Haunted Knights (Montbryce~The Next Generation Historical Romance)

by Anna Markland

  Henry inhaled deeply, accepting the ring, which he clasped tightly in his hand. “I give leave, though I must warn you he has a head start.”

  A loud cough sounded behind Denis. Henry looked beyond him. “What is it Terrence?”

  Guillaume de Terrence came to kneel beside Denis. “Sire, this catastrophe is my fault. Had I been more vigilant—”

  His fault! Denis needed to blame someone. He glared at de Terrence. “Milord de Sancerre, allow me to accompany you on your quest to save demoiselle Lallement.”

  Denis wanted to kill the man, but a knight without honour might as well be dead. Guillaume sought to regain his. “I welcome your offer. We depart on the morrow at dawn.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Paulina’s acquaintance with gentlemen was limited, but it did not take long to ascertain that Malraux de Carnac was no gentleman. She recognized the woman as Letyce Revandel.

  Malraux fawned over Letyce during the sea crossing, pawing at her inappropriately even as she retched over the side. Antoine de Montbryce’s tendency to mal de mer had been an integral part of the heroic story of the Montbryces. She chuckled inwardly that Letyce had been thus afflicted, though she wished they had kept her blindfolded rather than witness it.

  They had unbound her hands. Where to flee? Short of jumping into the waves, there was no escape.

  Her predicament angered her. It was in many ways her own fault. She had behaved like a child, throwing a tantrum with Rosamunda, accusing her of betraying Adam. As if her sister would do such a thing. Whatever Adam’s secret was, Rosamunda would never divulge it.

  By heedlessly following Topaz, Paulina had walked straight into the trap set for her. She had no doubt Carnac had chosen her deliberately, because she was a dwarf. Fear of what he planned sat like a weight in her belly. At least he seemed to have no carnal interest in her. If he touched her inappropriately she might retch on his boots.

  Tears threatened when she thought of Denis. She longed for his touch. Why had she been aloof with him, afraid to admit her feelings? But she determined not to cry. She would not give Carnac and the Revandel woman the satisfaction. She was a Lallement, of proud Norman stock.

  As the village of Ouistreham loomed out of the fog, she recalled how Rosamunda had pined for a glimpse of the land of their forefathers. She resolved to remember every detail so she could relate it to her sister when next they met. She prayed her abductors would not deem the blindfold necessary once they started out on their trek across Normandie.

  ~~~

  Rosamunda awoke in her pavilion, but she was not lying on her pallet. She snuggled into the warm chest of the man who held her on his lap.

  Adam!

  She struggled to sit up, but he held her fast. “Forgive me, Rosa, for my suspicions. I should have immediately thought of Letyce Revandel, and not of you.”

  She looked away, longing to kiss him, but still angry.

  He gently turned her chin to his gaze. She pouted, then mouthed the nagging question. “Letyce?”

  He shrugged. “The woman constantly pressed her body to mine. I suppose she is used to men becoming aroused. I didn’t.”

  Sitting on his lap, Rosamunda felt his arousal now, hard and insistent beneath her. She flexed the muscles of her derrière, grinning mischievously. “What is that?”

  Adam groaned into her hair, tightening his hold. “A miracle,” he whispered. “I prayed to Saint Alban. He apparently paid heed to my heartfelt wish to give you children.”

  Children!

  He chuckled. “Oui, I won’t simply have to dream hopelessly about our bodies joining. I can look forward to the day it happens.”

  Gooseflesh marched across her skin. But he had hurt her. She pointed to him, then to herself. “No trust.”

  He inhaled deeply, then exhaled. His full lower lip pouted slightly as the air left his lungs. Her heart skipped a beat. “I was a fool, Rosa. Forgive me. I was too blinded by my masculine pride.”

  She brushed her thumb over the lip that held her gaze. “Still marry?”

  He grinned. “More than ever, and I am no longer content to wait until Normandie. We might spend months getting Curthose’s permission. We will wed before I go off with Denis to retrieve your sister.”

  She struggled to her feet, indignation an arrow in her heart. “Go with you.”

  He shook his head. “Non, it will be dangerous.”

  She thumped her breast with the flat of her hand. “My sister. I will go with Vincent and Lucien. No wedding.”

