Enemy of My Enemy

by Carm Nicosi

  As he stepped out of the solar, Rosamund was walking down the passageway. Upon arrival here, she had been assigned the care of Hannah, to limit the amount of time she had to plot with Isabel. Brant smiled, as he recalled recognizing her immediately, outside Ann’s Castle, as the old woman, who had always escorted ‘Alisa’ to his cell.

  He asked Hannah’s whereabouts, and was told Esme, had taken the girl outside. Brant asked her to sit with Isabel, to be sure the babe did not roll off the bed, while they slept. As the serf entered the Solar, Brant turned to exit the Castle, intent on going to the village.

  When Isabel woke, Rosamond was in the antechamber, amusing Nathaniel on a blanket, on the floor. Surprised, she sat up on the edge of the bed.

  "Who did you bribe to get in here, without a chaperone?" she asked.

  "No one," the maid replied, with a slight grin. "His Lordship asked me to sit with ye. Mayhap, ‘e figured since ye was sleeping, it could not do any harm. Ye been sleeping for a couple of hours, and Nathaniel's been getting fussy. I think the babe is hungry."

  Rosamond carried the child over to his mother. Isabel took the babe from the maid, and moved to a high back chair by the hearth, to nurse him.

  "I tried to keep ‘im quiet, as long as possible. You do not look like ye been sleeping too good, lately. I been wondering what he has done to ye," the maid finished, with a wavering tone.

  "He has not done anything," Isabel replied, with a strained expression. "That is part of the problem. A powerful Lord such as him, certainly is not going to just let it go. His position demands retribution for my deception, surely. But there is no way to guess, what he might do, and Brant is not tipping his hand to me."

  "His Lordship seems to be pleased with the babe. That might help ye escape any serious punishment," Rosamond offered, with a hopeful look.

  "Unless he decides to keep the babe, and ship me off somewhere," Isabel replied, with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

  The sound of voices in the passageway, drew the women's attention.

  "That must be the girls returning from outside. I best go tell them I am in ‘ere, with ye," Rosamond said, as she rose, and moved toward the antechamber door.

  Isabel merely nodded in affirmation. After a muffled conversation in the passageway, Rosamond returned to the Lord's Chamber with the two young girls. The four females spent the rest of the afternoon there, until it was time to dress, for the evening meal. Isabel found the silliness that ensued with the girls, a welcome distraction from her dark thoughts, as to the possible form, of her husband's revenge.

  Late the next morning, Isabel was down in the hall, after another night of fitful sleep, when she was approached by Nora, and Rosamond. Rosamond displayed a small wooden box, that Isabel recognized as her own. She was informed that Hannah had taken it from her room, the previous day. Nora also claimed, that it was not the first time, the young girl had been caught pilfering things. The two serfs stood in front of her, expectantly waiting for her to deal with the child, which would be her place as Lady of the Castle.

  Though Isabel was unsure how Brant would react, she took the box from Rosamond, and rose to go to the child’s room. There, she confronted Hannah with the evidence, and the little girl sheepishly admitted to taking things, sometimes, because they were pretty. Isabel ordered her to remain in her room until it was time for the evening meal, because pilfering was wrong. The child instantly burst into tears.

  Esme, who was in the room helping her little sister get ready to go outside, interjected angrily, “We were just about ready to go out. You cannot make her stay in here.”

  “Hannah must learn that taking things is wrong. Were she your age, pilfering could get her ten or twenty lashes, depending upon what she took, and from whom,” Isabel responded adamantly. “Hannah is not to leave this room.”

  She gave Esme a stern look, to emphasize the point.

  “It is just a stupid piece of wood,” Esme exclaimed, with a glare. “I am going to get Brant.”

  “ Make sure you tell him, Nora says she has taken things before. Oh, and she took this from his bed chamber, when she was in there yesterday,” Isabel replied.

