His gaze lingered on her. Something told him that it wasn’t as clear to her as it was to him. Time would tell. He broke away from her and moved to the small table beside his cot that held the water bowl. It also contained the pretty painted box with the silver collar inside, the one Diamantha had thrown so angrily onto the mattress earlier that evening. Picking it up, he opened the box and pulled forth the heavy silver necklace as he turned in her direction.
“I apologize that I am unprepared with a wedding ring, as I did not expect to marry you so soon,” he said, holding out the necklace to her as if making an offering to an angry god. “Would you please accept this necklace as a token of my respect for the event of our marriage? I will purchase a ring for you as soon as I can, but until then, I would be very pleased if you would accept the necklace. Please, my lady?”
Diamantha eyed the beautiful piece. Her initial reaction was that she still thought he was trying to buy a bride with such a gift, but it didn’t matter any longer. She’d already agreed to marry him so her refusal was baseless. Reluctantly, she reached out to take it and in silence, she put it around her neck. It was so big and cumbersome that she needed help fastening it, which Cortez gladly did. As it settled against her chest, she couldn’t help but admire it.
“It is a very lovely piece,” she said. “I remember seeing Helene wear it.”
Cortez watched the glittering silver cross against her breast, mesmerized. “It was her favorite piece,” he said. “Before her, it had belonged to my mother. It has been much loved.”
“Then I shall handle it with the greatest of care.”
He pulled his gaze from the stones, looking her in the eye. “You would treat her jewelry with the greatest of care,” he said softly. “But I wonder how you would treat her husband?”
Diamantha held his gaze. “I suppose we shall soon find out.”
Cortez didn’t take much comfort from that statement.
CHAPTER FIVE
In the swirling mists of the early morning, Cortez and Diamantha made their way to the church directly across from the gatehouse of Corfe, alone. He wanted to get it over with and she didn’t want any close witnesses, so they journeyed to the church without any entourage or retainers. It was just the two of them, traipsing through the fog and damp.
The village of Corfe was crowded around the southern end of the castle, waddle and daub huts that were clustered tightly together like a herd of lonely sheep. St. Edward the Martyr’s church was literally across the road from the main entrance to the castle, a rather large cathedral that had been there in some form long before the Normans came.
It was into this cavernous church that Cortez and Diamantha had proceeded. It smelled like wet earth and incense, a strange and acrid smell. Cortez remembered the church from Robert’s funeral mass, when it had been packed with knights who had fought with Robert Edlington at one time or another. The man had been well-liked. In a massive hall that had once intoned the utterings of Edlington’s death, now it was witness to the marriage of Edlington’s widow to the man who had left Edlington to die. At least, that’s how Cortez viewed it in ironic reflection. Those were the facts.
He wondered if the priests knew the facts, too, from the way they looked at him. They had been more than happy to perform the marriage sacrament at Diamantha’s request and, because they knew her, three of them shared the duties of the liturgy. They also eyed Cortez with some suspicion, not knowing who he was and seemingly protective over the lady of their castle. Cortez took it all in stride but the wariness of his presence lingered, even when the priest made the last sacrament and bade Cortez to kiss his bride. Cortez did, on the cheek, only because he swore those priests were shooting daggers at him with their eyes. After that, he was impatient to leave.
The priests carefully recorded the marriage in their big book of events, much as they recorded the births and deaths of the town as well. Anything of note that happened at Corfe was recorded. Since the mass had been witnessed by three priests, all three signed the book with their marks and presented Cortez with a stamped sheet of vellum that legitimized the marriage. Once Cortez had that certificate in his hand, he paid the priests well, took Diamantha by the hand, and practically pulled her out of the church. He had a mission to accomplish and he was ready to get on with it. He was ready to move forward with his new wife and get away from the church where the priests were eyeing him as if he were stealing the lady away from them. He was coming to feel like a thief.
