by His Ransom
Margaret inclined her head respectfully and left her alone. Rosamunde wanted to give way to the tears that threatened, but knew she could not. She knew she must be calm to face Richard and that she must listen to what he had to say. Although she could not think of one, it was possible that Richard had a good reason for what he had done.
When Richard came in with Margaret, his face was grim. Rosamunde knew that Margaret would not have said anything to him about her reasons for wanting to see him, but Richard would know that having been called in from the training yard, that it would be something serious. He looked at her closely, then the anxiety left his face. They stood facing one another and she asked him to join her on the bench by the window and indicated to Margaret that she should stay by the door.
“I was afraid you had been taken ill, when you sent for me,” he said.
“No, I am perfectly well. Please, do not worry on my account.”
“But you know that I do.”
Not for the first time, Rosamunde cursed his beard. It was so difficult to read his face when half of it was hidden.
“Margaret has brought some information that disturbs me,” she said. “She knows that we have grown close.”
Richard smiled at her and reached for her hand, which he held tenderly in both of his. It was the first time he had shown any open sign of affection since they had returned from Sir Walter’s manor.
“It seems,” said Rosamunde, “That you did not lose your wife to the Big Death.”
“No,” agreed Richard, with another puzzled glance at Margaret. “I did not.”
“Please believe,” she said, “That I know you to be an honourable man and I know that you would not lie to me.”
Now Richard looked puzzled. “No, Rosamunde,” he said, “I could not lie to you.”
“And you would not have asked me to marry you, knowing that it would be a sin to marry where there could be no children.”
Now Richard paled. “I told Thomas that my wife divorced me.”
“And out of love for me he asked Margaret to tell me that she had divorced you.”
Richard swallowed.
“I am glad that you still trust me, Rosamunde, for that trust must be sorely tested.”
“Then it is true that your wife divorced you.”
“Yes.” Rosamunde pulled her hand away from his and placed her hands in her lap.
“And it is true that she divorced you because you are impotent.” Rosamunde could barely get the words out.
“No.” He smiled sadly and shook his head. “I should have told you,” he explained, “But it reflected badly on Louise and I loved her once.” He turned his full attention to her and she saw the deep pain in his eyes. “It felt as if I had always loved Louise. And she loved me. When she came of age I wanted to marry her, but my father would not give his permission. It took me many years to convince him. He thought she was wild and he did not approve of her although her wealth and her station made her a good match otherwise. All those years seemed to me like one day, because I loved her. On the day that she married me, I was the happiest man alive. She was beautiful and happy. Wherever she went she made other people happy. On our wedding night I discovered that she was not a virgin and when I questioned her I found that she had grown bored with the wait and had fallen in love with one of my father’s chevaliers. She had assumed that I would be so drunk on our wedding night and so in love that I would not notice, but because I loved her I had been sparing, because I wanted to please her on our first night together. She tried to make light of it and said that she would remain faithful to me, but I had loved her so much that I couldn’t bear to think that another man had touched her. And because I loved her I allowed her to divorce me. She did not want to; she wanted to stay and be my wife, but I said if she did not I would divorce her and the world would know her for what she was.”
“I understand.” Rosamunde started to stroke his hand, slowly.
“So she divorced me and married her chevalier.”
No wonder he considered women to lack honour, thought Rosamunde. “But how did she convince people that you were impotent? There are tests for such things.”
“The wise women that they sent to me were neither wise nor thorough. It was easy to fool them. Please be reassured, Rosamunde, I am perfectly capable of fathering children.”
“I am convinced of that,” she said, “And I understand why you could not tell me.”
“I had thought I would never find a woman of virtue until I found you. I thought all women must be like Louise.”
“You need not fear on that account with me,” she said.
“I know that you are faithful and true. And I am glad that you have friends like Thomas and Margaret to protect you in this way.”
“You will not hold it against them that they betrayed a confidence?”
“No. Their loyalty is to you, not to me.”
