Enemy of My Enemy

by Carm Nicosi

  Finally, her escorts were ready to go, and they set out in the direction of the village. Lately, Esme was finding that riding out of the Castle gates, held a sense of relief. Lady Ann treated her like a guest, but she felt more like a prisoner. They would not tell her anything, about her brother. Not, how he was, where he was, or even if he knew she was there at Ann’s. A fact that made her think he did not know. Was Brant aware her mother had helped his enemy take her hostage? Sometimes, Esme wondered if she had been rescued by Richard, or if she was now his captive. She had tried to question Isabel, too, but she did not seem to know much, either. Although, with Ann there glaring at her, maybe, Isabel just did not want to raise her mother’s ire. They certainly could not claim they were protecting her, with their silence. Esme knew when she had first arrived, she had been very upset. She had now regained some sense of safety, and was rarely plagued by the nightmares, of her kidnapping.

  When they reached the village, her escorts suggested that they turn back toward the Castle, as they always suggested. Escorting the Ladies to go riding, it appeared, was not on their list of likeable duties. However, Esme was in the habit of riding on. The short distance from the Castle to the village, was not much of a diversion. Most of her days here, were spent on her sewing. Ann did sometimes, provide her with instruction on everything involved in running a Castle. Which was information that Esme would need, since she had inherited a portion of her father’s holdings. Although, the bulk of Eric’s lands, had of course, passed to Brant.

  Ann or Isabel, sometimes, worked with Esme to help her improve her reading, and writing, something that few women were taught. Still, she found it really boring here, most of the time. The only thing that had broken up the monotony, recently, was the overnight stay of Lord Reginald, and Lady Muriel, over a week ago. Esme thought they seemed familiar to her, for some reason, but they gave no indication of recognizing her. Mayhap, the older couple, just reminded her of some friends of her father. The couple was definitely not, anyone who had visited her home, in recent years.

  Some distance beyond the village, the three riders reached a path that circled back toward the Castle, through the woods. It passed the village on the side opposite the road. Esme lead the way off the road, into the wooded area, that blocked them from view of the village. They had gone only a few hundred feet, when half a dozen riders blocked their path back to the road. Her escorts, recognizing trouble, ordered her to ride to the village. Esme slapped her horse into a gallop, quickly jumping out ahead of her companions. Then, other riders emerged from the trees, separating the girl from the two knights. One lone rider pursued the now very frightened girl, maneuvering up beside her. He grabbed her mount’s reigns, and Esme began to scream.

  “Esme, it is alright,” the man yelled.

  He grasped her around the waist, lifting her onto his mount. Recognizing her brother’s voice, she quieted.

  “Brant?” Esme questioned softly, trying to turn to look at him.

  Then, yelling his name, she threw her arms around him. He, on the other hand, was struggling to hold on to her, while trying to bring her fleeing mount to a stop. In short order, that task was accomplished.

  Esme drew back saying, “You are alright. They said you were, but I was not sure, since you did not come to see me. They would not tell me anything else.”

  She hugged him again.

  “I did not know what had happened to you, or where you were. Avery said someone had betrayed him and taken you, before he died, but would not say who,” Brant said, returning her hug.

  With both horses now under control, he turned his destry back toward where her companions were surrounded. Realizing the girl was not in any mortal danger, and being outnumbered badly, those two, saw the logic in surrendering their weapons.

  “We need to get out of here, before they come to investigate your screams,” Brant said. “Are you calm enough to ride?”

  Esme nodded in the affirmative, and Brant lifted her back onto Matilda. Then the group, with their two hostages, located a narrow path. They took the path leading through the woods, away from the village, to make their escape. When the path came to a road, the group followed the road for a while, before once more taking a path into the woods. Esme was surprised when the path ended in a large clearing, where a substantial army waited. Here Brant dismounted, and lifted his sister off her horse.

  “Make our guests comfortable, and see that they do not depart our hospitality,” Brant ordered.

  Then, he grasped Esme’s arm to lead her into his tent, where he hugged the girl, again.

  “I was afraid, I would never see you again,” she said.

  “Nor I, you,” he responded.

