Rose of Hope

by Mairi Norris

  “Or mayhap, you wish an accounting of the humiliations he heaped upon me, of the vile lies he told of me, of how he cursed and reviled me to my people. Have you yet been told of the mistress he kept for my shame? He brought her to our bower, and forced me to sleep with Roana until he learned the whore’s presence pleased me because it kept him away from me. Have you yet met the bastard children he sired, through rape, in his time here?

  “Or would you prefer I speak of the evils he committed in my name, such as the day he severed the hand of one of my kitchen slaves. The girl was accused of stealing a silver salver. He ordered all to attend. Once the screaming was over, he ended the assembly by assuring everyone the atrocity was done at my order. Yet, I would rather she stole every silver piece in the burh, than be so ill abused. The salver was later found behind a cupboard, where it had fallen without notice.”

  Ysane looked down, surprised to note her hands were systematically crushing the linen of her skirts.

  “There is more. Wish you to hear it? How he forced women to prostitute themselves to survive when as their lord, he should have seen to their needs? How children were beaten to death for minor infractions, and entire families banished with naught but the clothes on their backs because of some imagined disrespect? Mayhap you would hear from my own lips how he….”

  Her voice broke. Nay, she would speak not ever, to him or any other, of the debasements Renouf heaped upon her in their marriage bower. None would ever know the fullness of her degradation. She glanced at him. Silent and still, he watched her, his eyes never leaving her face, their depths giving away naught of his thoughts. She swallowed, licked dry lips and continued. “He murdered my innocent babe because she cried, and tried to strangle me when I fought him. He tripped over a stool and fell to his face. My hatred gave me strength. I took his sword and pierced his foul, drunken heart.” She paused, staring into the live coals in the brazier. “I was most surprised his blood ran red as any other man’s. I was certain ’twould be the color of burning brimstone.”

  She straightened and looked him in the eye. “At that moment, I determined no man—no man—would ever hurt me or those I cared for again. You may command my home, my people, my body, and even my loyalty, but you will never command my heart. Hear me, Sir Fallard D’Auvrecher, knight of the Bastard Conqueror. If ’tis your intention to force me into marriage, know that if ever you lay a hand upon me or any person I love with cruelty, I will find a way to slay you. I have killed once. I can do so again. I swear this. On my father’s grave, I swear it!”

  ***

  Fallard sat through Ysane’s increasingly passionate tirade, curbing any outward expression of his tumultuous mix of emotions, offering no response to her challenge. He already knew much of what she spoke. The lady who stood so courageously before him had been pitilessly misused, and he would do no further damage to her pride with a display of unwanted pity, nor yet would he give her reason to fear his rage.

  She called Renouf a beast, but the word was far from an accurate description, for no mere beast behaved as had Thegn Sebfeld. Fallard’s life had been given to warfare. He was in no wise unaware of the bestial nature that dwelled within the hearts of men, or of the atrocities of which they were capable. In the heat of battle, he had violently slaughtered many men, and had been called upon to execute others. But given what he had heard from Domnall, Renouf of Sebfeld had been a man far worse than most.

  Fallard could no longer accept the king’s insistence that Ysane had been party to treason with her husband, for she had hated and feared Renouf so deeply that despite the gentleness of her nature, she was driven to an act of great violence, one that must have nigh shriveled her tender soul. She was innocent, and deserved not the punishment she was awarded, not with Renouf or his villain of a brother. He would send a message to William this very day to that end, and he would take care to insure her life with him offered no further misery.

  Her eyes upon him blazed with emerald flame. He must choose his words carefully now. At very least, he could assure her none of her people held her to blame for the things her husband had done, despite the lies the whoreson told.

  He caught and held her scorching stare. “Never!”

  Her fire ebbed, to be replaced with cautious bemusement. “What say you?”

