Star-Crossed

by Anna Markland

  * * *

  As the months dragged by, Dorianne feared it would become impossible to hide her pregnancy much longer. When she undressed, the swell of her belly was unmistakable. She concealed it beneath many layers of loose clothing, relieved Pierre had not allowed her the luxury of a maidservant. She feared her mother already suspected and was terrified Pierre would kill her baby if she did manage to survive long enough to deliver him. She was sure in her heart she carried Robert’s son, the heir to the Montbryce legacy.

  The more she remembered of the night of their abduction, the more convinced she became Curthose was behind the crime. She pondered her father’s words. They won’t kill him. Why else would her husband have been forced to wear a penitent’s garb?

  If Curthose has him, he’s in Caen.

  She sought out her mother—her only hope. “Maman,” she whispered, putting her mother’s hand on her belly, silently praying this was the right thing to do. “Can you feel it? Can you feel the heart of your grandchild beating within me? You must help me. You must convince Pierre to send me to the Abbaye aux Dames, the convent built by the Conqueror in Caen. The nuns will protect me and give me and my babe sanctuary.”

  A tear trickled down her mother’s face. “I’m afraid of Pierre,” she whimpered. “He’s full of hate.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. Her mother seemed to be on her side. “Maman, we must protect my baby from him. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s ruled by anger. Please, convince him, but don’t reveal I’m enceinte.”

  Her mother wiped her tears with her sleeve and walked away, looking around nervously.

  A sennight later, Pierre strode unexpectedly into her chamber.

  “Prepare yourself, Dori,” he ordered. “You’re to be taken to the Abbaye aux Dames in Caen. The nuns there have agreed. You will join the community where you can spend your life atoning for your sins. You may take nothing from this castle.”

  He left the chamber as abruptly as he had entered.

  Dorianne’s knees gave way and she slumped to the floor. She was elated she was being sent to a safer place for her baby, but devastated she had lost her brother forever to the madness of his hatred. If they survived to be reunited, Robert would never forgive her blind trust in Pierre.

  “We’ll be in Caen,” she whispered to the child within her. “Nearer to your Papa.”

  It was a relief Pierre assigned an escort of Giroux men-at-arms, though they had evidently been instructed not to speak to her. Two days later, she arrived exhausted at the Abbaye aux Dames and asked immediately for an audience with the abbesse. She was ushered into the office where a tall, thin woman greeted her with a kiss on each cheek. “Welcome Dorianne de Giroux, our newest novice.”

  “Madame l’Abbesse,” Dorianne replied, clutching the woman’s hand. “You’ve been misled. My name is Dorianne de Montbryce. I am the wife of Robert, Comte de Montbryce, and I’m enceinte with his child. We were both abducted by my brother. I don’t know where my husband is. I seek sanctuary here within these walls built by our great Conqueror, and your help with the birth of my child.”

  The abbesse was plainly shocked. “Dear girl, I had heard of the comte’s abduction, but I had no idea—what an ordeal you’ve had. I grant you and your child sanctuary.”

  Dorianne fainted with relief.

  * * *

  Robert was not sure how long Dorianne had been pregnant when she had told him—perhaps two months? According to his straw tally, he had been in captivity seven months. He closed his eyes and conjured a vision of her belly, round with his child.

  When he estimated the time for her confinement might be close at hand, he knelt in silent prayer for hours in the damp straw, day after day, willing his child to come into the world whole and his wife to be well. If she still lived. He had a persistent feeling she was somehow close by.

  As he knelt in prayer, Espérance rubbed against his hip. He took it as a good omen. He rarely saw her kittens any more. They could survive without their mother now.

  He had become disgusted with his inability to control his burning physical need for his wife. He could not get images of her naked body, her face, her hair, her smile out of his head. “Nothing of my body works properly any more except my cursed shaft,” he lamented, meeting his own needs time and again. “If I’m rescued, Dorianne will never look at me again. I’m nothing but an animal. I look like one, I smell like one and I behave like one.”