  The girl began telling him what had happened, and how Richard’s men, had turned on Avery’s, rescuing Ann, and herself. During her accounting, Brant realized she did not know that Avery had killed Peggy, so he had to tell her. Although Esme was saddened by the news of her mother’s death, her main concern was for her little sister. Brant assured her that Hannah was quite safe, and doing pretty well at his Castle. Later, Brant got confirmation that Isabel was still inside Ann’s Castle walls.

  Hearing the sound of a large group of riders approaching, Brant went to look out of the tent. He waited there, watching Robert ride in with his men. Dismounting, Robert greeted Brant as he walked to the tent, and stepped inside.

  “Esme! Thank God you are safe,” Robert exclaimed, as he went to hug the girl.

  Brant said “Aye. We arrived yesterday, and have been watching the Castle ever since. This morning, when she came out for a ride, with only minimal escort, it seemed a perfect opportunity, to get her out of harms way.”

  “I see you are not wasting any time. So now what is the plan? Is Isabel still here?” Robert asked.

  “Esme says she is in the Castle. So I am hoping, I will shortly have my hands on that treacherous witch, and I can wring her neck,” Brant said, angrily.

  “What?” Esme asked, in shocked surprise. “Isabel is your wife, is she not? Nathaniel is certainly your son, he looks just like you.”

  “You would be the second person, to tell me Nathaniel looks just like me,” Brant gritted out. Leaving no doubt of his anger toward Isabel. “And, aye, the devious bit of fluff, is unfortunately, my wife.”

  “Why are you so angry with her?” Esme demanded. “She seemed really sweet to me...”

  Brant interrupted, yelling, “Do not defend that witch to me. I assure you, she deserves my ire. You do not know what her, and her supporters, have done to me.”

  He turned away visibly upset.

  Esme yelled back, “What, has Alisa done to you?”

  Brant spun back to face his sister, assuming a carefully controlled tone.

  “Alisa?” Brant asked.

  Esme calmer now, clarified, “Lady Isabel. Her mother calls her Alisa, sometimes. She…”

  Esme stopped speaking, as Brant yelled, “Damn that woman! Good God...”

  Shaking his head as the truth sank in, he turned in a black rage, and stomped out of the tent. The girl started to follow her brother, but Robert grabbed her arm, stopping her.

  He had stood by silently, listening to the siblings argue. Robert thought about his friend's anger, toward Isabel. Brant said he was fond of Alisa, whom he believed to be a serf. He had even looked for the girl, after he had been released from the dungeon. If Isabel was Alisa, she had played her husband, badly. Robert laughed heartily, as he decided that things were about to get very interesting.

  Brant had stalked to the edge of the clearing, in dumbfounded amazement, at that witch’s audacity. His mind raced over all the times, he had wondered if she had tricked, or drugged him, to get him to sire the child. He had been greatly worried, that she might have had her way with him, and he did not remember. Now he knew, she had not. No. Isabel had dressed herself as a young serf, given him a pet name, and let him, have his way with her. Oh, and he, had his way with her. Over and over, he had had his way with her. While she, was
holding him prisoner, in her dungeon.

  Brant leaned back against a tree, and banged his head back lightly, several times. Isabel had kept him a prisoner, while she passively spread her thighs for him, until she was sure she carried his child. Then, she had let him go. She had him all wrapped up. She was his wife, she was carrying his child, so she could set him free, he was trapped. He stayed there, leaning against the tree, letting the facts sink in, for a good long while. Then, he decided that, as he now knew that Nathaniel was definitely his child, he was going to go get his son. If getting Isabel, and the babe, out of that Castle, meant tearing it down stone by stone, so be it.

  Within two hours of getting Esme away from Ann, to get her out of harms way, Brant was ready to ride back, to get his wife and son. With his men at arms, and those that had arrived with Robert, they had several hundred men. From his assessment of the village, and Castle, the largest force they could raise, would be much less than that, if they wanted to fight. He decided to leave about a third of his men behind, to guard the camp. The rest would ride with him to surround the Castle, so that Isabel could not slip out. Brant gave the order to move out and nudged his destry into motion, with Robert riding beside him. Robert could not quite keep from grinning, though he said nothing. Brant really did not appear to be in the mood to talk.