  “Never will I scorn you so. ’Tis a man’s duty, aye, and his privilege to give honor to his wife, to protect and care for her. A husband who fails in that duty, who seeks to heap scorn upon her, is both coward and fool, for in the doing, ’tis not she who bears the humiliation, but himself. In seeking her degradation, he debases only himself, and displays to all her innocence and his dishonor.”

  Wonder flooded her wary countenance as her lips parted. Fallard’s glance touched their full, sweet contours and he shifted in abrupt discomfort. He rose and walked to the brazier to stir up the blaze, then added more fuel. The coals caught and heat began to permeate the chamber. Satisfied the fire would burn well, he pulled two chairs closer to the warmth, turning the larger one—the one that was now his—to face hers.

  He held out his hand. “Come.”

  He thought she would refuse, but she obeyed, her movements graceful again as the winging of a bird. With but a slight hesitation, she surrendered her hand. Both of them flinched at the tingling burst of awareness and warmth the touch created. Eyelids flaring, Ysane snatched away her hand.

  Fallard ignored the sensation and her response. “Be seated.”

  He waited for her to settle, then from beneath his tunic, he pulled a scroll, creased and stained. He untied the document and unrolled it. “Read you my language?”

  “Well enough.”

  He handed the parchment to her. “Then you may study the document for yourself.”

  Her hands shook, but she took the scroll. She read it from beginning to end without speaking, then rolled it up and handed it back.

  “Now you know,” he said, as matter-of-factly as if he were commenting on the fine weather.

  Her gaze bleak, she stared at him. “I have been given no choice, then?”

  Fallard turned not from the accusation that blazed forth from her.

  What expects she to see in my eyes? Triumph, mayhap, or worse, pity? This is difficult for her, a proud and determined daughter of a king’s thegn, wealthy in her own right. Wulfsinraed is the home of her people from generations, and by Saxon law, should be hers, with the authority to rule in the manner she thinks best. It would have been hers, but for Norman rule. ’Tis a hard and bitter lump to swallow. Methinks I would bear not the indignity half so well.

  Fallard allowed no hint of his thoughts to show on his countenance as he answered. She deserved that respect. “None at all. William believes you guilty of treason. Understand this. I bear the authority of the king in this matter. Do you choose to fight, or do I prove you guilty of the charges against you, I am ordered to escort you forthwith to Kensington Abbey, to be locked away for the rest of your life.

  “Should I find you innocent, you will wed with me, or you will be compelled to leave Wulfsinraed forever, and be given to another, a man of William’s choosing. I know of his second choice, lady, and I fear you would have little liking for him, less even, mayhap, than you have of me.”

  ***

  Vexed almost beyond endurance, Ysane jerked her head to the side, her eyes roaming the bower, looking anywhere, everywhere, but at him.

  “’Tis not fair!” She jumped to her feet and paced the chamber, her strides hard, the very set of her body defiant. “’Twas none of my doing my father and Renouf rebelled, yet still William punishes me! Was it not enough I must see my father banished, to die in a strange land far from home and kin, or that I be made to endure three twelvemonths of Renouf’s bestiality, or behold the murder of my daughter?”

  She closed her eyes and threw back her head, hands clenched against her temples. “Where is justice? I had thought, if perforce I should ever gain my freedom, never to wed again, for I have no wish to have my life, my perso
n and my liberty once more at the mercy of a man! I wish but to live in peace, in my own home.”

  Oh, for mercy! How can I deal with this now, with grief for Angelet filling my soul nigh to bursting?

  Only slowly did she master the maelstrom of emotion. She opened her eyes once more and sighing, moved to stand in front of the dark knight, only inches from his chair. Defeat burned in every taut line of her stance. She knew it, but was too weary to hide it. Mayhap, the man before her would be kind. He watched her, and she wondered at his thoughts.

  She sat and held her hands close to the brazier. She had not realized how cold they were.

  “I fear to force William’s hand against me a second time.” Her eyes lifted to his. “Answer me this, my lord, and I would have the truth, if you know it. When William forced me to wed Renouf, knew he the man’s true nature?”