  * * *

  Dorianne was not far away in the abbey where the sisters helped her deliver a sturdy baby boy. She had refused to send word to Montbryce. Isolated from the events of the world, she did not know who remained there, and she held firm to the belief her baby had to be born in Caen.

  “Your Papa is alive, mon petit,” she murmured to the child when he was brought to her breast. “He’s praying for us. I can feel it.”

  She made a request of the abbesse. “Ma mère, now we need to let Robert’s family know about the birth of this child. He’s the heir to the Montbryce lands. Please send a message to my mother-by-marriage at Saint Germain.”

  The Plan

  After their interview with King Henry, Baudoin and Caedmon took ship for Normandie and joined a distraught Mabelle at Saint Germain. They rode out on regular sorties with a contingent of their men-at-arms searching for any rumor or trace of Robert and Dorianne.

  “This isn’t the Normandie we love, you know, Caedmon,” Baudoin lamented one afternoon. “It’s become a land of danger and foreboding. Everyone knows war with Henry is coming.”

  Caedmon nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. It seems a very different place from when we were here with Father on our way back from Constantinople.”

  The two men smiled at the shared memory.

  “We’d better turn back,” Baudoin suggested. “No use getting too close to the duke’s lands. We don’t want to make it easy for him to get his hands on two more of the sons of Ram de Montbryce, if he is the abductor.”

  They entered the hall at Montbryce just as a monk was ushered in by Bonhomme.

  “Milady Comtesse,” the steward said hurriedly to Mabelle, who had been waiting for Baudoin and Caedmon to return with any news. “This friar claims to have a message from our dear lady, the comte’s wife.”

  Mabelle rose quickly from her chair. “Speak, Brother,” she commanded excitedly. “What news?”

  The monk hesitated, scratching his chin. “Madame, it’s taken me many days to wander here to your castle. These are not easy times for a pilgrim alone on the road. Perhaps ale, before I begin my message?”

  Baudoin glowered at him. “You’ll have ale aplenty, good friar, but first you’ll deliver your message.”

  The monk shrank back, licking his lips. “As you wish, milord. It’s from a woman at the Abbaye aux Dames in the Bourg l’Abbesse in Caen who claims to be the Comtesse de Montbryce. She’s given birth to a son.”

  Mabelle swayed.

  Baudoin rushed to her aid.

  She grasped his hand. “It’s our Dorianne. A child. A grandson. An heir. We must get her home. See to this kind friar.”

  “I thank you for your message,” Caedmon told the monk. “The kitchen will fill your needs for food and ale, and Bonhomme will find you a bed for the night. The news you bring is welcome indeed.”

  The brothers spent two days weighing their options with Chauvelin and finally settled on a plan. Caen was Curthose territory and the risks had to be considered.

  “We’re clear on the details, I assume?” Baudoin asked the group of men-at-arms assembled in the Map Room of Montbryce Castle. “We can’t go into the environs of the abbey with a large group of armed men. That would alert Curthose. We’ll ride to the outskirts of the town. Caedmon and I will take the donkey and walk the rest of the way disguised as monks. We’ll bring Dorianne and the child back on the donkey and rejoin the main group for the ride back. Are there any other suggestions or ideas?”

  “Sometimes, the simplest plan is the best,” Cae
dmon observed.

  Baudoin agreed. “Caen Castle will be heavily guarded. Hopefully, they won’t be expecting intruders to the abbey.”

  * * *

  The elderly nun charged with watching over the gates of the Abbaye responded to the persistent ringing of the bell. Her eyes widened considerably at the sight of two monks, drenched to the skin. Baudoin forced a smile, despite the chill in his bones and the rain dripping from his hood. “We seek shelter, ma soeur, for ourselves and our donkey.”

  The nun opened the creaky gate and ushered them inside.

  Baudoin would do the talking. Caedmon’s accented Norman French might make the sisters wary. “We beg an audience with the abbesse, ma soeur. We’re here to see the Comtesse de Montbryce and her child.”

  The woman scurried off without a word and came back a few minutes later with the Abbesse, who eyed them critically. “I assume you’re not monks?” she said derisively.