  ~~~

  Messengers were dispatched to Kingston Gorse advising Vincent and Lucien of their sister’s abduction and instructing them to be on the Portsmouth road at dawn if they wished to assist in her rescue.

  Denis paced the narrow confines of the pavilion. There would be no possibility of sleep with him this night. Adam moved from his pavilion to Rosamunda’s and curled up with her on the pallet. She was crying.

  He stroked her hair, marvelling that despite everything, the scent of rosemary still clung to her. “Let me lie with you, Rosa. We will comfort each other. I will be a gentleman, much as I want to make you my wife in every way.”

  It was ironic. He had longed for his male potency to return, yet now it had, he was content to lie with her. The ache of longing he felt with her soft derrière pressed against him was sweet torture. He could wait.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Denis, Guillaume and Adam argued back and forth from the moment word came during the early morning hours that Winrod Revandel had confessed Carnac and Letyce’s plan to take ship from Portsmouth to Ouistreham.

  “We should follow the same route,” Adam insisted. “They evidently plan to travel through Normandie to Bretagne, and thence to Carnac on the coast.”

  Guillaume considered it a sound plan.

  Denis disagreed vehemently. “We will never catch up. We need to take a different route, to arrive sooner. We must seek out a ship bound for Bretagne, not Normandie.”

  The argument continued throughout the ride to East Preston, despite the darkness. Rosamunda grew tired of it. She huffed her displeasure. They ignored her. She pouted, but doubted if they noticed. She wished she had a voice to scream her annoyance.

  At East Preston Adam sent birds to Robert at Montbryce, Hugh at Domfort, Ronan at Alensonne and, lastly, to his father at Belisle, explaining the urgency and requesting contingents of spare men at arms be dispatched to Carnac with all possible haste.

  Rosamunda watched him carefully attach the messages to the pigeons. As he was about to release the one bound for Belisle, she touched his arm, pointing to herself.

  He shook his head. “Non, Rosa, I did not mention you, nor my miracle. Best to cross that bridge when Mathieu and I are standing at either end of it.”

  Steward Cormant organized provisions for the journey. They set off and the argument continued.

  Rosamunda was heartily glad to see Vincent and Lucien waiting for them when they reached the Portsmouth Road at dawn. She dismounted quickly to share a tearful embrace with her brothers.

  Guillaume de Terrence also dismounted and came to kneel before Rosamunda’s brothers. “Forgive me, mes seigneurs. Had I been more vigilant, your sister would not now be in the hands of Malraux de Carnac.”

  Vincent lunged towards him, but it was Denis’ voice that stopped him. “We have no time to waste on recriminations and accusations. We are all at fault for not protecting Paulina, none more so than I. She is to be my wife. I should have taken greater care. Mount up and let’s be gone.”

