Courtly Love

by Lynn M. Bartlett

  "Tell them, lady. Tell them where I have been these past months. Tell them!"

  "I—I don't know what he means, I—"

  "Her dower estate! In her dungeon. But I escaped!" A dry, cackle of a laugh tore from Richard's throat. "Your penance, lady. Your life for Serena's."

  Later no one would be able to say precisely how it happened but Aurelia—for reasons known only to herself —stepped from behind Bryan and in that instant Richard saw and took his advantage. With a wild cry Richard launched himself at Aurelia, the force of his impact carrying them beyond anyone's reach. Richard's dagger found its way into Aurelia's hands and she sank the long, thin blade into Richard's back. Seemingly unmindful of the pain, Richard dragged himself to his feet, pulling Aurelia with him. He grabbed a handful of her blond hair and smashed Aurelia's face against the stone wall . . . again . . . and yet again until Aurelia's features dissolved into a froth of red pulp and Catherine's scream broke the spell that held everyone motionless.

  Richard flung Aurelia's limp body from him and sank to his knees as Bryan reached him. Gyles examined Aurelia briefly then with a shake of his head covered her with a cloak handed him by one of his knights.

  Bryan cradled Richard's head in his arm, and while he watched, the madness faded from Richard's eyes.

  "Forgive me ... my friend." The sound of death rattled in Richard's lungs. "But I... I loved her . . . so much. And ... I killed her."

  "Serena is dead?" Gyles knelt beside the dying man. "You are certain, man, Serena is dead?" Gyles grasped Richard's ragged tunic and shook him.

  "Gyles," Bryan gently lowered Richard's head. "He can tell you naught."

  * * *

  Richard's body was sent to his father the following morning and the next day Aurelia was laid to rest at Broughton. Only Bryan, Catherine, and Gyles were present to hear the priest read over her body, for Aurelia had not been loved by Broughton's inhabitants. Bryan had desired to return his step-mother's remains to her kinsmen, but after much discussion with Catherine, relented to his wife's reasoning. Such an insult would not be taken lightly by Aurelia's family so to avoid further strife, Aureha was buried in the family cemetery, but her grave was in the section reserved for Broughton's less noble kin, far away from Lord Geoffrey's side.

  Gyles moved through the days like a sleepwalker, answering automatically when a question was put to him and overseeing the preparations for his return to Camden. The eve proceeding Gyles's departure, Bryan—a skin of ale under each arm—sought out Gyles in his chamber.

  "I came to bid you good luck upon your journey." Bryan dropped a skin unceremoniously into Gyles's lap and folded himself into the chair opposite Gyles.

  Gyles looked at him. "Thank you."

  "We wanted you to be the first to know—Catherine is with child." Bryan raised his skin in a salute and drank deeply.

  "My congratulations." Gyles turned to study the blaze that warmed the chamber.

  Bryan took a deep breath and tried once more. "What are your plans, Gyles?"

  "Plans?" Clouded green eyes suddenly pinned Bryan to his chair. "I have none."

  "Damnation, Gyles!" Bryan lost his temper. "How does anyone reach you?"

  "I don't know what you mean," Gyles stated blandly, but an impatient spark flared somewhere within him.

  "The hell you don't. Look at yourself, take a good look. I hardly think Alan will be overjoyed to see you this way. But then, he may not even recognize you, after all you've not been to see him in well over a month. By now he probably thinks Edward is his father. But that Shouldn't concern you—all you want to do is wallow in self-pity and the rest of the world be damned!"

  "Bryan," Gyles warned softly.

  "The great Lord Gyles!" Bryan sneered. "Mighty warrior! What of Evan? His mother is dead and his father might as well be."

  In the blink of an eye Gyles was out of his chair and holding Bryan against the wall by the front of his tunic.

  "You have no right—"

  "I have every right," Bryan ground out. "Serena was my sister, I loved her, too. But she is dead, Gyles!"

  "No!" Gyles howled and smashed his fist into Bryan's jaw. "She lives .. . you know she lives!"

  Bryan picked himself up from the floor, fingering his jaw tenderly before quietly repeating, "Serena is dead, Gyles."

  Gyles made a low keening sound far back in his throat. "She lives!"

