Annis viewed Father Michael quizzically.
“Yes father; it be plain that you know nothing of either my father or Lord Marfey” she said “My father wants me out from underfoot and Lord Marfey was the highest bidder.”
“Is he so bad a potential husband?” Father Michael persevered gently.
“Apart from his physical defects of being some years the wrong side of sixty and being as fat as a flawn, that I might disregard were he a righteous man, he hath a predilection for children,” said Annis shortly.
“But that is good; you will want to be a mother surely?” The little priest was a trifle shocked at the age of the bridegroom, but an older man might be assumed to be steady. And why would she not want children?
“The girl means,” said Gyrfalon dryly, “as bed-mates.”
The priest stared at him scandalised.
“Are you sure?” he gasped, shocked almost past speech.
Annis nodded grimly.
“I have seen more than enough evidence to sicken me,” she told the horrified priest. “And whatever you may think of Lord Gyrfalon, that at least is a crime no man may lay at his door.”
“I am inclined to consider rape the action of a weakling,” Gyrfalon said coldly. “Especially of a being so much smaller and weaker than oneself.”
Those men who were eavesdropping shamelessly shuffled. Rape was part of a mercenary’s life. No wonder he had hanged Barthol; the warlord did not tolerate weaklings. That story would go about.
Annis raised an eyebrow at Gyrfalon.
“No sheep either then?” she asked wickedly. The priest choked in horror that she should even know about such things.
“No sheep,” Gyrfalon told her, his mouth quivering. “Not by rape nor even by unlawful seduction.”
“I am so glad,” her eyes danced in a demure face. “Sheep are such silly creatures, I’m sure they’d be easily swayed by flattery!”
He chuckled.
“Be fair, girl, when have I ever employed flattery?”
She grinned.
“There is that…. What other crimes have you not committed my lord – lest my father want to know, of course, mine own curiosity being but peripheral?”
He considered theatrically.
“Try some suggestions” he said.
“Mutiny on the high seas?”
“No; but then I have never been on the high seas and have but missed mine opportunity.”
“So piracy, barratry and hanging the captain from the yardarm before six o’clock bells are also out?”
“I be afraid so,” he admitted “As I am not even sure what all of those doubtless heinous crimes entail – save piracy – I can only say I think I have not committed them; but evidently you have an advanced knowledge of the sea,” he gently mocked her.
She grinned.
“One of the travelling storytellers, a one-legged man, claimed to be a sailor once. He would spin yarns for the entertainment of the populace and the enrichment of his own purse. I like a good story.”
“Barges don’t count, I suppose?” He asked suddenly.
“I don’t think so” she pondered.
“Oh that’s all right then; I have, after all, offered violence to a slaver with a string of barges.”
Annis frowned.
“Isn’t it almost an act of Holy piety to offer violence to slavers wherever they are?” She queried, her dimple popping in and out as she teased him.
He snorted.
“Thank you, no! Do not accuse me of that, girl; it turns my stomach!”
She chuckled at him; and Father Michael was left staring at them open mouthed. Had he misjudged Gyrfalon? He asked himself. After all, the man had shown more consideration to the villagers than many lords were wont to do, more than the previous lord from whom Gyrfalon had wrested the castle. And this bantering talk, if somewhat irreverent, showed nothing of the sadistic, evil tempered creature that Gyrfalon was supposed to be.
The priest was puzzled.
And he would do what he might to stand by Lady Annis and support her, whatever the outcome of the parley.
Elissa too was ready to stand by Annis if she needed her; and had put on a gown over her trousers.
“Will you want me as a female supporter of Lady Annis, my lord?” She asked.
He regarded her thoughtfully.
“Were we holding parley with normal and logical men I should say yes; but as my brother will not even notice that I have arranged a female companion for the girl, and as her father cares for nothing but what he might get out of the situation I think to hold you in reserve, Elissa. You need guard her no longer; if it please you to be her companion after the parley I leave it to you, but of duty you are relieved save if she choose you as a bodyguard in situations when she needs one. When having a woman looking er, demure, who is actually as dangerous as a sack full of vipers might be useful.”