  Baudoin and Caedmon went down on one knee and each in turn kissed the Abbesse’s hand. Baudoin reassured her. “Non, ma mère, but we are good men who revere God and who seek only to protect and rescue our sister-by-marriage and nephew from a cruel injustice. I am Baudoin, Earl of Ellesmere, son of Comte Rambaud de Montbryce who fought alongside the Conqueror at Hastings, and this is my brother Sir Caedmon FitzRam.”

  “You’re welcome, sirs,” the Abbesse replied, softening. “Men who revere God are difficult to find these days. Come, I’ll take you to the comtesse.”

  “On behalf of my family I thank you for the care you’ve taken of her and her child.”

  The Abbesse bowed in acknowledgement. “Perhaps a small donation as a token of your family’s gratitude?”

  Caedmon arched his brows and smiled a crooked smile. As they followed the nun, Baudoin asked him about it.

  Caedmon smiled again. “Reminds me of how I convinced the abbey in Alnwick to give up Agneta. Every religious establishment has a constant need of money.”

  “Ah, oui, I forgot you told us that.”

  When Baudoin walked into her small cell, Dorianne came to her feet quickly and he suspected she thought he was Robert.

  “Dorianne,” he exclaimed, embracing her as she trembled. “Dear sister, we’ve come to take you home. Where is the child?”

  Caedmon embraced her and she led the two men to the corner where a tiny boy slept in a cradle fashioned from the drawer of an armoire. “He takes after Robert,” she croaked as the tears trickled down her cheeks. “Is there news of him?”

  Caedmon shook his head. “No, but we surmise he’s in the castle here in Caen.”

  She told them how she came to be at the abbey and why she stayed there to bear her child. “I have felt his presence close by.”

  Baudoin passed her a blanket and an oilskin. “Wrap the child. We plan to take you back to Saint Germain. Madame l’Abbesse, can we trouble you to give our sister a habit? In these dangerous times we must travel incognito.”

  Dorianne interrupted. “I still have the habit they gave me when we were captured. Pierre insisted I wear it when he sent me here.”

  Caedmon’s eyes widened. “They made you don a habit?”

  She swallowed hard. “Oui, they forced Robert to wear a penitent’s robe. It was my brother’s doing,” she gasped with sorrow. “But he did it for Curthose.”

  “We’re of the same mind, Dorianne,” Baudoin answered. “Quickly now, we’ve a long way to go before nightfall. Our men await us not fair off to aid our escape from Curthose’s lands.”

  Dorianne slipped the habit over the surcoat the nuns had given her, and the Abbesse brought a wimple. She gathered up her child and swaddled him then kissed the Abbesse’s hand. “Ma mère, how can I thank you?”

  “Go with God, milady Comtesse,” the abbesse replied. “I’ll continue to pray for the safe return of your husband.”

  Baudoin helped Dorianne mount the donkey and she clasped her son to her breast. They made their way slowly in the rain to the wood where the men-at-arms lay hidden. Tears flowed unbidden when she caught sight of the ramparts of Caen castle in the distance in the Bourg le Roi. “Robert is there,” she whispered. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Aye! Keep faith, Dorianne,” Caedmon said. “King Henry plans to seize Caen when he invades Normandie to oust Curthose. We’ll save him.”

  “I worry about the effect his long confinement will have on my proud husband,” she told them.

  “I feel the same,” Baudoin replied. “However, there is little else we can do but wait for Henry’s help. We do not have the forces necessary to launch an attack on the fortress at Caen.”

  They rendezvoused with the larger group and made the long journey back to Montbryce safely.

  Mabelle came out to the courtyard to greet them and to take the child.

  “He’s a beautiful boy, Dorianne,” she said hoarsely, her eyes welling with tears. “Welcome home, daughter. You’re safe now. Saint Germain is even more of a fortress since your abduction. Hasten the day when we can be free of the dangers threatening us now. Your girls are anxious to see you.”

  Tears trickled down Dorianne’s cheeks and she had to blow her nose. “I’ve missed them terribly.”

