Here’s an excerpt from Their Castilian Orphan
In which Lionel—still hurting after having been told everything he though he knew about his parentage is a lie—and Noor reconcile
Noor had only visited the huge abbey church once before. As she recalled, it had been full of pilgrims and clerics, the sour scent of sweat and grime mingling with that of incense. She’d been too uncomfortable by the press of people to truly take in the magnificence of this huge space consecrated to God, but today, as she followed Father Alain in, the church was relatively empty. It was an hour or so after prime, and she was out of breath after hurrying after the priest, who’d appeared at their little inn, insisting she accompany him.
Despite the early hour, Robert and his men had already left for Clerkenwell. Elena was still asleep on the pallet in the room she shared with Noor and Robert, but Noor herself had been up since dawn, unable to sleep. All night, Lionel’s words had gnawed at her, and even if Robert was probably right when he said the lad did not mean them—not really—they still hurt. They hurt even more when she considered that they were still lying to him, still denying him his true lineage. But to tell him was impossible, for his sake as well as theirs.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Father Alain murmured beside her, and she bit back an annoyed remark along the lines that she had other matters preying on her mind—far more important matters. But she reluctantly agreed he was right, amazed by the vivid colours that wound their way up the wooden screens that portioned off the various chapels, the statues in red and blue and gold. She craned her head back to study the ceiling so high up above, and from beyond the rood screen came the sound of singing.
Robes swished as a group of priests passed by. A couple of women stood close together and prayed, and Noor bent her head and clasped her hands. Dearest Lord, keep Lionel safe. Safe from his true past, safe from too much suffering and pain. Help him find his way; help him know that he is so, so loved.
Father Alain’s touch on her arm brought her out of her fervent praying.
“He’s over there,” he said, dipping his head to gesture to a small shape that sat hunched in a corner, knees to his chest. “He was here when I came for prime. I think he has slept as badly as you have.” He gave her a smile. “Go on. He needs his mother.”
“He told me yesterday that I am not his mother.”
Father Alain brushed her cheek. “Of course you are. You have loved him and cared for him since he was a swaddled babe. Who else deserves to be called his mother? Those words, he said them in anger—and he regrets them.”
“Did he say as much?”
“Nay. But it suffices to look at him, don’t you think?”
Noor approached Lionel hesitantly. Once she reached him, she crouched before him, only to realise he was fast asleep, his face streaked with tear tracks. As she’d done so many times in his life, she adjusted his coif, cupping his cheek in the process. Still the downy cheek of a young lad, but when he opened his eyes, he looked far too weary for a lad not yet twelve.
“I am sorry,” he said hoarsely.
“So am I.” She slid down to sit on the floor beside him, ignoring the disapproving tsk from a passing priest. “But it was never my intention to cause you pain. All I wanted was to keep you safe—and with me.”
He nodded. “What was he like, my father?”
She frowned. “Dark hair, dark eyes, shorter than Robert and slim rather than stout. Strong shoulders, though. You could see he was a man accustomed to handling weapons.”
“Do I look like him?”
She studied him. “Maybe. I never knew him as a lad—truth is, I didn’t know him at all. He just rode into Orton Manor and asked me to take care of you.”
“Why?”
Noor sighed. “I do not know. There was so much upheaval at the time: Robert was God knows where helping the king finalise his conquest, there was falling out among the Welsh, far too many Marcher lords eager to claim more land from the defeated Welsh. A veritable quagmire, and I think your father found it hard to navigate through such turbulent times.”
“Do you believe he fought against the English?”
She knew he had. Fought and lost and died so, so bravely that distant day in Shrewsbury.
“I do not know,” she lied. Holy Mother, save her soul! But this lie was for Lionel’s sake, not hers. “I think that had he been fighting against the English, he’d have left you with his Welsh kin. Instead, he left—”
“Kin? You were his kin?”
“His very distant, very English kin,” she replied drily. “My grandmother was Welsh,” she offered.
“So you are my kin as well,” Lionel said, leaning against her. She wrapped an arm round his shoulders.
“I am.”