Elissa grinned; that was about as close to a compliment as the old man ever came.
She took his point however; for this parley her presence was superfluous and she went to change back into more accustomed garb.
Gyrfalon reflected that in any case, Elissa was prone to outspoken comments; and he wanted to be in control of the situation not to have to deal with some unexpected remark meant to be helpful. It mattered not in one of his captains; but it did for diplomacy.
The castle had a narrow drawbridge that might be lowered to permit the passage of a single horseman to parley and might not then be easily rushed; and this was lowered to allow the castle party out. Gyrfalon strode out – taking horses were superfluous – followed by Annis with Father Michael bringing up the rear. The assembled army peered to catch a closer glimpse both of the feared warlord and of his reputedly beautiful hostage.
Neither disappointed.
Gyrfalon, clad in his customary black, exuded confidence and charisma and scowled at the serried ranks from under his half helm that was appropriately intimidating; and Annis shone in the dull day like a pale sun in his wake, her beauty enhanced by the serene contentment that glowed from her. The way to the church was guarded by a contingent of church knights and their footmen, Falk’s personal bodyguard, who ranged along the path they must take. Annis held up her head and scorned to show fear of them for her lover.
“She looks like a little nun,” someone muttered.
Of course there is always one with more gall than sense.
A fellow must needs try to be a hero and kill the fearsome warlord and leapt out swinging his sword in a deadly attack.
Gyrfalon’s sword was out, parrying, and then moving in one fluid sweep to take off his attacker’s head ere the fellow knew he was dead. Gyrfalon shook the blood from his blade, wiped it on the dead man’s cloak and beckoned to the nearest captain of men.
“You – is this the usual usage now of church knights for a parley – to use it for treacherous attack?”
The very young knight was shaking with fear – and rage.
“It is not, Lord Gyrfalon,” he said “I apologise for the rash action of my man.”
“As well you might; his indiscipline speaks not well of the commander,” said Gyrfalon “I suggest you report his behaviour and your failure to Lord Falk. He will undertake such discipline as he feels necessary on you and your unit.”
“Yes my lord,” said the knight tightly. “I shall do so; and I shall not fail too to report your restraint. I thank you for your courtesy.”
He hated having to say it, as Gyrfalon could see; but none might have truly blamed Gyrfalon had he struck off the commander’s head too.
Gyrfalon nodded curtly.
“Pray inform your other men that if they feel rash, they are not out of range of my bowmen” he said “If any other attack thus treacherously, the truce will be over and all within range will fall dead. And my best archers can reach the church.”
“Yes my lord; I shall see that this is known” said the knight.
If it were true, and he indeed had men capable of su
ch – as was not impossible, taking account of plunging fire – Gyrfalon might have had them all cut down without mercy.
“What is your name, boy?” asked Gyrfalon.
“I am Sir Lyall of Wittensham, Lord Gyrfalon” said the knight.
Gyrfalon nodded.
“You have courage and courtesy, Sir Lyall; I will remember you,” he said.
Sir Lyall reflected that such might be a good thing; or a bad one.
He bowed.
The party proceeded into the church.
The delegates of the opposition were already in the church; Annis’ father stood beside Lord Marfey and Falk a little way from them. Annis looked surreptitiously at the sword which was one of the bones of contention between these brothers; the silver-chased scabbard had runes of power on it, and the crosspieces of the hilt, also silver, terminated in hawk’s heads. The pommel seemed, for the briefest moment, to grow a pupil within its amber depths and scrutinise Annis; or perhaps she imagined it, for it was barely for the blink of an eye that it seemed that way, and might have been a trick of the light.
Gyrfalon strode in, scowled at the altar, nodded to the crucifix and said,
“If you have any nonce, You might keep it raining; it will make mine enemies the more miserable.”