  Turning to Baudoin, Mabelle asked, “What news of Robert?”

  “Nothing, maman, but we’re convinced he’s in Caen. Caedmon and I will stay here with you. Ellesmere is in good hands and there’s no threat to it. We’ll await Henry’s command.”

  Dorianne hastened off to the nursery to reunite with her daughters.

  Last Breath

  Not long after Dorianne’s rescue, King Henry extricated himself from the domestic political problems besetting him in England and arrived in Normandie with an invading army.

  Caedmon and Baudoin joined him.

  “This unseemly rivalry won’t end peacefully until my brother is captured and I’ve won a complete victory,” Henry told them. “I will win. I’ve put my trust in money.”

  Baudoin and Caedmon had seen the great barrels and carts full of coin.

  The king smiled. “Money makes it possible to fight with more men. It will allow me to make promises to comtes and barons. The more I promise, the more likely they are to abandon my brother. Even those who hold lands from the duke and owe him fealty have already left him in my favor, abandoning their true lord.”

  Baudoin grimaced. “Majesté, suddenly Normandie is a land full of fear. We’ve heard of people burying everything in cemeteries, leaving nothing in their houses for robbers and thieves.”

  The king shook his head sadly. “It’s a result of my brother’s greed. I’ve summoned men from Le Mans and Anjou and Bretagne, and they have come willingly at the prospect of gain. All know the rewards to be had. My brother has no money left. He’s spent it freely. He’s had his castles rebuilt, walls repaired and strengthened, battlements constructed and trenches made in front of castles. But, do you know what he does when he runs out of money to pay his mercenaries?”

  Baudoin and Caedmon both shook their heads, though they had heard rumors.

  Henry smirked. “He hands over his burgesses to the mercenaries, who then ransom them back to their families. This is a man who pretends to be a king! Many of his own burgesses now hate him.”

  * * *

  Curthose sought to make alliances with the King of France and other factions, but Henry had bought them off.

  The cathedral town of Bayeux fell to Henry.

  Baudoin sent an account of events to Dorianne and his mother.

  Maman, Dorianne,

  We are well, as I trust you are.

  The inhabitants of Bayeux defended themselves bravely. King Henry was very displeased that Bayeux’s resistance threatened the advance on Caen.

  The king and some of his knights, including Caedmon and myself, went to Bayeux, where we set light to the town. Flames leapt high, chapels and churches burning, houses and food-stores toppling. The church was entirely destroyed and its precious possessions taken outside.

  Henry took th
e city and laid waste to the area as far as Caen. Curthose hasn’t been able to recover anything or return to Bayeux. The peasants are afraid to till the land and the merchants do not dare go about the town or transport their merchandise.

  Caedmon is right that there are no winners in a war.

  However, on to Caen! We will find our brother.

  Baudoin.

  Caedmon and Baudoin took advantage of the confusion in the aftermath of Bayeux to help in the detention of influential citizens of Caen. The king was pleased with the plan to ransom them—a plan they acquiesced to in return for Henry’s consideration afterwards.

  The ploy was successful and Caen surrendered, without much bloodshed. Henry’s men flooded into the town.

  Baudoin and Caedmon made immediately for the cells below the castle. They searched by torchlight, rags over their mouths. Baudoin’s eyes watered. “How can he have survived this stench?”

  Caedmon shook his head and they continued the frantic search. Cell after cell revealed broken, confused men, terrified by the torches thrust into their dark existence. But nowhere could they find Robert.

  * * *

  Unaware of events in the world above him, Robert was wrenched from his cell and dragged along the darkened corridor. It was the first time in months he had been outside the black hole. He did not recognise the men, but they bore the Curthose device on their tunics. The mute giant was not one of them.

  His hands were tied to something. His heart beat faster. Was this to be the end then? Was this his execution? Death would be welcome. He heard the sound of the lash before it tore into his flesh. His ravaged body recoiled, but he did not have the energy to cry out. He did not bother to count the strokes. He would be dead before they stopped.