Hearts and Crowns

by Anna Markland

  Gallien gritted his teeth as an iron fist closed around his heart. “She has always loved Geoffrey more. She has found a way to be rid of me.”

  “That is nonsense, and you know it.” Étienne spat in the direction of the intruders. “We will kick these messengers out of the castle. You’ll not go to the Tower.”

  One of the soldiers stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword, eyeing Étienne. “Our instructions are not to take him to the Tower.”

  “At which of his Majesty’s castles am I to be a guest?” Gallien asked sarcastically.

  “Tamworth.”

  Gallien and his father exchanged a glance. Tamworth was not a royal castle.

  Baudoin put a restraining hand on Étienne’s arm. “There will be no violence against these men. There are other ways to solve this. I will appeal directly to Henry.”

  “Appeal to Henry? What is going on here?” Gallien’s mother asked loudly as the women of the Montbryce family hastened into the Map Room.

  Peri’s face was a mask of confusion and fear as she looked from her husband to the guards. He had to admit she made a good show of feigning surprise. The knot in his belly tightened.

  The soldiers looked at the women nervously. “Milord Earl, we want no trouble. If milord Gallien will come along quietly—”

  Peri rushed to his side. “Where are they taking you, Gallien?”

  He shrugged her off as the guards clamped manacles to his wrists. “Wherever your precious Geoffrey has commanded them to take me.”

  She frowned, her face red. “Geoffrey of Anjou? I don’t understand.”

  The guards ushered him forward, but as he made to move with them, Peri latched on to his arm, pulling him back. “Non. I will not let them take you. You are frightening me.”

  Gallien looked down at her, knowing it was the last time he would set eyes on her. The serpent that lay coiled around his bowels sank its fangs into his heart. “Now you will be free. You can go to your lover.”

  She let go, falling back as if struck by a lightning bolt. The color drained from her face. Étienne scrambled forward to catch her before she fell.

  Gallien did not look back at his faithless wife as he was escorted from the chamber.

  ~~~

  Her head throbbed as the room spun around her, but Peri was determined not to swoon. A knife had been thrust into her heart, and she would bleed to death if the blade was not withdrawn. She looked desperately at her father-by-marriage. “My lord, why are you permitting this?”

  Baudoin strode towards her, his face ashen. “Have no fear, daughter, I intend to ride as far as Westminster if necessary to speak to Henry. It’s my belief he has no knowledge of this. He knows better than to offer such an insult to one of his most supportive barons.”

  Peri watched his mouth move, heard his words, but made no sense of them. Only Gallien’s taunt filled her head.

  Your precious Geoffrey...your lover.

  Baudoin and Étienne left quickly.

  Her knees buckled. Silence filled the chamber. Gripping the folds of her skirts, she looked at the other three women, their expressions guarded. None had come to her aid.

  They believe I have betrayed Gallien.

  It was a blow. She had lost their trust. Perhaps she had never been accepted as a member of this family, merely tolerated as an Angevin foisted on them.

  But it was the knife of Gallien’s certainty of her guilt that twisted in her heart, draining away the will to live.

  She fled, not knowing or caring where her feet took her.

  ~~~

  Fear for her son’s life held Carys de Montbryce in its thrall. She stood rooted to the spot, oblivious to the wails and remonstrations of her daughters. She feared too for her husband and Étienne, now embarking on a perilous journey. But her heart broke for Gallien and Peri and their children. Love had overcome mistrust, humiliation, betrayal, and hatred. Now some insidious force threatened to destroy their hard-won happiness.

  She clutched her hands tightly to her belly to still the anger roiling there. “Come, we shall seek the help of the goddess,” she told her daughters firmly. “Arianrhod will help them.”

  Fleurie hesitated. “Gallien believes Peri betrayed him.”