  As they closed in on their destination, several small groups of three or four riders, were seen riding hard for the Castle gate. Brant issued orders for his men to spread out around the moat, at just great enough distance, to be out of reach, of archers arrows. When his men were in position, Brant moved his mount forward, in front of the now closed gate.

  "I have come to get my wife, Isabel, and son, Nathaniel,” Brant called out to the sentry. “You have one hour to send them out. Then, I am going to knock this Castle down, to come in and get them."

  When the message was carried to those inside the Hall, Ann began to cry. Isabel rose, to take Nathaniel upstairs, so she could collect some of their things. When Isabel returned to the hall a short time later, with the babe and Rosamund, Ann was arguing with her head knight, insisting Isabel must stay. The Castle Knights, were equally insistent Isabel was his wife, to refuse to send her out was an act of war, that Ann could not win. Isabel stopped this heated discussion, by announcing they were ready to go, as soon as their horses could be saddled.

  Forty minutes after the men outside issued their demands, they watched as the gate began to open. When the gate was completely open, several knights rode out, followed by two women. One woman was dressed as a serf, the other wore the much finer attire of the gentry. Both had a mantle wrapped about their heads, just as Isabel and her maid, apparently, always wore. Brant rode forward to meet them, with Robert at his side. Behind them, a small group of Brant's men, led the two knights captured with Esme.

  "The Lady, and the babe, Your Lordship," one of the Knights said.

  "I return your compatriots. Esme will be returning home with me," Brant said.

  He maneuvered up beside Isabel's mount. Then, Brant reached out to take a basket that the babe lay in from Isabel. After brief resistance, she released her hold, and Brant handed the child to Robert, who was still grinning.

  “Isabel,” Brant greeted, as he pulled the mantel off her head.

  “My Lord,” Isabel said, coolly returning his greeting.

  He lifted her off her mount and on to his, seating her with her back against his chest.

  "Mon Dieu,” Robert said, as he got his first good look at his friend's wife.

  The delicate features, and deep auburn hair, wiped the grin from his face. Isabel was almost as beautiful as his Kate, Robert decided. Brant turned his horse, to ride back to the rest of the men. Robert followed with the babe, listening, as his friend questioned his wife.

  “Why are you here, My Lady?” Brant asked. “I am certain, that I ordered my men to take you to my Castle near Kings Worthy, and to keep you safe, there.”

  Robert noticed the Lady raised a delicate eyebrow, before replying, “Actually, I believe you ordered them to see I was safe, and see that you, did not hear any mention of me. So, when I found myself missing my mother, after the babe was born, I saw no good point in not visiting. After all, your men could not tell you I was gone, without mentioning me to you. Therefore, I did not see, where you would miss me.”

  Robert found himself grinning, again, as he met Brant’s annoyed look over Isabel’s head. Robert was not sure which one, but he was sure that one, of the two people in front of him, was in trouble.

  They rode in silence, the rest of the way back to the army camp, in the clearing. There, Brant dismounted, then helped Isabel down, before reaching up to take the basket with the babe, from Robert. Carrying the basket in one hand, and grasping Isabel’s arm with the other, Brant directed her into his tent. There, he silently handed her the basket, before turning to exit.

  “Why is he so angry, with you?” Esme asked. “I am sure, I have never seen him act like that, before.”

  “No, you probably have not,” was all that Isabel had to say.

  Nathaniel started to cry, so Isabel picked him up, to quiet him. When he continued to be fussy, she raised him to her breast to nurse, drawing her mantel around the child, to cover them. Esme decided to go out to talk to Robert, again, when Isabel would not tell her anything. A few minutes later, Brant returned. Seeing Isabel sitting on his bedroll, he walked over, and stooped down to pull the mantel back. The babe’s hand rested on her breast, above where his mouth suckled. Brant reached out to place a finger under the tiny hand, and felt Isabel flinch, slightly. He raised his eyes to meet hers, and noted her fearful look, before she lowered her eyes. Brant pulled his hand back, and stood up, laughing. He was certain that Isabel deserved some punishment, for what she had done. Yet, he was finding himself quite pleased, about both Nathaniel, and finally having found Alisa.

