by Secret Vows
“So you insist upon a man-price for Montford, do you, Camville?” Henry finally clipped. “Very well, then, you shall have it. You must forfeit all of your titles. All of them, along with all of your estates, lands, and the taxes and income they entail. Surrender your entire wealth, every last piece of gold that you’ve earned since the day that I knighted you as a youth on Danbury Field.”
The murmurs in the chamber swelled with disbelief, mingled with a few scandalized gasps.
“Do this,” Henry continued, “and Catherine de Montford will go free from the charge of murder.”
Gray felt his heart beating steadily in his chest. Air seemed to rush into his lungs once more, pure and sweet. Even the chamber torches burned brighter, somehow. And for the first time since this whole nightmare began, his lips edged up in a smile.
Raising his arms, he lifted from his neck the thick gold chain that secured the disk of his baronial seal—the emblem that marked him as a powerful peer of the realm. Removing it over his head, he set it on the dais at the king’s feet. Then he grasped the top edge of his surcoat, emblazoned with his device of a golden eagle clasping a thunderbolt in its beak. With one swift motion, he rent the garment in two, pulling it off to lay it next to his discarded seal.
“It is done,” he said, his voice firm. “I accept your price, Sire, and I pay it in full, most gladly.”
The king gazed down at his former High Champion as if he were sure that the man had lost his mind.
“Do you know what you are saying, Camville? If you do this you will be left a pauper. A man without title, without fortune…without power of any kind. You will be left with nothing when you leave here.”
“Nay, Sire,” Gray answered, shaking his head. “I will walk from this chamber the richest of men. For when I leave here, my lady will walk beside me.”
Henry tried and again failed to keep the look of burgeoning shock and dismay from his expression. “Your lady is not even legally your wife, Camville, thanks to her duplicity. Do you not think such a sacrifice, noble as it may be, is excessive, considering the circumstances?”
A tender smile still curved Gray’s lips. “The answer is nay again, Sire.”
In that moment, Gray finally dared to shift his gaze to look at Catherine, to take in the vision of the woman who was the true wife of his heart, the woman to whom he’d long ago surrendered the keeping of his soul. Her trembling hands were pressed to her mouth, her eyes glistening with tears of joy and love. Love most beautiful and sacred.
Love for him.
An incredible sweep of emotion rushed through him, blocking all else. “In truth, my lord,” he added quietly, still gazing at her alone, “for Catherine’s sake I would give up everything that I possess, everything that I am. God in heaven, but I would give up my very life for her if you asked it of me.”
The chamber echoed with renewed murmuring. Only King Henry seemed rendered completely speechless. Catherine, however, wanted to cry aloud with happiness, feeling that her heart must burst from the surge of love and pride that swept through her at that moment.
She gazed at Gray, at this magnificent man who was her destiny and her life, and she knew without a doubt that there was nothing more on earth that could ever again come between them. He had faced down the entire English Court and its king for her, pledging to forsake his vows as a knight in order to be her warrior, her champion alone. He was willing to renounce all that had ever mattered to him. To give up prestige, wealth, the positions of power that he craved—even his own body and blood, if need be—all in order to save her.
But oh, if only he knew…
If he only knew that he’d saved her long ago. From the very first day he’d taken her into his arms, he’d been saving her, one tender step at a time. Aye, he’d pulled her back from the brink of destruction, freeing her soul with the awesome gift of his love.
Straightening, Catherine shook off the hold of her guards. They released her without argument, almost as if they too felt the magic, the power, in this moment. She crossed the chamber to Gray, walking with slow, measured steps, until she stood tall and proud before him. Then she took his hands in hers, raised his palms to her lips and kissed each in turn before sliding her arms up around his neck and throwing herself against him with a happy cry.
He held her tight, and she reveled in the feel of him as he cradled her close, in his murmured endearments as he buried his face in her hair. When he finally pulled away, it was to let Ian and Isabel join in their embrace. But he didn’t fully release her yet, keeping his arm linked round her waist as the twins nestled in.
