A Sister's Crusade

by Ann Turner

  Several of the men gathered together, linking arms, and hoisted Simon onto their shoulders, while the women made Aubrette sit on a chair that was also lifted high. With musicians leading the way, and with everyone else following behind, they were paraded around the castle and its grounds. Eventually they were carried to the bedchamber, where the couple were tossed onto the bed. There, they rolled into each other’s arms and kissed triumphantly, with everyone present cheering before departing.

  Once they were alone, they both rose from the bed and kissed again with an urgent passion. Simon broke away to sit in a chair, observing his new wife steadily.

  ‘I have waited so long for this moment,’ he said, quietly, and then gave an anxious laugh. ‘I feel nervous.’ She agreed with a silent nod. They had come together so many times before, but this felt like the first time.

  ‘We can be together now and no one shall question us,’ she expressed, and it was Simon’s turn to nod wordlessly.

  He was breathing heavily with expectation and his heart was thumping wildly in his chest. Inside his hose, he could feel a deep throbbing and swelling. He felt like an inexperienced youth who was about to have his first time with a maid. The sensations aroused him as never before.

  Aubrette slowly undressed and stood before him naked. His eye took in the length of her body, from her loose hair tumbling over her shoulders and her small, round breasts, to the gentle swell of her belly – a legacy of the two sons she had given him. Her hands modestly covered her maidenhair. Simon gave an utterance of desire, as though seeing this woman naked for the first time.

  Aubrette came over and, leaning forward, she carefully removed his eye patch to toss it aside. The mutilation and blindness of his eye no longer disturbed her, and she wanted to see him as he was. His hand moved forward to brush her breasts and she shivered in delight. He loosened his hose and she sat astride him, lowering herself gently onto his lap. They came together unhindered, unrestrained, taking great pleasure in rediscovering each other again.

  Once completed, Simon rose to his feet, still holding Aubrette in his arms as she wound her legs around his waist. He carried her to the bed, where he set her down and entered into her once again. She stretched in sheer pleasure onto the soft, luxurious mattress, feeling his hands caress the length of her body, as he moved deep inside her.

  Afterwards, Aubrette lay resting her head on Simon’s shoulder, her eyes shut in contentment and a small smile curling her mouth upwards. She felt his arms encircling her, his fingers gently pressing into her back, protecting her. She felt warm and safe against his body. He would defend her forever now.

  ‘I cannot remember when I last felt this blessed,’ Simon whispered through her hair into her ear. He could smell the soft, heady fragrance of the crushed flowers that were still in her hair. ‘You smell beautiful, my sweet wife.’

  Aubrette snuggled further into Simon’s warm chest, feeling it gently rise and fall as he breathed slowly. She delighted in hearing him refer to her as his sweet wife. Finally, she was his sweet wife.

  51

  Queen Berengaria, Joanna, Guy de Lusignan, Aubrette and Simon stood on the quayside as the last of the royal trunks and cases were loaded onto the ship. Now was the time for final goodbyes and Aubrette felt sad that the queen was going her own separate way, as instructed by her royal husband, accompanied by his sister.

  Berengaria was conducting herself regally, forcing herself to appear aloof from the sadness she was experiencing. It was not fitting for a queen to display emotion, but she had been through so much with the people that surrounded her now. She was to depart Cyprus for Brindisi, then onto Rome and finally to Normandy to wait for her husband to follow her. After all he had forced her to endure since their meeting, in addition to his frequent coldness and disdain, she still held onto the hope that he would one day become a true husband to her.

  ‘God grant you a long and happy life together. A blessing on you both,’ the queen said to the two people standing beside her. ‘The Dowager Queen and I shall miss you, but we have seen much death and destruction and are looking forward to moving onto a quieter, more serene existence. I have been told my husband shall be leaving the Holy Land soon and shall travel overland back to Normandy. We will be together then.’ The queen smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in her face and she wondered when they would be reunited. ‘Once the new court has been established, you must become part of it. I shall need faces I know and trust around me.’