  Chapter 11

  It was the 5th of June, both Isabel's birthday, and the anniversary of her wedding. She was now, one and eight. Most of the past year had been a nightmare. Isabel had began the year, in fear of what her cousin might do, and finished it out, fearing what her husband would do.

  The day he had arrived to demand she be sent out of her mother's, Isabel had expected to find out immediately, what form his anger would take. However, so far he had done nothing. After the babe had nursed at the army camp, she had been assisted to mount Matilda. Brant had taken the basket with Nathaniel, on his mount. Then, they rode out in silence, taking half of the army with them. The other half was left behind, to cover their retreat. Late that day, they arrived at one of her properties, or her former properties. As her husband, Brant owned her, and everything that was hers. He had escorted her, with a firm grip on her arm, to the Lord's chambers, and left her with the babe to care for, silently. They spent the next day there, before traveling on to another property.

  So they had made their way from Ann’s, to Brant’s Castle. At each stop, four in all, he had spent a day or so “checking on the spring planting.” At night, he slept soundly, but silently, beside her in the Lord’s Solar. Isabel, on the other hand, was sleeping fitfully, waking frequently from bad dreams. So far, the only insight she had into her husband's mindset, was when he had mentioned her disappearance from his Castle. Isabel had presented her opinion of her shadow Hester. Brant had replied, it was nice to know that she did not like his jail, anymore than he liked hers. Perhaps, he felt that she had been punished, for keeping him prisoner, though that really had not been up to her. Richard had the final say on that, and had insisted that Brant be held.

  If holding her at his remote Castle, was meant as a punishment, Isabel need only concern herself, with what he would do about her deception, with the serf “Alisa”. That deception had resulted in her babe, Nathaniel, though that had not been her intent. Yet, she really could not regret the child. Isabel was terrified, that Brant would send her someplace away from her son, that he had been deceived into siring. She did not think she could bear, to ha
ve the child taken from her.

  While they were traveling to Brant’s home, Isabel had suffered sheer terror, every time he had taken the babe from her, and overwhelming relief, when he handed the child back to her. Circumstances had forced her to marry a stranger. To his way of thinking, she had committed some pretty serious offenses. Having no real knowledge of his character, she had no idea, how her husband would address these offenses.

  Isabel walked to the side table, and picked up the hand mirror, that lay there beside her hair brush, to examine the dark circles under her eyes. She was spending every night, lying tensely in bed, sleeping little, while her husband presented his back to her, and seemingly, slept quite well. Brant had made no move to touch her in bed. Although he always held her arm to direct her around the Castle, presenting a perfectly normal picture of the Lord escorting his Lady.

  Isabel heard the door open, and turned to see Brant enter, holding their sleeping son.

  “I believe I told you to rest. You look exhausted,” he said. “Nathaniel is napping. I expect you to do the same.”

  Brant motioned her to the bed, and laid the sleeping child down beside her. He watched as a look of relief washed over her face, and realized for the first time, that she was terrified he would take the child from her. With both mother, and child, lying on the bed, he went into the antechamber. He sat down at the small table, and opened one of the account books, he had carried upstairs with him.

  Brant considered the frightened looks he had seen, cross Isabel’s face. She had deceived him, to get the child from him, and now she was afraid, actually terrified, that he would take the child from her. Aye, a lot of men would consider that a fitting punishment. He was certain, that he would not be separated from his son. Despite her deception, Brant could not forget the nights he had spent with Isabel, when he believed her to be a young serf. She had always responded to his passion, ardently. She could not have been pretending that, could she? Right now, lying in bed beside her at night, he was finding it quite difficult, not to exercise his right to her body. There was no doubt, he wanted to keep both the mother, and the child, so there was no way to separate her, from the babe. Part of his mind, told him she had played him badly, and deserved some punishment. Another part, told him he was quite pleased, with the turn of events. Alisa had haunted his dreams at night, leaving him frustrated, when he woke alone. There seemed to be no good way to punish her, without hurting himself. Realizing he could not concentrate on the books, he walked to the open doorway, of the bedchamber. Looking toward the bed, Brant noted that his wife and son, were both fast asleep.