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A Man of Value

Page 13

by Anna Markland


  When Mabelle arrived, Ram paced the room nervously.

  “What is it Ram? What’s wrong?”

  He took hold of her hands. “I’m not sure. I’ve received a message that Sir Caedmon Woolgar has returned to Shelfhoc Manor and is coming here to see me today.”

  “But you said—”

  “Oui, Mabelle, Lady Ascha believed her husband died at Hastings. Perhaps he didn’t. But where has he been all these years? The news gets worse. Apparently, he didn’t return alone. His lady wife is with him. I’m sorry, Mabelle, but I don’t know if she’ll accompany him.”

  “Ram,” she replied calmly. “We’ll receive them together. You’re the Earl and I’m the Countess. They are vassals for whom you’ve done a great deal. They can only be grateful. If Lady Ascha is coming here she’s probably more worried about it than you are. Her husband may not be aware of your interlude with her.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he confessed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Impatiently cooling his heels in the courtyard garden of Ellesmere Castle, Caedmon rehearsed over and over what he would say to the Earl. How much longer would he have to wait? He was anxious to return to his beloved Agneta. A young Norman nobleman sauntered by, evidently looking for someone.

  “Robert de Montbryce,” the young man introduced himself, bowing his head slightly. “I’m the Earl’s son.”

  “Sir Caedmon Woolgar,” Caedmon replied. “I’m waiting to speak with the Earl.” There was something familiar about this nobleman. “Have we met before, Lord Robert?”

  “I don’t believe so—though—there’s something—my father is in the Map Room with my mother. He sent me to fetch you. I got the mistaken impression you were an older man. And you have a Scottish burr. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the way.”

  Caedmon entered the room and Ram saw him.

  Robert started to introduce the visitor, but stopped when he saw the shocked look on his father’s ashen face. His mother’s hand went to her mouth and she let out an involuntary startled cry, grasping the arm of a chair.

  “What is it, Papa? Are you ill?” Robert asked worriedly.

  Ram had to sit down, as did Mabelle. Neither of them took their eyes off Caedmon.

  “What is it, Papa, Maman? I’m sorry, Sir Caedmon, I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m embarrassed.”

  “I admit this isn’t the reception I envisaged,” Caedmon muttered.

  Ram was the first to get hold of his emotions. He could see no point in denying or avoiding the truth that had slapped him in the face. He stood. Bitterly aware of the hurt he was about to inflict, he said to Robert, “You can’t see it, can you?”

  “See what, Papa?” Robert followed his father’s gaze to Caedmon and turned to look fully at the man he’d escorted into the room. He gasped and his jaw fell open. “You look like my father,” he exclaimed. “Who are you? Are you a Montbryce?”

  At the same moment Caedmon looked more closely at the Earl. His hand went to the hilt of his sword. He tore his gaze from the Earl and looked at the Countess. Ram saw his reaction to the compassionate and stricken expression on her face. He felt Caedmon’s eyes on him as he turned to his wife and said, “I didn’t know there was a child, Mabelle. I swear I didn’t know.”

  She nodded.

  Had Caedmon heard? Ram saw the truth sink into the newcomer’s befuddled mind. The young man drew his sword and strode angrily toward him. “How can it be, Norman beast, that your face is my face? You must be a rapist, a violator of women. Did you rape my mother? Now I understand why she didn’t want me to come here. You raped a defenseless widow. Was it not enough that Norman dogs slew her husband?”

  Ram stood rooted to the spot, shaking his head. Robert recovered from his shock and ran to stop Caedmon. But Mabelle moved calmly to stand between the enraged young knight and her husband.

  “Sir Caedmon,” she said quietly, “If you kill my husband, it’s likely you would be killing your own father. I’m sure we can agree that wouldn’t be the best thing. You would regret it for the rest of your life, if you escaped the noose. My husband isn’t a rapist.”

