The Crusader's Handfast

by Claire Delacroix

  “A handfast!” Lady Ysmaine said, her dismay clear. “But Radegunde, such a pagan promise is no substitute for vows exchanged in a church…”

  “And I believe we have found our greater argument,” Lord Gaston murmured, interrupting his wife firmly.

  “But Gaston!” she protested, only to have his raise a finger for her silence.

  “The world is full of differing ways, my lady, yet their variance from our favored ones does not make them wrong.”

  “But…”

  Again her lord husband interrupted her, this time with greater steel in his tone. “Ysmaine, heed me in this.”

  The lady evidently understood the warning, for she fell silent. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at her spouse in a manner that might have been amusing in other circumstance.

  Radegunde did not doubt that her mistress would not be readily swayed from her view, but she smiled at Duncan, wanting him to know that her intention was unchanged.

  “I know that you hold Radegunde in affection, my lady,” Gaston continued in a low voice. “And rightly so, for she has served you loyally and with honor. And I know that Duncan is a man of honor who will not pledge what he cannot be certain will be. I trust his judgment in this decision and am glad to see Radegunde’s pleasure in his arrival here. It bodes well for their future happiness, however they choose to continue.”

  Lady Ysmaine’s eyes flashed. “And you, a former Templar,” she uttered.

  “And I, a former Templar, who has served in Outremer. I understand as once I did not that there are many solutions to the same dilemma, and that we should not let minor differences blind us to the greater good.”

  “Minor differences!” the lady’s protest erupted. “I should think that you would argue for the rules of the church!”

  Gaston smiled. “And so I shall, for most will expect as much.”

  Lady Ysmaine looked as astonished as Radegunde felt.

  “But such words will be solely for those who listen when they should not.” Gaston inclined his head to Duncan, who stood silently inside the closed door. “I beg your forgiveness in advance, Duncan. I have no qualms about your choice, but the task of securing my legacy demands some subtlety and subterfuge.”

  “I understand completely, sir, and thank you for your endorsement.”

  “Gaston!” Lady Ysmaine began to argue anew, but had no greater success than before.

  Her husband strode to stand before her and took her hand in his. “You, my lady, will argue the opposite side from the one you prefer. You will protest that your loyal maid has the right to choose her companion and follow her heart, for she is no heiress, while I will be outraged by such promiscuity in my household and blame you for it.”

  Lady Ysmaine’s mouth worked in silence for a moment, and it was evident that she was shocked. “But how can I argue in favor of such folly?” she whispered.

  Lord Gaston lowered his voice. “Because you know, my lady wife, that Duncan is such a valiant and trustworthy warrior. So great is your admiration for him and his merit that you know he will treat Radegunde well.”

  “But they should wed before a priest…”

  “Nay, nay. That is my argument, my lady.” Lord Gaston watched as Lady Ysmaine came to terms with this decision. “The household must believe that you and I are estranged.”

  Radegunde was not surprised when her lady’s eyes lit with fire.

  “You shall have your argument, sir,” Ysmaine murmured, and Lord Gaston smiled in anticipation. “Do not complain when you receive what you have invited.”

  “I will not,” he declared, his gaze locked with that of his wife.

  Indeed, the air in the chamber seemed to simmer.

  Radegunde cleared her throat. “Shall I aid you with your kirtle and your hair, my lady?”

  “Not on this night, Radegunde,” Lady Ysmaine said, raising her voice and letting it harden. “My lord husband and I have matters to discuss in private.”

  “Aye, my lady.”

  “Know that I give my blessing to your union, no matter what my husband dares to say about it.”

  “My lady!” Lord Gaston roared. “This is outrageous!”

  “You, sir, have no right to decree the happiness of my sweet maid…”

  The pair began a furious dispute that would readily be heard outside of their chamber. Duncan strode across the room and picked up Radegunde. She nestled contentedly against him as they left the room, and Lord Gaston slammed the door behind them with force.