  Her mother turned to her. “He is a fool. Find her quickly.”

  ~~~

  Gallien’s escort treated him with the respect due his rank as they rode, but the manacles soon scored his wrists. Tamworth was a day and a half’s ride, but they changed horses at Chnoc. He was given a tumbler of watered ale and a small loaf of stale bread, before they set off riding again through the night. After ten hours on horseback, he was exhausted, saddle sore, and furious.

  He wondered why he had been brought to Tamworth. Its castellan, Robert de Marmion, was known to have sympathised with Clito’s cause. The Marmions were hereditary champions of the Dukes of Normandie, but surely Robert de Marmion would not imprison the son of a fellow nobleman. He had never shown enmity to the Montbryces. And what connection could Marmion possibly have to Geoffrey the Handsome?

  He looked up at the enormous motte built by Marmion ancestors after the Conqueror granted them possession of the Anglo-Saxon fortification that had stood on the site for over a hundred years. He heard the swift moving waters of the River Tame nearby. He shivered, dreading what lay ahead of him in the forbidding structure.

  He was aware of the treatment his uncle Robert had undergone during his cruel incarceration at the hands of Clito’s father, Curthose. Baudoin de Montbryce often remarked sadly that he did not believe his brother had ever fully recovered.

  To his surprise, and relief, instead of a cell, he was led to a chamber. It was sparse and chilly and smelled musty, but it was comfortable. He would guess the empty grate had not felt the lick of flames for a long while.

  His manacles were removed.

  “I wish to speak with Lord Robert de Marmion,” he asserted, flexing his stiff fingers.

  The guard looked at the servant who had accompanied them into the chamber, probably a steward, judging by his garments. The man seemed ill-at-ease.

  “Milord Robert is away at present, in Normandie. I will see victuals are brought shortly, milord.”

  The two men left. Gallien heard a bar drop firmly into its stanchions on the outside. His prison was more palatable than he had feared, but he was a prisoner nonetheless.

  He turned back the cuffs of his doublet, searching the room for water to bathe his bloodied wrists.

  The water in the ewer was cold enough to soothe his wounds. He drank the remainder down in one long gulp, but it did nothing to quench his thirst.

  He sat on the edge of the small bed, bouncing up and down, thankful the mattress seemed clean and vermin free. He shucked off his boots, and lay down to wait, his hands braced behind his head.

  The likelihood he would never see his children again churned his gut. Something about that did not make sense. Peri was devoted to her children. It was difficult to believe she had schemed to render them fatherless.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Lady Ermintrude had grown weary of travelling back and forth between Normandie and England. King Henry wanted his daughter and her new husband to remain in England, but whenever Maud and Geoffrey quarreled, Maud retreated to Normandie.

  This time she was vowing to stay there and never return. Ermintrude let her mind wander as she once more supervised the packing of trunks, ignoring Maud’s whining. Perhaps if she gave her mistress a different morsel to chew on—

  “Geoffrey has had Gallien de Montbryce arrested.”

  Maud stopped in mid-rant. “What?”

  Ermintrude had to choose her words carefully. Maud’s temper was volatile. She had to be handled with skill. “There is talk, only talk, that he has done so to free Peridotte de Montbryce.”

  “Free her from what?” Maud asked.

  Ermintrude resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. “With Gallien de Montbryce out of the way—”

  A thundercloud pa
ssed over Maud’s face. “He is still enamoured with the chit?”

  “I fear so, Empresse, but I am also afraid that if your father finds out, he will be angry.”

  “My father does not care if my husband is unfaithful. His concerns are alliances and power.”

  “Non, Empresse, what I mean is that he will be angry if he discovers a powerful earl’s son has been imprisoned for no good reason. No doubt Baudoin de Montbryce is on his way to see your father as we speak.”

  “Then Geoffrey will get his just reward when the king unleashes his anger.”

  Do I have to explain every detail?

  “But if you ensure your father does not find out, you will have something to hold over your husband’s head.”

  Maud’s face brightened. “Where is Montbryce being held?”

  “Tamworth, Empresse.”

  “Prepare a writ authorising his release, then fetch it here for my seal. Get it to Tamworth immediately. I’ll wager Marmion knows naught of this. He is in Normandie. Send word to Ellesmere. Once that is done, summon my husband.”

  Ermintrude bowed as best she could and hastened off to fulfill her errand.