  Vincent and Lucien gaped at each other. A spark of hope kindled in Rosamunda’s breast. Denis truly loved her sister. He spoke as if he believed she would be rescued. She prayed as she remounted Lux, then rolled her eyes as the argument about their route was taken up again, this time with two more male opinions loudly expressed.

  ~~~

  In the event, there was no choice in the matter. No boat was available to take them to Ouistreham, but a Breton captain from Rosko agree
d to transport them and their horses on his return trip home. He apparently did not share the opinion of many that a dwarf was bad luck. The vessel seemed sound enough and his crew curious but trustworthy.

  Denis’ mood lightened. As far as he was concerned, going by way of Ouistreham would have sounded Paulina’s death knell. The Breton informed him Rosko was only two and a half days ride from Carnac. This would buy them time overland, though the sea voyage would be longer, and probably rougher.

  On their first day at sea, the sailing was reasonably smooth. Denis determined to find out as much as possible about Carnac from the captain. Why had they taken Paulina there? Travelling such a great distance with a hostage was fraught with difficulties. Why had they undertaken such a scheme?

  The seaman spoke mainly Breton, but they managed to communicate. What Denis learned chilled his blood, and he hurried to impart his news to Adam, passing Guillaume en route.

  The knight averted his eyes as they passed each other on deck.

  Denis located his brother wrapped in blankets, under the canvas shelter, his body shielding a sleeping Rosamunda from the wind. A pang of despair jolted Denis. Would he ever hold Paulina in his arms, or were they already too late?

  Adam moved over to make room. “What does he say?”

  Rosamunda woke as Denis wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. “He knows Carnac well, the place and the lord. He has naught good to say about Malraux de Carnac. He is the sort of Seigneur who rules by fear.

  “Carnac itself is distinguished by hundreds of standing stones. No one knows how they got there, or why they were placed in the formations they were. One legend tells of Merlin turning a Roman legion to stone.

  “Most of the stones are small, no taller than me, apparently, and cover a wide area.”

  Rosamunda frowned. “Why take her there?”

  A nasty suspicion had risen in Denis’ mind. “There is one stone much taller than the rest. Standing twenty feet high, it’s shaped—forgive me, Rosamunda—like a man’s shaft. They call it Le Manio.”

  Rosamunda blushed, averting her eyes.

  Adam looked at him intently. “You have a suspicion about this stone, am I right?”

  If Denis gave voice to the horror he imagined, it would make it seem possible. But he had no choice. “Every year, on All Hallows’ Eve, Malraux chooses a virgin from the village. She is hauled to the top of Le Manio, then tossed to the ground.

  “Local youths try to catch her and whoever does can have her. It usually takes more than one to catch her successfully. Sometimes the men fail to catch her before she reaches the ground. There is much drinking and carousing before hand. At the very least there is the danger of injury, to the men and the girl. Some have died.”

  Rosamunda clasped her hands over her mouth, burying her face in the blanket. Adam tightened his embrace. “You believe he intends to toss Paulina off the stone?”

  Denis raked his hair back. “Such a fall will kill her. She is too small. And who will want to catch her?”

  ~~~

  Rosamunda dozed fitfully during the long night at sea, her sleep disturbed by fits of sobbing. Adam cradled her to his body, giving what little comfort he could. He thanked God that, though the circumstances were far from ideal, the woman he loved was at his side. They were together.

  In Denis’ place he would have become a screaming lunatic, imagining the horror they believed was planned to unfold at Carnac. His brother had comforted him in his distress, but now there were no words. In any case, Denis had refused to listen to admonitions about the advisability of sleep and instead paced the decks, muttering loudly.

  Dawn brought rougher seas. Guillaume became violently ill, causing Denis to smirk.

  The horses grew restless and most of the daylight hours were spent calming them and making sure the tethers did not loosen. Rosamunda stayed with Lux, providing reassurance.

  By nightfall everyone was exhausted. Adam curled up with Rosamunda and did not wake until dawn. By midday they sighted an island, with a harbour beyond.

  “Enez Vaz,” the captain declared.

  “Batz Island,” Denis explained to the others. “It guards Rosko harbour. We have arrived. There is plenty of daylight left. Let’s get the horses off as soon as we make landfall.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Paulina was awed as Malraux led them into Caen. Her hands were bound and she was wedged between two small iron chests, clinging to the strap that secured them to the donkey. Letyce sulked, seemingly slow to recover from mal de mer. Her sneering smile had flickered only once when she espied the animal Paulina was to ride.

  Ignoring Letyce’s pouting glare, Paulina gazed at the soaring towers of the two Abbayes built by William the Conqueror, one for men, the other for women. She had secretly dreamed of a day she might visit the tomb of the Conqueror’s wife, Matilda, marked by a black slab under the choir of the Abbaye aux Dames. Now there was no hope of venturing inside.

  As they rode on through the cobbled streets, a shiver snaked up her spine at the forbidding sight of Caen Castle, citadel of Robert Curthose, Duke of Normandie.

  Here was the seat of a power that threatened peace in England and Normandie. Vincent and Lucien had explained to her the ongoing political struggle between Curthose and his brother, King Henry.

