by Maura Seger
Studying the men scattered in small groups about the Hall, Brenna tried to remember what she knew of their relation to Duke William. Like Guyon, they had all sworn oaths of fealty to him and held their land and power at his pleasure. In this respect, they were much like the warrior thegns who served Har- old and the other English earls. Yet there was one great distinction; those lords who controlled land stood far above those who did not. Whereas in England it was the oath that mattered, and all else flowed directly from one's lord, here those with land could expect to live a good deal better than those without. Consequently, many younger sons of Norman families were perpetually land-hungry. Not surprisingly, this contributed to their warlike temperment. They were ever ready to go off on any bloody venture that might result in a land grant.
Privately Brenna was dismayed by the foolishness of any system that so encouraged perpetual fighting. It was bad enough in England where the earls were constantly struggling for supremacy. How much worse it would be if one was to add to the political cauldron the ambitions of every man with any claim to nobility.
Nor did she think much of how the Normans treated those of lower birth. Granted they had no equivalent of the Anglo-Saxon theow. But surely their serfs were worse off than any slave in England. On the journey from Honfleur to Falaise, Brenna had seen many of those poor souls toiling in the fields of their lords. She had never seen more miserable, ill-treated people anywhere. If conditions were at all similar on Guyon's manor, they would be changed forthwith. Brenna was certain that Guyon cared for her far too much to resist her efforts at improving the lives of those who served him.
He made no secret of his regard as he turned to watch her cross the hall in company with the Duchess and Lady Roanna. Topaz eyes wandered unrestrainedly over her slender loveliness in a look Brenna recognized all too well. It evoked powerful memories of the previous night when, disregarding any lingering weariness from their journey, they had made tenderly passionate love until the first gray light of dawn lit the horizon.
Now fully awakened to the power of her own sensuality, Brenna did not hesitate to boldly arouse her husband. Not that it required much doing. It seemed they had only to look at each other to seek their bed. The effort to stand so close to each other without touching was almost beyond them. Several minutes passed before either noticed the amused glances of the Duke and his companions.
"My dear Guyon," the Duke chided kiddingly. "Here we are in the middle of a discussion of state affairs and you break off to stare like a love-stricken boy at your very own wife. Should I conclude you find the Lady Brenna more interesting than my own poor concerns?"
"Of course, my lord," Guyon assured him, entering into the Duke's teasing mood. "She is a great distraction. I fear I will be of no further use to you at all, at least not when my lady is about."
Brenna flushed painfully. She tried to draw away, but Guyon held her arm gently but determinedly. "You are so beautiful, my love," he murmured. "I cannot be blamed for staring."
"Indeed, he cannot," the Duke agreed. Graciously, he added, "You are a delightful addition to my court, Lady Brenna. I hope you will be happy here."
Startled by his apparent sincerity, Brenna stared up at the Duke. He was a tall man, almost as tall as
Guyon, and ruggedly built with a barrel chest, powerful arms, and long, sinewy legs. Despite his high rank, he was dressed much like the other men in a knee-length tunic of undyed linen, a dark blue surcoat belted at the waist, and finely spun chausses worn with leather boots.
His dark, receding hair was shaved high at the back of his head in the fashion of the Norman nobility. His face was likewise shaved, except for the long black mustache he cultivated above a surprisingly sensual mouth. His eyes set beneath heavy brows were piercingly black. Brenna did not doubt that they missed very little.
Born from the illicit union of a willful duke and the beautiful daughter of a Falaise tanner, William might easily have been relegated to his mother's humble status. But for his father's continued inability to produce a male heir within marriage, he could have lived out his days in one of the daub-and-wattle huts surrounding the massive stone keep. As it was, his life was in constant danger from infancy on. More times than anyone could remember, the tanner and his sons had rushed to the boy's defense, keeping him safe until he could grow strong enough to protect himself.
At thirty-eight, the Duke had survived against all odds to triumph over illegitimacy, the early death of his father, and the constant threat from dozens of rivals for the dukedom. Through keen intelligence, superb fighting and leadership skills, and a willingness to act with absolute callousness when he thought it expedient, William secured his patrimony. For the last several years, he had ruled in Normandy without opposition.
