Enemy of My Enemy

by Carm Nicosi

  Cora glared at him, before replying, “William, what were staying at the Inn, said ‘e was from Kellanhym Castle. She hid in one of the rooms they ‘ad there, until the other knights and the supply wagons, come to take her back there.”

  Brant looked doubtfully at the serf, as he told her, “I was there less than three weeks ago, over night. They said they had not seen, or heard from her.”

  The serf replied, “It is her Castle, and ‘er people. They come here to your village, to get ‘er. I think they would lie to ye, about seeing ‘er, don’t you? If ye were there, she might have been right under yer nose.”

  "That will be all, Cora," Brant said, dismissing the serf. "I believe I will be returning to Kellanhym Castle, to check on preparations for the harvest," Brant told Lady Ann, before turning toward the stairs.

  Cora, who had remained there, smiled at Ann conspiratorially, and said, "He does not treat the Lady very good, at all. I sure wish I knew what she ‘as planned, when ‘e gets there. She promised she were not going to maim, or kill ‘im."

  Then the serf turned, and left the hall. Ann laughed softly, realizing that Isabel had somehow engineered summoning her husband, for some unknown purpose. Apparently, Isabel was safe, her son-in-law, only time would tell. She momentarily thought about warning Brant, but decided to trust that Isabel knew what she was doing. Clearly, the girl was involved in something that Ann knew nothing about.

  Brant reminded his men of the plan, as they approached Isabel's Castle. They were there, merely to see to the progress of the crops, and harvest preparation. So when they rode through the gate, between the huge drum towers, everyone was prepared to be inconspicuous, about looking for indications that the Lady was ensconced at the Castle.

  When Brant entered the Castle compound, he rode straight up to the stairs into the hall. A serf came around the building to greet them. Brant handed the serf the reigns to his destry to take to the stables.

  "Good day, Me Lord," the serf said. "Will you be staying a while?"

  "We plan to be here overnight," Brant answered. "So we will need the horses taken to the stable."

  "Aye, Me Lord," the man replied.

  He entered the hall with his squire, Vernon, several steps behind, carrying the Lord's heavy duffle. Brant was greeted by the Castle Mistress, Gertrude, who managed the serfs.

  "Good day, Me Lord," Gertrude said. "Will ye be staying with us long?"

  "Nay, we only plan to be here overnight," Brant said. "Are there any other guests, here at the Castle?"

  "Nay, Me Lord," Gertrude answered.

  "Have you had any word from Isabel?" Brant asked.

  "Not a peep," the serf answered. "I do hope she is well. I ‘ave been greatly concerned, for ‘er safety."

  "Aye, Ann and I, have been, too," Brant replied. "I will be taking the Solar for tonight. Could you have some water sent up, so I can wash up a little?"

  "Aye, Me Lord," the mistress said, as Brant turned to mount the stairs, with his squire following.

  Vernon deposited the duffle in the Solar, and retreated to recline on a bench, in the dimly lit passageway outside the room. Brant closed the door behind his retreat, and waited inside the room. After washing up from the dusty ride, he rested on the bed for about an hour, before there was a tap on the portal.

  Brant opened the door to let Vernon into the antechamber. He relayed to Brant, that several serfs had gone in, and out, of the room right across the passage from the Solar. Vernon also believed, he had heard several female voices, speaking in soft tones, coming from the chamber. Availing himself of the shadows, that were common in Castle passageways, Brant opened the door just enough, to be able to see the opposite chamber portal. It was not long, before a serf went to the portal, so Brant opened the door wide. The startled serf stood holding a basket, looking at him guiltily. He motioned for her to sit on the bench, and for Vernon to stay with her, before crossing the hall to open that portal.

  Isabel, his long lost wife, was placing a small stack of the babe's clothing into a duffel.

  "Hello, Isabel. What did you want the basket for?" Brant asked.

  Though he was pretty sure, she intended to carry Nathaniel out of the Castle, in it.

