The next day, Alex saw Desiree only in passing. It took the full day to make the barracks ready for those who were coming, and when they had arrived, to get the recruits organized into squads and assign a trained man-at-arms to each squad. Lady Desiree had already instructed the cooks, but Alex had to assign times and places for each squad to eat, and to find room in the barracks for them to sleep. Fortunately, they did not mind being packed like herrings in a barrel, nights in March were still cold and it was warmer that way.
Sunday was bad. He and Desiree were alone at the front of the chapel, Elias and Frewyn would hear Mass later. He could not stand too far from Desiree, it would be rude and Father Harold would notice. But to be near… Alex fixed his thoughts on the blessing conferred by hearing the holy words, but he could feel a warmth from Desiree all along the side of his body that faced her.
That was ridiculous. Both of them were clothed in layers of wool and wearing heavy cloaks because the chapel was freezing. Alex knew that even if he touched Desiree, no hint of her body’s warmth could come through to his fingers. Nonetheless, the sensation persisted like sunlight, warming his side, spreading across his body, tingling in his loins until his shaft pressed sinfully into his braies.
Alex fled Exceat after Mass without even waiting to break his fast. He told Sir Frewyn that Nicolaus might have heard of their recruiting and might send men out to test Exceat’s defenses. He could thus discover that they were rebuilding the farms he had destroyed. Alex said he wanted to ride the bounds of Exceat’s lands with a troop, make sure there were no new incursions, and also make sure that the defensive features of the restored farms were sufficient.
Chapter Ten
By the time Vachel arrived at Exceat, he was able to look at the keep with an appraising eye. Exceat was not much compared to Roselynde, Vachel thought, but it was stronger and better situated than many places he had seen. It was surprising with the Cuckmere River so close that the keep was not moated, but the bare, steeply slanted hill on which it sat would be a death trap to any who tried to assault it.
As he rode up to the gate, he recalled what Lady Alinor had said, that the holder was dying and his wife was young. Vachel examined Exceat with greater interest. No, Prince John would not let him keep Roselynde, but if he made sure of the death of the old man, he could almost certainly marry the young wife and claim the lands. It was likely that Prince John would let him keep Exceat.
The gate guard made some remark in his guttural native tongue. Vachel signaled that he did not understand and wanted to enter, but the guard did not open the gate.
“I am come from Roselynde,” Vachel said, carefully not giving his name, “with a letter for Lady Desiree.”
Vachel saw that the guard recognized the name Roselynde and when he said Lady Desiree, the man swung the gate open. At the burst of noise, shouts, and clashing swords, Vachel almost backed away. Then he recognized the commands of a leather-lunged master-at-arms and knew the men were drilling, not fighting.
The guard then said something incomprehensible, but he was pointing toward a gate on the inner wall and Vachel started his horse in that direction. He was definitely annoyed. Why should the only two places in which he was interested be more carefully guarded than all the other places at which he had guested? Doubtless it had to do with Sir Simon and his fanatical sense of duty. Vachel grinned as he considered forgoing speed in the poisoning of his uncle in favor of a protracted and painful death.
He repeated his message about bearing a letter for Lady Desiree from Lady Alinor of Roselynde at the inner gate. He was even more annoyed when the guard did not open for him, but this one at least understood him and managed to tell him in truly fractured French to wait. Then he shouted to someone out of sight—all that Vachel understood were the names Roselynde and Lady Desiree.
“Sorry, master,” the guard said to him, “Sir Alex not at Exceat. Master Byford extra careful no insult, no danger for our lady.”
Although he only nodded curtly to indicate that he had heard, Vachel’s mood changed. Alex was away. That was good. There had been the danger that since Alex had been named castellan the men of Exceat would obey him and keep Vachel out on his order. But since Alex was away, Vachel could establish himself as a guest of Lady Desiree’s and Alex would not dare order the men to drive him away.
Then a hard-eyed man in a rich byrnie of round scales of steel fastened to a leather shirt was gesturing for the guard to open the gate and bidding Vachel dismount—in good and fluent French. However, the man’s hand was on his sword hilt and he did not shift his gaze from Vachel as he gestured to a groom who had followed him to take Vachel’s horse.
