He shook his head slightly, instantly regretting the movement. “No, Ragna. I want you to do something for me.”
“I’ll not take no for an answer, Aidan.”
He took a deep breath, imagining his sister with her hands on her hips, petulant chin thrust out. “Listen. I cannot talk for long, you must listen, for once.”
His sister snorted, but Edwin asked, “What is it, Aidan?”
“There is a woman here. Her name is...”
Ragna snorted again. “You’re delirious. This is a monastery. I’m the only woman within these cursed walls.”
He opened his eyes just as Edwin pushed Ragna out of the way, none too gently. “Go on,” his brother said.
“Nolana Kyncade sought sanctuary here from her stepfather. My superior is sending her to a nunnery in Durham. You must prevent it. Take her to Kirkthwaite. Keep her safe there.”
He squinted to see Ragna sulking at the foot of his pallet, arms folded across her chest.
Edwin shook his head. “But who is this woman, and on whose authority are we to do this?”
Aidan’s head was pounding. “She’s a Scot...”
Ragna threw her hands in the air. “A Scot?”
Edwin turned to her. “Ragna, hold your tongue. Can’t you see he is in pain and trying to tell us something important?”
Ragna’s mouth fell open.
Well, well. Edwin has found his backbone.
“Thank you, Edwin. This woman is not suited to religious life. You must safeguard her at Kirkthwaite. Her stepfather may pursue her and force her into an abusive marriage.”
Ragna stopped pouting. “What father would do that? Who is he?”
They would find out soon enough. “Neyll Maknab.”
Both siblings gasped, but said nothing, then Ragna asked, “Where are they keeping her?”
“I don’t know. She has come secretly to see me twice while I’ve lain here, but yesterday she didn’t come. You’ll speak to the abbot and force him to give her the choice. I must be assured she is safe.”
Edwin saluted. “It will be done.” He hurried from the infirmary.
Ragna leaned close to Aidan’s ear. “What is this woman to you?”
Unable to explain what he did not understand, he swallowed hard. “She’s a young woman in trouble, Ragna. I want to help her.”
His sister put her hand on his forehead. “I had better assist Edwin. I can be more forceful.”
Aidan chuckled. “I don’t know, he seems to have found some courage. Did he actually salute me?”
Ragna shrugged and left, but in minutes she and Edwin returned, both agitated. “She’s gone already.”
Aidan’s heart plummeted. “What?”
“The escort from Durham took her yesterday.”
Aidan struggled to sit up. He reached out his swollen hand and gripped his brother’s arm. Edwin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Edwin, you must go in pursuit. Take a contingent of our men-at-arms and go after them. They must not reach Durham. Promise me.”
Ragna put her hands on Aidan’s shoulders. “Calm yourself. We will do your bidding and see her safely delivered to Kirkthwaite. You must rest and get well. Then we’ll speak of your return home.”
Aidan had no strength left to argue. He collapsed onto the bolster and closed his eyes. “Thank you. Go quickly.”
* * *
Nolana’s heart ached that she had been denied the opportunity to say farewell to Aidan. She had finagled only one more visit to the infirmary, narrowly avoiding getting caught applying salve to his hands. He was in greater pain and seemed to have no recollection of his suggestion she share his bed at Kirkthwaite, proving her suspicion he had been delirious. She was relieved. There was no future for their relationship. But her heart raced at the image of them abed together, limbs entangled.
The escort from Durham consisted of two elderly nuns in a wagon accompanied by five mounted guards. They had brought a novice’s habit, and she was forced to leave behind her playd and léine, the last links to her roots. Sister Magdalena stuffed Nolana’s hair into the confining coif, remarking that it would be an easier matter once they reached the mother house in Durham where they would crop it short. A leaden weight settled on her heart. Her mother’s weakness had brought her to this and she could find no forgiveness in her heart. She should be relieved she would be shut away, protected from men...but Aidan, oh God, Aidan.