  Isabel knew that theft, was a very serious offense in a Castle. Theft from the Lord’s private chamber, was even worse. She took the box and placed it back where she had it, before returning to the hall, where Nathaniel was still peacefully napping. As she watched the babe sleep, Isabel wondered if her husband would back her up. It would be unfortunate for the little girl, if he let her off to rebuff his wife’s authority.

  Esme found her brother in the practice yard, watching as two of his knights jousted. She shuddered slightly, over the clang of the swords, as steel met steel. Esme knew that the practice swords they used in the yard were quite dull, to avoid serious injury. Yet, she could not totally separate practice, from memories of wounds she had seen from battles. There were several knights here, with rather noticeable battle scars. Even Brant had a scar about six inches long on one leg. It had taken a good amount of time to heal, Esme recalled. He had brushed it off as a minor thing, while she was concerned it could affect the use of his leg. Fortunately, it had healed completely. Shaking off her dark thoughts, the girl moved to her brother’s side.

  Esme quickly related to Brant, the events of the morning, and Isabel’s decision that Hannah must stay in her room for the day. Together, the brother and sister, returned to the Castle, where they found Nora in the kitchen. After confirming with her, that Hannah had in fact been pilfering, Brant decided that Isabel’s punishment should stand. Esme sulked off after Brant told her, he thought he, would likely have put the child over his knee.

  However, his curiosity was piqued by Esme’s assessment of the, ‘stupid piece of wood, that Isabel calls a box, but it does not even open’. Nora informed him that Isabel was in the hall, so he took the back stairs up to the Solar. There, he found the wooden object that had caused all the trouble, where it always sat, next to his wife’s brush and mirror set. As he picked it up, Brant noticed that it felt unusually heavy. There was not any obvious way to open it. After a closer examination, he discovered a slightly worn area on the bottom, where he applied a little pressure with a fingernail. A well concealed clasp slid over, and he was able to lift the top, to display two neat rows of coins. With a wry grin, Brant thought there was more than enough coins in the box, to bribe a lot of serfs, or a gypsy.

  Brant closed the lid, making sure the clasp locked, so Isabel would not know he had discovered her stash of coins. He wondered what other tricks his wife might have, momentarily, before reasoning it did not matter. Whatever they were, she was not going to vanish again, he had seen to that. Though it required several men, someone was watching Isabel, every minute that she was outside of his Solar.

  Isabel laid her sleeping son in his cradle, and tucked the blankets snuggly around him, feeling a little less apprehensive. Brant had not taken the child somewhere, leaving her to wonder where the babe was, and if he would be brought back to her, for several days. He had even sided with her, and let Hannah’s punishment stand. Yet, she did not dare let herself think that mayhap, her life might work out in some way, where she could return to happier days, when life was good. That had ended with her father’s death. Before that, Isabel had felt quite safe, without any major concerns, for her wellbeing.

  A wry smile touched her lips, as Isabel thought about happiness, and found herself recalling the days when she was pursuing the guise, of the serf "Alisa". The playful affection, and passionate lovemaking, she had shared with her husband during that time, seemed to good to be true, and of course it was. She had hoped to try, and hang on to some of the enjoyment, they had found in each other. She had waited to confess the ruse, and tell him about the babe, prepared to face his anger and beg for forgiveness, the day he was released from her jail. Instead, he had sent his men to imprison her at his remote Castle, and ignore her for eight months. When Isabel had escaped, he had come after her, but she was not naive enough to thin
k that meant anything. Most likely, he did that out of duty, greed, or just plain ego. Brant had actually treated Alisa as a plaything, Isabel admitted to herself, as she climbed into the bed. If her mother knew anything, he certainly would not treat his wife in that manner, and for some reason, Isabel found this disheartening.

  Isabel slowly became aware of gentle caresses on her body, and soft kisses trailing across her face and down her neck. When she moaned in pleasure, the caresses became stronger. In no time, she was lost in desire, somewhere between sleep, and being fully awake. She tried to pull her husband to her, but he held himself away from her. He ran the tip of his tongue gently across her lips, while a hand softly brushed up the inside of her thigh. Being groggy from sleep, and crazy with desire, when she heard Brant whisper, "Say, My Lord, I want you to breed me," she readily complied.

