by Ida Curtis
“May I present my mother, Lady Winifred. Lord Chetwynd knows our Justin and is well-known for his service to King Louis, my lady.”
“I have heard all about Lord Chetwynd,” she replied, a sly smile on her face.
Her words gave Chetwynd a jolt, and he prayed they weren’t true. Though advanced in years, Lady Winifred had alert eyes that examined him closely. As though coming to a decision, she left her seat and moved toward Chetwynd, impatiently waving for the person beside him to make room for her.
“It’s about time we finally met, Lord Chetwynd. I’m eager to hear the latest news of my grandson.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Lady Winifred,” Chetwynd replied, standing to help her settle in her new seat. “It has been a while since I last saw Justin, so my news will not be timely.”
Lady Winifred waved away the servant who carried her trencher, indicating she was finished with her meal. However, she did accept a goblet of wine.
“When exactly did you last see him, Lord Chetwynd?” she insisted.
“During the Spring Assembly at the king’s palace in Aachen. We spent some time together there.”
The king held many assemblies throughout the year, and the Spring Assembly was devoted to planning military operations for the summer months. The widespread empire was in constant threat from encroaching tribes that did not share the Christian faith of the Franks. Chetwynd’s army was only one of many armies employed by King Louis to protect his kingdom against the heathen aggressors.
“Justin has mentioned you many times. I know he regards you as the brother he never had. He does have a sister. Perhaps he mentioned Lady Isabel.”
In fact, they had had a long discussion about the lady, Chetwynd recalled. Justin believed Isabel was unhappy at Narbonne. Chetwynd had hoped to do him a good turn by bringing Isabel to court, a plan that now seemed to be ill-conceived. He had no intention of mentioning it to Lady Winifred until he decided how he should proceed.
“It’s true Justin is like a brother to me, my lady. As pages in the household of Count Jonas we ate, slept, and trained together. Natural brothers could not be closer. But at court we have taken different paths. Justin has made a reputation for himself as a minister to King Louis. I admire Justin’s skill as advisor to the king.”
Chetwynd’s words were meant to please Justin’s grandmother, but that didn’t mean they weren’t true. There were many times when he envied Justin’s diplomatic skills. Lately he had discovered how valuable they were in keeping peace at court.
“Oh yes, Justin is talented in that way. I believe he takes after me. We are both skilled at reading people.”
To keep the twitch at the corner of his mouth from betraying his amusement at her words, Chetwynd looked down at the tray of fruit being passed along the table. He could only hope she wasn’t as good at reading people as she thought she was.
Although the noise in the hall made it unnecessary, Lady Winifred leaned closer to speak in confidence. “Do tell me the latest news from the palace. I fear Queen Judith courts disaster with her demands for the infant Charles. I support her ambitions for her son, of course, but she must be more cautious. I was a second wife myself and know the problems involved when there are children from a previous marriage. The king’s three grown sons seem unwilling to give up any of the territory they rule. Tell me your opinion. Does the queen have a chance to prevail?”
Chetwynd wasn’t surprised by the lady’s knowledge of court politics. The queen’s struggles to establish a substantial inheritance for her son were widely known and discussed. But he didn’t like the direction the conversation was taking. Although he was in a position to know a great deal about the queen’s maneuvers, he wasn’t eager to talk about them.
“Queen Judith has many supporters,” he stated in a clipped manner, hoping to end the discussion.
Lady Winifred ignored his obvious unwillingness to speak of the matter. “She must be careful of the clergy, Lord Chetwynd. The church fathers were instrumental in dividing the empire so that each of the king’s three sons rules a portion. Making his oldest son, Lothar, co-emperor with the king ensures there will be a strong emperor in place once Louis is gone. Of course, the bishops have their own reasons for protecting the integrity of the Holy Roman Empire.”