Rosamunde smiled at Margaret. “You see, there is nothing very wrong.”
Rosamunde was happy and all she had to do now was to wait for the return of her father to give permission for her to marry Richard.
It was almost Lady Day before the duke’s ship sailed up the river. It was the first sunny day of spring. The snow had melted and even though they were in the midst of Lent, Rosamunde’s heart was light. The first ship had been sighted just before noon and the castle was in uproar.
Rosamunde had been planning for this day for many months and everyone knew what they were to do. This was not like the unexpected return of Thomas. She had known that her father would return along with the fairer weather. Happy that the uproar was productive and not just the result of panic, Rosamunde rode down to the quay to meet her father and brother as they came off the ship. Neither the duke nor his son travelled well across the sea and both were relieved to be home. Rosamunde expressed her dismay at how thin they were and her father was much greyer than she had remembered. As for Henry, when they had left she had thought her brother still a boy, even though he was fifteen. Now he was a man. He was ready for his wife at last, thought Rosamunde. He no longer resembled their mother, but their father. Both men had grown beards, presumably started during their illness thought Rosamunde. And they were relieved to see that Rosamunde was well, although both expressed their distress at the state of the town. The rebuilding work was extensive, but there was still much to be done and many burnt out buildings had still to be cleared away. Rosamunde explained about the siege as they began to walk up the hill towards the castle, neither man being enthusiastic about sitting a horse immediately after leaving the ship. She told them about the support she had received from Thomas, Guy and Richard, being careful not to praise Richard more than was his due, but when she came to tell her father about the part he had played in rescuing her from Sir Walter’s house, she was fulsome in his praise.
“He was of more use to you than I expected,” said the duke, smiling.
“If you had not sent him,” she said soberly, “I should now be Sir Walter’s wife.”
“Then I shall consider part of his ransom paid.”
Rosamunde turned her face away so that he should not see her frown. She had hoped that her safety would have paid the whole of Richard’s ransom. It would be easier for a free man to ask for her hand than a prisoner. There was nothing to be done; she would not spoil this day by asking for more.
When they reached the castle Thomas and Rosamunde took the duke on a tour, then the duke congratulated Guy on keeping the castle safe in his absence. The duke had not yet seen Richard, nor asked for him and Rosamunde knew that the Frenchman was keeping out of the way on purpose.
Rosamunde gave orders that the evening meal should be as much a feast as was possible during Lent and they sat down to a great variety of fish. Now that the duke was home, the seating arrangements for meals changed, with the duke in his chair with his son on his right and Rosamunde on his left hand. Thomas and Margaret sat to Henry’s right and Guy sat at Rosamunde’s left. Richard took his new place
on Guy’s left.
“Ah, there you are.” The duke smiled at him genially. “I understand that you have been of great service to me.”
Richard bowed. “I have done what I could.”
Then the food was served. It was from the duke that Rosamunde got her height. Taller even than Richard, he dominated the entire hall. With the whole garrison returned the hall was almost as full as it had been during the siege. But Rosamunde was happy. There was much comfort to be had from the familiar faces. The women and children were happy that the men had returned and there was a great deal of laughter that night. Rosamunde herself could not stop smiling. Her father and Henry were home. There was little chance that they would have to go away to fight for a long time.
Rosamunde did not have much opportunity to talk to Richard. Her father claimed and deserved her full attention. She was happy to see that Guy and Richard were chatting animatedly in both French and English. She was glad that Richard was behaving in his usual discreet manner. He did not try to attract her attention, but seemed perfectly happy to talk to Guy. Their early antagonism forgotten, Richard and Guy had become friends, contrary to Richard’s insistence that he would not find friends in England. They seemed to have a lot to talk about and both men kept glancing at young Isabelle. When she next had the chance, Rosamunde looked at Isabelle. The girl was obviously very happy to have her father safely home. Rosamunde had worried about her, since Isabelle had spurned all the young men in the castle. Even before her father had left for France she had shown no inclination to be betrothed. Now her father was back, she would surely be betrothed. As she watched she saw Isabelle look shyly towards the table on the dais and smile. Rosamunde turned to her left and saw Guy return the smile. Richard was looking at her and grinned. She smiled back, understanding that Guy, too, hoped to find favour in a father’s eyes. She did wonder that Richard knew something about Guy that she did not, but they were both men and it was not seemly for men to discuss such things with women.