Diamantha had been oddly silent throughout the event; at that point, Cortez was grateful for small mercies. At least she wasn’t weeping, which had had expected. She seemed rather stunned by it all and had lapsed into uncharacteristic silence. He wondered how long it was going to last. By the time they entered the gatehouse of Corfe and headed into the massive lower bailey, the fog was lifting somewhat as the sun began to rise. Cortez could see his men gathered for travel, with tents packed and fires doused. His two knights were on horseback, spurring their heavy-boned coursers along the group and making sure everyone was prepared to depart. Cortez’s hand was still on Diamantha’s arm as they headed towards his men.
“Since you are already in traveling clothes, I will assume you are packed and ready to depart,” he said. “Where are your possessions?”
Diamantha seemed to be staring off into the distance, as if seeing things that were no longer there. Perhaps she was seeing her life past, with Robert, something that was now gone. There was a new, uncertain life in its place. In any case, she snapped out of whatever trance she was in when Cortez spoke to her.
“Everything is in the keep,” she told him. “Will you have my horse brought forth while I go inside to retrieve my belongings?”
Cortez’s hand dropped from her arm. “It would be my pleasure,” he said. “Do you require any other assistance?”
She shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “I would suppose we are traveling lightly so I am not bringing anything heavier than what can be carried upon the back of a horse.”
He was rather pleased by that statement. A sensible woman, he thought. If she was forcing him to take her, then at least she was being reasonable about it.
“Very well,” he said. “I will await you by the upper gatehouse.”
Diamantha nodded her head and moved away from him, heading up the wet incline of Corfe’s enormous outer ward on her way to the inner gatehouse. Cortez couldn’t help but notice that she hadn’t made eye contact with him in any fashion since they’d left the church, not even in this brief conversation. She seemed preoccupied and sad. Not that he blamed her, but he couldn’t worry about that now. What was done was done, and she would have to accept it. They were now married.
Turning for his men, now grouped and prepared to leave, he went about final preparations as he awaited his wife to rejoin him. With a lingering glance over his shoulder at Diamantha’s dark blue form as she disappeared through the upper gatehouse, he wondered if he shouldn’t go with her. He was rather wary of letting her out of his sight considering what had gone on between them in the past. The last thing he needed was her changing her mind and barricading herself inside the castle.
He hoped it didn’t come to that, but he couldn’t be sure. At this point, he was praying he wasn’t going to have to lay siege to get his wife back.
Diamantha could feel Cortez’s eyes on her back as she made her way up to the keep, but she ignored it. She was trying not to think of the fact that this could very well be the last time she ever saw her beloved Corfe. The marriage, the mass… all of it had passed in a blur. All she could think when they had entered the church was of Robert and the last time she had attended church with him. It had been right before he’d left for the north and she recalled how he’d held her hand the entire time. There had been such comfort and strength there. God, she couldn’t think of it anymore. It was making her mad with grief. Now, she was no longer Lady Edlington but Lady de Bretagne, a title once held by her dear friend. Helene had looked upon her position in life with such hon
or. At the moment, all Diamantha could manage to feel for it was sorrow.
By the time she reached the gatehouse, the soldiers were opening the great panels for her and she walked through, trying not to slip on the rather steep slope as the path ascended into the upper ward. She was struggling to focus on what tasks lay ahead of her and not the distress she was feeling. The course took a steep turn to the right and the stairs to the keep lay before her. She took the steps as she had taken them a thousand times before, already missing the comfort they brought her, knowing that the keep she called home would soon be swallowing her up. She was barely through the massive oak and iron panel that comprised the front door before her women were upon her.
They had been lying in wait for their mistress. It was dark and cold in the entry, shielding them in the shadows, but Diamantha grinned at the group, wearily, as they began to fuss over her. Someone was trying to pull off her damp cloak while someone else was trying to hand her a cup of warmed mead. She put up her hands to stop all of the tugging and fussing.
“Cease, my little goats,” she said softly but firmly. “I am not removing my cloak and I plan to leave just as soon as my bags are retrieved. Where are they?”
