Fearsome Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “God rewards the meek, my lady,” he replied, a bit more subdued. “Have no doubt he shall take care of these people.”

  Devereux wasn’t sure what more to say so she said nothing. Davyss, however, continued to look around the room, littered with the old as well as the very young. He’d never seen a place like this, a place for charity where even the smallest bit of food was a matter between life and death. His version of life and death involved sword and battle, not food and shelter. But this was humanity as he was unused to seeing. It was simple, desolate and powerful. Without realizing it, he began to walk through the masses.

  He passed by families with young children huddled around bowls of steaming porridge. They had the look of hungry animals. He passed by old couples who were sharing food between them. He watched as an old man fed an old woman who couldn’t seem to muster the strength to do it herself. The old man was very sweet with the woman, petting her cheek as if to remind her to swallow. As he watched the pair, Devereux sat on the bench next to the woman and reached out to take the porridge from the old man.

  “Thelred, I shall feed her,” she told him gently. “You have not yet eaten. Go and get your meal and I shall take care of your wife.”

  He shook his head. “Thank ye, m’lady, but I will tend the wife meself. We’ve spent a lot o’years together. She needs me.”

  Devereux smiled faintly at the joy the old man exhibited; he seemed very happy in his life, something she admired a great deal. The man had absolutely nothing but as long as he had a roof over his head and food for his wife, he was content.

  “Are you sure?” she pressed gently.

  The old man nodded firmly. “We’ll be just fine, thanks to ye.”

  Devereux patted his leathered hand. “As you say,” she said softly. “I respect your devotion, Thelred. Your wife is a very fortunate woman.”

  The old woman suddenly vomited, spilling out porridge all over herself, her husband and some on Devereux. Devereux did nothing more than show concern to the woman; she called quickly for rags and between her and the old man, managed to clean the old woman up adequately. Devereux even helped Thelred direct the old woman to a pallet where they carefully laid her down to rest. The entire time, other than wipe her hands clean, Devereux never once lamented the fact that she had vomit on her clothes. She was simply concerned with the health and welfare of the old woman.

  Davyss watched the entire event. In that moment, that space of time, he sprouted a healthy respect for his wife. He’d never seen anyone so selfless or kind and his initial treatment of her began to gnaw at him like nothing he had ever experienced. He had indeed been cruel and callous to this glorious creature, someone so gentle that she treated the poor as if they were God’s greatest creatures.

  Given his background and noble status, he should have found her behavior repulsive but he did not; there was something holy and compassionate about it. As Devereux returned to him, only now beginning to clean the vomit off her sleeve, he watched her through new eyes.

  “Is there something more I can do?” he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the old couple. “That woman is ill.”

  Devereux glanced at the pair as the old man began stroking his wife’s hair. “She is old and sick,” she said softly. “I am afraid there is nothing anyone can do, although I thank you for your offer.”

  Davyss wasn’t sure what more to say; he suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if he didn’t belong at this place. He only brought death and destruction. This place brought hope. He gazed down at his wife, so lovely he could hardly believe it. But she had something more than beauty, something his mother had seen. He was beginning to see it, too. He took a moment to summon his courage and swallow his considerable pride.

  “I must be honest with you, my lady,” he finally said. “I am not entirely sure why I came here today, only that in the month we have been apart, I have thought of little else but you. Our marriage got off to a very bad start and for that, I am sorry. I will accept the blame but in that blame, I find that I must also accept responsibility for rectifying the situation. I am hoping you will allow me.”

  She looked up at him, her suspicions on his appearance confirmed; the pig had indeed been a peace offering. She was oddly touched by the gesture and by the fact the man wanted to make amends for his boorish behavior. In fact, she could hardly believe he had voiced an apology. If he had put aside his conceit to show her some honesty, then perhaps she should as well. She reasoned that she at least owed him that chance if he was willing to try. She realized, as she gazed into his handsome face, that she was willing to try as well.

  “Our rough beginning was not entirely your fault,” she admitted, although it was difficult. “I did not make it easy.”

  He smiled, a genuine gesture. “I am not quite sure how else you were expected to react when four enormous knights broke in to your home and abducted you.”

  She heard her words echoed in his statement and it brought a grin. Somewhat sheepishly, she averted her gaze. “They did not exactly break in,” she informed him. “They did, in fact, knock.”

  He laughed softly. “Ah, then I am glad they at least showed some manners,” he said, sobering as he watched her lovely features. There was something more he wanted to ask but was fearful of her reaction; even so, he continued. “I was hoping you would sup with me tonight so that we may discuss the situation further.”

  She nodded after a slight hesitation. “I would be agreeable.”

  “Good.” Relieved, his eyes twinkled as he continued to watch her, every move she made. “When shall I return for you?”

  “Return?” she cocked her head. “Are you leaving, then?”

  He shook his head. “Not really; we are moving on to Castle Acre Castle for a while. I will return at sundown if that is acceptable.”

  “It is.”

  “Will you see me out?”