Catherine held onto her children and to the man she loved, overflowing with emotion as they faced their king once more. Faced him together, as they were meant to be.
Gray’s face shone with a supremely happy expression, she thought, considering that he’d just forsaken all of his earthly possessions for her. But in the next instant she realized that she’d underestimated him yet again. Her heart flopped in her chest and her breath caught when he arched his brow in that infernally devilish way of his, matching it to the tilt of his smile.
“Have we your leave to go now, Sire?” he murmured.
Still holding her breath, Catherine waited for the king’s answer, relieved to see that his incredulous look seemed to have faded. More encouraging, even, was the warmth lighting his gaze as he looked at them now. His mouth looked softer, his face relaxed. He seemed almost…well, almost happy.
But then he surprised her by shaking his head and answering sternly, “Nay, Camville, you may not leave. Not until We have put to rest this messy business of wergild that you foisted upon Us today.”
Gray stiffened. “What else needs be done?” he asked calmly, though she recognized the tone of steel in his voice, saw the gathering storm clouds that turned his eyes to green ice. “I have already surrendered all that I possess into your keeping. What more do you seek from me?”
In a magnificent swirl of capes, the king stepped down from the dais again to stand before them, this time unable to mask his repressed glee, like a child who thinks that he alone knows the answer to some great and wonderful secret.
“You seem to forget, Camville,” Henry added, “that We have not settled the details of your property’s disbursement. The ancient code of wergild that you invoked today requires the man-money be paid to the victim’s family. ’Tis only if there are no living relatives that the funds go to the Cyng himself.
“In this case, two heirs—heirs who already gained possession of Lord Montford’s primary estates at the time of his death—survive him. Under wergild, it is they who shall also inherit the sum of your wealth, not Us. Therefore, before you go, We must needs publicly pledge your fortunes to them, so that all of England will recognize and respect their claim.”
Eduard’s heirs? Catherine’s heart contracted with disbelief as the king spoke. Her breath stilled, and Gray went rigid beside her as he too realized the full import of the king’s statement.
“Aye, that’s right, Camville,” Henry said, breaking into a grin now at his own cleverness. “Montford died unmarried and childless. Not for any lack of effort on Our part, We must say, but unmarried he was, and with no living siblings. His only remaining heirs exist in the persons of his niece and nephew, young Ian and Isabel here.” Henry ruffled Ian’s hair and patted Isabel on the shoulder, before crouching down to look them both in the eye.
“Someday the two of you will possess a very large fortune, the sum total of both your uncle’s and Lord Camville’s estates combined,” the king said gently. He lifted his brows. “We trust that you will choose to wield your power most wisely when the time comes to use it.”
The twins nodded in unison, speechless again before the majesty of their king. But Henry just smiled and chucked them on their chins before standing to look at Gray, seeming even more pleased with himself than before.
“Of course until they reach their majority, We will entrust the care of their inheritance to your capable
hands, Camville.”
Shifting his smiling gaze to Catherine, Henry added, “And to you, as well, of course, lady—though perhaps before anything else transpires, the two of you should seek out a holy father to make your marriage an official one.”
“Aye, my lord,” Catherine murmured, ducking her head under a flush of warmth.
“Indeed, Sire,” Gray added, smiling. “Before the sun sets this eve, I hope to make Catherine my wife in truth, so that no man, woman, or child in England will have reason again to deny our union.”
Feeling the sweet pressure of Gray’s hand on her own, Catherine squeezed back, basking in this new and unaccustomed sense of happiness. There were no more secrets, no more lies between them. Nothing more could harm them or keep them apart.
And so as she prepared to leave with the man she cherished and the children she adored, Catherine felt that their good fortune couldn’t possibly get any better. She thought it couldn’t, that was, until King Henry reached down and picked up Gray’s baronial seal from where it rested on the dais.
