by Ruth Kaufman
“Why did you do it, Apollo? Why get so involved with our foe?” the king asked.
“My liege, all I can say is it seemed like the right thing to do at the moment.” He pressed his lips together as if to hold the rest of his thoughts in.
“Do you think We should let the others go? Show such lenience to our enemy? Or should We retain those who are English intruders on lands that rightfully belong to us?” He took a step closer. “Don’t give the answer you think I want to hear.”
Sir Apollo didn’t hesitate. “A man is only as good as his word, Sire. So my answer is yes, I believe all of the civilians should be released. They have no say in their king’s decisions. Nor do they participate in the fighting. On the other hand, doing so could make de Lacy think you’re weak or wavering rather than merciful.”
Hearing both of them label her and her family the enemy made her stomach churn. The pronouncement sounded all the worse in her rescuer’s smooth, remarkable tone. What a fool she’d been to have tender thoughts of him. She’d found his flaw: devotion to the wrong cause.
“I have been more than patient. I’m beyond tired of waiting for surrender. Maybe I should just kill the ditch people and be done with it,” the king said. “Who is she?”
She forced herself to remain still.
“My liege, she’s Roger de Lacy’s eldest daughter.”
The king let out a less than royal snort. “Most interesting. What are you going to do with the pretty piece? Have your way with her?”
The crass, cruel words stung. What else should she expect from the leader of the opposing nation? Aline didn’t dare point out to a king or the man she’d fleetingly thought of as her hero how awkward it was to be spoken about as if she weren’t in the same room. Or worse, that they knew she was there but didn’t think her worthy of inclusion in any discussion, much less one about her own fate.
Being under the thumb of men in authority was often displeasing, but what choices did women have? She hated being so powerless.
“I thought I’d escort her to Paris and assist her in securing passage home,” Sir Apollo said. “As soon as the missives you need me to take are ready, of course.”
A vision of her erstwhile home flashed before Aline, with its lush greenery and gently rolling hills. Her favorite spot in the garden, surrounded by sweet-smelling, colorful flowers and sunshine…. How she longed to return and leave Normandy behind forever. Though she didn’t welcome the challenge of being with him in close quarters while travelling, it’d be far less risky, easier and faster than going alone.
“The siege will end soon. We’ve nearly completed building our floating towers on the river,” King Philip said. His voice and tone grated on her nerves like the sound of the tanner scraping flesh from animal hides. “Our bridge will soon be ready. And we’re making good progress tunneling underneath, undeterred by those thick, limestone walls proving as unforgiving as my former nemesis Richard built them to be. I need you to wait to return home until victory is at hand and we’ve finally evicted every last Plantagenet from Normandy. When I finally have my way, the Angevin Empire will be no more.”
His laugh made her skin crawl.
How many would die before the king was satisfied? This could have ended before it began. Her father had said Pope Innocent wanted to mediate, but somehow Philip was able to prevent that from happening. Everything bad that had happened to her was this king’s fault. Was there anything she could do to help herself or her countrymen?
“Wonderful news,” Sir Apollo said. “She’ll remain here until we’re victorious, then.”
He had to support his side in front of his king, but hearing him discuss defeating hers sent stabs of anguish through her.
Had the king told his messenger such sensitive information in front of her because he knew her father had abandoned her? How did they know she wouldn’t find a way to slip away in the dark and convey it to the English? Perhaps the king didn’t think a mere woman would dare go against him or that one could be a spy.
Hope flashed. Maybe her father would value her and let her inside at last if the others were gone, and if she brought news that could help him defeat his nemesis and King John maintain a foothold in this part of France. After his treatment of her, did he deserve her aid over the enemy who’d shown her some kindness? Surely their actions mattered more than their unpleasant words. But if she made it inside and Philip attacked, she didn’t want to find herself in the midst of a battle. Being between the two forces when they weren’t actively fighting had been bad enough.
Loyalty. Fealty. Family. All weighed more heavily than the branches she’d lugged to make shelters in the ravine, the heaviest burden she’d had to bear.
If she did nothing to stop the French, how would she stomach it when the battle was underway, then endure the outcome, having lived under the same roof as most of the Englishmen whose lives were literally at stake? Would any of them survive?
Had she moved from one prison to another? How long would she be stuck here? She’d need a hut of her own. Living among men was bad enough, but now that she was aware, to spend nights in a hut with a man not her husband…her mother would faint from the shock. What man would have her to wife, especially without a dowry? Was her future ruined? Assuming she had one.
Uncertainty pummeled her, harsh as winter rain. She simply couldn’t worry about any of that now. Tired. So tired. At least the bed was soft and very warm.
A fresh wave of guilt assaulted her. Who was she to have even a moment of ease when so much and so many lives were at stake?
* * *
War sickened Apollo. The loss of life, the costs of battle and those survivors paid…all of that coin and effort could be put to far better use furthering society with more education, and working to build rather than destroy. Clearly his views were in the minority, or there’d have been fewer wars and less destruction over the years.