Lady Winifred was warming to her subject. She shook a finger at him as she continued. “Lothar is the son who poses the greatest threat to Queen Judith. Beware of Lothar. The man has a nasty temper, and he jealously guards his right to the title of emperor. It’s said Charlemagne was reluctant to assume the title bestowed upon him by Pope Leo III, but his grandson has no such reservations. He will not give up any of his power without a struggle.”
Although Lady Winifred had asked for news, she seemed content to display her own knowledge of royal history. She was well-informed and had a clear understanding of the issues. Chetwynd was content to listen to her talk while he poured himself more of Lord Theodoric’s excellent wine.
As if she suddenly realized Chetwynd wasn’t contributing to the conversation, Lady Winifred took the direct approach. “What about you, Lord Chetwynd? Do you support Queen Judith’s ambitions for her young son?”
Playing for time, Chetwynd took a long drink of wine and struggled not to choke as the strong liquid coated his throat. Lady Winifred was an intelligent woman whose probing questions threatened his peace of mind. She waited patiently for an answer.
“I vowed to stay clear of the conflict between Queen Judith and the king’s grown sons,” he finally managed to say.
It was a recent vow. Earlier Chetwynd had fallen under the influence of Queen Judith. But he had realized his mistake and made the vow to Justin.
Lady Winifred studied his face as though trying to read meaning into his answer. Clearly impatient with her inability to elicit information, she abruptly changed the subject. “Do give me more personal news of Justin. Has he found a wife yet?”
Chetwynd almost sighed with relief. “Not yet, my lady. But there is someone he has been courting. I think he is quite smitten with Lady Lilith, a young widow with two children.”
“A widow, you say. Does she have a large estate?”
“Yes, I think you’d call her estate large.”
Chetwynd looked down to hide his grin at her satisfied expression. When Lady Winifred was suddenly quiet, he realized he had lost her attention.
“Praise be to God,” he heard her whisper as he followed the direction of her wide-eyed stare.
Chetwynd echoed her words in his mind. Lady Isabel stood at the entrance from the family quarters. She stared at the soldiers, color draining from her face. He had seen stone statues that looked more alive.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN ISABEL STEPPED INTO THE GREAT hall, a wall of noise brought her abruptly to a standstill. Boisterous male voices, sounding much like the taunting laughter she had heard eight years ago, carried her back in time.
She stared at the soldiers at the lower tables. At first just a few heads turned in her direction; then others followed suit. Leering faces that looked eerily alike filled her vision as jarring laughter changed to whispers. The hush that fell over the hall caused a shiver to pass through Isabel’s body. Eight years ago, she hadn’t known enough to feel fear. It was as though her body were making up for that mistake.
Frozen to the spot, she prayed her wobbly legs would continue to support her. She told herself that she was in her father’s great hall, not a secluded meadow. Before she could gain enough control to move, her grandmother was at her side. Lady Winifred grabbed Isabel’s arm in a painful grip.
“There’s no turning back now, my dear. For heaven’s sake, pull yourself together.” Lady Winifred’s whispered words were a firm command. “It’s about time you behaved in a manner appropriate to your station. Come along and take your rightful place at the head table.”
Isabel managed to pull her arm free, but at least her grandmother’s presence dispelled her nightmare. Taking a deep breath, she concen
trated on putting one foot before the other. Her father stood as she approached the high table, and her grandmother followed close behind. No doubt Lady Winifred wished to block any possibility of retreat.
When Isabel reached her father, he extended his hand and gave her a smile, the first she had received from him in a long time. “Good of you to join us, my dear,” he said looking her up and down.
Since Isabel had no clothing appropriate for the great hall, her handmaid had found her a gown from a trunk of her mother’s belongings. Isabel had often searched through her mother’s chest when she was a child, wondering about the woman who had died before she could know her. Now she wondered if her father would recognize her mother’s gown.