  Caedmon lowered his sword, but didn’t sheathe it. “You can hide behind a woman’s skirts, high and mighty Earl of Ellesmere, but that doesn’t change the fact you shamed my mother.” He spat the words out. “I came here today to thank you for taking care of my estate. Hah, I often wondered why you were so generous. Now I know it was guilt at work. You shamed my mother and you’ve shamed me. I came into this room a proud Saxon knight, the son of a war hero who gave his life in defense of his country. I’m leaving as the bastard of a filthy Norman pig.”

  He hurried from the room, sword still in hand.

  Robert went to follow, but his mother stopped him. “Let him go, Robert. You need to stay here. We must talk. Go find your brother and sister.”

  Robert looked angrily at his parents. “I sense whatever we’ll talk about won’t be good.”

  He left to find his siblings.

  When they were alone Mabelle turned to Ram who had slumped into the chair, pressing his fingertips into his forehead. “He’s a fine boy, Ram. In truth, he’s not a boy. He’s a man. He’s your son and you mustn’t be ashamed of him or make him feel ashamed. It has obviously been as much of a shock for him as for us.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me? I had no idea. I would have acknowledged the boy. I would have supported them.” He shook his head. “He won’t wish to see me again, he made that clear.”

  “He’s angry and confused. So is Robert. Baudoin and Rhoni will be too. But they love you. They’ll come to understand. You must reach out to Caedmon. We must both reach out.”

  Slowly, he came to his feet to embrace her, and rested his chin on the top of her head. “All those years ago when I watched in disbelief as you threw my sword into the lake, the thought ran through my head that you were stronger than you looked. Little did I know. You’ve proven to be the strongest half of our union. I thank you for your strength.”

  ~~~

  Caedmon wasn’t sure how far or in which direction he’d ridden, but as he rode his fury grew to encompass not only the Norman who’d sired him, but the woman who had birthed him. As he went over and over the events of the fateful meeting in his mind, he recalled the Countess saying her husband wasn’t a rapist. To his confused brain that must mean his mother had consented. She was a strumpet, a whore, bedding a Norman before her husband’s grave had gone cold.

  Head pounding, he slowed Abbot to a walk then reined the horse to a halt. Sliding dispiritedly from the saddle, he barely noticed he was in a clearing in a copse. He tied Abbot’s reins to a tree, sank to his hands and knees in the rustling carpet of dead leaves and twigs and sobbed until he retched.

  Everything he’d believed was suddenly not true. It would have been better if he’d never recovered after Alnwick, or, better still, why hadn’t he died on that field?

  “I’m nothing,” he cried to the uncaring trees. “Less than nothing. As a bastard, I don’t have a right to the manor I claimed as my own. I can offer Agneta nothing.”

  His wife’s name on his lips intensified his pain and he sobbed until he lay exhausted on the forest floor, full of loathing for himself and the man and woman who had sired him. When he could cry no more, he struggled to his feet, found a blanket in his saddle bags and curled up in it. He lay awake watching as darkness fell and stars appeared in the sky.

  “What do the stars portend for me now?” he wondered aloud. “I can’t live off the income of a house I’ve no right to. I can no longer take money from my whore of a mother. I’ll have to make my living as a mercenary. It’s no life for a woman. I will lose Agneta.”

  It was more than he could bear. “But where will she go? I’m all she has, and I’m nothing. How can I tell her I’m base born? She hates me already. She will despise my bastardy more.”

  Exhaustion claimed him and he slept fitfully beneath the winter canopy.

  ~~~

&nb
sp; By the time Robert returned to the Map Room with Baudoin and Rhoni, he’d told them about the events that had occurred there and his suspicions that the unknown knight was their father’s bastard.

  “You both seem rather calm,” Robert said to his parents with some irritation.

  Ram clutched the wooden arms of his chair and squared his shoulders. “Mes enfants, I’m sincerely sorry you had to find out about this in such a manner. I take full responsibility for what has happened. I didn’t know of the young man’s existence. I was unaware my indiscretion many years ago had produced a child.”

  “Mon père,” Robert replied, “You need to tell us what happened.”

  Ram sighed, noticing his son had addressed him more formally than usual. He told the story, deciding to leave out nothing, to tell the whole truth about his fears during the battle, his emotions, his stupid bravado with Rhodri and his resulting humiliation, his frustrations, his worry for his brother, Hugh, Ascha’s pain and longing—all of it. They were surely mature enough to understand about fears and emotions. He hoped so.

