‘I do not ask you to forget our differences, lady, but only to allow time for us to become accustomed to each other before laying judgement on me.’
A strange request coming from the man who had fought his way here, allowing no one to stop him from taking her and her lands. And from one carrying the orders of his duke and the rights to all he claimed in service to his lord. And from a man who had the power and the strength to take whatever, and whomever, he wanted with no one to stop him.
Yet, he asked.
‘Very well,’ she whispered.
‘Brice is anxious to get to work. Come, I will take you to the village so you may begin your work there.’
‘Verily, my lord?’ Stunned as he acquiesced to her earlier request, she wondered what had caused him to change his mind.
‘You may only go there with my express permission and never without Brice or Roger with you. Do you understand my words on this?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
Her heart lightened at the thought of leaving the keep for even a short time, to see how the surrounding lands had fared after the attacks, and how the rest of the villagers were coping, as well as tending to the needs of those who lived outside the walls.
Fayth watched as Giles pulled open the door of the chapel and followed him outside where, indeed, the sun did shine as Brice had reported. The Breton stopped to speak with his friend, who continued to look round at her. Did he think she’d been harmed in some way?
As she gazed around, many of those working in the yard stopped and watched her, too. Even Father Henry, who stood near the well speaking to the boy Durwyn, stared openly. It was obvious that the exchange between them in the hall and her escape to the chapel had drawn some untoward attention. Excusing herself from Giles with a word, she made her way to the priest.
‘How do you fare, Lady Fayth?’ he asked, searching her face intently as though the answer could be seen there. ‘Was I mistaken in placing some trust in this new lord’s word?’
‘I think some things are settled between us, Father,’ she said, nodding at him, yet looking back at the man under discussion.
Who stood looking at her.
Heat pulsed then through her as he stared at her, his thoughts clear in his gaze. Her body ached to feel his touch then, indeed, it remembered the pleasure wrought by his hands on her skin. Shivering even in the sun’s warmth, she shook herself free of such thoughts and listened to Father Henry’s counsel.
‘Marriage is not easy in the best of times, but it is your duty now to cleave to your husband and accept his rule. Even your father would have counselled you so.’
‘Even if he is the enemy?’ How could that be reconciled with faith or conscience?
Taking her hand and drawing her close, he answered in a soft voice. ‘Many of these Norman invaders are not honouring their pledge to accept the daughters of fallen lords to wife. I have heard tales of Saxon women being used—’ he paused as though searching for the correct word ‘—harshly and then being put off their own lands.’
He patted her hand and smiled. ‘This lord looks as if he knows both the good and bad life has to offer and appears to be seeking the better way here. It is not wrong to help him along that path, child, or to accept his efforts in good stead.’
Father Henry’s words gave her hope. She could not and would not forget her husband’s part in the battle between their peoples and their lords, but it was not sinful to allow him to prove himself to them.
‘Lady?’
She turned when Giles called her. ‘I will take you to the village now for a short visit. Come, gather what you need from the keep and we will go.’
‘You see? He listens and considers your words before he acts.’ Father Henry released her hand. ‘Go now, child. Seek your lord.’
Fayth went off to the keep to get her cloak and her parchments on which she was keeping records of their stores.
Chapter Eleven
‘D id you swive her on the floor of God’s House?’ Brice asked under his breath as the lady walked by them on her way into the keep. Giles speared him a look that bespoke of the falseness of such a thought, but Brice shrugged. ‘You were in there a long time, Giles.’
‘In spite of what Soren might tell you, some things are not accomplished quickly, my friend. As you will discover in Thaxted, I am certain.’
‘Mayhap I will walk in and be lauded as the conquering hero? What say you then?’
‘I will add that to my nightly prayers to the Almighty, Brice.’ They laughed at his words and then Giles sobered. ‘’Tis like a boil was lanced—so much had built between us and needed to be released.’
‘A good tupping would accomplish the same release, my lord.’ Brice laughed and added, ‘Or so Soren would say.’
‘I pray it will be so, my lord Thaxted. Soon and often.’
They walked the rest of the way to the stables and mounted the horses waiting saddled for them. Ordering four others to await them at the gates, Giles waited on the lady. Glancing down at the ring he wore on a chain around his neck, he lifted it for closer inspection. Bertram’s ring bore a large red stone carved with his insignia—a raven and a river—and nothing else. Except, he noticed, a large dent-like indentation on the rim of it, cracking the edge of the stone, as though it had been hit with something. Was that how it had been removed from the old lord’s finger? No wonder Fayth became overwrought whenever she saw it.
She came through the door then and he rode over to her, leaning down and holding out a hand to help her mount. Her confusion was clear.
‘You will not walk into the village,’ he said, holding his hand out again. ‘’Tis not safe.’
She gathered her skirts, accepted his hand and, with a foot placed on his, climbed up behind him on the horse. Once she’d settled there and he felt her arms encircle him, he signalled to ride out. As they made their way out of the gates and down the road to the village by the river his heated body reacted to her nearness and soon the ride was more uncomfortable than he’d have wished it to be. They rode along the narrow path and it did not take long before he could feel her fidgeting behind him.