  “What madness is this?” Lord Gaston bellowed. “First, you defy me by sending your maid to my mother!”

  “It is only right that I send greetings to your mother!” Lady Ysmaine shouted in return.

  “Even if she and I are estranged? You should have spoken to me!”

  “I do not need your approval for simple courtesy!”

  “And now you accept your maid is intimate with a mercenary in the stables each night? Is this simple courtesy, as well?”

  “She can make her choice…”

  “She will not make such a choice in my household…”

  And so the battle continued, their words echoing through the hall of Valeroy as Duncan carried Radegunde to his chamber over the stables. “If you laugh aloud, you will ruin their ploy,” he murmured and she reached up to kiss him.

  “I only smile at the prospect of a night in your bed,” she retorted, liking the gleam that lit Duncan’s eyes.

  “And you do not even know what preparations I have made for your pleasure as yet,” he mused, but would not confess one word more. Radegunde teased him lightly, enjoying the glances of the household as they passed, and was glad indeed to have Lord Gaston’s blessing.

  As well as Duncan’s company from this night forward.

  * * *

  Duncan was rewarded by Radegunde’s smile when they reached the chamber he had been granted over the stables. He left her on the thick pallet, wrapped in his heavy cloak, and returned but a moment later with a lantern.

  Radegunde was sniffing appreciatively. “You have laid a feast,” she said with approval. “That was well done. I am hungry indeed after this day.”

  Duncan removed the cloth that had covered their repast with a flourish. “The cook was persuaded to part with some of the roast venison, when he heard it was for you. There is bread and some confection of eggs, as well as wine.”

  “Wine!” Radegunde’s eyes lit. “You spoil me indeed, sir.”

  “I treasure you,” he corrected gruffly, bringing the meal to her and sitting beside her.

  “You do not eat?”

  “I dined with my lord Fergus in the hall.”

  Radegunde paused between bites to consider him. “Did you tell him?”

  “Aye, you need not fear his displeasure.” He lowered his voice and confided Fergus’ plans to her, his voice so quiet that only she could hear.

  “So he has not decided when to depart?”

  “I believe he will wait for Bartholomew’s knighting. Perhaps we will remain for the Yule. I cannot say.”

  “He has not decided.”

  Duncan shook his head.

  Radegunde put aside the bowl. “I cannot eat so much as this, Duncan,” she confessed with a sparkle in her eyes. “You brought me a man’s portion.”

  “I would not see you dissatisfied.”

  “Half such a quantity will suffice in future, but I do not wish to waste it. It is too good for a hound.”

  “But not for me.” Duncan smiled, then lifted the bowl from her hand and began to eat. He indicated the cup of wine and she sipped, savoring it. It was clear she reflected upon some matter and he was content to wait for her conclusions. When the meal was done and the bowl put aside, she offered the cup to him that he might drink, as well.

  “My mother will come in the morning, of this I have no doubt.”

  “I am certain of it, as well. I am glad you dissuaded Michel from fetching her on this night.”

  Radegunde frowned
a little. “She will bring an herb to me, perhaps several. We must decide if I am to consume them or not.”

  Duncan did not understand the reason for her doubt. “If it will aid in the repair of your ankle, then of course, you must consume it.”

  Radegunde was already shaking her head. “Not for my ankle, Duncan.” Her hand dropped to her belly, and he realized her meaning.

  He was caught then, caught between his memories of the past, between his fears and his desires. Duncan averted his gaze, uncertain what to say. The possibility of Radegunde bearing his child filled his heart with joy. He could well imagine how fine a mother she would make and how a little girl with Radegunde’s laughing eyes would steal his heart anew. Yet he could not bear the possibility that he might lose his lady, or worse, both her and the child, and be left alone again so soon after he had found happiness again.