Annis walked calmly past him, neatly outflanking her father’s reaching hand that she might genuflect to the altar. She knelt and prayed silently; begging for a reconciliation between Gyrfalon and his brother, sensing that the hatred sprang but from one time love, love believed by both to be betrayed. Father Michael too knelt in prayer after a look of incredulous horror at the gross figure of Lord Marfey that even without his perversions could scarcely be seen as a reasonable bridegroom for a beautiful young girl in his opinion. Father Michael’s sympathy for Annis grew; and he prayed for guidance and sureness that any decision he might be asked to take be the right one.
“What took you so long getting here?” snapped Peter Haldane.
Gyrfalon looked on him with concealed dislike; and answered quietly.
“Merely a treacherous attack by one of the church troops on the way, Lord Peter. It delayed us slightly.”
“What?” cried Falk.
“Oh be not concerned for your honour; the miscreant’s commander apologised for his man” said Gyrfalon.
“So you killed him too?”
“Think as you like,” said Gyrfalon, shrugging; and turning from the altar to face Falk. Falk and Gyrfalon measured each other up in a long exchanged look. Gyrfalon grinned suddenly; impishly, savagely.
“You do look damp, brother,” he said with satisfaction.
Falk regarded him levelly.
“You look as wicked as ever,” he commented.
“Please, my brother – no compliments so early in the proceedings!” Returned Gyrfalon.
Annis raised her voice.
“If you boys must bicker, can you please do so quietly? I’m busy talking to God and these little interruptions are a trifle off-putting.”
Falk blinked in surprise at so imperious a little demand; and Gyrfalon grinned again. Falk missed the tenderness in the grin entirely.
“Yes; behave yourself, Falk,” said the warlord in an undertone “When people interrupt her God-bothering she has been known to hit them over the head with a Bible.” He had heard of Elissa’s religious misadventures. “She’s also inclined to half blind the people who irritate her and stick a blade in them,” he added.
Falk stared at him. What strange mood was Gyrfalon in? What was he up to? At least he let the girl pray when she wanted to – but who had she hit with a Bible? Or half blinded and stabbed? Surely Gyrfalon would have taken harsh measures had it been him or a close lieutenant? Falk was much bothered.
At least it seemed likely that Gyrfalon had not yet broken the girl’s spirit and if some arrangement might be reached to hand her over this day she might escape unharmed bar a serious fright.
Falk was determined to help this lovely, ethereal young girl; whose resemblance to Alys had not escaped him. And he admired the serene way she held herself and her straight, fearless expression and the way she walked past Gyrfalon, ignoring him utterly with all the pride of her birth. To let his brother break this girl’s will would be a crime, thought Falk!
Chapter 10
“Hurry and finish your over-long prayers girl and come and stand by me!” snapped Peter Haldane to Annis moving towards the altar, a hand stretched out to grab her arm.
Gyrfalon stood between him and the girl in one of his swift, panther-like movements.
“I would remind you, Lord Peter” he said silkily “That the girl is currently in my possession; not yours. Which is why you have come to parley, is it not? She’ll pray as long as she feels necessary; the castle isn’t going anywhere and I presume nor are the armies without. What matter a few more minutes? What matter an hour? I suggest you demonstrate a little more patience in front of my pious brother lest he think you as impious as me.”
“Thank you, Lord Gyrfalon,” said Annis levelly. “I am almost ready; but not yet.”
Falk was gripping his jaws hard together. What a fool Lord Peter Haldane was to make such a fuss and give Gyrfalon the opportunity to look reasonable by comparison!
Annis finished her own prayers and waited politely for Father Michael to finish his own devotions to offer him her young and now quite strong arm to assist him to rise; and then stalked up the aisle with Father Michael in her wake. She went to stand demurely beside Gyrfalon.
“You look like an icon or a plaster saint,” said Gyrfalon rudely.
“One of us ought to raise the tone of the proceedings,” retorted Annis. “Don’t worry; you don’t look the least like a saint or a good angel.”
