Armand's Daughter

by Diana Dickinson

  In seconds, he had tossed his reins and his helmet to his squire and had leapt from the saddle. There was no chance for Catherine to follow her lady-like intentions. Raoul had bounded up the steps and swept her up into his arms, holding her aloft then spinning her round and round to the deafening cheers of everyone watching. Breathless and dizzy, Catherine looked down into the face of the man she loved.

  “Welcome home,” she whispered.

  To renewed cheers, Raoul kissed her.

  Once she had greeted her uncle and Jean Paul, Catherine asked Raoul whether there had been any sign of Simon, or of Gilles’s squire Thierry amongst those who had surrendered. He thought that there had not but Roland du Plestin immediately went out to check. The prisoners were being held under heavy guard outside the castle walls. Raoul finally accepted the cup of wine from the waiting page and led Catherine quickly to the solar as soon as he had drunk it.

  “You must tell me what has been happening,” he said, once they were alone. “The rumours I have heard are almost incredible: I’m told that Gilles and Bellec have vanished and that Salvatore has fled along with Piriac and the former steward Thomas de Faou. Can it be true?”

  Avoiding his eyes, afraid of his reaction, Catherine explained what she had planned and described what had in fact happened.

  “I owe my honour and probably my life to Connell,” she said at last.

  “I would never have left you if I’d thought you’d put yourself in danger like that!” He was vehement, angry.

  “I’m sorry.” Tears rose to her eyes. “I wanted to help. I was afraid you might have died in the tunnel. I never dreamed he’d bring Bellec with him.”

  “I can’t bear the thought of that beast touching you!”

  She freed her hand from his and moved away.

  “Connell was in time. Nothing happened that...that might jeopardise the legitimacy of a future heir. I swear it.”

  “How could you think that was what I meant?”

  “It would be many men’s only fear.” She turned away, remembering her father’s treatment of her mother.

  “Don’t you know me yet?” He stepped up to her and lifted her chin to kiss her softly on the lips. Her tears spilled over and he drew her to him and held her while she wept. “My love, I only meant that I did not want you to be scared or hurt by such a creature – especially as he’s threatened you before – hasn’t he?”

  “Yes,” she murmured, her face pressed against his broad strong shoulder.

  “You were very brave – if perhaps a little reckless? – in what you did. But thank you, sweetheart – you left me with nothing to do.”

  He bent and kissed her again, drying her wet cheeks with gentle fingers.

  “You’re not angry with me?”

  “I’m not angry – and see, I’m wearing your brooch still. I think it kept me safe.”

  “Raoul, the tunnel – was it dangerous?”

  “You were right to hurry me, love. Another five minutes and I would not have got through. It seemed easy enough at first – though there were difficulties in some places.” He closed his eyes and frowned, as if seeing it again. “But there was one part where I thought I was lost and I think I was very fortunate to have come through unscathed.”

  “What about Jean Paul?”

  “He did not exactly enjoy it but he went through at low tide, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Catherine, I know it’s our family’s ancient secret but I think that we should block the tunnel, at both ends – I cannot see that we will ever need it again.”

  “Yes. I agree. It has been put to evil uses in the past – perhaps it could be again one day.”

  She told him how Armand had climbed up through the tunnel to kill his brother Henri, Raoul’s grandfather.

  “Once I’d got through I guessed that must have been how he did it,” Raoul said. “My grandmother will be pleased to know that she was right all along.”

  “It must have been three hours after low tide that Gilles went down. I thought perhaps he would be unable to get into the tunnel at all. I was afraid he would come back. Will he have drowned, do you think?”

  “I’m afraid so, my love. That’s its terror. You can get in but after the right time has passed, you can’t get out again.”

  Catherine shuddered.

  “What a horrible death,” she said. “But he was an evil man.”

  “Catherine, there’s no sign of either Simon or Thierry with the prisoners,” said the Count of Léon, coming into the solar. “No one seems to have seen them since yesterday.”

  “Oh no!” Catherine exclaimed. “They must have been taken by those who left. Who were they, do you know?”