One of the women, a very tall female with a big white wimple pulled tight around her head, motioned to the wall near the entry door. Diamantha noted the two rather large leather satchels and she nodded, satisfied.
“Excellent,” she said. “Where is my daughter?”
One of the women hustled over to the narrow spiral stairs and disappeared up the well. The woman with the white wimple spoke in a nervous voice.
“Do you truly plan to leave, m’lady?” she asked.
Diamantha nodded. “I do,” she said, glancing to the group. She spoke with more bravery than she felt. “I became Lady de Bretagne this morning. I plan to travel now with my husband to retrieve Robert’s body, as I told you I would. You listened to me as I reasoned out my plan before presenting it to de Bretagne. I must do this, ladies. I told you as much, so worrying over it will not change the way of things. It is done.”
One of the women teared up, wiping at her nose as she turned away and went to stand in the shadows to shield her loss of composure. Diamantha was struggling not to become weepy as well. If she were to cry, then her women would become positively hysterical and she couldn’t deal with it. So she squared her shoulders and went to check her bags. Crouching down, she tossed her cloak back to remove the magnificent silver collar. She didn’t want to wear it while traveling and ended up tucking it carefully into one of her satchels.
“I am not entirely sure how long it will take us to travel to Scotland,” she said as she finished packing the necklace into the larger of the satchels. “I can only imagine it will take us several weeks at the very least. I will even ask to visit my father in Northumberland. He is at Norham Castle, you know, and it is along the path we will take. My mother wrote me several months ago and told me that Papa no longer lifts a sword. He leaves it to my brothers to guard the border. She says Papa is feeling his age, I suppose. He has knots in his hands, so severe that he can hardly hold anything at all. I miss him.”
Diamantha reflected on her father, the tallest man she had ever seen, who had once been a very fine knight. Sir Michael de Bocage had served under the illustrious William de Wolfe for many years and earned himself a fine reputation in the process. But those days of glory along the Scots border were long gone for her father. Now, he relied on his sons and the sons of other great knights to keep the Scots at bay. De Wolfe, de Norville, Hage, de Bocage, and de Longley were great names along the border from Berwick to Kelso. They kept watch for the Crown and no one dared challenge them, not even the Scots. Diamantha had grown up in the shadow of England’s greatest knights.
She was therefore eager to return to the north where she had been born. As much as she loved Corfe and the town’s folk, she was a northern lass at heart. As she re-secured the ties on Robert’s satchel, Annie emerged from the stairwell with Sophie in her arms. Diamantha smiled broadly at her child and reached out to take her from her nurse.
“Greetings, sweetheart,” she said softly, kissing her little girl’s cheek. “Have you eaten this morning?”
Sophie was tired, rubbing her eyes wearily. “Aye,” she said. “Annie gave me mush. Mama, can I see General?”
Diamantha’s smile faded. “Of course, my love,” she said, setting the little girl to her feet. She noted, per her instructions when she had left the keep in search of Cortez that morning, that the child was dressed heavily in gray wool for travel. She had a little cap on her head to keep it warm, snuggly tied. “Would you like to go see him now?”
Sophie nodded eagerly, dragging her poppet along the ground as her mother guided her towards the door. Diamantha paused a moment, her gaze moving along the dark entry to the stairwell to the hall beyond. It would be perhaps her last glimpse of it. She could still hear Robert within the walls, his laughter echoing. The memories tugged at her heart but she fought them. It would do no good to make herself miserable. It is done, she reminded herself. You cannot look back, not now. She had to bring Robert home and marrying de Bretagne had been the only way to accomplish it.
Asking one of her women to collect the two satchels and follow her out of the keep, she was just opening the door when George appeared, coming off the stairwell. He looked as if he had just rolled out of bed. In fact, George was a poor sleeper and usually did most of his sleeping in the early morning hours, so it was difficult for him to rise early. Diamantha had counted on that. But she could see the man was alert, and he appeared stricken. He headed right for her.