“William was the first Norman to conquer England. My conquest, to remove the English from all of Normandy, is nearly complete at last. Then on to all of France!” Philip raised a fist in triumph as the men who’d accompanied him cheered.
The color he’d been pleased to see returning to Aline’s cheeks had faded since the king’s arrival. She kept her gaze down, as she should in the presence of royalty. What she was thinking? This state of affairs and conversation had to be very difficult for her.
“I doubt your goal is to kill people, Sire, whether those in the ravine, or more than you must to gain possession of the chateau,” Apollo ventured. He was never quite sure of his place. At times, the king treated him almost like a companion and advisor, and at others, like a servant. “Perhaps there is a way to show them we aren’t seeking to abolish them but to regain what we believe is rightfully ours. If we were to show more goodwill to the people instead of angering them further and leading to more war…could we find ways to unite them?”
The king paced.
Apollo didn’t regret speaking his mind, but he admitted to being leery of consequences that might ensue if the king didn’t approve. Aline hadn’t budged, but sat stiff and alert like a scared rabbit. He had a sudden urge to hold her, comfort her. To do his best to soothe fears he couldn’t resolve. As if that would be enough.
“Apollo, perhaps I should add you to my council. That is a most excellent idea.” He nodded, then paused. “I don’t want historians to label me an ogre. Or an unjust ruler. I shall accept your counsel. Because I know of one way I can create bonds between our lands immediately. Apollo, you shall marry this Englishwoman.”
“What?” they cried in unison.
Philip laughed. “Voilà, already you think alike.”
Apollo froze. Marriage to an English woman? How could he stop the cart he set in motion?
* * *
Aline was too shocked to move.
“Lady Aline, perhaps it will lessen the sting when I defeat your father for him to know his eldest child will be not only alive but well cared for,” the king said.
/> The trap door was closing fast, shutting out the light. She didn’t want to be ordered to wed, or to be wed to or cared for long-term by a Norman. Even one who was handsome, enticing interesting and kind. Having to remain in France for the rest of her days appalled and terrified her.
She’d throw herself on the king’s mercy to avoid that fate. “King Philip, is there anything else I can do to thank you for your kindness in allowing me to recuperate in your camp? For your mercy in releasing the others?” Dear Lord, she hoped he wouldn’t think she meant providing information to betray the English. She had to dig deeper, though the words nigh burned her tongue. “I beg you to—”
“Anything?” the king pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Most tempting, but no.”
She blushed. He’d thought she offered herself to him.
“Mon roi, this is—” Apollo began.
“Summon my priest,” the king ordered with a wave of his hand. “We’re having a wedding.”
“Now?” they cried together again. The utter astonishment on Sir Apollo’s face must match her own.
“But the banns haven’t been cried. We’re not betrothed.” Aline couldn’t keep desperation from her voice as she struggled for more reasons. Shock upon shock took their toll as her throat and chest tightened. “The Church.…” She couldn’t get out another word. He was a Norman. Her mother and sisters…. How could she marry without them, or without them even knowing who she’d wed? And for an earl’s daughter to marry a mere knight…that wouldn’t do. But none of these crucial problems would sway the king.
Sir Apollo paced, a frustrated lion stuck in a cage. “Sire, this isn’t what I meant by showing more goodwill to the English. And I certainly didn’t intend to be part of it.”
“Not another word from either one of you. I’ll ensure that you have whatever dispensations are required to make this binding and valid.” Philip glanced at Aline, then quirked a brow as he turned to one of the men who’d accompanied him. “Find some clothing she can wear.”
“But my liege,” one of the king’s men began, “there are no…maids here to attend her.”
At least someone had the courtesy and wherewithal to take her rank into consideration.
The man shifted from side to side, then continued, “There are only the women who—”
“They will do,” the king said. “Fetch some of them.”
Her mouth once again hung open in a most unladylike manner. Her mother would be appalled by all the breaches of decorum, but in the face of a sudden, forced wedding to an enemy beneath her rank in a gown and shoes she’d not seen and must borrow, with camp followers and soldiers as her only guests, she didn’t care. She bit back more protests so hard she feared her tongue might bleed.
She seethed. Like a leaf tossed hither and yon at the will of the currents on the River Seine that ran beneath the chateau, she could do nothing. How often she’d looked out the window and wished she could be carried away so swiftly. She hadn’t realized that floating came with lack of control or choice. Because the river had all the power.
Nothing mattered anymore. Her life was about to be ruined. Unless there was some way she could prevent this disaster and find a way back to England.
Where all would at last be well.
Chapter 4
Still stunned beyond belief by what his own words had wrought and the speed with which the best intentions had turned against him, Apollo regretted his hasty words. He wouldn’t regret his equally hasty decision to save Aline.
He followed King Philip and his men from his hut to the king’s grander one. Rich red, blue and gold silk and other fabrics draped the walls and rare rugs graced the floor, muffling the sound of his boots.
Several advisors crowded a large table covered with a map of the chateau and other documents. They clamored for their liege’s attention, but he waved them away.
“Everyone out,” he ordered.