  "No, Gyles, Serena is dead. She has been dead these many months." Bryan guided Gyles back to his chair and wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. "Accept it, Gyles, I have. All these months, the searching; the meanest hut was not overlooked, every man, woman, and child was questioned. You did all you could, and all the time Serena was dead. Gyles, no man could have done more! 'Twas hopeless from the beginning."

  "But we cannot be certain, Bryan," Gyles whispered brokenly. "We never found her body. Only a scrap of cloth."

  Bryan longed to run from the anguished, torn man before him, longed to withdraw the sharp blade of pain he was, of necessity, inflicting upon him. Yet he could not.

  "Serena could be at Aurelia's estate," Gyles grasped desperately at his final hope. "Richard was carried there, why not Serena?"

  "Gyles." Bryan eyed him sadly. "Richard himself told us Serena is dead. If they were both prisoners, Aurelia would have seen no harm in allowing them to see each other. Why would Richard have come for Aurelia unless he knew Serena was dead? He knew! Aurelia's penance he called it; her life for my sister's. You know Serena, if she were alive she would have found some way to get word to us."

  "I know . . . oh, God, I know." Gyles buried his face in his hands. "What do I do now, Bryan?"

  "You live," Bryan told him firmly. "You take each day that is given you. If 'twill make you feel better, get drunk right now—that is why I brought you that skin— but that won't solve anything except to give you a sleep without dreams."

  "I cannot forget her—I doubt I ever shall." Gyles had leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, all emotion apparently locked away, his voice cold and without inflection. "Oh, God! Bryan, I had so little time with her."

  "I know. You won't forget. But one day you will be able to think of her without feeling that a dagger is being twisted in your vitals." Bryan quietly left the chamber.

  "I wish there was something we could do." Catherine and Bryan watched the last of the knights depart for Camden. "He's changed, Bryan, he's become unreachable —like he was when I first met him."

  "Dear Catherine." Bryan smiled sadly. "We can do naught Gyles must find his own path out of this darkness."

  CHAPTER 18

  Duty. Duty to his sons, to the old lord's wife and daughter, to the people of Camden, to his retinue of knights. Responsibility for the lives and lands that had been placed in his hands. Obligation, responsibility, duty —all bore Gyles through the final winter days when his grief threatened to overpower him. Pain shared drew Gyles even closer to Alan and often the boy crept into his father's arms to seek assurance.

  Gyles dried the tears and cradled Alan's head against his hard chest, crooning tender words that Alan could not understand, but the tone of Gyles's voice comforted the lad. Evan, too, sensed a difference in his father and often in their play the babe would abruptly sit back and stare at his father, his blue eyes wide and serious. Serena's eyes, Gyles would think. Oh, God, Serena's eyes looking at me through our son. Then Evan would laugh and the spell would be broken, leaving Gyles almost limp with the force of his emotions.

  Gyles changed—a heart once opened and laid bare is not stored away as easily as a faulty piece of armor— the arrogance, pride, that were so much a part of him fell away when he was safely away from the prying eyes of those who did not know him well. If Gyles had indulged in drinking bouts, if he had taken other women to his bed, perhaps his men would have been less uneasy in his presence—but he did not, and where before there had been only a natural reserve in Gyles's manner, there was now an aloofness, a detachment that alternately stirred pit
y and fear in the hearts of those who saw him.

  Gyles ate, slept, issued orders, rode, played with his sons, and occasionally accepted a challenge for a game of chess with Edward. As Bryan had said, he faced each day as it came, and Gyles even managed to find a portion of happiness in Alan and Evan—but it was a bittersweet joy tinged with the knowledge that Serena was lost to him forever. Infrequently, Gyles would retire to his chamber for an entire day, seeing no one and refusing the food that Nellwyn brought to the door and at such times Nellwyn would quietly withdraw, understanding that Gyles's sorrow had become too great for him to bear in the face of others that day. To Gyles, his life seemed an endless agony, an earthly purgatory from which there was no escape.

  Spring arrived at Camden and with it Mara's wedding. Three days before the ceremony was to take place, guests flocked to the castle—the ladies in gaily-colored gowns giggling demurely at the swains dancing attendance upon them. Gyles was the perfect host to all, but stayed much in the background, allowing Mara to play the lady of the manor, to be the center of attention.