  Fallard shook his head. “I know not. ’Tis possible. ’Tis certain he believed Renouf would remain loyal, or he would never have awarded him Wulfsinraed. William can be ruthless when he thinks it justified, but he is weary of war and rebellion, and wishes for peace in his domain. To that end, he believes the sacrifice of a village worth the good of the whole kingdom, and the death of an individual worth the lives of a thousand others. ’Tis possible he wished to use Renouf to make an example of Wulfsinraed to other rebellious fiefs, and that he hoped, in so doing, to quell further insurrections. ’Twould not be the first time he has used such tactics.”

  “And what of you, Thegn D’Auvrecher? Are you also in agreement with this policy of sacrificing the few for the greater good of the kingdom?”

  ***

  Fallard sought an honest answer, for he demanded truth from her and determined to give the same. “I know the tactic works, my lady. But I am not king, and I know not to what lengths I might go if such were the only way to achieve peace. I do know I would wish not for my kingdom to be ever torn with bloodshed and strife.”

  He paused, his eyes idly tracking a tiny spider working its way across the floor at his feet. In his heart, he condoned not all his sovereign had done. He had been displeased by the action William had taken against the rebellious northlands some three twelvemonths after his coronation. The king had ordered nigh annihilation not only of the population, but also a calculated desolation of the land itself so complete that ’twould be long ere aught grew there again.

  He was grateful he had been not one of the captains whom William had ordered to put entire villages to sword and fire, commanding that all that breathed therein be slaughtered, even the animals. He had wondered, more than once, if he would have obeyed such an order, but hoped he would not, though his own life might have been forfeit had he refused. He believed not the innocent should be made to suffer for the guilty, yet uncounted thousands of innocents who died not in the fighting, later died of starvation and disease in the months that followed. The harrowing was a black stain on William’s reign, and one that might never be erased.

  He raised his head and said with slow deliberation, “If ’twas my decision, I could wish that measures of such nature would be not necessary. I would seek first to use any and all other less drastic means of persuasion.”

  Ysane nodded, apparently satisfied with his response. Her tone subdued, she said, “From your announcement earlier, I conclude you have reached a verdict regarding the question of my supposed treason.”

  “You are guiltless. We will wed. The time between now and then will be set aside for preparations for the ceremony and the feasting to follow. You have a syrce of green velvet. ’Twould please me if you would wear it for the ceremony.”

  She started at the abrupt change of subject. “You have looked in my clothing chests?”

  She sounded uncertain if she should be offended or amused.

  Fallard grunted. “Nay. ’Twas your sire’s mother who suggested it, though I admit I once saw you wear it, before the battle. She said with much fervor the color intensified the fire of your eyes and enhanced the purity of your skin.” He shrugged. “I but concurred.”

  She blinked at him. “My Ieldramodor—my father’s mother—spoke to you? But, she speaks to no one but Marlee, her maid and to me, since my father’s death.”

  “I assure you, I speak no lie. I came upon her that first day in the guest bowers, but I saw her not again until two days ago. I was exploring the storage recess behind the hoarding room and she appeared as if conjured from the air. Gave me quite a start.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “She asked if I was to wed you, and when I told her I was, she said ’twas a good thing, and then mentioned the emerald gown before slipping out the door. She seems to have taken a liking to me, or at least, she dislikes me not.”

  Ysane stared at him from the storm-clouded depths of those big eyes, so brilliant a green, then shook her head. “I believe it not. How is it you charm the very folk closest to me, who owe me their allegiance?”

  Fallard leaned to close the distance between them and took her face between his hands. He waited.