  He remained seated in his chair and Mabelle stood behind him, her hands on his shoulders, indicating, he thanked God for it, that she still loved their father, that she’d forgiven him, that this painful experience wouldn’t destroy their family.

  Robert paced as the silence dragged on. Baudoin sat on the edge of a bench staring at his feet. Rhoni fidgeted with her braids.

  Ram watched his children struggle with their new found knowledge. Finally, he spoke again. “I intend to recognize him as my son. You all need to be aware of that.”

  Robert stopped pacing and looked at his father. “Mon père,” he managed to say, “What to say to you? This is a lot to digest. I’m not sure what Rhoni and Baudoin think—”

  “I think,” the taciturn Baudoin interjected unexpectedly, “That this family has undergone some terrible ordeals, but we’ve survived because we’ve faced them together. We have today learned things about our father. About our mother, too.”

  Ram was moved by the maturity of his youngest son, and the compassionate look in his eyes.

  “Papa,” Baudoin continued, his voice strong, “I know you to be a loving father and husband. Discovering I have a half brother doesn’t change that. While I may not approve of your infidelity towards my mother, it’s evident she has forgiven you and I can’t find it in my heart to condemn you. You are still my father. Some noblemen sow their seed at random and sire bastards with impunity. You’ve never been that sort of man. You’re the kind of man I’ve aspired to be, and still aspire to be. You are my liege lord and I am your loyal man.”

  Ram rose from his chair as Baudoin walked towards him and the two men embraced. He could see Robert was still conflicted.

  “Robert,” Mabelle now spoke, tightening her grip on Ram’s shoulders. “Your father and I hadn’t spoken our wedding vows to each other when this happened. If it was a mistake it’s one that will obviously have repercussions for many people. But we need to do what we’ve always done as a family. We must turn this to our advantage. You’re hurt, but think about the young man who just left us. Everything he has ever believed about his birth is suddenly not true. He has Montbryce blood in his veins. We must help him see the value in that. At this moment he sees himself as nothing, but he’s a Montbryce. He’s your half brother. You need to be man enough to accept that. We can’t cast him out. I know what it is to lead the life of an outcast, and I have experienced the destructive power of anger.”

  “Maman,” her son replied, aware of his mother’s difficult years of exile wandering around Normandie with her father. “I suppose my problem is I have too much Montbryce pride. I expected my father to be perfect and of course that was naive and unfair of me. No one can truly understand the burdens and adversities another person has to face and therefore shouldn’t sit in judgment.”

  Turning to his father and looking him in the eye, he said in a strong voice, “Papa, as your heir, I should have been the one to voice the sentiments Baudoin has spoken. My younger brother has put me to shame with his maturity, and I bow to him. I too have no greater aspiration than to be the man you are. You are my liege lord and I am your loyal man.”

  Ram clasped the hand Robert proffered and they embraced. Then the Earl turned to his daughter. She ran to her father and embraced him. “I don’t understand why you feel guilty about it, Papa, if you and Maman weren’t married?”

  Ram stroked his beloved daughter’s hair. “I’d given your mother my troth, my pledge. And my heart told me she was the only woman for me.”

  Rhoni looked up at him. “I love you, Papa. I’ll learn to love my new brother.”

  Ram and Mabelle had never been prouder of their children. He found it difficult to speak as he watched them struggle with their emotions. “I’ll offer Caedmon the name FitzRam. He may not accept it, but I’ll offer it. We’ll decide between us what lands and titles to confer on him and what he will inherit when I die.”

  The three Montbryce children nodded and left together, arm in arm. Ram and Mabelle stood together, locked in an embrace, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head.

  She reassured him. “They understood in confirming their allegiance to you in this matter that it would mean sharing with their newly discovered half brother.”