  "Good day, My Lord," she replied, quickly covering her surprise. "I was not expecting to see you until later, but as I have discovered, plans are made to be changed."

  Isabel side stepped answering his question. She thought he looked a little tired, somewhat concerned, and really irritated.

  Brant questioned dubiously, "You were expecting to see me, later? Somehow I doubt that. More likely, you were preparing to sneak out somewhere, to hide until I left. Though, it is good to see you looking quite well."

  "I am quite well," Isabel replied. "Did you doubt, I could take care of myself?"

  "Actually, it was more your mother's words, about the root mix, that would likely make you lose the babe," Brant explained, with a hint of anger in his tone. "It was one of those, that likely cost my mother her life. She died just a few short weeks, after she lost the babe she was carrying. Was that what you were talking about, when you told Ann you did not see where you had any other choice?"

  "I would ask if that was interrogating Rosamund, or eavesdropping, but it sounds like a little of both," Isabel commented, with a frown over his accusation.

  She yelled for Beautrice, the serf who Brant had instructed to wait outside, with Vernon.

  When the serf appeared in the doorway, Isabel said, "Take Nathaniel down to the hall, so his sire may spend some time with him. Ask my knights to see that he does not try to leave, with the child. And tell Gertrude I will be down for dinner, as planned."

  Turning her attention back to her husband, Isabel said, "I think we can continue this conversation, later. Right now, get out of my room, Brant."

  Brant stood still, looking at her coolly for a few moments, before deciding it would be best to keep an eye on his son. In the passage, he instructed Vernon to watch Isabel's chamber, to make sure she did not try to leave. Then, he quickly walked off down the stairs, following the serf who was carrying Nathaniel.

  Isabel walked over to shut the door. She had not intended for Brant to know she was here, until later in the evening. He looked as if the last few months, were as trying on him, as they had been for her. She so, wanted this all to be over. In the beginning, it had seemed a simple matter. She and Brant, just needed to get rid of, or get control of, Avery, and both of them would be safe. How was she to know, that there was another person, who wanted Brant gone from this earth, even more than Avery? Or, that giving Brant an heir to his lands, would put her child in mortal danger.

  Brant had discovered her earlier than planned, and had arrived with six men, instead of the three, or four, she had been expecting. However, that should not affect her plan, too much. He was upset with her, because he thought she was trying to sneak the babe out of the Castle, and he had overheard her mother's advice, about how to hopefully lose the babe. That was likely good. He would be making accusations, rather than asking questions.

  When the evening meal was announced, Isabel left her bedchamber and descended to the hall, hoping her husband would not be too unpleasant. The meal proceeded fairly well, with Brant saying very little. He largely occupied his time eating, and watching Nathaniel, whom Isabel was holding, gnaw on a few fruits and soft vegetables.

  Though the main reason, that Brant was pretty quiet during the meal, was that he was trying to decide how, to go about getting his wife and son, back to his Castle where they belonged. Isabel seemed to be taking very good care of the child. But Brant was his father, and she had no right to take the child from him. A survey of the hall, made it clear that there were two of her people, to every one of his. Cora said Isabel's knights had come to his lands to get her, so they would be taking orders from her, not him. As her husband, they should recognize him, as their Lord. They should follow his orders, but Brant did not think he needed to test it, to prove that was not the case.


  When the meal was at an end, the serfs brought refills of wine, and ale, for the diners. Trying to make small talk, Brant commented, "The wine is quite good. Do they make it here?"

  Happy to talk about mundane things, Isabel answered, "Nay, but it does come from one of my fiefs. While it is costly to bring it here, I think it is worth the expense. They do make some wine here."

  Isabel waved Beautrice over, and handed Nathaniel to her. Brant watched as the serf carried the babe over, and laid him down on a mat, near the hearth. He realized he was beginning to feel a little groggy, and was having some trouble holding his chalice steady. He set it down, clumsily on the table. Looking around the hall, he noticed that Vernon was slumped over the table. Several of his other men, appeared to be in varying states of losing consciousness. Brant watched as mats were laid out on the floor, and his sleeping knights were moved to them. Four of them, he noted. The other men who came with him, appeared to be fine. Or were those his men? Mayhap, not, Brant thought. They were not coming to his aid. He wondered why he was not sleeping like the others, as he turned his attention to Isabel.