“Where are you going?” he demanded. “De Bretagne’s army is prepared to depart. I could see them from my window. God’s Blood, Diamantha… you are not really going with him, are you?”
Diamantha tried not to look too remorseful. She had purposely kept her plans from George. The last he’d seen of her interaction with Cortez had been the night before in the feasting hall. He had no idea what had transpired since then. But she could see now that she needed to tell the man something, anything at all, for he was about to lose his entire family. First his son, and now his granddaughter. Like a coward, she’d hoped to depart before he awoke but that was not to be the case. She didn’t want to listen to him tell her what a bad decision she was making. Turning Sophie over to Annie, she grasped George by the elbow and pulled him into the vacant hall beyond.
When they were well away from the ears in the entry and on into the dark, cold hall, she turned to the man.
“Listen to me, George,” she whispered, somewhat sorrowfully. “Much has happened since last night. You must listen and remain calm for I swear upon our Holy Mother that I cannot take any more emotion this day. I’ve had quite enough of it already.”
George looked traumatized but he nodded. “I will listen calmly,” he assured her, though he wasn’t sure if he meant it. “What has happened?”
Diamantha sighed faintly. “It is quite simple, truly,” she said quietly. “De Bretagne has agreed to return to Scotland to find Robert’s body and bring him back for a proper burial. I am going with him to make sure he finds the right corpse and Sophie is going with me.”
George’s eyes widened. “De Bretagne is… he is going to find Robert?”
“Aye.”
The old man was having a difficult time controlling himself. “But why?” he hissed. “Did you ask him to do this?”
Diamantha was patient. “I told him I would marry him if he did,” she said. “In fact, I have already married him. We were wed this morning. We are going to Scotland and I swear to you that I will bring Robert back. He will be buried at St. Edward’s next to his mother. Does this please you, George?”
George was looking both horrified and relieved. It was an odd expression, truly. He tried to speak but no words would come forth. Finally, he reached out and grasped her by the arms.
“Oh, my dearest lass,” he breathed in one big sigh. “You would do
this simply to bring Robert home? You would make a deal with the devil?”
Diamantha shrugged. “I had no real choice in the matter,” she said truthfully. “But de Bretagne wanted to marry me now. He did not wish to wait. I used his impatience to my advantage. I told him I would marry him this day if he would escort me to Scotland to bring Robert home. It is a great questing he and I will undertake, George. This is something I think we both must do.”
George was still struggling to come to terms with it. “Why is it something de Bretagne must do?”
Diamantha’s expression turned distant. “He was the last man with Robert before he died,” she murmured. “He left him on the field of battle to die alone. I believe he feels the need to right that sin and return him home to those who love him.”
George’s gaze lingered on her. “Are you certain of this?” he asked softly. “Or did he simply agree to do it because you promised to marry him if he did? He could go back on his word, you know.”
Diamantha met his gaze. “He will not go back on his word,” she said. “Do you truly believe I would let him? We made a bargain and he has what he wants; he has married me. Now, we will go to Scotland and find Robert, and that is all I care about.”
George was calmer now, absorbing the reality of the situation. He had to admit that he was relieved to the point of tears to know that Robert would soon be returning home for a proper burial, but the cost seemed to be Diamantha herself. It was an overwhelming realization. He let go of the woman’s arms, now feeling suddenly weak and defeated. He sank down on the nearest bench.
“So you have already married him?” he asked.
Diamantha nodded. “Aye.”
George pondered that, raking his fingers through his graying hair. “And Sophie?” he ventured. “You are taking her with you?”
Diamantha nodded firmly. “I will not be away from my child for the amount of time it takes to go to Scotland and back,” she said. “Moreover, this will be Sophie’s questing also. Robert was her father. Let her be a part of the mission to bring him home. Let her know that the man rests in peace. It may not mean anything to her now, but it will in time.”
Brides of the North: A Medieval Scottish Romance Bundle Page 118