Lord Theodoric’s eyes widened as he examined the low-cut garment, but if he recognized the formfitting, sky-blue dress as belonging to his dead wife, he gave no indication. Although he was no doubt surprised by her appearance in the hall while soldiers were present, he didn’t comment on it.
Isabel had only nodded at her father’s words of welcome, and the familiar faces at the high table watched their exchange. Vaguely aware of her father’s chief steward and several merchants, the only person Isabel was really conscious of was the one she refused to look at directly. After seeing the footprints at the pond, she had rushed home, determined to search the hall for a golden-haired soldier. Out of the corner of her eye she had caught a glimpse of a visitor with flaxen hair. Was he the stranger who had startled her at the pond? She realized by his position at the high table that he was no common soldier.
Again her grandmother took her arm, this time more gently. Isabel allowed herself to be led to a place beside the stranger. As he stood at her approach, Isabel gathered enough courage to look at him. His tresses were not as enchanting without the sun illuminating them, but they appeared thick and soft, a contrast to the harsh lines of his tanned face. She had imagined a softer visage, and his stern expression surprised her. Although she was sure he had been at the pond, he appeared nothing like her gentle champion. Surely it was only a coincidence that this soldier had somehow found her pond and the sun had lit up his golden head.
Suddenly aware that she had been studying him far too long, Isabel lowered her eyes. She had vowed to seek him out, but hadn’t expected to come face-to-face with him so quickly. Her neck flushed when she remembered how she had been swimming and touching herself when he had come upon her at the pond. Despite her embarrassment, she had resented the interruption.
She realized Lady Winifred was making introductions. “Isabel, this is Lord Chetwynd, a knight in the service of King Louis. He and his army are returning from duty on the Spanish March.”
When the silence between them continued, Lady Winifred looked from one to the other and then spoke directly to Isabel. “You will be pleased to hear Lord Chetwynd is acquainted with your brother, Justin.” Her grandmother nudged Isabel’s arm, urging her to reply.
It seemed to be a contest to see who would give in and speak first. Isabel finally surrendered, but only to mutter, “Lord Chetwynd.”
In reply, Chetwynd nodded. Isabel knew why she felt uneasy, but she wondered why he seemed so cold.
Frustrated, Lady Winifred waved her hand at her seat. “Do take my place beside Lord Chetwynd, Isabel. I know you are eager for news of Justin,” she prompted. With these words of encouragement, Lady Winifred pushed her granddaughter toward the seat.
Reluctantly, Isabel settled herself on the bench, and Chetwynd sat down beside her. Determined to ignore the warrior, she accepted the goblet of wine her father offered and busied herself choosing from the food trays passed to her by servants.
The quiet that had descended upon the troop at Isabel’s entrance dissipated as the diners returned to the loud chatter that accompanied their eating and drinking. Isabel watched the soldiers tucking into their food. Their faces no longer appeared alike, and she saw they were a variety of ages. Although the men stole glances in her direction from time to time, they didn’t stare for long. Her confidence grew as she noticed the high degree of deference with which she was treated.
There was one exception. A lad with a cheery face smiled boldly at her. He was too young to be frightening, and the open admiration she observed in his eyes amused her. She could not help returning his winsome smile.
Forgetting her intention to ignore the silent lord, Isabel asked, “Who is that young lad, Lord Chetwynd? He does not look old enough to be a soldier.”
Chetwynd frowned at the young lad as he answered Lady Isabel. “That’s my squire, Jerome. He is young and takes liberties.” His expression caused the lad to immediately lower his eyes.
Isabel grinned at her success in finally getting the warrior to speak. “How is it you are acquainted with my brother Justin, Lord Chetwynd?”
He paused only a few seconds, as though trying to figure how to answer. “Our friendship goes back many years, my lady. As I told your grandmother, we were pages together on the estate of Count Jonas of Orleans. We began our training in the great hall, serving meals and observing the manners of polite society. Justin and I shared an impatience for these tasks.”
Isabel smiled at his remark and nodded, encouraging him to continue.
