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Authors: TJ Bennett

BOOK: The Promise
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“But you are here now, and we will see to your needs.” Her father eyed his ragged clothing. “Have you been, er, traveling long?”

Günter flushed a little under his critical gaze, but stood taller. “Yes. I’m afraid in my haste to see my wife again, I neglected to prepare myself for this visit. Not knowing exactly where your home was, I came directly to Toledo the moment I was well enough to travel. I had only to ask for the whereabouts of the greatest blade maker in Spain to find you, but I thought perhaps Alonsa might have gone to a convent instead of coming here.” His oblique glance flicked her way, then returned to her father. “When I learned that wasn’t true, and she had come home, in my eagerness to see her again, I could not make myself wait the time to acquire a decent suit.”

Günter took Alonsa’s hand and, with a dignified bow to her father, said, “I love her, Don García, and I’ll do my best to make you a good son-in-law, despite all evidence to the contrary. I am a German, and a mercenary, but I know a lot about a good blade. I put my sword, and myself, at your service. If you will have me.”

Don García eyed him for a long moment, while Alonsa held her breath and clutched at Günter’s hand.

“And if I will not?” her father finally asked.

Alonsa’s heart plummeted.

Günter’s jaw tightened. “Then I’ll take my wife and return to my home in Wittenberg, where she will be welcomed with open arms by my family.” He clasped her to his side. “She is, and will always be, my wife—and nothing will keep me from her again.”

Don García nodded. “Then you are indeed the son-in-law for whom we have both prayed.” He smiled then, his worn face lit from within. “Welcome to our family, Günter Behaim of Wittenberg. Welcome home.”

Alonsa burst into tears. “Oh, oh …”

Both men turned to her, alarmed.

“But Alonsa, this is good news,” Günter said, awkwardly patting her shoulder.

“I-I know! It is just that I am so hap-hap-happy,” she blubbered, and cried even harder.

Günter sent a panic-stricken look her father’s way.

He merely shrugged. “It is her condition, no doubt. My own wife was much the same way when she carried Alonsa.”

The color in Günter’s face drained away to palest white beneath his tanned skin. “What condition? What are you saying?”

Don García, always one to desire the upper hand, merely smiled at him. “Come, son. You have had an interesting day thus far. It is about to become even more so.”

EPILOGUE

T
HE WARMTH OF
G
üNTER’S BODY LEFT
A
LONSA’S BRIEFLY
as he rolled his heavy weight off her and drew her close, tucking her into his side. Despite his weariness from travel and his lingering injuries (she’d traced with her fingers the fine lacing of scars across his chest and shoulder, as well as the healed wounds on the side of his forehead and down his left leg), he had made love to her two times already this night. They slept in her bedchamber, but her father promised tomorrow he would draw up plans for a new home for them on the family lands.

Alonsa did not care if they slept under the stars, as long as they were together.

Günter molded his hand to her rounded belly, not for the first time. He did not seem to mind the changes in her body. In fact, he reveled in them.

“My son,” he murmured, his tone one of awe.

“Or daughter,” she added with a sleepy smile, and nestled closer.

He yawned. “It doesn’t matter. If it isn’t a boy, we can make more when this one is done.”

She choked back a laugh. “You speak as though she were a loaf of bread!”

“And I so admire the oven in which he is baking,” he drawled, and laughed when she pinched him on the arm.

He leaned over and kissed her, tasting her slowly and thoroughly before finally drawing back. “Alonsa, I need to ask you something.”

“Yes?” She ran her finger along the cleft in his jaw. He had shaved before coming to her tonight, and she loved the clean, strong lines of his face.

His eyes glittered. “When you thought I had died, why didn’t you go to the convent, as you said you would?”

She thought for a moment, staring into the night beyond the single lit candle which sputtered by the bedside. She rested her chin on his chest. “When I believed you dead, I realized I had let so many moments between us go to waste. The true curse was not in believing Miguel had the power to hurt us from the grave, but in letting my fears control my destiny.” She looked at him. “I knew you would not want that of me. I knew, too, there would never be another like you, curse or no. I believed the curse was broken on that day, despite the evidence of your death. God had given me true love, and no evil could survive it. Evil cannot win against the love God gives to honest hearts. I decided to live in the world, to return to my father. When I learned I carried your child, I knew I had made the right decision.”

Günter nodded. “God honored it.”

“Yes. As he will honor us for the rest of our days.”

He looked at her, brushed the hair back from her shoulder, and kissed her skin there. “You don’t fear it anymore, then? The curse, I mean?”

She lifted her chin, stared into his eyes. “I fear nothing with you by my side. And I will make
you
a promise, my love. One I will keep forever, until the day we die—whether it is tomorrow, or thirty years from now.” She reached down to where his staff was already beginning again to stir against her hip, and squeezed gently.

“Umm. Yes?” He appeared distracted, his eyes closing at her touch.

“I will say the words ‘I love you’ at each sunrise, and repeat them at every sunset. What do you think of that?”

He smiled then and opened his beautiful eyes to gaze at her with longing. “I think you’ve fallen behind and must make haste to catch up.”

She laughed. “Then let me begin at once … I love you, I love you, I
love
—”

He silenced her words with a soft, sweet kiss.

THE END

AUTHOR’S AFTERWORD

I
DISCOVERED THE WORLD OF THE
L
ANDSKNECHT
SOLDIER
while writing my debut novel,
The Legacy.
One of the Behaim brothers, Günter, became a mercenary soldier because I was fascinated with the idea of the mercenaries hired by emperors, popes, and princes alike to fight their never-ending battles of territorial disputes across Europe during this period. Several nonfiction works published by Osprey helped me to flesh out this world and the Battle of Pavia, a climactic turning point from medieval to modern warfare:
Pavia 1525: The Climax of the Italian Wars and Campaign Series 44: Pavia 1525,
by Angus Konstam;
Landsknecht Soldier: 1486 — 1560
by John Richards; and
The Landsknechts,
by Douglas Miller. These books were invaluable in giving a sense of the times, characters, and strategies employed by military commanders to win the battle. Thanks also to the numerous reenactment societies with homes on the Web, in particular
Gerry and Julie’s Landsknecht Site
(
http://home.znet.com/savaskan/germans/
) and
The Guild of St. Michael — South
http://www.guildofstmichael.org/
) for their insights into the difficult life of a camp follower.

Some of the commanders depicted in this book actually lived: Georg von Frundsberg, General Lannoy, and Mark Sittlich all had a hand in the campaign, as did, of course, the French King Francis I. All other characters depicted in the novel are fictitious. For literary purposes, I have altered some historical facts and played loosely with time and space in a few minor instances, for which I hope I can be forgiven. Of course, any errors in fact are mine and mine alone.

TJ BENNETT
The
Legacy

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