  She nodded and he thought he saw a blush. Enchanted and thrilled, he took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. The entourage that had followed them into the hall now fell in behind them as they retreated, suspicious glances and expressions passing between the Longham brothers and Davyss’ knights.

  Hugh was especially suspicious, casting threatening expressions at Stephan, who simply gazed back without response. Lollardly actually had to put himself between Hugh and Stephan for fear that something would erupt. Devereux and Davyss, oblivious to the posturing going on behind them, didn’t say a word to each other as they returned to the brightening morning outside.

  Davyss motioned to his men to mount their horses before turning to Devereux, still clutching his elbow. Their eyes met and they gazed at each other for several moments, silently, each re-evaluating the other. This visit had been something of a new introduction for them both. Davyss could only pray the meal that evening was equally successful.

  He smiled faintly. “I shall see you this evening, then.”

  She nodded. “I will be here.”

  His smile broadened and he took the hand on his elbow, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. Devereux tried not to react, but it was difficult; in that kiss, she remembered his scorching touch as he had consummated their marriage, making her feel and behave in ways she never knew possible. It was enough to flush her cheeks.

  Devereux watched as he mounted his horse and winked at her before donning his helm. The destriers were kicking up loads of earth as they began to tear off down the road and she stood back, watching Davyss balance atop his dancing animal as he finished securing his helm. Once the fasten was closed, he lowered his visor, raised a hand to her, and then spurred his charger after his knights. Dust swirled and dogs barked as the thunder of hooves faded into the distance.

  Devereux wasn’t sure how long she stood there, her thoughts lingering on Davyss. It took her some time to realize that Stephan was standing next to her.

  “He is a big brute,” Stephan muttered. “Thank God he has gone.”

  Devereux glanced at the young man beside he
r. She wasn’t sure how to respond so it was best she say nothing. Turning back to the hall, she made her way inside with Stephan on her heels.

  During the day that followed, she made her way back to her father’s home to change out of the vomit-stained dress. Although she did not understand why, she took her time dressing. Something in the way that Davyss had looked at her made her want to appear presentable and elegant. Odd thoughts, but the more she thought on Davyss, the more consumed with him she became.

  When Davyss returned to The House of Hope promptly at sunset, she was waiting.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Promptly at sundown, Davyss appeared.

  The man, Lollardly, Hugh, several knights and several men-at-arms appeared at The House of Hope like a great thundering herd. Devereux, standing just inside the door that led to the yard outside, heard them coming.

  As the evening meal was in full swing around her, she had been playing with a little girl who had a horrible cleft palate but who was joyful and sweet. The little girl was a particular favorite of Devereux’s. When the chargers filled the muddy yard, the little girl grew fearful so Devereux gave her back her little poppet, which was nothing more than a doll made out of straw, and the child ran off. Eyeing the noisy group outside with both irritation and anticipation, Devereux proceeded out into the yard.

  She stood just outside the door, watching the chargers circle. The great beasts snapped and snorted, sending anyone within proximity running. Davyss finally pulled his charger forward of the pack, his helmed head focused on Devereux. She was wearing one of the surcoats he had given her, the brilliant blue with the exotic highlights of black and iridescent green. Her lovely blonde hair was pulled away from her face, revealing the sweet shape of her jaw and emphasizing her enormous gray eyes. She stood by the door, gazing up at him very calmly and expectantly, and he felt his heart leap. She was an exquisite creature, and a smile of appreciation creased his lips before he ever lifted his visor.

  “Greetings this evening, Lady de Winter,” he used her title with pleasure. “You look beautiful.”

  She faltered in her confident stance, gazing down at the garments she wore. “This is one of your gifts,” she said as if he did not remember. “I am glad that you approve.”

  He nodded, his eyes riveted to her. “Approve indeed,” he murmured. “Are you ready to depart for supper?”

  “I am.”

  Davyss nodded to Hugh, who dismounted his steed and made his way towards her. Devereux well remembered the last time they came within close contact of each other and she instinctively flinched when he held his hand out to her. She eyed the hand and eventually put her hand in his palm. Hugh, ever the lady’s man like his brother, smiled brilliantly at her and led her quite genteelly toward Davyss’ steed.

  “I hope you are hungry, my lady,” he said pleasantly. “My brother and I have secured a meal at the best inn in town.”

  She looked up at him; Hugh had very dark eyes and hair, and an extremely square jaw that gave him an almost stubborn appearance. He was handsome but nothing like the rugged male beauty of his older brother. Still, she could see that he fancied himself the object of every young maiden’s heart. And from the way he was looking at her, she suspected he would be disappointed if he wasn’t the object of her heart as well, married or no. She resisted the urge to frown at him.

  “Aye, I am hungry,” she replied evenly. “Which inn are you referring to?”

  “The Fist and Tankard, of course,” Hugh replied as if she was in need of an education. “It is the finest in town.”

  Devereux lifted an eyebrow; she had heard of the place, all right, but it wasn’t because of its fine food. It was because it had the largest selection of whores in town.

  “If you like trollops and dirty women, then I supposed it is,” she replied. “But if you want good food, the Swan is the place to go.”