“Sire, I pray you jest,” Apollo began as soon as they were gone. He’d never thought to disobey his king. But then, he’d never thought he’d be ordered to wed, since he wasn’t a highly ranked noble with vast estates, large amounts of coin or significant political connections to benefit the king or France. “Perhaps another couple, one with greater renown, can serve to unite our people.”
He needed to find a reason other than knowing Aline didn’t want to wed any Norman. Yet a bitter taste filled his mouth when thinking of her with anyone but him. “I travel too much to have any wife.”
The king took a silver goblet of wine proffered by a servant. He sat in a fur-lined chair and took a sip. “The daughter of one of John’s earls has sufficient renown. And to pair her with one of my men is genius. You’re eight-and-twenty. You need to settle down and raise a family.”
No, it wasn’t. Apollo couldn’t accept the bizarre position in which the king wanted to put him. He didn’t want to marry anyone, much less an Englishwoman. His job was duty enough. Dare he be so bold? “My lodgings are insufficient for a wife, and to find her another place to—”
The king waved his free hand. “Very well. You strike a hard bargain. With victory over the chateau close at hand, and allowing hundreds of people to depart in defiance of my adversary, I’m in a generous vein. So I’ll give you a new, higher position requiring less travel,” the king said, not taking his gaze from Apollo and leaning forward slightly to make his point. “A home and lands to go with the title. Given that Lady Aline is so highly ranked, I won’t just make you seigneur. I’ll do something rare, raise you to baron.”
His jaw dropped. He’d meant to get out of the hole, not dig himself much deeper. Now what could he say without sounding ungrateful? “I truly appreciate your munificence. But I wasn’t subtly trying to ask for more than you’d already offered.”
“Why not? Everyone else does.”
“If you please, I truly prefer the open road. Other men may crave hearth, home, and as many lands and titles as they can acquire, but I’d rather sleep outdoors than in my chamber in any castle or even the first home I could call my own.” The vast and ever-changing beauty of the sky and the freedom that went with it meant more to him than any ceiling, no matter how elaborately painted.
His chest constricted at the thought of returning to the same residence each and every night, even with a woman as lovely and intelligent as Aline to greet him. He’d feel confined to a cage even if his heirs played at his feet. And if he did have children, he wanted them to be all French. Not born with strong ties to two countries, leading to divided loyalties that might be tested as they grew. Who knew if France and England would ever be at peace, much less in his children’s or their children’s lifetime?
“Silence, Apollo. You will accept all I’m granting you and be glad of it. Make the best of it.” Philip’s frown didn’t bode well. He slumped in his chair, for the moment Philip the man, not the ruler. “I know all too well that marriage can be a blessing or a curse. The two wives I wanted died. One was stolen from me,” he said, sorrow evident in his tone and face. “Now I’m stuck with Isambour, the wife I don’t want. I too lack the power to choose, since I don’t want to be excommunicated again. And many of my barons wouldn’t fight this war, so I had to hire men who would. Even a king cannot always attain what he most desires. You will be wed. This evening.”
Apollo could see no way out that wouldn’t anger his king or result in some sort of punishment far worse than a better position, home, and a comely, albeit sudden, bride. Listing his gifts made him feel ungrateful.
He bowed deeply, glad Philip couldn’t see the frustration in his eyes. “Forgive me, my king. The swiftness of events made me speak without thinking. I do appreciate your grants and offer sincere thanks for the honors you bestow upon me.”
He hoped he sounded sincere. And hoped even more he’d come to appreciate and even enjoy the king’s generosity.
The king could command his actions, not his heart.
* * *
After the men departed, Aline fidgeted in Si
r Apollo’s bed, clutching the fur tight around her. It was the only thing she could hold on to. She still didn’t even have a chemise or pair of shoes to call her own. How could she make demands?
Longing for England, her home and her former way of life, swept her. Everything from her large, curtained bed to her assortment of gowns and shoes showed she had a place to belong. A valued status, with shelter and plenty of wood and food. Now, she was in limbo. And hated the uncertainty.
Should she accept the marriage as ordered, or refuse and likely be forced to wed in the end? Hundreds of others were being allowed to decamp. Why not her, too?
If she managed to flee the camp before the borrowed finery arrived and somehow make her way without injury in the freezing dark, then somehow gain the access she’d been denied for weeks to the chateau, she’d be favoring the father who’d betrayed her. But she’d also be helping the country she loved and hoped to return to. If she waited to escape until she was wed and had presumably had proper garments for travel, she’d be betraying her rightful husband, who, despite being Norman, had treated her well. Thus far. Who she’d begun to have feelings for, until he called her enemy.
The only other option was even less practical: to sneak out of the camp full of soldiers, monks and officers to take her chances alone on the open road.
Her worst nightmare was coming to pass. She didn’t want to be Norman. Or stay in France. She wanted English children. English everything. Rambling thoughts assailed her until her head pounded and her stomach and even her heart hurt. How could she come out of this feeling good about the choices she made? What could she control?
Who deserved her loyalty—England and the father who’d chosen others and abandoned her, or her soon-to-be husband? Perhaps the most important question was, which choice would be most loyal to herself? She needed time she didn’t have to think.