She rode in the back of the wagon. The nuns ignored her. The two guards riding behind ogled and smirked, elbowing each other in the ribs. The procession navigated the causeway and turned south to Durham. After a mile or two they entered Fenwick Wood. It was eerily silent. No birdsong. No creatures stirring. The horses grew nervous and a sour taste rose in Nolana’s mouth. She held her breath and scanned the thick wood for an avenue of escape.
They rounded a bend. Jennet cowered in the middle of the track, shoulders hunched. A burly giant bearing the Maknab devise on his tunic gripped the back of the old woman’s neck. Nolana’s heart raced, blood turning to ice in her veins.
The guards reined in their horses. Their leader addressed the giant. “You there. Make way. We are emissaries of the Bishop of Durham. These women are under his protection.”
Nolana did not see the silent arrow that pierced the man’s heart until he grunted. His body slipped from the horse and thudded to the ground. Sister Magdalena screamed in outrage and the remaining guards fled into the forest. Nolana gripped the sides of the wagon when Neyll Maknab sauntered out of the wood. The giant forced Jennet to her knees. Nolana stood up in the wagon, hoping her icy fear didn’t show. “Let her go. She’s just an auld woman.”
“I didn’t mean to tell, I didn’t,” Jennet wailed.
Neyll smirked. “She was most forthcoming concerning ye and yer whereabouts. It took little persuasion.”
Nolana climbed out of the wagon and knelt by Jennet, pushing away the giant’s hand. She put her arms around the sobbing woman. “Ye’re a brute, Neyll Maknab. Ye prey on defenseless women.”
Neyll strolled over and fingered her veil. Sister Magdalena made a sound of protest but he silenced her with a glare. “Nonsense. I am the soul of generosity. Instead of killing these women, I intend to let them go on their merry way, without ye, of course, daughter.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of Durham.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Sister Magdalena urged the horse forward. The wagon pulled away. Nolana watched them go as she came to her feet. “I am nay yer daughter. My father was a noble man. Ye are not.”
Neyll backhanded her across the face. She reeled and stumbled into Jennet. “Noble or nay, I am the man who holds sway over ye and ye will obey me. Yer precious crone had best be gone, before I change my mind.”
Jennet looked pityingly at Nolana then scurried off into the trees.
A Maknab thug held the reins of the dead guard’s horse. Neyll took her hand and dragged her to the animal. “Mount, Nolana. And dinna think to escape. I am done chasing ye. My patience is at an end. Next time ye run, I will kill ye.”
Atop the horse, Nolana clung to the pommel and the stolen steed was led north towards the border.
Full of despair, she sensed the moment they crossed into the Lowlands. The tension left Neyll’s shoulders. Here he was feared. It took but a day to reach his tower stronghold at Kolbrand’s Path, but to Nolana it might have been a journey to the other side of the world.
The habit chafed her thighs and bottom. By the time they arrived, she was sore and exhausted. The hated stone tower-house loomed before her in the fading light. The crashing waves of the North Sea hurled themselves against the outer ramparts of the fortification. She had been elated to escape this wretched place where she had known nothing but unhappiness. A shiver of dread raced up her spine; Nyell would retaliate. She hoped the aged baron, her intended betrothed, was not in residence.
They passed over the ditch and through the wooden palisades. Someone lifted her from the horse. Her knees buckled when her feet hit the ground and she leaned
against the animal.
Neyll came up beside her. “Take her to the tower.”
Her feet never touched the ground as two men lifted her by the arms and bustled her off to the chamber at the top of the tower. They dumped her on the pallet bed and withdrew. She heard the bar drop into place. Too exhausted to cry, she curled up and fell asleep.
Is It Love?
The Infirmarian finally allowed Aidan out of bed. The swelling around his eyes had improved considerably and he was taking a stroll with Ragna in the abbey garden. His sight had thankfully not been affected by the stings. Hopefully, his hands would heal quickly. He walked arm in arm with his sister, enjoying the unusual closeness.
Aidan and Blythe were twins. Ragna was several years younger and had always been independent...a hellion. Everyone in their family called her Wild Viking Princess, claiming she took after their Danish ancestors.