‘Hold there, my lady. Have you never ridden before?’ he asked.
‘You are too tall, my lord. I can see nothing past your shoulders as we ride.’ He thought that made perfect protective sense, but the lady seemed more interested in the sights they were passing.
‘Lady, I am not convinced that you are safe leaving the manor’s walls. Do not give me reasons to return there now.’
Brice smiled wryly at him, obviously enjoying the situation. No matter his friend’s reassurances that no rebels remained on his lands, Giles could not pretend to be comforted by such reports. If his suspicions were correct about Edmund, then they were close by. She did settle behind him then and he enjoyed the feel of her arms wrapped around his waist and her body pressed close to his. They made their way to the edge of the village where more of his men waited.
When his men spread out down the main village path to the edge of the clearing and gave a signal, he let Brice assist the lady down. He had no intention of dismounting, for he could respond to an attack faster and more efficiently on horseback than on foot. Bow and sword at the ready, he turned and positioned himself where he could see the most.
Giles sat watching as Fayth walked down the path and was greeted by more and more of the villagers there. As her presence became known those not working away from the centre of the village all came to see her. Brice, with a nod from him, proceeded ahead and checked some of the storage buildings there while Fayth continued talking. When about an hour had passed and the skies began to grow dark with a coming storm, Giles called an end to it and summoned both the lady and Brice.
Although at first she seemed to be ready to protest, she bade the people a farewell and gave a promise to return. Then she walked to him. She did not hesitate as she approached Giles and somehow that made his heart glad. She looked not with dread as she held her hand out first for his and w
hen he helped her up behind him she seemed to be at peace with him and his orders.
‘A storm is coming, lady. You will have more time on the morrow to see your people.’
‘You will allow this?’ she asked.
‘I would rather if you did not, but with Brice or Roger at your side I will permit such visits.’
She said nothing in reply, but if he was made to, Giles would have sworn an oath that her arms tightened at that moment. When she rested her head against his back, he could not help the smile that broke on his face.
The rest of their journey was silent. He stopped just inside the gates at her request to let her dismount and then rode the horse to the stables. By the time he returned to the hall to discuss his coming journey with her, she was gone. Asking the servants about her led him to the chamber that had been hers. He pushed open the door, unsure of what he’d find.
Edmund advanced as close as he could to the village without being seen. He’d left most of his men at the fork in the river and returned to see what the messenger had reported. Now, not only were the villagers back with tales of the new lord’s words and pledges to protect them, but, worse, they believed him!
His strategy to gain control of Taerford and hold this area of his father’s lands had failed so far—the arrival and success of this Breton knight had put a halt to his control so far. But with help from the other displaced Saxon lords, he planned to wrest this important estate from its invader lord and use it as his base to reclaim the lands that should be his.
Not all Saxons had been thrown off their lands. Those who submitted to William retained theirs, but submitting did not ensure a lord’s loyalties. And with the backing of the Northumbrian earls, though once his father’s enemies, he would remove the Norman blight on their lands.
Forced to creep like a thief behind and between cottages and sheds to remain unseen, he was able to get close enough to see Fayth. She looked well, pale, but unharmed as much as he could tell. The lord brought her to the village himself and sat watching as she spoke to the villagers. The other one, the one called Brice, made his way along the path, looking in cottages as he went. It was a near thing several times, but Edmund was practised now and could move about without being seen.
After some time had passed, the knight called out to Fayth and she went to him without delay. Narrowing his eyes, he watched as they exchanged words and she said farewell to the villagers with a promise to return. And then, without a moment’s hesitation, Fayth gave her hand to the Breton and climbed up behind him!
He could forgive her much for her willingness to place her life in danger for his and to plead for him, which had resulted in his freedom and his chance to regroup and challenge again. Surely, she did what she must to survive and if it meant submission to this Breton puppet of the Norman duke, he would understand. Stepping back into the shadows, he swore an oath on his father’s soul that, no matter what it took to free her, she would not suffer this Breton’s control of her for long.
Leaving three men to keep watch over the village from the other side of the river, Edmund travelled back to his camp, hoping that others brought back news better than his.
Fayth sat on the floor before the large wooden chest, searching through it for the smaller casket where she kept her personal things. She had feared looking for it before this, for, by rights, it all belonged to her new husband. Surely, though, he would not begrudge her a few small trifles to remind her of her parents. Leaning against the chest, she opened the box that had been a present to her on the twelfth anniversary of her birth. The intricate carving and decorations were still beautiful and reminded her of the care that had gone into making the box.
Edmund had claimed to be inexperienced at woodworking, but the results proved him wrong. To this day, he would carve a piece of wood into small shapes when he needed time to examine his thoughts—or he had, before this war had come to their gates.