  * * *

  Gyles was on his hands and knees, doing his best to imitate a ferocious steed, while Alan, both arms wrapped securely around Gyles's neck, shrieked with glee. Infected with his brother's high spirits, Evan chortled and let fly one of his toys in the general direction of his father. Gyles raised his head at a knock on the door and the toy caught him squarely in the eye.

  "Ouch! little scamp!" Gyles laughed and tumbled both of his sons onto the pelt covering the floor to tickle them mercilessly. "Enter, Nellwyn, and take these two monsters back to the nursery."

  " Tis . . . tis I, Mara," her voice came shyly from the doorway as Gyles rose to his feet. "I am sorry, I did not mean to intrude."

  " Tis all right, Mara," Gyles gave her a weak smile. "We ... the boys and I. . ."

  He is embarrassed! Mara thought, wonderingly, as she watched her half-brother straighten his clothing and thrust his long fingers through his hair. And he—he loves his sons, he truly does! I can see it in his face and eyes. Mara's heart wrenched. How much unhappiness Mother and I have given him—not once in these past years have we given him a single chance to be a part of our own family. How lonely we must have made him feel! Mara's heart, having been softened by love, had become sensitive to the feelings of those around her, and she had gradually realized that Gyles was not the ogre her bitter mind had painted him. Nellwyn appeared to take her charges in hand, her eyebrows lifting at the sight of Mara.

  "Take the boys to the nursery, Nellwyn," Gyles instructed. "And, Alan, if you can remember your manners, perhaps Lady Mara will allow you to dine in the hall tonight."

  Alan's face lit up and he turned pleading eyes to Mara. "I shall be good, I promise."

  Mara smiled. "But of course, Alan; how could I possibly celebrate such an occasion without my nephew at table? I should be most honored."

  "See that he changes his tunic." Gyles wagged a finger at Alan's soiled clothing and with a nod, Nellwyn hurried from the chamber. "Now, Mara, is something amiss that brings you to me?"

  "No, not at all," Mara blushed—how terrible to remember that since his arrival she had avoided Gyles as much as possible. "I only wanted to thank you for . . . for arranging my marriage, this celebration, everything!"

  Gyles's face relaxed into a smile. "You are entirely welcome, Mara. Did you believe I would force you to remain here forever?"

  "Much to my shame, Gyles, yes I did," Mara replied truthfully. "I ask that you can find it in your heart to forgive my actions and words. I fear I was all too willing to believe the worst of you—to allow others to fill my head with what I now realize were vicious lies and rumors. I am truly sorry, Gyles. And, I would have you know that I am proud to call you brother."

  A smile so kind it twisted Mara's heart curved Gyles's lips. "Tis my turn now to thank you, Mara. I wish you as much happiness with Arthur as I knew with Serena." Gyles paused and cleared his throat, adding to himself, "I seem to discover everything too late."

  "Gyles, I did have a question." Mara was uncertain how to continue.

  "Yes?" Gyles prompted with a frown; Mara had grown quite serious.

  "Did you—I don't really mind—but, why did you invite Beda to my wedding?" Mara blurted out "If 'tis not my concern, then I don't expect an answer, but..."

  "I did not ask Beda to attend!" Gyles broke in. "Good God, you mean to say she is here?"

  "Yes!" Mara burst into tears. "Downstairs with Arthur, flirting and teasing. I know I was his second choice, but why does Beda have to throw it in my face?"

  Cold rage built in Gyles's breast, but he spoke gently to Mara. "Dry your tears. You do not wish Arthur to see you with red eyes, do you?" He brushed a tear from her cheek and smiled. "Now go, splash some cold water on your face and arrange your hair. And, Mara, remember, Arthur was not forced into this union—he chose you."

  * * *

  Beda rubbed a hand across Arthur's chest, oblivious to his embarrassment and the efforts he was making to be free of her company. "You really are terrible, Arthur! Surely you knew I was only jesting when I refused your offer. There is still time—tomorrow could be our wedding day instead—"

  "Beda! How good of you to come." Gyles grasped her hand firmly and pulled her from Arthur. That good man threw Gyles a look of eternal gratitude and hurriedly disappeared.