She must have sensed what he was feeling. “It’s good to walk with you like this, Aidan. You and I have never been friends.”
He smoothed his hand over hers. “But we love each other just the same.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. “We can do no less as the children of Caedmon and Agneta FitzRam.”
He took a deep breath. “May God have mercy on their souls.”
Ragna snorted. “If they aren’t welcome in heaven, there is no hope for the rest of us.”
He squeezed her hand and they continued their stroll.
“Tell me about Nolana Kyncade.”
Aidan pulled up sharply. “There’s nothing to tell.”
Ragna punched his shoulder, reminding him of when Blythe had done the same thing years ago in a garden in Germany. “You aren’t hiding your feelings for her very well, Aidan. Why don’t you admit you’re smitten?”
Aidan walked on, studying his feet, then turned to face her. “I made a commitment to God, Ragna. How can I renege? Nolana is God’s way of testing my mettle.”
Ragna opened her mouth to reply, but her gaze fell on Edwin, who was hastening towards them, escorted by a monk. “It’s Edwin.”
Aidan turned quickly. Edwin’s face plainly showed his consternation. Dread threatened to rob Aidan of his tenuous balance. “Tell me.”
Edwin took a deep breath. “We followed them, but in Fenwick Wood we came upon the body of one of the Bishop’s guards, an arrow through his heart.”
Aidan clung to Ragna, wishing he could sit down. “Nolana?”
Edwin looked ready to burst into tears. “I’ve failed you, brother. There was no sign of her, but the tracks led in the opposite direction. We followed them to Berwick, but lost the trail.”
Aidan shook his head and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It’s no matter. I know where they’ve gone. Her stepfather has her. You aren’t the one who has failed, Edwin. That dubious honor falls to me. I’m not my father’s son.”
Ragna punched him again. “Now you’ve gone too far, Aidan. Father was proud of you. You are more like him than you know. Make a decision. What are you going to do?”
Aidan squared his shoulders and smiled. “What I should have done days ago. Save the life of the woman I love.”
Ragna whooped. “Now you’re talking like a FitzRam.”
* * *
Nolana gazed down at the sea, forehead resting on the rusted iron bar across the narrow window slit. It seemed ludicrous that someone long ago deemed it necessary to secure such a small and impossibly high opening. She licked her split lip, tasting salt.
Outside, laughing gulls soared and danced on the stiff breeze. Compared to the vastness of the ocean, she was a mere nothing. Was it for this she had been born—humiliation, cruelty and despair? Life should hold something more but, as long as cruel men ruled, women would suffer. The only compassionate man she had ever met, ever loved, was a monk...out of reach.
Loved? Did she love Aidan? No man had caused sensual cravings. Even as she thought of him in these dire circumstances, moisture pooled in an intimate place and her breasts tingled. Perhaps she was losing her wits. Would the baron want to marry a madwoman?
Revulsion surged in her throat when she thought of the prospect of marriage to Grouchet. He had the same cruel glint in his eyes as Neyll. Her fate was sealed. He would not care about her sanity, provided she was fertile.
* * *
Aidan sought an audience with the abbot. When informed by the secretary his superior was too busy, he strode past the spluttering monk and entered the office, not truly surprised to find the abbot imbibing wine with another religious Aidan didn’t recognize. The abbot hastily concealed his tumbler as he stood, but the stranger made no effort to hide his own.
“What’s the meaning of this, Brother Christian?”
Aidan felt better for having made a long-overdue decision and he was weary of obeying this small-minded man. “My name is Aidan Branton FitzRam, and I’m leaving the monastery.”
The visitor arched a brow. “This is what comes of allowing postulants to receive visitors.”
The abbot glared at his guest, clearly unappreciative of the censure, then turned his attention back to Aidan. “What has brought this on, Brother Christian?”
“I don’t have time to explain,” he replied. “But you know as well as I do my vocation is not a true one.”
“Have you prayed on the matter?”
Aidan wasn’t willing to admit his prayers had centered mainly on Nolana. “Aye. This is the course of action I must take.”