Sensing the immense energy and ambition of the man, Brenna caught herself wondering if he might not be just the slightest bit bored.
"I am sure I will be very happy here, my lord," she said softly. "Everyone has been so kind." Turning to Matilda, she added, "Especially your Duchess, who has done her best to transform me into a Norman lady."
William glanced appreciatively at his wife's handiwork. Brenna could not help but notice that as his gaze shifted from her to Matilda, the Duke's rather fierce expression softened. When he spoke to the Duchess, his harsh voice was suddenly gentle and warm.
"You have outdone yourself," William assured his lady. "No one surpasses your taste in fashion."
"The Lady Brenna would look exquisite in sackcloth and ashes," Matilda said tartly. Relenting slightly, she added, "However, our styles do become her."
Embarrassed once more to be the subject of such scrutiny, Brenna instinctively moved closer to Guyon. He responded by putting an arm around her narrow waist, drawing her against the hard length of his chest and thigh. There she nestled contentedly as the conversation turned to hunting and the merits of various types of falcons.
Some of Brenna's nervousness about how well she could fit into her new life began to fade as she listened and, after a brief time, began to take part in the friendly talk. Despite all the superficial differences of language, dress, and setting, there were similarities to what she had known before. Certainly, the devotion of the Duke and his lady was no less than that shared by the Earl Harold and Edythe. The tiny woman looked up at her husband with a warm, loving expression that for all its gentleness still suggested great strength and fortitude. In love she clearly was, but Brenna doubted the Duchess stood for any nonsense even from her great lord.
Considering the difficulties they had to surmount in order to achieve their marriage, it was no wonder Matilda and the Duke were so close. When the union of the Norman lord and the Count of Flanders's daughter was first suggested, both parties expected it to go through without difficulty. Certainly, William was anxious to marry. He had a normal young man's eagerness for a woman, but his determination to produce no bastards of his own put a harsh damper on his ardor. As for Matilda, she had never met the Duke. But she knew of his tremendous strength and courage in the face of adversity, and admired him greatly.
When they did meet, a short time before their marriage was to be celebrated, their attraction to each other quickly developed a more personal basis. In William, Matilda saw a man she could both desire and respect. When he spoke of his hopes for the future, she sensed the great visions stirring within him. Life with the Duke would certainly not be easy; he would be away a great deal, there would be much fighting, and there was no guarantee that a rival would not one day topple him from power. But such concerns did not sway Matilda. Within only a few hours of meeting William, she knew she wanted to spend her life with him.
For his part, the Duke looked beyond the tiny form and plain features to the woman within. He saw strength, courage, and—perhaps most importantly—absolute loyalty. Matilda was exactly the consort he needed. With her he could cast off, if only for a time, the cares of his position and find in the peace she offered both comfort and renewal.
When their marriag
e was suddenly and unexpectedly forbidden by the Pope, William raged in disbelief. While Rome claimed the prohibition was for reasons of consanguinity, the Duke knew full well the true motivations were political. Union with the Count of Flanders would make him even more powerful and untouchable. Rival lords who did not want to see that happen had aligned themselves with the Pope, with the result that for three long years William chafed in frustration and Matilda sorrowed for her lord.
Driven finally to disregard the Pope's ruling, William risked the severest censure by claiming his bride without holy approval. Ever practical, he wasted no time wedding, bedding, and impregnating the willing Matilda. For eight years afterward, he also had to protect her from the censure of those who claimed she was more mistress than wife. When at last papal approval of the marriage was grudgingly given, both William and Matilda knew profound relief. But they also never forgot the opposition that had made their love all the stronger and enduring.
Forged against such a harsh anvil, Matilda's warm, outgoing nature was all the more admirable. She radiated serenity and joy which could not help but touch almost everyone who knew her.