  “I know, but it pains me that Robert felt it necessary to remind me he’s my heir, though he’s no longer my eldest son.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Caedmon had been gone a sennight and Agneta worried about her missing husband. Tybaut had assured her he’d given the Earl the message about his visit and, as far as he knew, Sir Caedmon had met with the Earl. Where was he and why had she heard nothing? He’d said it would be two or three days at the most. Why hadn’t he returned or sent a message?

  Lady Ascha was acting strangely and scurried off to her chamber when Agneta broached the subject of Caedmon’s prolonged absence. She took all her meals in her own chamber. Leofric paced and Agneta could see the concern etched on his face as he returned from several fruitless rides out into the surrounding countryside to find his friend.

  By the tenth day everyone was beside themselves with worry. Sleep for Agneta had been elusive. She sat by the window, as she did every day, watching the distant hills, praying to see Caedmon come over the rise. Leofric had gone off on another search. Agneta hadn’t seen Lady Ascha for three days.

  She fell into a doze, but suddenly became aware of a commotion in the courtyard. She hurried out, but stopped abruptly at the sight of Caedmon dismounting. He was swearing at the stable boy and seemed to be having difficulty standing.

  She rushed to embrace him, relief flooding her heart. “Caedmon, I’ve been worried.”

  He swayed, barely able to remain upright. She stepped back. He’d sprouted an unkempt beard and his body odour was offensive.

  An oxcart, rain, a spile in my hand.

  She also detected the strong smell of ale. “Caedmon? What’s happened to you?”

  “Agneta—my beautiful lady Agneta,” he gushed then hiccupped, falling over.

  She tried to steady him. “Caedmon. Are you—have you been drinking?”

  He looked at her, but she could tell he wasn’t seeing her. “Do you mean am I drunk? Aye, I’m drunk. I’ve drunk. I mean, I’ve been drinkin’—for days—”

  He slumped to the ground.

  “Tybaut,” she shouted to the steward, her mind reeling. “Sir Caedmon is unwell, please help me get him to his chamber.”

  The steward emerged from the house and ran to her aid. Agneta suddenly noticed Lady Ascha leaning heavily on the doorpost, her hand pressed to her mouth. She scurried back into the house when Agneta looked at her.

  Tybaut and another servant had to carry Caedmon to the chamber, where they deposited him on the bed.

  What will the steward think of my husband coming home like this? And the Brightmores.

  Out of breath, the steward made a suggestion. “Perhaps an herbal tisane, milady? I�
��ll get Cook to see to it.”

  “Thank you, Tybaut, but first we must get him out of these filthy clothes.”

  She muttered nervously, not sure what to make of the drunken spectacle passed out on her bed. It wasn’t the passionate reunion she’d envisioned. With difficulty, they stripped him as he raved in a drunken stupor.

  Such a man should not be bound.

  “We need to get him into a bath, but how will we manage it?”

  “I’ll get the stable boy.”

  Tybaut returned in short order with a burly lad and Leofric entered with them. His voice betrayed his shock. “Godemite! It’s not the first time I’ve seen Caedmon suffer the effects of one too many ales, but I’ve never seen him like this. Where’s he been?”

  “I don’t know,” Agneta murmured.

  Tybaut’s wife had filled up the tub with hot water. Tybaut and the lad and Leofric picked up Caedmon with difficulty and deposited him in the hot water. He protested loudly, but Agneta soothed him. “Hush, Caedmon, hush, let me bathe you.”

  “Leave us,” she whispered to the others. “He’ll be calmer if there’s just me.”

  “Are you sure?” Leofric asked, looking doubtful.

  She nodded and the other men left. She cleansed Caedmon’s body with the soft linen cloth. He suddenly burst into song, but evidently couldn’t recall the words and laughed a silly laugh that set her teeth on edge. The memory of his genuine laugh rolled over her. Gradually he calmed and let her minister to him. How would she shave off the grubby beard he’d acquired?

  He liked me to shave him in the infirmary.

  It would have to wait until he’d sobered. Her mind was in turmoil. She couldn’t imagine what had happened to cause this change in his behaviour. He passed out in the tub and she had to call Tybaut and Leofric to help her get him out and deposit him on their bed. His wet body was more difficult to manhandle, especially with Leofric’s damaged hand.

 

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