Moving the top items aside, Fayth reached to the bottom and took out the two rings there. Not big enough to draw attention, they both still carried memories of her parents. A matching pair, one larger for a man’s finger and one smaller for a woman’s, these were the rings her parents had exchanged at their betrothal ceremony. Her father’s liege lord had gifted them with the rings as a sign of his support for the coming marriage of Bertram, heir to Taerford, to Willa, a distant cousin of Earl Harold.
Searching in the box, she found the scrap of ribbon and tied them back together so as not to lose one or the other. Just as she was about to return the box to its place in the bottom of her chest she realised she was not alone. Looking up, she met her husband’s gaze.
‘What is that?’ he asked, coming towards her and crouching down. She handed him the box and watched as he examined it. ‘The workmanship is excellent. Is this yours?’
‘Aye, my lord. A gift from a…cousin,’ she replied, not wanting to mention and explain Edmund’s true place in her or her father’s life.
‘And inside?’ he asked, handing the box back to her.
She opened it and showed him the ribbons and circlets for her veils and then decided to show him the rings. As she held them out he frowned at them.
‘I know that they are yours by right, my lord, but they are all I have left of my parents and would beg—’
‘Do not beg, Fayth.’ He placed the rings in her hand. ‘These are yours and I would not take them.’ He closed her fingers over the rings and stepped away. ‘If I had wanted them, I would have taken them when my men found them.’
‘You knew of them? How?’ she asked.
‘My men searched everything in the keep, every room, every chest or trunk, every nook or hidey hole where something of value could be hidden. ’Tis the way,’ he said with a shrug. He turned as though to leave and then faced her again. ‘But what made you seek them out today?’
‘I have thought of little else this day, but my parents. When you stood in the hall and announced yourself lord here, accepting the pledges of those in service to you, and when you faced me so forthrightly and tried to make me understand about my father’s death and your part—’ he raised his brows at that, so she continued ‘—or not in it, or then the way you gave me orders about the village, all of those things reminded me of the way my father and mother ruled here.’ She climbed to her feet and held the rings out to him once more.
‘I would like you to keep these as a sign of my pledge this day to you.’
She’d surprised him, she knew it, for his mouth opened and closed several times before he actually spoke. ‘Nay, lady. I have no need of your parents’ rings.’ Fayth watched as he took the rings from her, placed them back in the box and handed it to her, looking on as she placed it back at the bottom of the chest.
‘I would ask for your honest efforts rather than a grand showing like this. And, though I am not questioning your intentions, I think you do this from all of the emotions of this day and not in the same way that those in the hall pledged to me this morn.’
‘But you demanded it of them, and you accepted their gestures,’ she argued. ‘Do you not expect the same of me?’
‘What I want from you is different, lady. I want more than just your labours or words. I want you, heart, body and soul.’
Overwhelmed by his words and what they meant, she shivered. ‘But you do not want me. You said you will not…’ Now when she needed to say it, the words escaped her.
‘Bed you?’ he offered.
Fayth shook her head, no longer trusting words.
Lord Giles stepped closer and took her hand once more. Pulling her towards him, he lifted his hauberk and placed her hand against his body. That part of him sprang to life, hardening as he held her hand there.
‘Oh, make no mistake, lady. I want you.’ He released her hand and she drew it back, feeling out of breath from the contact and what she knew it meant. ‘If I could believe your words, I would take you into our chambers, strip you naked and not stop until we exhaust ourselves in bedplay.’
; Before, she might not have understood, but after last evening’s pleasuring she could only imagine what that meant. Her body grew hot and wet in the places he’d touched as she waited for his words…or touch. He dropped the shirt of metal from his grasp and took a breath then.
‘Wanting you is not as important to me as knowing the truth and so I wait. But know this, I am tempted today to believe your words. I want to believe them. It is just not in me to do that now.’
If he’d said those words a day ago, they would have infuriated her. Now, after his disclosures today in the chapel, she understood a bit better his need for proof. Though it still stung her that he could not—or would not—believe her. Bastards were part of life and many in their culture inherited alongside their legitimate siblings, but she knew that was not generally true in Norman or Breton life. And in spite of Giles’s duke being one, it was still not accepted by most in high standing.
‘Very well,’ she said, trying to understand and yet not. ‘Were you looking for me, my lord, when you came in?’ She brushed her hands over her tunic to smooth it.
‘Ah, yes,’ he said, smiling at her. His eyes seemed more blue now and his face appeared much younger when he smiled, not so fearsome as it did when he raged in anger.
‘I decided to wait until the morrow before leaving to see the extent of the lands. So I thought that you and Brice could share the noon meal with me and we can make plans about moving whatever supplies are left in the village to the keep on my return?’
‘Very well, my lord. Mayhap someday you will reveal to me what places Brice so far in your debt that he will follow me around with little argument?’
He held out his hand to her and she placed hers there. As he guided her out of her former chamber she walked at his side knowing there must be much, much more that he was not going to say about his friend.
‘What makes you think it is with little arguing? Mayhap I have saved your tender sensibilities from having to listen to it?’
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