Once the meal was over they sat around the fire and the duke and Henry told tales of what they had done in France. Rosamunde was comforted to know that Richard stood behind her as he had on so many evenings in the hall. He no longer had to sit all the time because of his leg. Once his hand brushed her shoulder when someone moved behind him and she knew that the touch was far from accidental. Rosamunde was happy in the knowledge that her father and her brother had returned safely and that in a day or two the man she loved would ask her father for her hand.
Rosamunde and Richard had not discussed when Richard would approach her father. Rosamunde assumed that he would do nothing for a few days to allow her father to become used again to being at home. And Easter came and went before Richard asked if he might speak to the duke on an important matter. During the intervening days the duke had paid little attention to his prisoner beyond informing him that his ransom had been reduced by his actions with Sir Walter. Rosamunde was gratified that Richard had bowed and simply thanked the duke. There had been a great deal for him to do on his return and neither she nor Richard felt the need to put their own wishes before his need to make sure that all was well with the castle and the town.
It was difficult now for Richard and Rosamunde to find a reason for being together, but it often happened that she would be on her way to the still-room with Margaret when he came in from training and it would only be natural for Richard to ask after some potion or other and for Rosamunde to invite him in to inspect it. It was there on the day after the duke had reduced Richard’s ransom that Rosamunde expressed her regret that the duke had not granted her lover his freedom.
“No, he is wise,” said Richard. “Precious though your happiness is to him, it is not worth a count’s ransom.”
Rosamunde was surprised that Richard could assess her worth so coolly. Richard saw the expression on her face. He took her hand in his. “I do not say that I agree with his conclusion, merely that I understand how he came to it.”
Rosamunde was not placated. It was one thing for the free son of a count to ask for her hand, it was quite another for a prisoner to do so. And there was always that letter from Sir George de la Chapelle. She had handed it to the duke a couple of days after his return as a prelude to asking him to send gifts to his old friend and the king. The duke had read the letter thoughtfully, folded it and put it into the small chest in his solar. Neither of them had raised the matter since.
Rosamunde and Margaret had been making clothes for Richard for most of the winter, since he had brought very little with him and on this day he wore the finest hose and tunic that they had produced. He had trimmed his beard and his hair had been combed until it fell neatly onto his shoulders. There was nothing displeasing about his appearance. He was even limping less. He came before the duke modestly in his solar and bowed. Rosamunde sat beside her father. They had been going through the household accounts and he was pleased with the way she had run things in his absence.
“My lord,” began Richard, “I have something to ask of you.” Thomas, still unable to stand for long periods, was sitting beside the duke. Richard had paced the corridor for much of the afternoon waiting for Rosamunde to arrive and had then waited another half an hour for her to conclude her business with her father. He thought this would put him in a good mood, since Rosamunde had proved herself such an able administrator. Guy stood beside Rosamunde and he shook his head slightly when Richard entered. Rosamunde did not understand what he meant to signify, unless he guessed Richard’s purpose in coming here. The duke was in a good humour; it was rare for him to be anything else, but Guy was better placed than all of them to know what the duke would think about Richard’s proposal, since he was the lowliest member of the duke’s immediate household.
“Ah, yes,” said the duke, “Your ransom. We should work out the terms under which you can be released.”
“I am honoured that you are giving the matter some thought, but it is not that that I wish to discuss with you.”
“No?” said the duke as if he could not imagine anything else that Richard might want to discuss with him.