  "Ah, my sweet knight." Beda fairly melted against Gyles. "I have so missed your company."

  Gyles resolutely pushed Beda away, his voice a low growl. "What are you doing here, Beda? Mara did not invite you."

  "That twit!" Beda scoffed. " Tis my right—she is my sister-in-law."

  "What you have done is unforgivable, but for Mara's sake I shall not ask you to leave. Only keep your distance from Arthur."

  Beda smiled wickedly. "And you, Gyles? Must I also keep my distance from you, or is this warning your way of telling me that you still desire me? Could it be that you are jealous."

  Gyles thrust her cloying hand away and walked off in disgust, Beda's laughter following him.

  * * *

  Mara's wedding day was an ideal day for early spring —warm, sunny, with a gentle cooling breeze that kept the air in the castle fresh and clean. It was generally agreed that Mara was a beautiful bride, so lovely in fact, that Arthur did not take his eyes from her the entire day.

  Gyles retired early, the merrymaking too reminiscent of his own marriage for Gyles to be at ease with the revelers. His chamber was dark, and Gyles lit a solitary candle before disrobing and going to stand before the window. It was a clear night and above him Gyles could see the winking lights of the spring stars. Serena, Gyles sighed bleakly. I never imagined 'twould be so difficult without you. He closed his eyes, summoning instantly the mental image of Serena as he did so often during his lonely nights. Dearest love, why can I not accept what all others do? Why do I feel that you still live? My mind screams at me to accept your death, yet my heart tells me nay. My only love, were it not for the babes I think I would hasten from this earth. But I fear I am destined to live to an old age.

  Sighing again, Gyles moved from the window and slipped into bed, only to fling himself from the pallet a moment later with a shout.

  "What the devil?" Gyles brought the candle to the bed and his face went rigid with anger. "What are you doing here?"

  Beda raised herself until she leaned against the head-board and laughed. "Gyles, you astound me! You are acting like a lad with his first girl; now stop being coy and come here."

  "Get out, Beda!" Gyles gritted. Beda allowed the linen to fall from her shoulders, exposing her white abundant breasts to Gyles's gaze. With an oath, Gyles turned away and shrugged into a robe, his stomach churning with revulsion. "What do you want?"

  Beda laughed. "You needn't play the bereaved husband with me, Gyles. I know you far too well. And I would think 'tis obvious what I desire."

  "You have an odd way of displaying your grief," Gyles said harshly. "Have you prayed at Aurelia's gra
ve of late?"

  "Bastard knight!" Beda hissed and swung the open palm of her hand across Gyles's cheek.

  Gyles viewed her calmly as he checked his seething desire to throw her bodily from the room. "I know full well my lineage—what of yours?"

  "I came because you are now free of that distasteful marriage." Beda refused the bait and settled more comfortably against the pillows, her eyes glittering. "We make a splendid match, Gyles—I will even allow your two brats to stay at Camden if you so desire. Twas brilliant of you to charge Arthur with Lydia's care upon his marriage to Mara. Camden will be so pleasant when free of their ugly faces. I am given to understand that the nursery is next to this chamber and I am afraid that will not be satisfactory, put your . . . sons in a different wing of the castle."

  Gyles had stared open-mouthed during the recital, but when Beda quieted and smiled up at him, the months of frustration and sorrow burst through his control. Without warning Gyles's hand closed around Beda's wrist and he jerked her from the bed with such force that Beda was hurled against the wall.

  "Whore! Think you that I would soil myself with your body?" Gyles's lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. "Slut! I would rather clasp an asp to my breast!"

  "You will wed me," Beda spat back, "or I will see you dead. And you have two sons now, remember that, Gyles. Who will see to them if you die? Soil your hands?" Beda sneered. "You should be grateful I have kept my silence! You should be honored that I will share your pallet! Tis rumored Serena displeased you so you arranged her untimely death."

  "You are brave to risk the same fate." Gyles eyed her contemptuously. "But then you are the sister of a murderess."

  "And you are a murderer. You have no choice, sweet bastard; marry me or I shall tell the world of Kier's death." Beda quickly donned her gown and left the chamber.