  ~~~

  Shudders still shook her, but Peri’s tears had dried up. Nestled in a bed of damp straw in the stables, she stared up at the rafters without seeing them.

  She should be with her children, but her body would not listen to her heart’s entreaties. The wet nurse would take care of them. The Countess would see to it.

  She groaned, turning on to her side, curling her knees to her chest. The Montbryces would now cast her out, convinced she had betrayed her husband. They would take her children from her.

  What was left to live for if she lost the three people who meant everything?

  She had pondered long and hard on how this had happened. It was Geoffrey of Anjou who had destroyed her life, of that she was certain. Somehow, because of her rebuttal, he had sought vengeance.

  It came to her that if Geoffrey had imprisoned Gallien, he was the only one who might free him. She must go to him, beg him to release her husband. It would be humiliating, but she would do it.

  But how? If she knew Geoffrey’s whereabouts, it was impossible to travel without an escort. The Earl had already departed for Henry’s court.

  A dull pain throbbed behind her eyes. Her body ached as if she had been on the rack.

  “Peri?”

  She forced open her eyes to see who whispered her name.

  Fleurie’s face floated over her. Her sister-by-marriage put something cool and damp on her forehead. “Come, Peri, Maman plots our strategy in the Map Room.”

  “Strategy?” she rasped from her thirst-ravaged throat.

  “To get Gallien home.”

  Peri put her palm on the soothing wetness on her forehead. “If we succeed in obtaining his release, he believes it was I who betrayed him.”

  Fleurie smiled. “Gallien is my brother. I know him well. He has a tendency to jump to the wrong conclusions. We know you love him. He knows it too, if only he would stop to think. But who can blame him after—”

  She stopped abruptly, but Peri was too exhausted to ask her what she meant. Tears rolled unbidden down her cheeks. “I cannot live without him. Our children need him.”

  Fleurie hooked her arm under Peri’s. “Come, you’ll feel better once you have washed your face and eaten something.”

  Peri struggled to her feet. The mere mention of food had her belly roiling. “If I eat I will be sick.”

  Once on her feet, she felt better. It eased her pain that the Montbryces judged her blameless. “I must write to Geoffrey of Anjou,” she declared.

  ~~~

  It took an hour, but finally the four women had a letter they were confident would prod Geoffrey into releasing Gallien. The Countess summoned the scrivener. Upon his arrival, she coughed into her fisted hand. “Let me read it once more before you copy it onto parchment, and add the necessary preambles and flourishes. We value your opinion.”

  I write to you as a loyal servant and subject. My loyalty has never been in question, even when I was a simple Angevin and you were the son of my Comte.

  I am now the wife of an English nobleman whose family has for decades demonstrated its loyalty to the royal court of which you are a member.

  For reasons unknown to me, my husband has been arrested and accused of treason. My children and I are bereft and at a loss to know how this has come about.

  I can vouch for my husband’s steadfast loyalty to our Illustrious King Henry, and to his Successor.

  I beg you to intercede on his behalf and petition for his release from Tamworth Castle, and for the quashing of these unfounded charges.

  Though you and I have travelled far from Anjou and God has granted us His favor in countless ways, I trust the bonds of fealty, one Angevin to another, remain firmly in place.

  Your loyal servant,

  Peridotte de Montbryce

  “You don’t think we have used the word loyalty too often?” Peri asked.

  The Countess shook her head. “Absolutely not. Loyalty is the issue here, and it’s imperative to remind Geoffrey of that.”

  Fleurie agreed. “And you have mentioned Rodrick and Grace. I doubt Geoffrey knows you have children.”

  “There’s a reminder too of your previous friendship with him,” Isabelle remarked.

  Peri blushed. “Oui, though the friendship meant something different to Geoffrey of the Wandering Hands.”

  The scrivener examined the ceiling.

  The Countess eyed her curiously. “I had a feeling.”

  Peri arched her brows, buoyed by the love and support of her Norman family. “The word Geoffrey’s vanity will warm to is subject.”

  The others laughed. The scrivener gave his approval and suggested an appropriate preamble. They left him to his task.