  “Lucien Kerboul says it was a Portuguese trader, Salvatore by name, and his friends. Your brother Gilles and his supporters had fled there in September and in return for promises of money and allegiance, he agreed to help him. With Gilles gone, I doubt if he’ll return – they’d done business together for years, apparently.”

  Catherine remembered the corn and other produce which had been taken away from Radenoc. Her uncle was still speaking.

  “We’ll offer a generous ransom for Simon,” he was saying. “He’s sure to accept. Money is all he cares about, they say.”

  “Can we offer a ransom for Thierry too?”

  “Catherine, he was Gilles’s...’creature’,” Roland said dubiously. “I’m not sure he’s worth rescuing.”

  She gave an anguished cry.

  “We’ll do our best to get them back, sweetheart,” Raoul said reassuringly, putting his arm round her. “We could ask Tanguy to go after them with gold.”

  “Thank you.”

  Later, with thanks and blessings upon Raoul and Catherine, the people from Kerhouazoc took their leave. Raoul insisted that they took a supply of food from the castle as their own stores were likely to have been ransacked by Gilles.

  “Your Lord Raoul’s a generous man,” Annie Le Guen told Catherine as she left. “He brought us cart loads o’ stuff from what’s-it-called...Beau-whatsit, back in autumn and now he’ll do it again, I don’t doubt. You’re right lucky.”

  “Yes,” Catherine agreed with a smile. “I am.”

  Later, standing beside Raoul under the gatehouse watching them depart, she mentioned what Annie had said.

  “Did you really have food sent here from Beauchamp?” she asked. “You never said anything about it to me.”

  “You would probably have regarded it as part of a Norman invasion, wouldn’t you?” he said with a chuckle, drawing her arm through his.

  “Yes, probably,” she admitted. “Can you forgive me for having doubted you?”

  “If you have truly forgiven me for what I did to you.”

  Catherine blushed.

  “You know I have,” she said.

  He bent close to her and whispered in her ear, “Will you prove it to me tonight?”

  Her blush deepened.

  “I shall be glad to,” she said breathlessly.

  Somehow Roland and his knights were found suitable accommodation and the servants attempted to bring the castle back to some semblance of normality. Fires were lit in the courtyard to roast great sides of meat in celebration of Raoul’s victory. It was starting to grow dark and Raoul, with Catherine, was in the stable feeding carrots to Hercules when there was a shout from the gatehouse.

  “What can it be?” Catherine cried in alarm. “You don’t think Salvatore has returned?”

  “Let’s go and see, love.”

  “There’s two people over there, beyond the moat,” the sentry told Raoul. “Up to no good by the look of them.”

  “I’ll go up and see. Will you come with me, Catherine?”

  Raoul took her hand and they climbed the steep steps together.

  “Over there,” the sentry said. “See them? One’s little – a child perhaps?”

  In the fading light, Catherine could see the two, who seemed to her to be arguing. The smaller one sudden
ly broke free from the other and ran to the edge of the moat, looking as if he might jump in.

  “Simon!” Catherine suddenly yelled, leaning over the parapet, her fear of heights forgotten. Something about the way the boy moved was utterly familiar to her. “Simon!”

  “Catherine?” It came out as an excited squeak. “Is that you?”

  “Quickly, lower the bridge, please! It’s my brother and...and...Thierry, I think.”

  Merely a few minutes later, Simon dashed into the castle and flung himself into his sister’s arms.

  “What were you doing over there?” Catherine demanded, still hugging him. “Someone might have fired an arrow at you!”

  “Well, we didn’t know who’d won, you see – though obviously somebody had because they’ve all gone from the camp. If Gilles and Bellec had come back, Thierry and I were going to run away again. I wanted to be a fisherman but Thierry said he wouldn’t ‘cos going in a boat makes him sick.”

  Catherine stood up and held out her hand to Thierry.

  “You’ve taken good care of my brother. I’m grateful.”

  Thierry hesitated then took her hand and to her surprise, bowed and kissed it.

  “I wanted him to be safe. He’s a good boy.”

