because Marcus opened it again and kindly let them in.

That brought chuckles from Douglas and Mira.

“Marcus is like his father,” Mira said. “He is kind to everyone, a gentle giant whom the world adores. Iz is a fortunate young woman.”

Douglas nodded, putting an arm around his wife’s shoulders and pulling her against him for a sweet kiss.

“She is,” he said. “I was thinking the other day how much she reminds me of her namesake and how much Marcus reminds me of Eric sometimes. Quiet, tolerant of her spirited nature.”

Mira nodded. “That is true,” she said. “Sometimes—only sometimes, mind you—I swear I hear Lady Isabel in our Isabel’s tone and manner. Don’t you?”

“I do,” Douglas said. “We’ve raised a strong young woman, Mira. She is kind and thoughtful, but she also knows her own mind. Marcus is fortunate to have her.”

Mira was watching the entry down below as her children filtered out, heading for the kitchens and the hall. “This is a good match,” she said. “When we named our daughter after Lady Isabel, I always hoped that our Isabel would know a happy marriage, something Lady Isabel never had. I’d like to think that somehow, someway, Izzy’s match would fulfill Lady Isabel, wherever she is. For her to know that her namesake is happy with the man she loves.”

Douglas looked at her. “I’ve been thinking of Lady Isabel lately because of Izzy’s impending nuptials,” he said. “It’s because of Lady Isabel that everything for us is possible. I’ve always been grateful to her, but more so as of late, and I’m not sure why.”

Mira laid her head against his bicep affectionately. “Because you see in our Izzy what Lady Isabel had hoped for,” Mira said. “Life and love. There is nothing else that matters, Douglas. Our life and our love. Nothing is greater.”

“True,” he said, giving her another sweet kiss. “I would not have missed it for the world.”

“Nor I.”

Douglas gave her a big hug before leading her down to the entry, where Mira greeted Marcus with joy. The young man would make a fine addition to the family and Marcus knew he could not have picked a finer man for his daughter.

A daughter named after one of the finest women he’d ever known.

Isabel de Lohr and Marcus d’Vant were married the next morning and the wedding feast went all day and all night. Two of Douglas’ brothers—Myles and Westley—joined the festivities and spoke of their parents, who had been so sorely missed over the years on occasions such as this. Even Jonathan had managed to make it down from Wolverhampton—still big and burly, but mellowed over the years. He and Douglas sat together, talking over old times, about Davyss, who had gone on to become a great knight, and about the Executioner Knights and how their lives and children had evolved. Axminster’s great hall, on this night, was once again full of life and love, as Mira had put it, rising to meet the hope and happiness of a new generation.

Eventually, Douglas left Jonathan and returned to Mira, sitting at the dais with Marcus’ parents, Dennis and Ryan. Their conversation drifted to the pride that they, as parents, had for their children and the wish that they should lead happy and productive lives. Douglas found himself wishing his father could have been there to see his granddaughter married, but he knew the man was there in spirit. Whenever anything major happened with the sons of Christopher de Lohr, he was always there in spirit. They could feel him.

And on this night, they could feel Lady Isabel, too.

Douglas and Mira knew how happy she would have been to see the legacy she’d left behind. Axminster was stronger than ever, Douglas and Mira had continued to make it a place of prestige and power, and it was everything Lady Isabel had hoped for. Perhaps she had left the world too soon, but she had left it a better place, something for Douglas and Mira to build on.

And build they had.

On a cold winter’s night nine months later, Douglas and Mira were on hand for the birth of their first grandchild at St. Austell Castle in Cornwall. A fat, healthy boy with a crown of white hair, as sweet and docile as his father, but as loving and bright as his mother, entered the world. His mother, knowing for whom she had been named and the story behind it, had one final bit of honor for the lady who had made all things possible for her family.

She and Marcus named their son Eric.

When Douglas heard the news, he wept.

Make me proud, Douglas.

He had.

* THE END *

Douglas and Mera’s children (Christopher lived to see the first two born):

Isabel

Aurelia

Matilda

Beatrice

Nicholas

Alessia

Madeleine

Dallas

Rosamund

Atlas