“Being a little older, I advanced to caring for the horses first. Count Jonas bred the large animals for King Louis’s armies. Justin loved the war horses. He spent all his spare time at the stables. Although he was much better at mastering the social skills than I was, and therefore more welcome in the great hall, we shared a love of horses. Before long we were jousting and hunting together.”
Isabel’s heart twisted as she thought about how much she missed her brother. “I remember the day Justin was sent off to be educated. It broke my heart that I was not allowed to accompany him. I was jealous of his freedom.” She paused, remembering her disappointment. “But go on, Lord Chetwynd, I interrupt your story.”
“There isn’t much more to tell. I became a soldier in the service of Lord Malorvic. Justin stayed with Count Jonas, who later introduced him to King Louis.
“Though he has a great love for horses and jousting, Justin’s real talent is with people. His easygoing manner, level head, and ability to deal with all types of men make him a natural diplomat. It didn’t take him long to gain the confidence of King Louis and become one of his most trusted advisors.”
After his earlier silence, Isabel was surprised at how freely he spoke about her brother. “You have high praise for Justin. And what about you, my lord? Clearly you have advanced in your career. You have your own army and a young squire to serve you.” She waved her hand toward Jerome and his other men.
“There is nothing remarkable to tell,” he replied, again sounding taciturn.
“I’m sure you’re being modest, my lord.” She paused as though waiting for him to say more about himself. When he didn’t, she added, “It has been over a year since I saw my brother, Lord Chetwynd. I miss him. Thank you for telling me about him.”
Isabel looked around, but found no one paying any attention to them. She lowered her voice and asked, “How is it you found our secluded swimming spot, Lord Chetwynd? Few know about it. Did Justin mention it to you?”
Chetwynd’s eyes widened and his mouth softened as though he might smile. “Your guess is correct. Justin related many details about his life at Narbonne. He described his secret pond at length and with enthusiasm. Hot and dusty when I arrived at Narbonne, I craved a swim. From his description, I was able to find the pond. It didn’t occur to me anyone would be there.”
“I guess he didn’t tell you I often swam with him.”
“No, he neglected to mention that.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t get your swim, my lord.”
The noise in the great hall had increased even more as the men and women slowed their eating and did more drinking and talking. Isabel and Chetwynd had exhausted their talk about Justin and remained quiet. Flushed with the success of her presence in the great hall, Isabel wondered if she dared
to advance her plan.
Looking out at the troops, she saw that there were a few women traveling with the soldiers. Isabel turned to face Chetwynd again. She took it as a good sign that he no longer appeared as stern as he had when they met. “When do you leave Narbonne, Lord Chetwynd?”
“We will rest here for a day or two. My men are eager to return to their homes to help with the fall harvest.” He paused and then continued, “I’m headed for Aachen to report to King Louis about our patrol on the border.”
Father Ivo had told Isabel that Aachen was the king’s favorite palace, and Justin would be sure to be there. Since that’s where she wanted to go, she saw no reason why she couldn’t travel with Chetwynd’s army. “Would you take me with you to Aachen?” she asked.
The shocked expression on his face made Isabel realize she should have prepared him for her request instead of blurting it out. In order not to appear a wanton woman seeking to be one of his camp followers, she said the first thing that came to her mind. “I wish to visit with my brother before taking religious orders.”
“You are planning on a religious vocation?” he asked sharply, ignoring her request to travel with them.
Isabel squirmed in her seat. “Yes, my father suggested it some time ago. He is becoming more insistent each day.” At least that was true. “I haven’t told anyone yet of my decision, so please don’t mention it.”
His eyes narrowed, and Isabel knew at once that he didn’t believe her.
“We have to move quickly.” He sounded harsh, and the frown had returned to his face.
“I assure you I can keep pace with your caravan. I grew up riding horses and am quite skilled.” Isabel was eager to prove that she wouldn’t be a bother on the journey.