by Gail Link
"You have word for me from my cousin?" he asked in Irish.
"Aye, my lord," Yseult answered in the same. She reached into the cloak she had removed when first she entered, pulling from a hidden pocket the letter that Duvessa wrote to Rolf. She handed it to him.
"I would read this in private," he declared.
She bowed deeply. "As you wish, my lord."
"You must be tired from your hurried journey. A room will be set aside for your use, and food will be brought to you. Siobhan will see to it. Go now." He dismissed her, and she reluctantly took her departure of the man, leaving him alone with the letter.
Rolf tore open the seal. In his hands he held, he hoped, the answers he sought.
"My dearest Rolf:
It is difficult to put onto paper exactly how I know what has taken place in regard to the Lady Sybelle and most humbly beg you to forget this folly of revenge.
I was wrong not to tell you sooner of what I was planning, but you must understand 'tis not something I could or would change. You must believe me that I did what I did because I felt there was no other choice open to me.
I know that you had plans for my marriage to Lord Lorcan, and know that you did what you believed best for me and my estates. I understand the heavy burden placed upon you and your responsibility to our family. You are not a man to shirk those duties that you feel are a part of your care. This is commendable, dearest cousin. The family is all important to you. This is as it should be as the head of our clan. Yet this was a decision that I could not be happy with, for I had met another who captured my heart and my love.
You are probably asking why I did not seek your blessing to this proposed union.
That, my dearest cousin, would have been the end of my relationship with Hugh Fitzgerald. That I could not risk.
Your feelings on the matter of AngloNormans is well known to me. With this knowledge, I could not let you know that I had fallen in love with a man who represents the King of England in this our country.
Knowing that you would have tried to halt our eventual marriage, my lord husband and I developed a plan that would make interference from you, or anyone, inadvisable. We
were married by the English archbishop, with the King of England as our chief witness, along with several nobles of his court. Now none can say that we were wed without proper witnesses or ceremony.
I love this man to whom I am wed. You must believe me when I tell you that without him, there would be no reason for me to remain in this world. He is all that I want in a man.
Hugh and I are together and will remain so. Nothing you can do shall tear us apart. But the continued holding of the Lady Sybelle will destroy this family. For by now you must know that she is, by my marriage to her father, your family also. Her honor must be your care."
Rolf stopped reading the letter to digest what his cousin was telling him. She had written in Gaelic, and two words stood out like hot brands on the paper, words that brought a twist of the knife to his heart. Duvessa mentioned derbfine, the family, that sacred bond that made Rolf act as he had. And later she mentioned Sybelle in context with the word indfine, the extended family. Clever Duvessa, to use the very thing he respected and believed in against him, to put to use the very device that he employed to justify his actions.
He returned to her letter.
"Neither my husband nor I ever gave thought to the fact that you would be so hasty in your decision to salvage the pride of the clan. Nor could we know that in doing so you
would set about a chain of events that would lead to such a tangled web of troubles. In saying that, I cannot fully blame you, my dear cousin and guardian, for you were simply obeying the dictates of your own code. No, I must share full responsibility, and that fact weighs heavily on both my husband and myself.
The Lady Sybelle is now my daughter. She is much loved by her father. I would ask that you consider what you have done and prepare to make amends.
This is difficult for me to put to paper, but I must. If (and I feel that the answer will be in the affirmative) you have taken her to your bed and robbed her of that which belongs to her proper husband, then you must make restitution in the best way possible.
This is the only way to avoid the bloodshed that I so greatly fear if you and my lord husband Hugh should meet. This must be avoided at all costs.
Please, Rolf, I entreat you for my sake, and the sake of our combined families, will you not relent and resolve this difference amicably? I need your assurance that there will be no further acts of vengeance.
It hurts my heart to see the two men I love most torn in this conflict. You must spare all of us this pain that will only mount if you continue this action, i beg you, send Sybelle home or marry her. There can be no other choice; surely you must see the reason in that?
Sybelle deserves more consideration than to be merely the pawn in this game. In her you could find no better choice for a wife. This could be the action that will heal this breach in our families. Will you not take this step? Will you not relent?
Do not force me to chose once again between my husband and my cousin, for you know by now where I must go and whom I must follow.
We cannot go back now, there is only the future. You hold the outcome in your hands.
You need not send a reply back with Yseult. By your actions I shall know how you will deal with this situation.
I pray that you make the right choice, Rolf. So much of all our happiness depends on it.''
Oh sweet Christ. This letter from Duvessa tore at him with the force of a sword cut to his stomach, ripping it open and exposing his guts. Pain wrenched his soul; his integrity lay torn and bleeding in his mind. All that he could see reverberating before his eyes were the words that Sybelle was now a part of his family, his clan, through the marriage of his cousin to the Lady Sybelle's father. Far from using Duvessa as a whore fit only for stolen moments, he had chosen instead to make her his countess, his lawful wife. A bitter thought skewered his brain. It was an action not unlike what he would have done had the situations been reversed. And in the doing, in the avenging of honor, he had stolen it from one now in his responsibility.