“Where from did you say?”
“Roselynde,” Vachel snapped.
The man cast a glance at Vachel’s horse as it was led away. “Not this day you did not. That horse was not riddenthrough the night.”
“Of course not,” Vachel said.
“Lady Alinor’s messengers often ride through the night.”
The man’s voice was flat, his eyes unfriendly. The fingers tightened slightly on his sword hilt. For a moment Vachel’s jaw hung open at the insult. Then he took in the danger signs.
“I am no common messenger,” he said indignantly. “I am Vachel Baudoin. I was a guest at Roselynde and just did Lady Alinor the favor of carrying her letter to Lady Desiree since I was coming this way to see my brother, Alex Baudoin.”
“Oh, Sir Alex’s brother.” The voice was suddenly warm and pleasant, and the man’s face split into a broad grin. “I’m Byford, the master-at-arms. Be welcome Master Vachel and forgive our caution. I am concerned about treachery from Nicolaus of Lewes. I was afraid if he heard Sir Alex was not in Exceat that he might try to send in a man to open the gates for him.”
“Nicolaus of Lewes?” Vachel echoed.
Byford had seen Vachel’s surprise. “I don’t suppose you know Nicolaus,” Byford said, and grinned again. “Just as well. No benefit to anyone, knowing Nicolaus. Come, I’ll take you into the keep and see that your wants are attended.” He glanced up toward the brighter area made by the sun behind the clouds. “Likely at this time of day Master Elias and Lady Desiree will be with Sir Frewyn, but I can tell the servants to get you settled.”
The elderly manservant to whom Byford spoke also smiled when Vachel was introduced as Sir Alex’s brother. Byford then said he would leave Vachel in good hands, and returned to his own duties.
“I do not wish to make trouble,” Vachel said. “I would be content to share a bed with my brother.”
That would get him into Alex’s chamber so he could help himself to anything of value. He was vastly irritated by the obvious fact that Alex had ingratiated himself here as well as at Roselynde.
The manservant shook his head and grinned, showing a mouth devoid of teeth. “You’d have to sleep on the floor, master. Sir Alex’s only got a man-at-arm’s cot and there’s no room to set up another. That’d be silly anyway when we’ve got no other guest. Lady Desiree would be angry if I crowded you in with Sir Alex when we have two empty chambers.”
As he spoke the servant moved off in the direction of the hearth and gestured to a bench near it, telling Vachel to make himself comfortable, that he would pass the word to Master Elias to tell Sir Frewyn and Lady Desiree a guest had come. He then called another servant and bade him bring Master Vachel what refreshment he desired and went toward the back of the hall.
Vachel grew impatient despite seeing the activity of setting up his chamber. The cot and pallet had been carried in, a maidservant followed with linens, then a groom carried in his saddlebags. Vachel turned away and was again trying to guess which chamber had been assigned to Alex when the door in the partition opened and a young woman came out.
She hurried toward him, a hand outstretched, smiling. Vachel rose, also smiling. It would not be too terrible to marry this one. She was young enough to train into complete submission.
“So you are Alex’s brother,” she said. “Be welcome
to Exceat, Master Vachel. I am Lady Desiree.”
Another one who seemed to think being related to Alex was a safe conduct. Was there a faint light in the lady’s eyes when she said Alex’s name? Vachel resolved to wipe Alex out of the lady’s mind and knew he must begin at once while he had some privacy to speak freely.
“I thank you for the welcome,” Vachel said, keeping his voice intimately low. “I did not expect such a lovely one.”
Desiree blinked and her smile grew a little uncertain. She could not understand the reason for the low, intimate tone. Also Desiree was not accustomed to being told she was lovely by strangers. She did not know whether it was proper. Alex never… She cut off that thought hastily.
“The servant said you had a letter for me from…from Lady Alinor of Roselynde?”