They sat like that for a while until Lionel began fidgeting. “I must get back,” he muttered. “Wilbur will be most displeased with me for slipping out as I did.” He exhaled. “He’ll likely belt me.”
Noor shot to her feet. “What? Do you want me to talk to him?”
Lionel looked horrified. “No! I can take it. Besides, Wilbur isn’t like Ambrose.”
“How so?” Father Alain asked, rising from where he’d been sunk in his own private devotions.
“Ambrose liked to hurt. Wilbur doesn’t.” Lionel shrugged.
Together, they made for the western doors. When they were some yards away, a clerk came scurrying from the direction of the choir, his sandals clacking on the stone floor. Noor had an impression of someone of a height with her and very thin, his face angular and dominated by shrewd eyes under heavy brows.
The man hurried by. Lionel grabbed hold of Noor’s kirtle. “That’s him,” he hissed. “That’s Humphrey!”
He’d not kept his voice down. The clerk turned, frowning at Lionel before glancing at Noor. He paled, even more so when he caught sight of Father Alain. With a little yelp, he took to his feet, leaping like a hunted hart towards the door.
“Well,” Father Alain said. “That was unfortunate.”
“Do you think he’ll flee?” Noor asked.
“I hope he does, for his sake. I hope he isn’t foolish enough to mention to his lord and master that we might know who he is.” Father Alain looked grim.
“Why would that be foolish?” Lionel asked.
“Eustace might be displeased,” Noor said lightly. “He expects Humphrey to keep to the shadows.” She ushered Lionel outside. “You hurry back to Wilbur and apologise profoundly. Tell him your foster mother desired your companionship for prime.”
Lionel nodded and trotted off.
“And Lionel,” she called, causing him to stop. She caught up with him. “Stay well away from Eustace—and Humphrey. Promise.”
Here’s the blurb
It is 1294 and Eustace de Lamont is back in England after five years in exile. He will stop at nothing to ruin Robert FitzStephan and his wife, Noor d’Outremer.
Robert’s half brother, Eustace de Lamont, has not mellowed during his absence. He is more ruthless than ever, and this time he targets Robert’s and Noor’s foster son, Lionel.
Lionel is serving King Edward as a page when Eustace appears at court. Not only does Lionel become the horrified witness to Eustace’s violent streak, Eustace also starts voicing his suspicions about Lionel’s parentage. The truth about Lionel’s heritage is explosive—should King Edward find out, all would be lost for Robert and Noor.
In October of 1294, Wales rises in rebellion. Robert must leave his family unprotected to fight the Welsh rebels on the king’s behalf, comforted only by the fact that Eustace too is called to fight.
Except that Eustace has no intention of allowing his duty to his king—or a mere rebellion—come between him and his desire to destroy Robert FitzStephan . . .
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Meet the author
Had Anna been allowed to choose, she’d have become a time-traveller. As this was impossible, she became a financial professional with three absorbing interests: history, romance and writing. Anna has authored the acclaimed time travelling series The Graham Saga, set in 17th century Scotland and Maryland, as well as the equally acclaimed medieval series The King’s Greatest Enemy which is set in 14th century England. Anna has just released the final instalment, Their Castilian Orphan, in her other medieval series, The Castilian Saga ,which is set against the conquest of Wales. She has recently released Times of Turmoil, a sequel to her time travel romance, The Whirlpools of Time, and is now considering just how to wiggle out of setting the next book in that series in Peter the Great’s Russia, as her characters are demanding. . .
All of Anna’s books have been awarded the IndieBRAG Medallion, she has several Historical Novel Society Editor’s Choices, and one of her books won the HNS Indie Award in 2015. She is also the proud recipient of various Reader’s Favorite medals as well as having won various Gold, Silver and Bronze Coffee Pot Book Club awards.
“A master storyteller”
“This is what all historical fiction should be like. Superb.”
Find out more about Anna, her books and enjoy her eclectic historical blog on her website, www.annabelfrage.com
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MJ Porter 
Thank you so much for hosting Anna Belfrage today, with an enticing excerpt from Their Castilian Orphan.
Take care,
Cathie xx
The Coffee Pot Book Club
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