  His throat was tight with the realization of his own folly. He should never have claimed her this day. He should never have taken even that one risk. He had been an impetuous fool, an impulsive lover…

  “Duncan,” Radegunde whispered with heat, her hand on his arm and her breath upon his cheek. He realized then that she had read his thoughts and discerned his dismay. She smiled at him. “I would take this risk willingly. I would delight in bearing your child, in bearing many of them, and I would celebrate our union with joy each and every night until you must depart with Fergus.”

  “But I cannot leave you alone, expecting a child,” he protested. “I cannot risk your welfare.”

  “If I bear a child, there will be little you can do in the delivery to aid me. My mother is a midwife and wise woman. Her assistance may change the outcome, but this is not your realm of expertise.” As ever, Radegunde was practical, but Duncan could not so readily dismiss his agitation.

  “I might not be able to return,” he argued. He flung out a hand. “Any misfortune could befall our party! I would not leave you alone, undefended and without coin.”

  Radegunde’s expression set with a stubbornness he had come to recognize. “I will never be undefended so long as my mother and brothers draw breath, nor will I be impoverished. I would be blessed to have your child to remember you by.”

  “It is not sufficient,” he said, disgruntled as he did not wish to be.

  “This interval may well be all that we are granted, though I believe you will do all in your power to return to me.” She straightened with resolve. “I would prefer not to consume the herbs, Duncan. They do not always ensure success at any rate, but I would not hinder whatever may occur between us. I would take the chance.”

  “You cannot do this!”

  “You have not convinced me otherwise.” She smiled as if to reassure him. “You cannot forbid it, but I welcome you to persuade me.”

  Duncan shoved a hand through his hair. “Words are not my weapon of choice,” he said, and she laughed a little.

  “I know, Duncan, but your feelings are clear.”

  “Radegunde, I entreat you not to take such a risk.”

  She seized his hand. “And I entreat you, Duncan, to dare to hope for good in your life.”

  He blinked in astonishment.

  “You always see the shadow first.” She shook a finger at him. “Just this once, look at the light first. Think of a child, Duncan, a babe of our own. Think of the joy that could be ours, if you would simply dare to wish for it.”

  “There might not be one.”

  “There might not.”

  He sighed and surveyed the room, wanting to surrender to her desire yet still constrained by his past. “Might we compromise? Might you agree to take this herb until my departure, then upon my return, we would try for a child?”

  She studied him. “You are as fearful for yourself as for me. I did not realize as much.”

  “I have been attacked twice in days. I feel that Death rides close to me.” Duncan seized her hand and kissed it, seeking to convince her. “I could not bear to lose you, my Radegunde. I could not bear to compromise this happiness so lately found.” He heaved a sigh and knew the sole way to change her thinking. “If you refuse to take your mother’s herb, then we cannot be intimate again, not until I return.”

  “Oh, you set the price high indeed!” she said lightly. She was not insulted, to his relief, and reached up to soothe the frown from between his brows with her fingertip. “I see the magnitude of your concern now, Duncan, and I would not have you be so distressed.”

  “I should not have taken so much from you as I did this day.” In truth, he did not know how he would resist doing as much again. She was curled against him, soft and warm, her eyes so alight that his pulse raced. It was a marvel that she had such a power over him already, yet he did not wish to be loosed from her spell.

  “But it was wondrous,” she whispered with an awe he shared. “Do not regret what I cannot.”

  “And the herb?”

  Radegunde smiled. “I will consume it, but only for this interval, and only to see that shadow dispelled from your eyes.” She wagged a finger at him. “But make no mistake, Duncan MacDonald, I will have my pleasure abed nightly, and when you return, I will bear you as many sons as I can.”

  It was a compromise he could not criticize. Indeed, he could not resist her, when she looked up at him with that confident smile, her eyes sparkling with the surety that she held him in thrall.

  He had no desire to be otherwise.

  “Come here, lass,” he growled. “I would keep you warm this night, though there cannot be more before you have that herb.”