  Simon bowed low and kissed her hand. ‘Madam, you are the gentlest of mistresses, and I shall serve you and King Richard with my heart and my sword.’ He put his hand over his heart and Aubrette glowed with renewed pride for her husband.

  The queen then turned to Aubrette and, in a moment of friendship, she embraced her and kissed her cheek with a true affection. ‘We must go now, but remember the Dowager Queen and I in your prayers every night,’ she said, as genuine tears shone in her beautiful eyes.

  Simon and Aubrette bowed to Joanna, and she too bade them farewell with a kiss and an embrace. ‘You are both my friends and I do not say that lightly to many. I shall remember you with a fondness,’ Joanna said.

  They watched as the two women boarded the ship and waited as the ropes were loosened. The great ship slowly moved from the quayside and began to steer out from the port, towards the open sea, to plot a course in the direction of Brindisi.Aubrette stood looking after it until it became too distant to recognise anymore. They were to remain several days more, before she and Simon would begin their own voyage from Cyprus to Marseilles.

  These were idyllic, divine, sun-filled days for Aubrette and her new husband. They spent carefree hours finding small coves along the coastline, where they could make love in the waves without disturbance. The evenings were spent dining intimately, dancing to their own private musicians, before retiring to the marital bed to spend the night hours making love, and then falling asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

  Guy made their stay convivial, being the genial and generous host. It made the departure all the more painful when they were finally ready to leave Cyprus.

  Storms knocked the ship about and tossed it around like a child’s plaything, but the sturdy vessel refused to succumb to the bullying of the Mediterranean Sea. It made good time to reach the French coastline, where Aubrette and Simon disembarked at Marseilles.

  After a brief stay, they travelled to Aquitaine and through the empire, with Simon paying his respects to the seneschals of the provinces, appointed by King Richard. He gave them letters from Richard, which were filled with instructions and news. This made their journey slow, but eventually they arrived in Harfleur, where they chartered a small boat and its crew to carry them across the Narrow Sea back to England.

  52

  The village of Romhill had changed little since the day Aubrette and Simon had left it, and Aubrette felt strange as she rode through it by the side of her husband. The shabby and dilapidated hovels shocked her especially, knowing that her natural mother had lived in one of these feeble excuses for homes. If she had survived the plague, survived childbirth, she could still be living here today. Everything appeared much smaller and more piteous than she remembered, watching as several people came out of their doors to stare at the train of riders and carts heading for the manor house.

  Since Lord Oswyn had died, there had been few visitors. Lady Petronella had kept to her home, only visiting the small church where her husband was buried in the family vault, to pray. She rarely ventured beyond the grounds, leaving the running of the estate to the loyal steward of the house. Her only solace was her two grandsons, who had been sent to live with her when Rowena and Simon had been called to follow the king on his crusade. By God’s grace, the boys had survived when the plague hit.

  Petronella protected her grandsons as a lioness would her cubs, and after her husband had died, she become afraid that contact with p
eople from the village would cause them harm. For this, they remained behind the estate’s locked gates, though they were seen riding their ponies in the courtyard, covering their nose and mouths with scarves in case they breathed in or swallowed any contagion. Petronella had also hired a food taster to sample every dish and every drink served up for the boys, so scared was she that either would succumb to infection.

  Now she was waiting for her son-in-law to arrive with his new wife and she was anxious about meeting her. Aubrette had been one of many illegitimate children fathered by her husband and the only one that had been adopted, while Petronella was still clinging to the ever diminishing hope that she may give Oswyn a son. Even when she had realised that Rowena would be the only child of their union, she had kept an affection for the bastard child, who had been a charming and mischievous girl. It was only her inglorious behaviour when Simon had come to claim his bride, that her love had faltered. Now, Rowena was dead and Simon had married her. How unexpected and twisted fate was. But Petronella would greet Simon warmly, as he had been her daughter’s husband and was now the master of Romhill. She would be polite to his wife, for it was not in her nature to bear a grudge. Still, it was ironic that Simon had chosen the bastard sister of her daughter as his second wife.