  By this time, they had reached Davyss. Hugh was looking between his brother and his brother’s wife with some anxiety. It was obvious that Devereux had shot an arrow into his bubble of happiness and he had no idea how to deal with it.

  “Then you… you prefer the Swan?” he asked, loud enough for Davyss to hear him.

  Devereux hesitated a brief moment, thinking on her answer; Davyss had come to make amends and she did not want to start the evening off being demanding and rude. She could see that Hugh looked very concerned by her comment and she shook her head at him.

  “Not at all,” she replied pleasantly. “I was simply pointing out my own experience. Perhaps the next time you visit, you will allow me to introduce you to the Swan.”

  The sun shone again and Hugh grinned. “It would be a pleasure, Lady de Winter.”

  She forced herself to smile in return; Hugh’s polished performance when dealing with a woman was almost as accomplished as his brother’s. Both of them were quite talented when it came to the most flattering words and the right time to flash that brilliant de Winter smile. She found the charade they put on disgusting and struggled not to roll her eyes at him.

  Davyss, meanwhile, was impatiently holding his hands down to his brother. Devereux caught sight of them, the biggest hands she had ever seen. Hugh took the hint.

  “Up you go, my lady,” Hugh lifted her up to his brother.

  Davyss settled her in front of him on the saddle, adjusting her skirts so they flowed like a banner. Devereux shifted a couple of times to get comfortable, glancing around at the men in armor that surrounded them; they were all the men that had come to take her to her wedding, men who forced her to marry a sword rather than a man. She met Sir Nikolas’ steady blue-eyed gaze, remembering how she had clobbered him with a chair leg. Next to him was Sir Philip, the handsome blonde who had tried to talk her into surrendering peacefully. She had opened a door into his nose. Next to Sir Philip were Andrew and Edmund, brothers that faintly resembled each other. Andrew nodded his greeting while his younger brother Edmund simply gazed at her with some trepidation even though he had been the one to subdue her after everyone else had failed. Perhaps he thought they were in for another row. Rounding out the group was Lollardly, who appeared as if he might have actually washed his face for the event. His dark eyes glittered with some friendliness when their gazes met.

  Devereux didn’t have a chance to speak to any of them before Davyss spurred his charger forward. The beast had an excited gait and she held on tightly as the group roared into the main street of the town.

  Thetford was a larger settlement with approximately three thousand people at any given time. In that respect, it was enormous and more than likely the largest town in Norfolk on average. There was a large main street that cut a path through the town with a variety of smaller roads that sprung off from the main avenue like branches from a tree trunk. The closer to the main road, the more businesses and merchants there were. Further off the main road were residential areas and inns.

  The Fist and Tankard was one such inn off the main street, off to the northeast and in an area peppered with run-down brothels. It was little more than a brothel itself. The sun had just dipped below the horizon when Davyss and his men arrived at the inn with ten men-at-arms, swarming the entire front of the building with soldiers and weapons. The night air was cool, smelling of smoke and animals. Davyss pushed his way forward and dismounted, carefully and politely helping his wife down from the horse. A soldier took the charger’s reins as Davyss escorted his wife inside the two-level establishment.

  It was crowded inside, full of bodies and smoke. Tendrils of gray spiraled up from a hearth with the defective chimney, causing a steady haze to settle across the room. Most of the tables were full with men sharing an evening meal, talking and drinking loudly. The innkeeper caught sight of Davyss and his men and waved them over to a large alcove where he had a table waiting for them. The table was nothing more than a few planks thrown over some empty ale barrels, and Davyss took the stool at the head of the table and indicated for Devereux to sit. He sat next to her and the knights settled in ar
ound them, bellowing for ale and food. Lollardly sat on her other side.

  They were swarmed by the innkeeper and several wenches bearing trenchers and wooden trays of steaming food; brown bread, butter and a berry compote were put all over the table along with boiled turnips with dill, carrots with honey, and half a pig that had been roasted over an open pit. The pork was cooked so that it was falling off the bone and Davyss went to work making sure Devereux received the best meat and the first helping of everything. He yelled at poor Edmund when the young knight made it to the bread before he did. Lollardly even slapped the young man in the head to punctuate the error.

  The entire time, Davyss hadn’t said a word to her. The men around them were chatting, laughing uproariously at jokes Devereux did not understand, but Davyss remained largely focused on his wife. He even served her himself. All the while, Devereux kept her head down, focusing on her food and her husband’s polite attempts to help her.

  “So, my lady,” Hugh began, well into his tankard of ale. “I would assume this is better fair than The House of Hope is having tonight?”

  Devereux fixed on him with her big gray eyes. “Any food at The House of Hope is welcomed and appreciated,” she replied. “It is not an inn or a fine palace. We eat what God provides and do so happily.”

  Hugh’s smile faded somewhat, glancing at his brother. “I did not mean to offend,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t fly into a rage. “I was simply… I suppose I was simply asking if the food was to your liking.”

  Devereux struggled not to react to his arrogant stance. The man really had no idea what it meant to be hungry and homeless; he was a typical young knight with an over-inflated sense of entitlement.