  ~~~

  Ermintrude sighed with relief. Her secretary had transcribed the writ for Montbryce’s release. What a treasure Philippa de Grosmont had turned out to be. Handwriting was now far beyond Ermintrude’s arthritic hands.

  Maud had applied her seal, and the document was on its way to Tamworth. Here was an opportunity for a few minutes of well earned repose before she had to be at Maud’s side for the interview with Geoffrey. She wouldn’t miss it for the world.

  ~~~

  Devlin’s cock hardened pleasantly as his teeth grazed Philippa de Grosmont’s nipple. The glint of desire in her eyes pleased him. Last year’s bevy of young ladies-in-waiting had proven fruitful indeed, though none would ever equal Felicité.

  It had never been his intention to fall in love with her. The annual influx of nubile women anxious to please had for years supplied him with sexual gratification beyond his late wife’s wildest imaginings. It was easy: seduce them, bed them, and discard them, pleading his wife’s censure.

  Felicité had been different; a kindred soul. Their liaison might have gone on uninterrupted if the chit had not got with child. Then she had insisted on being wed, and urged him to put away his wife, until he informed her he would then lose the prosperous estate where he dwelt—dowry lands. All would have gone well had she not flaunted a bastard in Montbryce’s face. That had led to her death.

  Now, when he thirsted for vengeance, Fate had not only taken his wife, it had delivered three women into his lap, one of whom had married Montbryce.

  He had at first toyed with the idea of wedding Philippa, but decided on Tandine. Philippa was a schemer, a spy whose talents he would put to use under threat of exposing their clandestine affair. That would ruin her for life, whereas a married man was expected to take mistresses.

  Tandine was more malleable, better suited to taking care of his children far away from Court. He suspected Philippa would rather die than embark on such a life.

  His lover raked her nails down the line of hair that sprouted at his chest, then circled his navel. “Your thoughts are elsewhere.”

  Devlin chuckled. “I was thinking of my wife.” />
  Anger flooded her face and she raised her hand to slap his face. “That cry-baby! I don’t understand why you didn’t marry me.”

  Laughing, he grasped Philippa’s hand before she delivered the blow. “Nay, Tandine is the woman to bring up my children.”

  He straddled her, forcing her hands to the bolster behind her head. “You are too lusty for that. Better suited to bedsport, and other useful things.”

  She pouted, struggling half-heartedly to be free. She calmed and he released her hands. She twirled her finger in the curls at his chest. “What kind of other things?”

  Smiling, he turned onto his back. She came to her knees and cupped his balls as her mouth descended on his shaft. “Well, that’s one,” he rasped as pleasure rippled from his toes to the top of his head.

  She sucked him into the back of her throat, then moved her mouth up and down on him. One hand grasped the root of his shaft, mimicking the movement of her mouth, the other played with his balls. For a shrew, she certainly knew how to please a man. Tandine would probably faint dead away if he suggested she put her mouth on him.

  He dug his fingers into Philippa’s scalp, euphoria sweeping over him as her mouth milked his seed from his body. It was clear he had made the right decision. He would have the best of both worlds: Tandine his dutiful wife, Philippa his willing slave, anxious to be his eyes and ears at court.

  He ran his finger over her glistening lips. “Any news to tell me before I go, my love?”

  She smiled slyly. “Yes, but you have forgotten my pleasure. I will tell you after—”

  Anger rose in Devlin’s throat. She sought to manipulate him. He grabbed her by the hair. “You will tell me now.”

  She yelped in pain as he pulled hard. “Let go. It’s nothing. Maud has signed a writ releasing Gallien de Montbryce.”

  He slapped her, his blood on fire. “Why did you not tell me this before?”

  He dressed quickly and left her cowering near the hearth.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Hatred of Normans had been bred into Geoffrey of Anjou—they were the age-old enemy. Now he lived among them, was married to one, and he despised them all the more.