  When she quivered, but pulled not away, he bent to brush her lips with his in a caress as soft as the touch of a butterfly’s wings. “’Tis my intent the allegiance of all shall be to us, not only to me. I offer you my word, Ysane Kenrick-daughter, as a knight of William, I will never lift a hand against you. I will honor you, and respect your wishes as far as ’tis possible, and I will insure all others do the same. I will do all in my power to protect you and keep you safe. You need have no fear of me, lady. I will hurt you not. I will allow you time to grieve for your daughter, and if you wish, time to grow accustomed to me ere I take you to my bed. Know this, too. Ever will I speak truth to you, and that no matter the cost. Do these provisions seem acceptable to you?”

  She looked startled, as well she might, and even as he spoke the words, Fallard wanted to take back certain among them.

  What do I do, promising I will bed her not until she is ready? What if she is never ready? Fool that I am, I have given my word and now can take it not back. Mayhap, I have condemned myself to suffer overlong as a monk. The little siren has bewitched me. Now ’twill be a fight to woo her to my hand.

  “You are gracious beyond my expectations, my lord. Aye, your words are acceptable.”

  Of a certainty, she would believe so. ’Tis to her advantage. I am a fool, but mayhap, this one concession will not rebound upon me for ill. Mayhap, she will take it as a symbol of my regard, and hold me not to it. And mayhap, I am a lackwit.

  “Then we should do well together,” he said. “My name is Fallard, Ysane. I would hear it from your lips.”

  “Very well…Fallard.”

  “There now, that was not so very difficult, was it?” He smiled and drew her into his lap. She was such a little thing. He lifted her as easily as he would a child. He traced the length of her nose, the shape of her chin, the elegant curve of a brow, then bent to kiss her.

  “Nay, please!” She stiffened. Her lashes fluttered as she ducked her head.

  Fallard groaned inwardly and drew back. “Your wish is my command, Ysane.”

  He set her from him, and hid his frown when her face nigh crumpled, awash with relief. He silently cursed Renouf, the fool’s vow he had made, the firelight that burnished her skin and the sweet scent of roses wafting from her skin. He all but leapt from the chair, needing distance between them, for he was rather too much distracted by the sweetness of her smile and the feel of her pliant form against his own hard frame. Aye, and such tempting softness it all was—soft lips, soft hair, soft skin, and soft curves. As a virile man who had lived too long without a woman’s touch, he was sorely tried. He paced to the other side of the room, lest he forget himself and frighten her anew with his rampaging desire. He opened the shutters to let in the night breeze. ’Twas entirely too warm in the chamber.

  “By the by….” His lust under his control once more, he turned back to her. “Has the Lady Roana spoken yet of her wedding to my First?”

  Her expression answered his question. He allowed a grin.
“They are to speak their vows at the same ceremony with us. Does that please you?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Ysane wondered how many more surprises she must endure ere the day was out, though his promise to force her not to his bed was an oath she found much to her liking. Nor was a wedding between her kinswoman and the silver-haired knight unexpected, given Roana’s oddly affectionate behavior with the man—and his with her.

  “This wedding you speak of. ’Tis in accordance with Roana’s wishes?”

  “’Tis in accordance with both of their desires. I do recall my First mentioning something about ‘love at first glance’.”

  “Then I wish her all joy, and aye, ’tis pleasing she will stand at my side to speak her vows.”

  And I will speak with her first, for I will not have her coerced.

  Fallard cocked his head to one side. There was that in his eyes that made her wince.

  Already, he comes to know me, and learns to recognize when I hide that which I want him not to know. A pox on the man! I must take more care.

  “Methinks I sense reservation behind your agreement, Ysane. Have I told you not I will never lie to you, that you may always trust my words?”

  She searched his face, his eyes, wanting to believe, yet the old fear still held her in thrall. A few sweet words, no matter how well spoken, could erase not the torment of twelvemonths.

  “I believe you. At least with my mind, I believe you mean what you say.” ’Twas truth. She did. “But I must ask…I mean, I would pray your patience, that you would find it…that you…oh, that you would be willing to give my heart time to catch up with my mind.”