  She stood waiting in the courtyard, flanked by her two grandsons, for the new lord of Romhill to arrive. Simon soon rode through the open gates, followed by his wife and his small retinue. Petronella could not take her eyes from his face. He had changed drastically from the brash, arrogant young man and now wore an eye patch. His time in the Holy Land had aged and scarred him, and she wondered whether he would be able to settle into a domestic routine after the life of war he had endured.

  Simon dismounted, his gaze alternating between his two sons, and bowed to Petronella. She, in turn, went into a deep curtsey in deference to him. Then, the boys stepped forward in unison and went onto their knees to their father for his blessing. He smiled at their obedience, gladly giving it. Petronella glanced at Aubrette, who was being helped down from her horse, before turning back to Simon.

  ‘Welcome back to Romhill. It is yours now,’ she said, holding out a large iron ring that held the jangling keys to every lock. He took them solemnly and attached the ring to his belt, then turning and smiling, he held out a hand to Aubrette and drew her to his side. The two women looked tensely at each other.

  ‘Aubrette,’ said Petronella, stiffly.

  ‘Step-mother,’ she replied uncomfortably, realising herself that she was now senior in this household and Petronella could do nothing about it.

  ‘Lady Petronella shall suffice for now,’ came the brief reply.

  Petronella turned to Simon. ‘Come inside and rest from your journey, I have provided food and wine to refresh you, and then you can look at the accounts and familiarise yourself with your new home.’

  She led the way through the open doorway and into the hall. Aubrette entered and looked around, remembering the happy childhood she had spent with Rowena here. In her mind, she could hear their running and laughing, and their shoes clattering on the stairs to the annoyance of their mother and the housekeeper. The girls had always been so loud in their high-spirited games of chase. Then, there was the time they had pilfered pies from the kitchen behind the cook’s back, before being caught and getting their ears boxed affectionately. There were also the long, boring hours in the schoolroom as they were tutored in reading and writing. Rowena, always the diligent one, had learnt her arithmetic thoroughly, so that she would understand how to balance the housekeeping books when she had a home of her own to run. Aubrette would instead stare out of a window, uninterested, watching the butterflies flit across her vision, and listen to the birdsong. She knew her future would not include becoming the mistress of a household, so these lessons meant little to her. Now, she wished she had paid more attention.

  Eustace and his young brother walked silently and obediently behind the adults. They had been given stern instructions on how to behave when meeting the father they hardly knew. They were told that he was a brave and fearless soldier, and had heard exciting stories from their nurse about his conduct in the Holy Land. All the stories were made up, of course, but the boys were in awe of this great man. Eustace had already decided his father was his hero, and that he would become a soldier like him.

  Petronella was telling Simon about the daily routine of the household, and how she had kept it running smoothly after the shock of Oswyn’s death. The steward had gained her respect with his tireless work: overseeing the workers in the fields and the servants in the house, dealing with disputes and the business of sending trade to local markets, and making sure fair prices were gained for the products they sold. Simon’s reply was that he would meet with this steward and retain him, as he was, if all Petronella said was true, a man worthy of his salt.

  In the great hall, as Petronella promised, refreshments were waiting and everyone sat down to recover from their journey and reacquaint themselves with their new home.

  Simon attempted to converse with his sons. Their replies were quiet, as they were nervous around their father, a stranger to them. Raymond kept sliding looks at Aubrette; he liked her and thought she was pretty. He had missed his mother more than Eustace when she had left them to be by their father’s side.