He gave a savage grin at that reminder of one of their early exchanges.
Falk smiled at Annis reassuringly.
“Please don’t worry, Lady Annis,” he said gently “We will soon have you home with your family.”
He started at the look she gave him that had a flash of impatient dislike in it; but Annis schooled her features and looked him calmly and levelly in the eye.
“I am told, Lord Falk,” she said softly, “that you are a man of honour, integrity, and piety. As I was told by Lord Gyrfalon, who is not inclined to flatter you,” – here Gyrfalon snorted and she gave him an old fashioned look – “I am then ready to believe it. I would then recommend you to choose your allies with more care, for accepting visits to the Holy Land as piety rather than church-sanctioned loot grabbing does seem to me to smack of naivety,” she finished tartly.
Falk blinked.
“Yes” put in Gyrfalon, smoothly “And should you examine the young – the very young, eight year old or so – peasant girls on Lord Marfey’s demesne you might even find that you dislike him even more than you dislike me. I do not number child spoiling amongst my faults.”
“And on what do base so foul an insinuation?” Falk asked curtly “It seems to me that you wish to slander your captive’s bridegroom with the foulest calumny a warped mind can imagine!”
He was trying to be fair; but it was plain that he held Marfey in distaste and was surprised that Lord Peter should arrange a marriage of his daughter to one who appeared senior in years to his prospective father-in-law.
Annis flushed.
“I assure you, Lord Falk, I am neither warped and nor have I imagined this filthy thing,” she said with asperity. “I am a healer; and Marfey’s lands march with those of my father’s. Such aberrations leave unmistakeable injuries; and in my experience, nor do children lie about such terrible things that have happened to them if such things be outside what one would expect them to experience. And you cannot say I imagined the eleven year old who died birthing a dead child that made dying deposition that she had been Marfey’s to use for the previous three years.”
Falk stared in horror.
“Forgive me, Lady Annis; I meant not to insult you. I had thought this was something cooked up by Gyrfalon to fri
ghten you.”
“Methinks you also owe Lord Gyrfalon an apology, My Lord Falk” said Annis “Who hath his reputation, but is too innocent to imagine such a horror.”
“Do you mind not impugning me with words like ‘innocent’?” demanded Gyrfalon.
“Not at all, my lord,” said Annis demurely.
“I – I do apologise, Gyrfalon,” said Falk, unwillingly.
“Well it’s a start,” muttered Annis cryptically. Falk did not hear her; he had turned to stare accusingly at Marfey. The man flushed and looked angry.
“Who cares about a few peasant brats?” He sneered, shrugging “We are men of noble birth; we are above such mores.”
Falk looked at him as though he were something to be raked into the fields.
“I suggest, Lord Peter” he said icily “If you wish to continue to hold me as an ally, that you break any promise of alliance between your unfortunate daughter and that creature. With whom” he added grimly “I will deal in due course.”
Peter Haldane was ingratiating in his denials of knowledge of Marfey’s activities and Falk listened cynically – his cynicism fuelled by a snort from Annis – as Haldane asked his erstwhile ally to leave.
Marfey scowled.
“And lose my troops? Are you insane, Peter? For one quixotic fool?”
“Who happens to have the support of the archbishop,” said Haldane shrewdly.
Marfey snorted.
“Several cardinals – one at least of whom do not despise my tastes, for sharing in them – be worth more than an archbishop. I can command a number of cardinals; my coffers are deep, Peter. And I want the girl; though she have grown a little too shapely in the last wasted months,” he looked on Annis with such undisguised lust that she took half a step back and stumbled against Gyrfalon’s foot. He grabbed her arm to steady her.
“Show not such weakness, girl!” said Gyrfalon roughly, giving her arm a little shake. “He is nothing; you have nothing to fear in him.”
Annis pulled herself up and nodded.
Falk ground his teeth. His brother was even cruel to the girl when she was terrified of such a creature as Marfey.
Falconburg Divided (The Falconburg Series Book 1) Page 13