  “I accept your offer gladly, sir.” Radegunde granted him a kiss that set his blood afire, and it was long indeed before he put her aside with reluctance. He fetched a bucket of water and put the slops outside the door, smiling at the sight of her in her chemise, with her feet bare and her hair unbound. She combed her long tresses and the light of the lantern touched it with gold. The door had a latch but not a lock and he surveyed the chamber, seeking a way to barricade it. He put their boots behind it, reasoning that the sound of their falling would awaken him.

  “Put the cup from the wine atop the boots,” Radegunde suggested. “A clatter is more startling than a thud.”

  “You speak aright in this.” He did as much, then shed his hauberk, belt, and chausses, setting his knife beside the pallet. Radegunde watched him, her appreciation of the view most clear, then he extinguished the light and joined her abed.

  She burrowed against him as he tucked their cloaks over them. “It has been a day of much adventure, to be sure. I will sleep well this night. Will you?”

  “I cannot say.”

  Radegunde rolled over, as if to study him even in the darkness. “Tell me a secret, Duncan,” she invited.

  “I have no secrets to tell.”

  She laughed at that, laughed so heartily that he found himself smiling. “You have more secrets than any dozen men!” she charged. “But I respect your right to hold them close. I will forgo a secret if you tell me something of Gwyneth and your son.”

  Duncan caught his breath. It seemed unfitting to speak of his wife when another woman lay in his arms.

  “You cannot be disloyal to a woman dead these twenty years, Duncan,” Radegunde whispered. “And I would know a bit of her, because you loved her.” She tapped his chest. “Tell me something happy about her.”

  He sighed and nodded in concession, casting his thoughts back to those days. “Chickens,” he said. “She always kept chickens.”

  Radegunde chuckled. “My mother always kept chickens. I loved chasing them around the garden.”

  “She thought them a practical choice.”

  “Indeed. Eggs, chicks, and finally stew.” She wriggled, moving closer to his warmth, and he liked how they were curled together, her buttocks in his lap, her hair tickling his nose. “We could keep chickens.”

  “We could.”

  “And a little garden, like that of my mother.”

  “Indeed.” Duncan could see the cottage well, perch
ed in the hills he loved, though he wondered whether Radegunde imagined it near her mother’s. He might have asked her, but she spoke again.

  “What was his name, Duncan?”

  “Domnall. ’Tis Gaelic and my father’s name. Gwyneth chose it.” He cleared his throat. “In English, it would be Donald.”

  “A strong name and a family name. I like it well.”

  “She never knew that he died,” he found himself admitting.

  Again, Radegunde turned, as if glancing over her shoulder. “You said he was born dead.”

  “Aye, but neither the midwife nor I told Gwyneth. She was glad it was a boy and told me she was glad I would not be alone. Those were her last words when she knew she was dying.”

  “And you could not take that relief away from her,” Radegunde whispered. He felt the softness of her lips on his cheek, her fingertips on his jaw. “Oh, Duncan, it is no wonder you see the shadow first.”

  He heard the break in her voice and felt the wetness of her tears, and pulled her closer. “You have cried for this babe already,” he murmured to her, the softness of her heart making him feel fiercely protective. “Now it is time for you to see the light.”

  “Aye, you loved and loved well. There is naught to regret in that.”

  It was true.

  Radegunde’s breathing slowed and she fell asleep, the warmth of her doing much to reassure Duncan. He lay awake much longer, listening to the sounds of the stables and the men settling for the night, thinking about her accusation that he looked first at the shadow. It was his training and it had been his experience, but Duncan resolved to change his habit and his view.

  It was time.

  And it would be a fitting way to please his Radegunde.

  Saturday, September 12, 1187

  Feast Day of the Seven Sleepers

  Chapter Thirteen

  On this day, they would arrive at Châmont-sur-Maine. Duncan was curious indeed about the abode, for he had heard so much about it. His anticipation was tempered, though, by the knowledge that their journey to Châmont-sur-Maine brought him one step closer to parting from Radegunde.