That was a safe topic, and Desiree asked the question anxiously, unable to imagine what so grand a lady as the holder of Roselynde Keep and the wife of the sheriff of Sussex would have to say to her.
“Indeed I do,” Vachel said. “Allow me to seat you while I fetch it from my saddlebags.”
He reached out and took her hand to lead her two steps to the bench. And he squeezed her fingers as she sat down. But then he did not immediately release her hand. Instead he lifted it to his lips.
“The letter,” Desiree said desperately, afraid to pull her hand away lest it be some great rudeness.
“Of course.”
Vachel let go of her hand but only slowly, letting it slide through his fingers. Desiree was definitely relieved when he turned away to fetch the letter. She told herself she found his manner forward because her father never brought her to public places.
It was embarrassing not knowing how to respond. And she was afraid to ask Frewyn whether Master Vachel’s manner was unseemly. Frewyn would be so upset if it were. He would not wish to offend Alex’s brother. She did not wish to offend Alex’s brother. She did not like to be ignored, but from Master Vachel that would be welcome.
She was just about to signal a servant and ask him to fetch Father Harold to her, but Master Vachel was returning with a big smile on his face and a folded parchment in his hand. Desiree took the letter and looked at the seal.
The seal was not the same as that of Sir Simon, it was of a rose resting in the intersection of two crossed swords. Frowning, she drew her eating knife so she could slide it under the seal and open the letter without shattering the wax completely. She would show the seal to Frewyn. Perhaps he would know whether it was genuine.
“Why are you opening the letter?” Vachel asked.
Desiree looked up, her heart suddenly beating faster. Perhaps this was not Alex’s brother. Perhaps her uneasy doubts were because he was an enemy.
“To read it,” she said, ready to leap to her feet and run away if he objected or tried to take it from her hand.
He did not try to seize the letter. He only repeated “Read it!” with an expression of surprise and distaste.
Although the expression did nothing to endear Vachel to her, it was a common enough male reaction to soothe most of Desiree’s doubts. And the letter itself made those doubts instantly ridiculous. Lady Alinor wrote no introduction of fulsome praise for Master Vachel nor any commands or requests—which was all a forged letter could be for. The letter concerned only the affairs of Exceat.
Momentarily, Desiree forgot all about Alex’s brother while her attention fixed on Lady Alinor’s recommendation. She wrote what a man, woman, and child would need to eat and then showed how to reckon up amounts for each and add them together for a week and a moon. With those examples, Desiree could figure quantities for the time when the family took over the farm and also for the family that would take over the second farm.
“How strange it is to see a woman reading,” Vachel said.
“My husband wished me to learn,” she said, Frewyn having told her that such an answer would remove the onus from her to him and he was well able to defend himself.
Vachel shook his head. “Creasing your smooth brow and pursing your soft, full lips over dull words, surely that is unnecessary. Did your husband need you to be his scribe?”
“My husband needed me to be able to rule my estate without depending on a clerk who might lie to me.”
“Ah,” Vachel said, patting her hand. “What a burden to put on so beautiful a girl. How sad that one so young and lovely should be bound to an old man.”
Because she was afraid to crumple the letter, Desiree could not pull her hand away from Vachel. However, she said sharply, “There is nothing at all sad about my marriage to my beloved Frewyn. He saved me from a horrible fate and taught me how to be the Lady of Exceat.” She managed to twist her hand out from under Vachel’s and slide away to the edge of the bench.
Vachel sat staring at her for a moment, seeming utterly dumbfound. Then he uttered a slight laugh. “But you are so beautiful,” he said. “Surely your time would be better spent adorning that beauty than performing ugly tasks unsuited to your sex and grace. You should be creating beauty to match your own with your embroidery and with your pretty voice singing to your lute.”
Desiree was completely at a loss for an answer because what Vachel said was the common opinion of society and the Church. Then desperation found a solution.
“Farman,” she called, and the elderly manservant hurried over from the far side of the hall, “ask Father Harold to join us. I will introduce our guest to him.”