“Let him go,” the other monk said, his voice laden with sarcasm. “It’s evident he isn’t strong enough for the rigors of religious life. Not many noblemen are.”
The abbot clenched his jaw. “I agree with our bishop. You’re not suited. However, you’ll be sorry,” were the old monk’s parting words.
Aidan now understood the supercilious stranger held sway over all the abbeys in Northumbria, which explained the quality of his robes, and his demeanor. The pair had no notion of the hardships Caedmon FitzRam had endured in the name of the true religion during the crusade, but he decided there was no point entering into a debate he couldn’t win. He bowed and walked away. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done...a foreswearing of the vow made to his parents to atone for their deaths.
I Have Failed
The marriage ceremony in the chapel at Kolbrand’s Path was a farce. The priest ignored Nolana’s protestations she was unwilling. He clearly knew the source of his stipend. After a patronizing nod and a pat on her head, he droned out the nuptial rites.
Grouchet swayed on his feet and belched several times, rheumy eyes fixed on her breasts. His breath nearly felled her when he claimed his husbandly kiss. He reeked of decay.
If she could put her hands on a dagger, she intended to dispatch her new husband, then Neyll and lastly her miserable self. However, her stepfather had made sure she had no access to escape or weapons, only allowing her to bathe and change clothes on the morning of her wedding. For the first time since arriving back in Neyll’s keep days ago, she was to be allowed to sleep somewhere other than in the tower chamber.
She did not partake of the victuals Maknab had provided for her wedding banquet, having eaten little in the intervening sennight. Her belly rebelled at the sight of the sumptuous feast laid on by her stepfather. Grouchet must have paid him well for her body. It was more than likely she would vomit before the night was out. Her wedding night. She flinched when the decrepit sot who was now her husband pinched her breast yet again after taking a swig of ale. He had already imbibed far more than was wise. She prayed he might succumb to a drunken stupor before they got to the bridal chamber. Revulsion filled her whenever she looked at him.
Neyll strutted around the hall, the consummate host, accepting the congratulations of his fawning guests on the fortuitous alliance created by the marriage of his stepdaughter to an English baron, a Norman nobleman no less.
Nolana’s thoughts constantly drifted to Aidan, but she forced them away. She must think of him as Brother Christian.
He was lost to her, as she was to him. He was a monk, committed to a life of religious devotion and discipline. He wouldn’t leave the monastery for a woman he barely knew. It was unlikely he felt the same intense stirrings she did. The delirium of pain had prompted him to invite her to share his bed.
It suddenly occurred to her this was Tuesday. Brother Christian would be at the market in Beal, plying his mead and honey. Would he think of her? The memory of his strong body and knee-buckling smile never left her. The bile rose in her throat again.
She barely noticed one of Neyll’s men who strode in and whispered in his laird’s ear. His news removed the grin from her stepfather’s face, which brought some satisfaction to her beleaguered heart, but she faltered when he glanced at her and smirked. He waved a dismissive hand and the henchman hastened from the hall.
Neyll drained a goblet of wine then came lazily to his feet. The evil glint in his eye was alarming. He sauntered over to the centre of the dais, calling for his goblet to be refilled. He didn’t demand attention, but it came immediately. A hush fell over the gathering. Nolana’s heart beat wildly. She risked a glance at Grouchet. He had passed out.
“Gentlemen and ladies, and dear daughter Nolana, Baroness Grouchet, it appears we are to be favored by a guest from the famed abbey of Lindisfarne, a monk no less.”
A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd.
Nolana gripped the edge of the table as the room spun around her. No. Not Aidan, not here, not now. He could not witness her humiliation.
All eyes turned to the entrance as a monk entered, accompanied by another well-dressed young man. They were obviously brothers, despite the difference in their garb. An older, pitifully disfigured man walked behind them.
Nolana prayed Aidan would not find her as he scanned the hall.
“Welcome to you, Brother,” Neyll declared. “We are honored. Welcome to the wedding feast of my daughter.”
Love’s Sweet Sting Page 7