Revenge tasted sour in his mouth.
He crushed the papers in his hands and tossed them to the other side of the room. A silent "No!" screamed in his mind. He put his hands to his face, felt the traces of wetness that spotted his cheekbones. Tears. He hadn't felt them since the night of his parent's death.
With a few well-chosen words and images on paper, his cousin had reduced his pride, his sense of purpose, to ashes.
What was he to do?
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Sybelle knew what she must do and set her schemes into motion. When her lesson with Tadgh was over, she sent word to Bran that she would like to take a ride on the beach, and would he like to accompany her as she had a matter to discuss with him.
She found him in the bailey with the horses saddled and ready. They quickly went out the gates and made for the shore, galloping their mounts at a frisky pace. After several miles of open run, Sybelle pulled her horse up and signaled that she wished to stop and dismount.
Bran, being the gentleman that he was, assisted her.
Strands of hair were loosed from her long braid. She took the time to replait her hair so that it didn't look quite so wild. "You will forgive me, I trust, if I put order to this?"
He smiled and said charmingly, "Of course not, my lady. Do as you must."
"Come," she beckoned with a wave of her hand, "please sit beside me."
Bran did as she asked, selecting a spot on the sand, staring out to the far horizon. He could tell that she was stalling for time, obviously composing herself for what she was to ask.
How to bring up the subject? she pondered. Could one just blurt out that one needed help and expect the brother of the man who was holding her prisoner would be moved by her pleas? What right did she have to expect that her arguments could have sway over the
ties that bound him to his brother? Yet she must try or there was no hope.
"Branduff, I must crave your indulgence for a few moments on a most pressing matter. I beg of you that you not speak until I have finished. Have I your word?"
He looked at her, his gold eyes intense. "It shall be as you wish, Lady Sybelle."
In a soft voice she said, "Thank you."
Where to begin, she wondered.
Deciding to plunge right in to the heart of the matter, knowing that she could not continue as before, Sybelle said, "I must beg your help." She couldn't sit; she needed to feel the motion of walking to calm her nerves. She began to pace along the sand, and turned to face him. "You are not without a kind heart, my lord"
He interrupted, "Address me as Bran, mбs й do thoilй."
She translated his "if you please" and responded with, "As you will. I have seen how you are. Ordinarily I wouldn't have dared to approach you, lest my pleas be heard by unreceptive ears. I ask that you grant my request and aid me in leaving this place."
She put her hand up and waved away his words. "I know that 'tis a request perhaps doomed in the asking, yet I feel 'tis imperative to my happiness and to your brother's that I ask this." Tears welled in her eyes, not the tears of the weak or the cringing, but the tears of a strong person reaching her breaking point and realizing it.
"There can be no real solution to this problem unless I leave this place. Bloodshed must be averted." Sybelle felt herself growing colder as each moment passed. She wrapped her arms about her body. "And I do not need to tell you the kind of man your brother is. There is within him something . . . " With this she hesitated, wondering just how much of her own turbulent inner emotions she should reveal. Deciding to risk it, she admitted, "In him there exists potent force that can draw people to him without effort. I have seen how he is with all who depend on him. He commands and controls without realizing it. 'Tis a part of him, as is the color of his hair or eyes."
She paused again, walking to the edge of the crashing surf. She watched it come in and leave, back and forth, inexorable. The inevitability of the water and its effect on the sand were constants. How to explain to a man that his brother was like that? That one could be caught in the formidable pull of his person, and that like the ocean it could be deadly to one's soul through no fault of its own, but because it simply was.
Bran left his perch on the sand and went to her, offering his arms as a form of shelter.
Sybelle accepted the offer in the kind spirit in which it was given. She allowed herself to rest and seek comfort from the man. He was trying to understand her words, to fathom the almost desperate quality in the way she said them. She had no fear, that he could tell, for her physical safety.
"Bran, all I ask of you is that you see me secure to my father's protection, so this situation will be diffused. I will guarantee you that nothing will happen to your family. No repercussions will be visited upon you by my father. Just give me your aid in securing my release."
He stroked her head as he continued to hold her, realizing that she had become as dear to him as blood-kin. "You shall have my answer this night. Come," he said, leading her to her horse, "we shall return to the keep and after the evening's meal I shall render you my decision."
"May God grant that 'tis the wisest choice."
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Bran had no need to track down his brother, for upon his return, he heard that Rolf had left word with several people that, should they see him, they were to instruct him to join Rolf in his chambers.
He escorted Sybelle to her chamber, kissing her affectionately on the cheek, and went to Rolf's apartments.
"You wish to see me, Rolf?" Bran asked when he'd located him.
Rolf's face was stern, and quite pale. He indicated another chair for Bran.