  Gradually, the older son grew in confidence at the table and talked about how he practised with a wooden sword in the courtyard. Raymond added that he held a sword, too, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. Simon was satisfied with these replies from his sons. Aubrette glowed inwardly with pride at her two boys, though their true parentage would continue to remain a secret. What would Petronella think if she discovered that her daughter had been incapable of giving her husband a child, and he had turned to her half-sister to provide him with the sons he wanted?

  Petronella had kept conversation with Aubrette at a minimum, only saying the briefest of words to her. Her icy welcome had not been what she had expected from her step-mother, but it continued throughout the dinner. Simon also noticed the coldness from his mother-in-law to his new wife.

  At the table, Simon sat at the head, which was now his rightful place. Aubrette and Petronella sat either side of him, facing each other, with the boys sitting beside their grandmother. Aubrette attempted a friendly smile at her sons, who were both reticent to open up to her and were now silent. Food was served and eaten in an awkward silence. At first, Simon attempted to lighten the atmosphere with talk of the king and his adventures in the Holy Land. Petronella answered sweetly, until he mentioned Aubrette’s help during his stay in the infirmary. Then, her reply took the form of a short snort.

  ‘Lady Petronella, why have you been so cool to me since our arrival?’ Aubrette asked. ‘I was your loving step-daughter once.’

  Petronella pushed the plate away from her, sighed and looked intently into her face. ‘I find it difficult to accept you as my daughter’s replacement,’ she admitted. ‘Had Simon married a woman I had never known, a woman of breeding, I think I could have felt more at ease.’

  ‘I love Aubrette as I loved Rowena,’ Simon assured. ‘She was a great help to my wife during the confinement that took her. She nursed me back to health after my injuries in battle, and I would have given up and died had it not been for her. I owe her my life and I love her for her kindness.’

  Petronella’s mouth drew into a hard line. The boys listened intently, looking from adult to adult, neither fully understanding the reason for this conversation. ‘She is your choice, but I cannot accept her as mistress here,’ she said, coldly.

  ‘I would never try to replace you. This is still your home and I want you to help me. We can run Romhill together,’ Aubrette pleaded.

  Petronella looked at her with emotionless eyes. ‘What do you know about managing a household? You are the illegitimate daughter of a wanton serf. This was never meant to be your destiny.’ Her
voice was bitter with resentment. Aubrette gasped in shock and Simon uttered a loud curse. Petronella turned her attention to the boys. ‘Go to your rooms and stay there until I say you can leave.’

  ‘Yes, grandmother,’ said Eustace and Raymond, as one voice. They rose from the table, bowed awkwardly to their father and quietly padded away.

  Simon watched his sons depart. Once they had gone, he turned sharply back to Petronella. ‘You shall not disrespect my wife in front of me. She is my choice and she carries your next grandson in her belly,’ he warned, stabbing a finger towards her.

  Petronella turned her eyes to him. ‘Then I shall say nothing to either of you. Excuse me. I have vacated the wing of Romhill I shared with Oswyn – they belong to you as does everything and everyone, including me. I shall retire to my smaller, meaner accommodation now.’ She stood up, scraped the chair back and haughtily left the hall to retire to her new rooms. Aubrette and Simon watched her go, astonished.

  ‘She will learn to accept you. If not, she will be required to leave. The nuns at the convent we passed on our way here would take her in,’ Simon assured.

  His wife sat silently, thinking. This was not what she had expected in the slightest. ‘She grieves for her husband and finds the transition hard.’

  Simon looked surprised at her words. ‘You defend after what she said to you?’ he exclaimed.

  Aubrette nodded. ‘Look at it from her point of view. She has been raised to be the mistress of a household, the mother of future generations, to be the lady everyone looks to. Those generations have never be born and I am of mongrel birth – not from her body, as Rowena was – and have not been raised to aspire to become a great lady. I was taken pity on and taken in because of who my father was. I have been a constant reminder of her failure to have no more than one child. Had Oswyn not sired me, had I not been left here at their mercy, where would I be now? Living in the village and ignorant of the life I have now with you. I will win her to my side eventually.’