“No, my lord. It is Lady Rosamunde. I have come to ask you for her hand in marriage. I have reason to believe…”
“What!” roared the duke, turning bright red. “You dare to come and ask me for my daughter’s hand! My prisoner. You have nothing, you are nothing.”
“I am indeed penniless, my lord,” agreed Richard, “But I can ride a horse as well as any other and I will serve you well.”
“No,” shouted the duke, “I cannot throw her away on someone like you. I have quite a different man in mind for my daughter.”
Rosamunde’s heart sank. He must mean Ralf. She had allowed herself to hope that since she herself favoured Richard, she could convince the duke to do the same.
“And you have the gall to suggest that my daughter favours you. Guy!”
Guy stepped forward and bowed. “Yes, my lord.” He looked at the duke expectantly.
“Take him to the dungeon,” the duke ordered Guy, pointing at Richard. “He can stay there until he sees sense.”
“But father,” protested Rosamunde.
“No,” said the duke. “I will not hear it. He might have seduced you with his good looks and clever words, but he will not have you.”
Seeing that Guy hesitated, Richard turned to him and said, “I will not struggle. I will walk with you.” Guy nodded sadly and led him away.
Rosamunde tried again, “Father, please.”
“No. You have taken leave of your senses if you think I will hand you over to such a man. He is here because of the dishonesty of his father. That is not the kind of family I should wish you to marry into.”
“He is here because he is too honourable,” she said bitterly, “And could not bear the shame of what his father had done.”
“Rosamunde, I did not expect to find you a husband that you could love as well as Simon, but I have found you one who will give you the status that you deserve.”
; “No,” said Rosamunde, as she defied her father for the first time in her life. “I will go into a convent before I marry anyone other than Sir Richard.”
“You are behaving like a foolish lovesick girl.”
“It is true that I love him,” she said. “But I do not wish for position or riches.”
“No,” said the duke angrily, “It is I who must make sure that you achieve those things. Now, leave me, I have much to consider.”
Rosamunde obeyed with a heavy heart, unsure how she could make her father change his mind, but certain that she must do so.
The duke was not a cruel man and Richard found his dungeon reasonably comfortable. There was a palliasse for him to sleep on and even blankets, although he slept little when night came, thinking of Rosamunde. Since it was above ground, the dungeon was not even very damp. He had spent the daylight hours pacing the small space, trying to work out what he had done wrong and what he could do to retrieve the situation. Short of escaping and managing to abduct Rosamunde himself he could not see how he was to achieve his aim of marrying the woman he loved. Richard did not doubt that Rosamunde, unlike Louise, would wait for him forever, but she would also obey her father if he wanted her to marry someone else. He knew her well enough to know that she would respect his wishes, as a good daughter should. She would not want to marry another man, but if that was what the duke wanted, she would obey him. Richard was not even sure that she would come with him if he tried to make her leave the castle. Although she loved him and had said she would marry him, her word was worthless if her father said no. The virtue that he prized in her was the very thing that would frustrate his desire.
He punched the wall in frustration. He should have waited longer and let the duke get to know him before he had asked for Rosamunde. He should have found out the terms of his ransom; it might have been possible to achieve his freedom and then marry Rosamunde. Now it was too late. The duke had someone else in mind for Rosamunde and Rosamunde’s own preference was to be ignored. The duke’s choice would obviously bring Rosamunde the status that she deserved. For a moment Richard considered whether it would be better for Rosamunde to forget him and marry this other man. Love counted for very little among the nobility when a woman was to be married. If the other man had status and wealth it might be better for Rosamunde to marry him rather than an enemy with no money. Then he remembered her anguished cry. Rosamunde knew the man. She had said nothing to him, but she knew who her father intended her to marry and she had not seemed happy at the prospect. He had heard her protest that she would enter the convent if she could not marry him, but she would not be able to do even that without her father’s permission. No, unless he could convince her to leave with him, she would end up marrying her father’s choice and she would be unhappy.