  "You do not look like you are feeling very well, My Lord," she said, when his eyes met hers. Reaching her hand out, she said, "Give me your hand."

  Brant found himself complying with her request. He raised his arm to place his hand in hers. His arm felt really heavy as Isabel grasped his hand, and squeezed it. Brant tried to return the gesture, but found that his hand seemed to lack strength. Isabel smiled at this and said, “That is good, My Lord. I think you are ready for a little fun, don't you?”

  Then, she looked to her men, and said, “Let us get the Lord moved, someplace where he will be more comfortable.”

  Two of the knights came forward to lift him out of the chair, by placing his weak arms over their shoulders. Then, they carried his clumsy form out of the hall. At first, confusion assailed his groggy mind, until he realized he was being lead toward the high stone wall surrounding the jail, where he had been held prisoner for nearly three months. He tried to struggle against the determined knights, but his limbs were not listening to his mind. His slight resistance barely slowed them down, and in no time, Brant was back in the cell he had been released from just over a year earlier. They sat him on the bed, and stripped his upper body, baring his chest. That done, he was laid back with his head and shoulders, raised by several pillows that had been added to the bed, since his last stay.

  Brant noticed that Isabel was lighting candles around the room. The light revealed that a metal fire pit, had been added to the cell. A hood over the pit, with a pipe, vented the smoke to the high window.

  Once the candles were lit, Isabel said, "Alright, I can handle it from here. Please wait in the courtyard, to see that we are not disturbed."

  She moved to the edge of the bed, taking hold of one of his arms. Brant felt a soft band tighten around his wrist, and his arm was pulled up above his head. He tried to pull the arm down, but it was held fast. Isabel raised his other arm, so that his hands touched. His mind said that he should resist, but a slight amount of pressure from her, overpowered any resistance.

  "I am going to kill you," Brant said, his speech slurred.

  “Do not be melodramatic,” she replied, with a low laugh. “I told you, we are going to have a little fun. You always like to have fun, Brant. Over, and over, again.”

  She began to untie his laces, and strip the lower half of his body.

  “Stop this, I will not do it,” he said.

  “Of course you will. I want to. How many times did I say no more? You wanted more, so you pinned me down, and took me, again,” she reminded him.

  Brant lay on his back, thinking that he should offer some resistance, but whatever Isabel's serfs had served with the libations earlier, seemed to be preventing him from acting on his thoughts. Fortunately, she did not appear to be intent on pursuing the 'fun', she had mentioned. She was massaging one of his feet, paying close attention to an area right above his heel. Though he thought it an odd thing for her to be doing, it seemed to drain all the tension from his body. Somehow, the slightly painful sensations her ministrations were generating, caused a pleasant tightening in his loins. As if she knew his desire to resist was fading, Isabel moved to straddle his thighs.

  "I have been told, that men like to look at a woman's body," she said, slowly lifting her gunna, to reveal her body. As she lifted the garment over her head, she asked, "Do you like that?"

  Seeing her naked body straddling him, convinced him that she would soon have him doing exactly what she wanted. He closed his eyes, to fight his body's response to her.

  "You do not want to look?" Isabel asked. "You just want to feel?"

  She ran her hands up over his ribs, then brush her thumbs over his nipples. He felt her shift her position, to where she could run her tongue over one nipple. He opened his eyes. She slid a hand down to his swollen appendage, gently stroking her hand along it, before positioning him to enter her body.

  "Do you want to watch me, take you inside of me?" Isabel asked, drawing his attention to where her hips straddled his.

  Unable to look away, he watched as she lowered her body onto him. Then she proceeded to rock back and forth, moving him in and out of her body. Isabel told him how much he liked what she was doing to him, until he groaned in pleasure, as his body released his seed into hers.