Vachel wanted to grind his teeth or slap the silly chit’s face, however, he tried to smile ingratiatingly. “But you are very lovely, and it was a shock to hear you muttering of bushels and half bushels under your breath.”
“Oh, my,” Desiree said. “How rude of me. I should have asked about your journey here and about the well-doing of those in Roselynde. Do forgive me for forgetting all courtesy and reading my letter first, but I was frightened. I could not guess why so great a person as Lady Alinor would write to me. I was afraid I had somehow displeased her or Sir Simon. Has Sir Simon yet returned home?”
So she did not know where Simon was, either. The information would save him from asking and seeming too interested in his uncle’s doings. “No,” he said. “I had hoped he would be here, perhaps seeing how Alex went on.”
“Sir Simon trusts Alex completely,” Desiree snapped.
“Even with so ravishing alady?” Vachel hoped for some clearer sign of how Desiree felt about Alex.
Desiree felt her cheeks burning. “Alex would never—” she began, but she remembered a look now and then before he pulled his eyes away, and she swallowed.
Fortunately at that moment rescue came in the form of Father Harold, who asked how he might serve her. She jumped to her feet and smiled nervously at him, gesturing at the seat on the bench she had vacated. Vachel, swallowing a curse, also rose but Desiree firmly shook her head at him and waved him down.
“Only by entertaining our guest,” Desiree said to Father Harold, “who is Alex’s brother. Master Vachel kindly brought me this letter from Lady Alinor of Roselynde and it is all about stocking the farms that Alex is restoring. Alex will want to know when he returns what Lady Alinor said, and I think I should talk this over with Frewyn.”
Upon which words, she fled, leaving the priest wearing a faint frown.
Now Vachel realized he might have moved too quickly and to cover anything Desiree might say to the priest, he remarked, “Lady Desiree is quite unaccustomed to much company, I fear. I do hope she did not take amiss a few compliments I paid her.”
“It is true that Lady Desiree is not accustomed to much company or light talk,” Father Harold said. “She is very devoted to her husband, Sir Frewyn, and spends much of her time caring for him. So, Master Vachel, you have just come from Roselynde with Lady Alinor’s letter. Will you be kind enough to tell me what news has come there and perhaps what you heard on the road?”
Not seeing any way to bring the conversation back to the lady and her husband—particularly the condition of the husband—afte
r so firm a turn in a different direction, Vachel repeated what he had heard at Lady Alinor’s table and at the manors he had guested at on his way from Roselynde.
When the topic ran out, Vachel began, “Sir Frewyn—”
But Father Harold seemed determined not to be shifted to a subject with which he was too familiar. He overrode Vachel’s question, which he considered mere politeness, by asking what brought Vachel all the way from France.
“Not bad news from your home, I hope,” the priest said.
Vachel had no intention of spinning again the tale of self-blame that he had used with Lady Alinor. Instead, he would spin a tale that would rid Exceat of Alex.
“Not at all. Good news I hope. I have been so fortunate as to come to the notice of a great man in King Philip’s court and have been offered a place in his household. This, however, will leave my father with only one son at home, so I have been sent to summon Alex home again.”
The priest did not look as if Vachel’s news was good. He looked stricken, and stammered, “Th-that is n-not possible I am afraid. Sir Alex has sworn an oath as castellan in Exceat. He is necessary to us here.”
“He is also necessary to our father,” Vachel said very sharply, annoyed at the old man.
Father Harold studied Vachel. Then the priest took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring slightly, and his jaw jutted. “Alex is needed more urgently here. Did you not notice the men training in the bailey? We face an invasion by Prince John and, even more immediately, an attack by Nicolaus of Lewes. I, myself, will absolve Alex of disobedience to his father…if it troubles him.”
Vachel shook his head and looked down to hide the rage he felt. He started to say that Alex had always been a dutiful son and he hoped Father Harold would not make him choose between two duties, but the priest only stared at him and then pointed out that the servants were setting up the tables for dinner. Bland and unctuous now, Father Harold suggested that he would see that clothes were found for Vachel and lent to him if he wished to change out of his travel-stained garments.
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