The monarch weighed the solid gold disk in his palm, balancing it carefully. After a pause he held it out to Gray and said, “It is Our belief, Camville, that you should resume possession of this seal, posthaste. After all, only nobles of the realm may serve Us as Sheriff, and it is Our understanding that the region near Cheltenham is in sore and immediate need of someone to assume the prosperous estate there and administer justice to the people. You are Our choice for the post, if you will take it.”
Gray just stared at King Henry for an instant, his face unreadable, his jaw clenched under the force of some strong emotion. Finally he bowed his head, fisting his hand as he crossed his arm over his chest. “I thank you, Sire,” he murmured, his voice rough with feeling, “and would be most honored to accept this gift and duty from your hand.”
Eyes twinkling, Henry looped the chain over Gray’s head, by the act restoring him once more to his position as a powerful nobleman of England.
“Go forward, then, Lord Camville,” the king said quietly, “and continue Our work in this kingdom.” Then he waved his arm in a flourish. “And now, Godspeed to you both!”
They turned to go, Catherine’s heart singing with joy. But as Gray grasped her hand to take her and the children down the long aisle that led out of the palace, she heard the first tiny rumblings. It was a rhythmic sound, a repeated thumping that bloomed all around them, reverberating off the chamber’s thick wooden floor.
In confusion, she looked from one side of the aisle to the other, surprised to see so many smiling eyes and happy faces directed back at her. A tingle went up her spine when she realized that the knights, nobles, and ladies of this assembly were offering her and Gray tribute, a send-off of great approval with their applause. The crowd stamped their feet or pounded their fists on the wooden benches in front of them, the noise getting louder and faster with every moment.
Gray met her grin with his own and gripped her hand more tightly; they strode forward with the twins clasped secure on either side of them. The applause burgeoned as they passed, growing until it blended with joyful cheers that rose to the rafters.
Soon Ian and Isabel let go, skipping on ahead of them and swinging their arms as they too giggled and cheered in the excited atmosphere.
A few of the knights near the back bellowed “Huzzah!” as they neared the great, arched portal that led from the chamber, and grinning, Gray tugged Catherine to a stop. She gasped when he pulled her to him, and, leaning her over his arm, kissed her in front of everyone—kissed her tenderly and passionately, until the cheers rose around them and she was breathless and laughing in his embrace.
When he eased her back to her feet, they continued the rest of the way through the arched portal. The shouts of the crowd swelled to a deafening roar before finally fading to nothing as the heavy doors swung shut behind them.
Then they just stood there in the quiet, cool hall of King Henry’s beautiful palace, all four of them, hand in hand.
Ian and Isabel still breathed heavily from their exertions in the court chamber, but Ian managed to lean in to his sister and ask in an exaggerated whisper, “Well, what are we supposed to do now?”
Isabel shrugged and scratched her nose, looking around. Finally she gazed up at her mother and said, “I don’t know. What do we do now, Mummy?”
Catherine’s lips twitched; her mouth refused to stop smiling, and she felt like joyful little bubbles had replaced all of the blood in her veins as she in turn swung her gaze to Gray and asked, “Well, my lord champion, what say you? Have you any ideas about what comes next?”
As she spoke, a slow, sensual grin curved Gray’s mouth. He gazed at her for a few moments before he murmured huskily, “Aye, lady. I have an idea. But first I want to make new vows—vows to you, so that everyone will know that the love I feel for you surpasses all, beyond bounds of space and time.”
His eyes seemed to pierce into her very soul, their smoky depths warm with passion and the promise of all that was yet to come. The way he was looking at her made her insides melt, and a delicious tingle shivered up her neck. Touching his finger under her chin, he gently lifted her face to his.
“I love you, my Catherine,” he whispered. “More than life itself and for all eternity, I vow that I love you.” He brushed his lips across hers, and even that light touch called forth an intensity of joy that sent her heart’s blood soaring.