  “Is that what you feared, that Gilles had won?”

  “I thought it unlikely.” He glanced nervously at Raoul. “I have heard many stories about Lord Raoul. I feared that Simon would be in danger here – as Gilles’s heir. I remembered how you said he had made you suffer.”

  “I did not tell you the truth, that day,” Catherine said gravely. “I had good reason not to. I assure you, though, that Raoul is generous and kind – and of noble birth. His claim to Radenoc is legitimate where Gilles’s...and indeed my father’s...were not. I will explain it all to you properly another time. In the meantime, Lord Raoul will bid you both welcome – won’t you, my lord?”

  “Yes indeed. Come and eat with us. I think the food must be nearly ready.”

  “Ooh, good!” said Simon. “We’ve had nothing but foul stuff since we ran away. And we slept in a cave with funny drawings and I thought a witch might come but Thierry said they’re only allowed out in October so we were safe.”

  “You took him to Melgorn,” Raoul said to Thierry.

  The young man nodded. “No-one goes there. They’re afraid of the place. I thought we’d be safe.”

  “When did you go there?” Catherine took Simon’s hand and they moved towards the Hall.

  “After I’d spoken to the herald I knew something was wrong and we had to get away. Lord Kerboul thought I’d harmed Gilles, I’m sure of it.” Thierry stopped abruptly. “He should have known I was too great a coward.”

  “Steady, lad.” Raoul put his hand on Thierry’s shoulder.

  “Yon,” Catherine called across the courtyard to him. “Take Simon in, will you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Oh, no! Is Marie here?” Simon demanded. “She’ll kiss me like a baby and I shan’t be able to stand it! I’m grown up now. I’ve been in a ship on the sea, you know.”

  “Marie’s gone to see Baby Bihan,” Yon said as they climbed the steps together. “Do you remember him?”

  “Is Gilles dead?” Thierry asked abruptly when the child was out of earshot.

  Raoul nodded. “Yes.”

  “Who killed him?”

  “No-one,” Catherine said. “He drowned. In a way his own malice killed him.” She explained briefly what had happened and tears gathered in Thierry’s eyes. He fiercely scrubbed them away with the back of his hand then knelt.

  “I offer you my service,” he said, speaking both to Raoul and to Catherine. “You have freed me from a monster.”

  “We accept your service gladly,” Raoul said. “Now come and celebrate with us.”

  Later, as Catherine glanced along the length of the High Table, she remembered other feasts in Radenoc and smiled at the contrast. She was seated in the centre, next to her husband, of course. Beside her was Simon and beyond Raoul sat her uncle Roland, the noble Count of Léon. Father Alain sat further along. Other places were taken by Guillaume Rénard and other dignified and sober knights from Léon’s personal retinue.

  At the end of the feast Raoul ordered that everyone’s cup should be filled with the very best wine, then he stood and there was a warm, respectful silence.

  “Friends, I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to stand here again today with my dear wife beside me,” he smiled down at Catherine, “and to see that her brother is well and safe from harm.”

  Simon raised his cup, took a flamboyant swig and nearly choked. Catherine thumped him on the back and everyone laughed.

  Raoul continued, “I thank you all for what you have done to help me to return to my beloved Radenoc. But there are three people here in the Hall tonight who, as soon as the necessary preparations can be made, will be receiving their spurs for the loyal service which they have rendered to me and to my family. Please raise your wine-cups and drink – carefully,” he winked at Simon, “to Connell Guennec, Yon Le Goff and to Thierry – whose other name as yet I do not know.”

  Cups were raised and the three names were bellowed aloud – to the immense pleasure of the three young men, each of whose faces showed amazement and delight.

  “Finally,” Raoul said, taking Catherine’s hand and urging her to her feet, “I would like you to drink to Catherine, my lady and my love!”

  “Catherine!” they cried.

  She looked into Raoul’s eyes, read the tender love in them, and raised her cup to him in a silent toast of her own.

  It was a week before Midsummer, in a period of bright sunny weather, when Tanguy Rivoallon’s fishing boat landed in Lanhalles.