  Brant turned his head to the side when it was over. As his breathing returned to normal, he mulled over the fact that his mind had been quite against, what had just happened. His body, on the other hand, just would not listen to his mind. His wife lay forward on his chest, still straddling his body, and placed light kisses down his neck. She told him, how much he enjoyed, being unable to keep from surrendering to her. After a few minutes, she was quiet, but she continued to lie on top of him. Though he had softened, their bodies were still together. Brant thought of the times he had done that to her, remaining inside of her, until his body had recovered enough, to take her, again. Suspecting she had the same thing in mind, he tried to move his body, but her weigh was resting on him. The slight movement he managed, just moved her with him. Once more, he wondered what he had been given. While his mind said he should resist, he could not make his body move to do that. Clearly, if he could make his body move to fight her, his greater size and strength, would make it easy to get her away from him. He lay there under her, for a while thinking about that. He tried to move her off of him, again, when he felt his body becoming aroused once more.

  Brant realized this was a mistake, when Isabel began again, placing kisses down his neck. Her hand was brushing lightly over one nipple, again. He thought to tell her to get off him, but then recalled how often she had told him exactly that. He never listened to her. He found a spot on the wall, and tried to focus his mind on thoughts of battles he had been in. Brant tried to think about men, dead and dying. He needed to keep his mind off of, her hands, and lips, and what she was doing to his body. Unfortunately, those unpleasant thoughts, were not as interesting as the feel of her breasts, pressed against his chest.

  Isabel rubbed her breast lightly against his chest, before raising up to look at him.

  She asked, “Are you ready for some more fun, My Lord?”

  Brant mumbled, “No.”

  She merely smiled, before beginning to tell him how insatiable he was, between kisses, until his body, once again, provided her with her fun.

  Afterward, Isabel moved to press her body against his side, telling him how good they were together. Then talking about how much he enjoyed, what they had just done. Just as he recalled telling her, more times than he could count. For his part, Brant lay there thinking the last thing he wanted, was to mate with her, in the same jail cell she had kept him imprisoned in, for nearly three months. In addition, her current line of conversation, was making him think that she might not be done, yet.

  Isabel raised up on an elbow to meet his eyes, and kissed him, so he thought she was starting, again. However, after running
the tip of her tongue over his lips suggestively, her demeanor became serious.

  “You need to be very careful who you trust, and share information with, Brant,” she said. “There are others besides Avery, who hope for your demise.”

  After issuing this warning, she produced a small vial from somewhere, and poured it’s contents into his mouth, telling him to swallow. She held his jaw, to prevent him from trying to spit out the bitter liquid.

  “That will help you sleep. Much as I would like to stay, there are things I must do, to see that those plotting against us fail. Rest well, mi amor,” Isabel said, and she placed a kiss on his forehead.

  She rose and put her gunna back on. Then, Isabel covered him with a blanket, before untying his wrists, and lowering his arms to his side. He closed his eyes, succumbing to extreme drowsiness. Brant hear her speaking to some else, at some distance from him, before the potion took full effect.

  “Stay here until he wakes. Tis important that he be safe,” she said.

  Brant wondered why, after what she had just done, it was important for him to be safe. Then as sleep overtook him, he thought that he certainly wanted her to be safe. Yet, he had often teased her body into arousal, when she had said she did not want to do that. Tonight she had done the same thing to him, and he did not like it. It was not meant to harm her, was his last thought before sleep came.

  Chapter 15

  When Brant awoke in the morning, there was an older female serf sitting near the table, beside the bed. Across the cell, a well armed young man sat. As he tried to sit up, he noted that his first tentative movements, were very unsteady. He was still quite naked under the blanket. He drew it with him, as he sat up on the edge of the bed, trying to clear his head. The serf rose to hold out a mug to him.

  “Here, Me Lord. Drink this, it will help ye wake up. Once ye are a little more steady, they should be cooking something in the hall, if ye are hungry. Yer clothes are right there, when ye are ready to get dressed,” she said.