  Instantly, his gentle nature stopped, and he took her quickly, roughly. A minute or two later, she heard him groan, as he finished. Then, he immediately withdrew from her. In confusion, she tried to hang on to him, and he laughed as he rolled over, and presented her with his back. Slowly, her mind cleared, and Isabel realized that he had used her desire for him, to humiliate her. He had gotten her weak from desire, to get her to ask him to 'breed her", then taken her body, with the barest minimum required to spill his seed. Isabel turned on her side, facing away from her husband, as she felt tears begin to stream down her cheek.

  She thought of all the times he had been gentle, and affectionate with her, seeming to enjoy her response to him. He always made her feel safe, to enjoy the passion his lovemaking stirred in her. Twas like Brant expected her, to enjoy it as much as he did. Now, he had used her trust in him, to commit a cold calculated act intended to use, and humiliate her. As she lay there, now fully awake, she was sure that in the days to come, she would be hearing barbs about asking him to 'breed her'. Yes, she thought, she had been foolish earlier in thinking that Isabel, his wife, and mother of his child, could get the same playful affection that Brant had lavished so freely, on the serf ‘Alisa’.

  Later, Isabel fell into a troubled sleep, only to be awakened, when her husband pulled her on to her back, and positioned himself over her body. She pushed ineffectually on his chest.

  She whispered, to avoid waking Nathaniel, "Leave me alone."

  "While I really like your normal cooperation, now and then, a little wrestling can be fun," Brant whispered back.

  He lowered his head to kiss her lips, so she turned her head away.

  "You are not being a very obedient wife," he chided.

  Brant proceeded to place a string of kisses down her neck. Isabel tried to push his head away, but he grasped her hands, and pinned them down above her head.

  Isabel wished that she could scream and get someone to stop him, but she knew no one would dare enter the Lord's private chamber, without his permission. So she utilized the only defense available to her, focusing her mind on what he had done earlier, that same night. The tactic proved to be somewhat effective in not losing herself in passion, but even so, she could not completely ignore, how good his body felt against hers. Hard as she tried to keep picturing him rolling off her, laughing about the way he had used her body, she could not keep from becoming somewhat aroused.

  When he moved away from her afterward, Isabel rolled onto her side, presenting her back to him, again. However, Brant put his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest. When she tried to struggle away from him, he tightened his hold and positioned a leg over hers, to stop her resistance. Seeing no escape from his presence, Isabel gave up her struggle. Though, it was quite a bit later, when she finally fell into an exhausted slumber.

  Brant awoke when Isabel slipped out of his arms, in the morning. Nathaniel was crying. He watched his wife retrieve her gown that he had removed from her, during the night past, before she went to see to the babe. His eyes roamed over the back of the woman, who had tried so hard to lay cold and unresponsive under him, in the twilight hours. She had never done that before, except for that first time. He had hurt her, so she had fought, but could not escape him physically. Brant recalled how she had turned her head to the side, and in effect escaped with her mind, shutting out what he was doing to her, that first night. Last night, she had tried to shut him out, again, although she was not quite as successful, as the first time.

  Brant had seen that a few times, from maids in the village he had tried out, as was his right, as Lord of the Castle. He had thought them cold wenches, but mayhap, his taking of their bodies, was just not to their liking. The woman before him was certainly not cold, though hours ago, she had tried, though not totally successfully, to lay under him like a dead thing, waiting for him to finish. That, was not to his liking, so Brant had mostly limited his liaisons to tarts who came to flirt with him. Nay, actually many of the tarts at his Castles threw themselves at him, knowing that a liaison with the Lord, was likely to gain them a lighter workload, or often a precious trinket.