  Waiting on the shore were Raoul, now Lord of Radenoc, and Catherine, Raoul’s wife and Armand’s daughter. The young woman looked a little nervous but her husband squeezed her hand reassuringly and the look which passed between them showed that they felt a deep affection for each other.

  The first to come ashore was a member of the crew, a young Breton lad, who made the rope fast and turned back to help the others to disembark. A tall strong-looking man climbed out next, carrying in his arms a gentle-faced woman, visibly pregnant. He set her down on the shore, gripped Raoul’s hand and bowed to Lady Catherine. Raoul, in turn, kissed the woman on the cheek and murmured surprised congratulations which made her blush. As she curtsied to Anne, Countess of Morbihan, Catherine noticed how pretty the plain woman became when she smiled.

  Finally, Tanguy himself lifted out the remaining passenger and carried her ashore, keeping a steadying arm round her slight upright figure as he set her on her feet. Catherine felt a pair of shrewd assessing eyes sweep over her as Raoul led her forward.

  “Grandmother,” he said, stooping to kiss the old woman’s hand, “let me present Catherine, my wife.”

  “So you’re Armand’s daughter, are you?” Lady Eleanor said coldly. “You don’t look like him.”

  Catherine glanced uncertainly at Raoul.

  “No...” she faltered.

  “Devoted to him, were you?”

  Stung by her tone, Catherine felt suddenly angry.

  “Whatever evil deeds he committed, he was my father and I cared for him,” she said firmly, raising her chin. “He was a great deal pleasanter than my brother Gilles ever was!”

  To Catherine’s astonishment, Raoul’s grandmother chuckled.

  “I’m glad to see you’ve some spirit, girl,” she said. “Armand could be very charming when he wanted to be. I know that. Now, Raoul, let me take your arm and let us walk up to Radenoc.”

  “There’s a horse litter, Grandmother, if you’d prefer it.”

  “Pff! I’m not a cripple yet. I can manage. It gives me new strength to see this place again.” She looked around her, a strange unreadable expression on her face.

  With Bertrand and Anne de Courcy following slowly behind, they set off.

  “Not barren, girl, are you?”

>   The shrewd keen eyes travelled over Catherine’s slender figure as she began to walk beside her.

  “No, Lady Eleanor,” she said, blushing.

  “They said Anne de Bourbriac was but she’s confounded them!” Eleanor said with audible satisfaction. “She told me all about it on our way here. Her first husband must have had nothing but water in his pizzle.”

  Raoul laughed.

  “You’ll shock Catherine, Grandmother!” he protested.

  “Nonsense. Are you breeding yet, girl?”

  Catherine looked across at Raoul and gave a little smile.

  “Actually, I am. I haven’t told anyone yet but I think my baby should be born at around Christmas time.”

  “Catherine!” Raoul exclaimed and would have gone to embrace her but Lady Eleanor gripped his arm tightly.

  “You can kiss and cuddle her later, boy,” she said, to Catherine’s amusement. “Here, girl, give me a kiss.” Catherine did so, noticing with a rush of warmth that there were tears in the fearsome old lady’s eyes. “With luck I’ll still be around to see it born, but if I don’t I’m glad to know that Radenoc will have an heir who, after fifty years, will end this feud at last. I give you both my blessing.”

  AFTERWORD

  AUGUST 1153

  In former times, Eleanor realised, the Festival of Lugh would have been celebrated that night on Melgorn. Recalling that terrifying time in her youth, Eleanor de Metz had felt tired and dispirited all day and had kept to her chamber – the room in the North Tower that had once been Armand’s, adorned then with those exotic Eastern furnishings. How well she recalled the first time she had been up there.

  In the afternoon Catherine had sat with her in the window seat. The girl was still slender but just a little swelling of the belly made her condition clear – if you looked with care. She was stitching a cap for her baby: a dainty thing of finest linen, when she dropped her needle. Catherine searched the seat cushions, on her lap, in her sleeves and even in her shoes. Laughing and exclaiming, she searched the floor around them and Eleanor even examined her own garments – but it was nowhere to be found.