  Denis had told her of the Montbryces’ support for Henry and Curthose’s anger over what he perceived as betrayal. It was rumoured he blamed the Montbryces for the failure of his invasion of England two years earlier. Little had she known she would be passing within a stone’s throw of Curthose’s gates.

  They lodged in the home of a kinsman of Malraux’s. He led the donkey into the stable and plucked her from between the chests. “You’ll sleep here,” he said gruffly.

  Anger flared. “I am not an animal to sleep in a stable. You promised a bath.”

  He chuckled. “Fiery little gnat, aren’t you! There’s water in yon horse trough. Goodnight.”

  She watched him swagger off, his arm wrapped possessively around Letyce’s shoulders. They were confident she would not escape, and indeed where would she go in this hostile town? But they were mistaken if they thought they had cowed her. She determined to watch and wait for the right moment. She had barely tasted freedom, and they had taken it away. She would not go meekly to whatever fate they had planned for her.

  A curious stable lad unburdened the donkey and led it into a stall. He gawked at her, seemingly uncertain. She put her hands on her hips. “Leave me be.”

  To her surprise, he scarpered. She gritted her teeth, found a bucket, and dipped it in the frigid water. The donkey raised its head from the feed bag and fixed its large brown eye on her as she huddled in the corner of its stall, washing as best she could. She stayed as far away from the animal as possible, though sooner or later she would need its warmth or she might freeze to death. Carnac had left her no blanket to ward off the autumn chill.

  She knew nothing about making friends, especially with an animal, but fancied knowing a name might help. “I am Paulina,” she whispered to the curious beast. “What is your name?”

  She covered her ears, hunching her shoulders as the donkey brayed a loud response, its belly heaving, nostrils flaring.

  Determined not to show fear, Paulina responded, “I see. Your name is Soufflette, because you sound like the bellows Agnès pumped mightily to get the fire going in our grate.”

  She doused a spark of nostalgia for the cozy chambers at Kingston Gorse and set about arranging a bed in the straw.

  ~~~

  They travelled south from Caen through the flat fields and plains of Normandie. Paulina was not permitted to control the donkey, but her fear of the animal lessened. It seemed that once the beast had a name, it was less intimidating. She was relieved not to be riding a horse, such as Letyce’s palfrey. At least a fall from a donkey would not be from as great a height.

  Letyce’s only interaction with Paulina consisted of sneers and snide remarks about being afraid of horses. Paul
ina did her best to conceal her growing level of comfort with the donkey.

  Let her think what she will.

  Letyce’s main preoccupation was with Malraux de Carnac. She flirted with him constantly, fluttering her eyelashes, and thrusting her breasts. Her behaviour disgusted Paulina. Did the woman not see the contempt in Malraux’s eyes?

  Malraux fondled Letyce’s breasts frequently, on horseback! Horrified as she was, Paulina’s body heated at the thought of Denis putting his hands on her breasts. Why had she treated him coldly?

  She was certain Denis and Adam had already set out to rescue her, but how would they know where she was? They were headed for Malraux’s lands, but she had no idea where his estates were. It would be foolhardy to rely only on Denis.

  She overheard Malraux mention her betrothed more than once. It chilled her. It was as if Malraux wanted Denis to follow them and attempt a rescue.

  She determined to watch for an opportunity to escape, though how to accomplish such a thing in unknown foreign territory on a donkey with her hands tied was daunting. But if she did not escape, death awaited, of that she was sure.

  They encountered few people on the road. Malraux’s snarls deterred those who gawked at Paulina. Letyce whined when informed they would be avoiding castles and villages. “I cannot sleep out of doors. Why can we not stay where there is a bed?”

  Malraux shook his head. “Normandie is a land full of fear and mistrust, divided in two camps, Curthose’s and Henry’s. People are suspicious of strangers. They remain indoors and do not travel about. We will keep to ourselves and avoid arousing interest.”

  Each time they espied a castle off in the distance, Letyce sulked, asking petulantly, “And what fine demesne are we bypassing now?”

  This had a curious effect on Malraux. Instead of ignoring her, he reined them to a halt, announced the name of the castle, assisted her down from her mount, and then drew her behind nearby bushes or trees.