  His wife had changed the babe, and lifted him to her bosom to nurse. Brant saw her shiver slightly, in the chilly morning air. Noting the thin gown she wore, he rose from the bed, wrapping a blanket around himself. Taking a second cover from the bed, he walked over to wrap it around Isabel's shoulders. However, as he placed the blanket around her, she noticeably flinched away from contact with him, once again, bringing to his attention, how much it annoyed him when she drew away from his touch. So he slide his hands down her arms along the blanket, until he could tuck it snuggly around her waist.

  “I believe I had enough of your unpleasant company, in the night past, My Lord,” Isabel said, with a glare.

  When he was close to her, she always seemed to be acutely conscious of his body, and just then, it was a feeling she did not want to think about.

  “Really? It did not look like you found my company unpleasant, when you asked me to breed you, love,” Brant said, relishing the pink that tinged her cheeks. After pausing briefly, he continued, “However, if are you really undesirous of my affections, I see no reason why you may not shirk your wifely duties, in seeing to my physical pleasures for a little while.”

  Brant noted a look that he could not read, crossed her face briefly, before she covered it with a blank expression.

  Watching her closely, he continued, “Shall we say three, or four weeks. Until we know for sure, if I succeeded in breeding you. The mid wife assures me, now is the best time in your cycle, for you to conceive.”

  He grinned, as the pink that had faded from her cheeks, burst anew. Then, he turned to place more wood on the embers in the fire place, to chase off the chill in the room.

  “You are absolutely, despicable,” Isabel said, staring at him in astonishment.

  He had planned his callus treatment of her, the night past? Even talked to the midwife, about the best time to ‘breed her’?

  “I am despicable?” Brant questioned. “That is why you perpetrated your little ruse, is it not? To deceive me, into siring that child you hold in your arms? Or, did you only need one, to guarantee your position as my wife?”

  He rose from in front of the fire, which was now burning brighter, to warm the room. He stood glaring at her, waiting for her reply.

  “You know, My Lord, when you were in residence in my jail, I thought I saw some good qualities, in you. I even felt rather bad, about the situation my dire straits, had placed both of us in. Since they turned you loose, most of what you have done has been pretty repugnant. I am thinking that I should have kept you locked up, for a plaything. Mayhap, I would find you less insufferable,” she said, with feigned sweetness.

  Brant replied, with an equally false smile, “Look on the bright side, Alisa, you no longer need to worry, about what form my revenge will take, for the moment. If you are carrying my second child, well, you know how much I like children, right?”

  He then went to dress, and left the room. Isabel just glared after him, speechless. After he had seduced her into saying what he wanted, he had taken her body i
n a manor that could only be described as, the much whispered about ‘tossing skirts’. The fact that he hoped that humiliation, would lead to the conception of a second child, left her contemplating if there was a way to escape him. However, without having to give up the precious son that innocently nursed at her bosom, there was no way, short of killing him.

  Chapter 12

  Brant was in the hall with Nathaniel, Hannah, and Rosamund, when the sentry announced guests approaching the Castle. A short while later, Sir Richard, and a Lady whom Brant did not recognize, were escorted in. Richard quickly introduced Lady Ann, Isabel's mother, to her son-in-law. Brant acknowledged the still very attractive woman, of maybe thirty-five to forty years old.

  Introductions made, Richard dove in to their purpose in coming there.

  "Ann contacted me quite distraught, over your actions to retrieve Isabel, and the child. I agreed to lend my assistance in approaching you, about the situation," Richard said.

  Ann then forged ahead with stating her case.

  "Your marriage to my daughter was intended to be of a temporary nature, to protect her, and aid you, in defeating Avery. The goal was to finally end the ongoing fighting, between the two of you, which has been accomplished. I was quite shocked about the infant. Particularly, when I was informed about the ruse that lead to your siring the babe, which was certainly very unwise of Isabel. But it breaks my heart, to think of my only child's whole life, being determined by one impulsive act, when she was a mere child of one and seven years." At this, Brant raised an eyebrow, momentarily causing Lady Ann to pause. But, she continued on, "Particularly, when Rosamund told me, that you may have treated the poor girl rather roughly. I mean, Rosamund said that she had bruises on both wrists, and her jaw, and was quite shaken up."