“Say that you’ll marry me now, in truth, with all the secrets of the past behind us.”
“Aye, Gray, I will marry you,” she answered.
“And I will be yours forever, now until the end of time. This I vow with my whole heart and soul.”
She stroked her fingertips over his cheek and along the firm line of his jaw, willing the power of her love to spill into that caress, wanting him to feel the same intensity of joy, the same sense of completion she felt. His smile deepened along with hers and, cupping his face in her palms, she kissed him again.
“Come, my love,” she murmured, still smiling as she took his hand and led him and the children out of the palace, into the sparkling light of a crisp, early winter afternoon.
“’Tis a most beautiful day, I think, for a wedding.”
Epilogue
The Year of Our Lord, 1234
I am Catherine of Cheltenham. A woman blessed beyond measure. A woman blessed, praise God, with all the gifts that truth and hope can bring.
I am surrounded by the love of a man who carries my heart in his hands and cherishes it as the most precious of jewels. I bask in the affection of my darling children and the devotion of many dear friends—loyal friends, like Sir Alban, who is recovered now, heaven be thanked, from his terrible wounds. My family feels the warmth of true acceptance, given by the countless good people who live with us and around us on this prosperous estate granted us by King Henry.
My life is truly happy. Gray is my soul, as I am his. We share a bond that cannot be broken, neither by man nor by the ravages of time. ’Tis eternal. He rejoices in me, and I in him. The days of darkness are gone forever, banished by the force of our love.
And, then, of course, there is the babe…
I can still see Gray’s face on the day that I told him the glad news that I carried our child. ’Twas a moment of joy that I shall never forget. Our babe has grown steadily, blooming in my belly, gaining in size and strength in preparation for arrival into the world. It will be sometime within the next fortnight, I think.
I dream often of our child during the long, peaceful nights cradled in the warmth of Gray’s arms. In my dreams she is a little girl, dancing about with her pink cheeks aglow, her hair a sable cloud floating around her, her sapphire eyes laughing as she dips and twirls with delight, free from life’s cares.
And we have named her Gillian….
I pray now only that God will hear my words of thanksgiving for this child that is to come, the child of Gray’s blood and mine, mingled together in that most sacred and mystica
l of ways.
May everyone’s life be filled to overflowing with the same kind of happiness and love that has been granted to me.
Amen.
Author’s Note
The concept of wergild, alternately spelled wergeld, was indeed an ancient institution dating back to pre-Anglo Saxon times and developed as a legal instrument by the Germans to support the idea that family solidarity was a basis of law and order; in the case of a crime, it was the family or clan’s responsibility to translate the individual grievance into some kind of resolution. This “man-worth” was a value attached to every person on the basis of status, age, and gender—and as you might suspect, a woman’s worth, as well as the amount that might be collected for a crime against her, was usually far less than a man’s. However, use of wergild to settle criminal disputes had largely disappeared by the twelfth century, when the manorial and royal courts, such as the kind in which Gray participated, became the rule.
The ancient code of wergild is also connected to the slightly more long-standing tradition of “bride-price” or the amount the groom’s family would pay to the family of the bride or the bride herself for the privilege of marrying her and having her bear his children. However, this morphed again, in later centuries, as the number of available husbands decreased, while the supply of brides rose; then the “bride-price” became a “dowry”—or monies and goods paid to the groom or his family for their agreement to take on the care and responsibility of the bride. Medieval women generally seemed to get the short shrift in matters of personal value and the law!
And finally, this brings me to the most difficult topic of all in terms of this story and my writing of it: violence against women. While there were penalties “on the books” in medieval times for certain types of violence against women, such as rape, the laws were difficult to access and rarely enforced. More often than not, the victim, unless she could prove the rape by bringing in male eyewitnesses who would testify in court for her, was actually fined for having made the charge in the first place, and the man who’d violated her was publicly acquitted. Most women learned, early on, simply to remain quiet about such transgressions against them.