"Today another messenger arrived."
"Who from?"
"Our cousin, the Lady Duvessa, Countess of Derran," Rolf said in a quiet voice.
Bran rose from the seat. "Countess of Derran?" He formulated the question incredulously.
"Indeed," Rolf stated, raising one black brow. "Quite a surprise, eh?" He stood up also. "It seems as though our sweet cousin has a stubborn nature."
"She married her abductor?"
"She was a willing accomplice in her own abduction. It seems she loves this man and decided to take him for her lawful husband."
Bran let the words sink in, the ramifications of what Rolf said causing a chill to feather his flesh. "So the taking of the Lady Sybelle was for naught ?"
"'Twould appear so, eh, brother?"
"You will have a large enechlawn, Rolf. Derran will demand"
"Nothing," Rolf stated.
Bran cast him a perplexed look. "How can you say that? You know the value he places on his eldest child. You are now honor bound to do what he asks."
"You talk as if I will return the lady."
Branduff gasped. "Of course you shall."
"There is no course, my brother." Rolf turned, coming to stand in front of Bran. "Have I not told you before that she is for me?"
Branduff observed that Rolf was quite serious. He meant to ignore what he should do, what was right. My God, Bran thought, Rolf still chose to ignore the real reason he could not let her go.
"Branduff, do not worry about this. 'Tis my concern. You have affairs of your own to concern you."
"Such as?"
"Our lady mother's land in Wales."
"What of it?"
"'Tis in need of a personal inspection. This day I have made all the arrangements. A ship will put forth two days hence."
"I am to be banished?" Bran accused.
"Banished?" Rolf laughed. "Of course not. 'Tis time you took over the responsibility of the land our mother bequeathed to you."
"Must it be now?" Bran's golden eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"I think 'tis wise."
Bran remained silent, thinking. He smiled. "It shall be as you ask, Killroone."
Rolf threw him a sharp look. "What? No lecture, little brother?"
"'Twould be to no avail. You will do what you will come what may. 'Tis your right as Killroone. Would my gainsaying change your mind?" He tilted his head at an angle, his eyes questioning. "I think not."
"I will expect word from you on your arrival. Take whom you wish to accompany you if you so desire." He crossed to his desk and opened a drawer, searching for the accounts and records of the property. In plain sight was the letter from Duvessa, which he had not given Bran to read.
This piqued Bran's curiosity. He was determined to see for himself what his cousin had written. He walked over to the desk, leaned down, and pocketed the note while Rolf was turned away.
"I wish for you to read these, Bran," he said as he faced his brother. "Should you have any questions before you leave, we can discuss them."
Branduff accepted the ledger book and a quantity of papers, shoving them inside the leather cover.
A knock on the door to Rolf's room forestalled any further conversation. It was Siobhan, with a message for Rolf.
"The apprentice from the goldsmith arrived with a message for you, my lord. He said to tell you that the piece is ready and that you may come at your earliest convenience and see if 'tis what you be wanting exactly."
"Tell the lad that I shall be along later."
"You've ordered something from the smith?" Bran asked as Siobhan left them alone.
Rolf smiled with a twist to his fine lips. "Indeed. A token of regard for someone." He would say no more than that.
"What about Duvessa? Do we not need to give a tinal?"
Rolf knew that his brother referred to the custom of the friends of the bride giving a wedding present to the groom. It was used as a supplemental dowry for the bride, and as Duvessa had no close friends to speak of, it would have been their duty, in normal circumstances, to see to that. Yet Rolf also was aware that when a woman was wed outside the clan, a bride payment was made
to her father (or in this case her closest male relative with guardian rights). This was called Tinnscra, and was generally transported wealth. "Do you think that Derran will honor our customs?"
"As they are not his, and he most likely isn't even aware of them, no," Bran responded. "Yet this is no excuse for us not to honor our ways."
"Do you honestly believe he will accept anything?"
"Returning his daughter will be the first step."
"No!" Rolf shouted. "Sybelle is mine. I will hear no more on that. Do you understand?" He slammed his fist on the small piece of furniture that served as his desk. God, Bran, he asked silently, think you not that I haven't already realized what I have done? What I cannot undo?
Bran nodded and left the room, hurrying to his own chambers so that he could read the note from Duvessa before Rolf realized it was missing. He read the contents with a heavy heart, coming to a decision. He must tell the Lady Sybelle what it contained.
Bran knew Rolf ruled his domain as a royal palantinehe was a man used to his own control, his own rules, his own command. This was Rolf. However, Bran believed that even his adored elder brother must bow to something higher than his own will. A man of honor must be taught that there was perhaps a greater honor than his own.
Bran was caught in a far-reaching dilemma. Sybelle had begged for his help. To aid her was to break faith with his brother, his clan, his earl. To save pain, he must cause it, and by so doing, risk probable loss of his place, his home, and more importantly, his brother's love.