Beside the Duchess, Roanna smiled happily. Some sally from a young lord had amused her. He had worked his way into the group apparently for the sole purpose of talking with Guyon's beautiful sister. Brenna watched indulgently as the two engaged in a mild flirtation under the cautious but tolerant eyes of both Guyon and the Duke. Already she thought of Roanna as a friend and knew that as long as her sister-in-law was nearby, she would not lack for feminine companionship.
Brenna had just begun to truly relax and enjoy herself when the sudden sensation of being watched pierced her awareness. Glancing round, she caught sight of a tall, beautiful woman staring at her angrily. Though the Great Hall was filled with richly garbed ladies, many of whom had a real claim to beauty, this woman stood out. Hair like spun moonbeams tumbled in thick waves to her waist. Alabaster skin glowed against large sapphire eyes and a generous, well-shaped mouth whose vermilion tint seemed to owe nothing to artifice.
Her body beneath a tightly fitting mauve tunic and lavender silk surcoat appeared perfect. Large, high breasts beckoned a man's hand. A tiny waist flowed into gently rounded hips. As the woman moved, the outline of slender thighs and long legs could be clearly seen.
Without shifting her gaze from Brenna, the woman moved through the hall with feline grace, until she stood in front of Guyon. Dark color suffused his face as he caught sight of her.
Brenna felt her husband's arm tighten around her waist as he muttered: "Elene..."
The lady smiled. Extending a slender, white hand, she stepped forward gaily. "Guyon... it's been so long. I had no idea you were back." Her voice was low and husky, the tone so intimate as to suggest that she and Guyon were alone.
Beneath Guyon's suddenly taut hold, Brenna stiffened. She eyed the lovely interloper narrowly. Whoever the woman might be, there was no mistaking her proprietary attitude. Newly awakened to the subtle nuances of male-female relationships, Brenna knew instantly that the lady was no stranger to Guyon's bed.
Even as she breathed deeply and told herself to remain calm, rage closed like a red mask over her vision. The calmer side of her nature asserted that Guyon must certainly have acquired his skill somewhere, and that meetings with his former paramours were perhaps inevitable. But the reality of such a confrontation banished sensible thought. She knew only that the beautiful Elene still wanted Guyon, and to Brenna that was tantamount to a declaration of war.
Drawing on instincts finely honed through generations of beautiful, wise women, Brenna moved ever so slightly to insinuate herself between her husband and the lady. Smiling through clenched teeth, she murmured softly, "Won't you introduce us, darling? You know how anxious I am to meet your... friends...."
Guyon tore his gaze from Elene to stare at his wife in surprise. He was far too well acquainted with the gentler sex to mistake the steel beneath her words. Brenna was a constant source of amazement. Only weeks before she had been ready to cloister herself in a convent rather than allow him to touch her. Now she bristled with the full glorious fury of a woman ready and willing to defend what she regarded as exclusively her own.
Torn between admiring astonishment and a treacherous urge to laugh, he complied hastily. "Lady Elene, I have the honor to present my wife, the Lady Brenna. We arrived yesterday from England. No doubt the news had not yet reached you."
Elene shot Brenna a scathing look before stepping closer to the reluctant object of her attention. "I had heard of your marriage, Guyon," she purred, "but I couldn't quite credit the story. After all, England is such a wild, uncivilized place. It didn't seem possible you would have found someone there worthy of marriage."
"Obviously, he did," Matilda snapped. She made no secret of her dislike for the very forward Lady Elene.
Observing his wife's frown, William's amused look vanished. Taking Guyon's arm, he said swiftly, "Those matters of state I mentioned are becoming more pressing by the moment, my boy. What say we find a quiet corner to hash them out?"
Guyon nodded gratefully. Bidding a polite if relieved farewell to the ladies, he followed his liegelord. When they were some little distance away, William could be heard to laugh heartily. But Guyon did not join in. Instead, he cast a worried look over his shoulder to where Brenna stood, eyes flashing and back stiffened.
"You are much at court since your husband's death, Lady Elene," the Duchess said icily. "Yet we see you rarely in the chapel or the women's solar. I suppose you prefer other... activities...."
Elene had the grace to blush. For all her presump-
tion, she did not dare offend Matilda. "Not at all, my lady," she said hastily. "If I have seemed negligent in my duties, I ask your pardon. It is only that, after so long in mourning, I yearn to walk in the garden, ride to hounds, visit the market. All harmless pursuits."
The Duchess regarded her doubtfully. She was willing enough to turn a blind eye to the escapades of unmarried lords and ladies. But when any dalliance threatened the happiness and stability of a wedded couple, she was instantly alarmed. Marriage, and the children who came from it, were the bedrock of society. Without such a strong foundation, ambitious rivals inevitably clashed violently. Fate alone had decreed that from such a rent in the social fabric, a man of extraordinary attributes such as William would rise to power. On the whole, it was better to avoid such conflicts by preserving the sanctity of marriage against all threats.
Lady Elene, she did not doubt, was just such a threat. Her possessive attitude toward Guyon was unmistakable. She clearly regarded his marriage as no more than a temporary inconvenience. Brenna would have a difficult enough time adjusting to her new life without the added complication of a persistent mistress.
Resolved to protect the young English girl, Matilda sent the Lady Elene on her way with a final admonishment about the need to devote herself to activities befitting a widow. Shortly thereafter, the Duchess departed to assure that all would be ready for the evening's feast.
Left alone, Roanna and Brenna eyed each other hesitantly. Roanna despised Elene, and would just have soon said so. But she did not wish to upset her sister-in-law, who must rightly be annoyed by the woman's unwarranted attentions to her husband. Drawing Brenna into one of the small arched windows at the end of the Hall, Roanna tried to distract her with talk of the coming evening. But Brenna would have none of it. She listened distractedly for several minutes before murmuring, "They were lovers, weren't they?"
Roanna hesitated. There seemed no point in trying to lie, yet discretion and loyalty to her brother demanded that she say as little as possible. "It's all over with," she said at last. "You have no reason to be concerned."
Brenna was not convinced. Patting the cushion on the window seat beside her, she said, "Tell me."
Sighing, Roanna sat down. She thought for a moment before beginning. "Elene and my brother have known each other for many years. When they first met, I believe Guyon wanted to mar
ry her. But Elene's family is very wealthy and powerful. She expected to marry a man of similar station, and she didn't believe Guyon could ever rise far enough above the stigma of bastardy to satisfy her. So instead of marrying, he became her lover. After a time, Guyon went away to the Saracen lands and Elene wed a rich old lord who demanded little of her. While she was married, Guyon would not touch her. But after the old lord died, their relationship resumed. By then, Guyon had amassed great wealth and won the Duke's favor. Elene was eager for marriage, but Guyon hesitated. I think he had become disenchanted with her and knew he wanted something more in a wife. Still, Elene didn't expect him to wed someone else, and certainly not so suddenly."
Roanna smiled as she remembered the scene news of Guyon's marriage caused. "When she found out, Elene staged a tantrum which, I swear, shook these stone walls. She vowed no woman could take Guyon from her. But she is quite wrong. My brother loves you. Anyone can see that. You have no reason to fear Elene."
Brenna wanted desperately to believe her. The thought of Guyon in another woman's arms filled her with fury. It was bad enough to accept the fact that he had indulged in affairs before their marriage. To think that he might leave their bed to dally with another was more than she could bear. Acutely conscious of her own inexperience, and forgetting for the moment how much she clearly pleased her husband, Brenna murmured, "She is very beautiful. Few men would turn aside from the Lady Elene."
"That is true," Roanna admitted. "But Guyon has made his choice. He married you. It is not in his nature to be disloyal."
Perhaps not, Brenna thought several hours later when the entire court sat down to supper. Seated next to Guyon, she could not help but be reassured by his loving attention. His gaze rarely left her, their hands touched frequently, and his smile promised much for the coming night.
Yet Brenna was also well aware of Elene sitting some little distance away. Magnificently dressed and jeweled, the Norman lady looked even more beautiful than she had that afternoon. Several times,