‘Edmund! You should not be here,’ she warned. ‘Lord Giles’s men are positioned throughout the village. You cannot let them capture you.’
She ran to the small shuttered window and opened it only enough to permit herself a view down the main path of the village. She could see Brice off in the distance. Turning back to her father’s liege lord, she shook her head and ran to his side. Claiming another embrace, she waited for him to speak.
‘They will not capture me, Fayth. Fear not. I still have many who aid me, both here and in the keep.’
‘Spies?’ she asked, even as her stomach churned at the thought. He nodded in answer. ‘Why are you here?’
‘I am here for you, Fayth. You did not think I would abandon you to these Norman pigs after you risked your life for me?’ He drew her to him and kissed her on the forehead. ‘Your words and actions saved many lives that day and I only pray you have not been mistreated because of it. King Edgar was impressed when I told him of your courage.’
Fayth began to answer, but Edmund waved her off. ‘I have only a few moments but want to tell you I understand that he has forced you into marriage.’ The bile rose in her stomach now as he spoke of her husband. ‘You do what you must to survive, Fayth. Submit to him until I can free you from this unholy joining. Our good Saxon lords and their men are rising up—’
‘Edmund, you must listen to me,’ she interrupted. ‘This lord is not unkind to me. He has forced nothing on me to which I did not give consent. You should leave this area, leave Wessex, before it is too late.’
He stared at her as though a stranger now. Holding her by the shoulders and searching her face, he shook his head.
‘Tell me you have not fallen for his kind words and lies, Fayth? Swear to me that you will avenge your father’s death at his hands.’
She stumbled then, not accepting his words. ‘It was a battle with thousands of men, Edmund. The chances that he was the one are…’ Cool logic had led her to that conclusion in the dark of the night as she considered Lord Giles’s explanation.
‘There were witnesses, Fayth,’ he said solemnly. ‘Some of your father’s men survived and now fight at my side.’
She heard the words, but she’d convinced herself that Giles had played no part in killing her father. Now, she feared that she had been lulled for his own purposes and hers.
‘This lord who treats you well is no different from the one who took the rest of Leofwyne’s lands. That one has branded the people, like the lowest of cattle, and cuts off a foot or hand if they are caught trying to escape.’
She gasped at the horror, shaking her head in denial.
‘These Normans follow their master well, Fayth. They yet practise the atrocities they brought with them, learned from the ruthlessness of William the Bastard.’ He shook her shoulders and forced her to meet his gaze. ‘How long until this lord begins to show his true nature? When there is not enough grain to get through the winter do you think it will be his Norman and Breton knights who starve or your people? Our people?’
A whistling caught his attention and he released her. ‘His man comes now. You must go to him, but hold strong, Fayth. I am putting my plans in place and will send for you when I can. Watch for a message.’
Shaking and confused by his claims, she accepted his quick kiss and watched as he hid in one of the alcoves of the cottage. Just as she was about to open the door, he whispered yet again.
‘I will bring you proof of your father’s death at his hands so that you can rest easy when we dispatch the bastard who thinks himself high enough to claim Taerford, and you.’
Fayth lifted the latch on the door and opened it, leaving the cottage and walking onto the path so that Brice would see her and stop his approach. Edmund would probably wait until dark to make his way out of the hut and back to wherever he hid. When Brice went straight for the door, and stood searching around the hut with his sharp gaze, Fayth knew he was suspicious.
‘Is aught wrong, my lady?’ he looked back at her and asked.
Sickened by Edmund’s words, she took a deep breath, but found it worsened the roiling of her stomach. Worse, her legs trembled and her head began to spin with dizziness.
‘I am not well…’
He caught her just as her legs buckled and held her as her stomach rebelled against all she’d heard. She remembered little else until she woke in her bed in the keep with Emma at her side.
Giles entered the keep and found it as silent as a church. His men sat at table, Brice in his chair, but no one spoke or argued as usually happened. Tired, hungry and angry, he wanted a good meal, a cup of wine and his bed.
He wanted his wife, too, but that did not seem to change and she was not present in the hall. He’d been hard for days now and every memory of her skin, her touch on him, her taste, made it worse. Now, he needed to speak to Brice and his commanders before he could seek her out. The grave expressions on the faces of his men spoke of other matters. Brice stood at his approach and drew him off to the side for a private word.
‘The lady fell ill,’ Brice began. ‘It started while we were in the village today and she is abed now.’
Giles started in the direction of the stairs even before he decided to go to her. ‘Is it the fever?’
He moved quickly, taking the steps two at a time to reach their chambers faster, not waiting for an answer. The old woman Emma sat before their door and she stood as he came closer. Truly he caught but a few words of her explanation—bleeding, courses, stomach, posset, sleeping—but he did gather that she did not seem in danger.
With a word to Emma to stay, he opened the door and walked to the bed. He had to search in the low light of the few lit candles to find her, so swallowed up amongst the coverings and the pillows was she. Not knowing why the thought of her ill bothered him so, he reached out and touched her cheek. He offered up a brief prayer of thanks that it felt cool to his touch.
Before he could wake her, he stepped away from the bed and left the chamber. With Emma remaining to oversee the lady’s care, and Brice trailing his steps, he went back to the hall where he found the meal and wine he’d wanted. But as he shared the news of the surrounding area with his men he found his appetite had deserted him.
William had given the lands adjoining his to Huard de Vassey, one of the duke’s most ruthless men, but one who had supported William from the start in his campaign to control England. Giles had seen the man in battle, and as lord of his lands, and knew that no one enjoyed the suffering and misery of others more. Pray God, Lord Huard would return to Normandy and his seneschal would be more tolerant of the Saxons under his rule.
Pray God!
From what Giles had heard, Huard was beginning as he meant to go on and had already undertaken the complete subjugation of anyone or anything Saxon on his property. Giles suspected that his lands would be the first place anyone running from Huard’s harsh rule would come.
And they must be prepared, for under law a lord had the right to seek and gain back runaway serfs. He could punish them as he saw fit, though leaving them alive enough to work was always a consideration. Since many of those granted lands already held land and titles on the continent, they could call for more labourers and knights from home to help them in England.
Until England was settled and William’s rule uncontested, the Norman lords would be best advised to tread carefully, as William’s man had informed him when he had received his grant. Take the lands, secure the lands, control the people, get heirs and keep the lands. Simple, clear instructions on William’s wishes for his new English subjects, but each lord would decide his manner and methods themselves, leading to many variations, hence the difference between Giles’s way and Huard’s.
Giles emptied two cups of wine before he felt ready to discuss this subject with Brice, for his friend would no doubt face similar challenges. After completing the report to his commanders and hearing theirs, he dismissed them and continued talking to Brice late into the night about his plans to aid any
of those who escaped Huard’s cruelty.
Though it was a dangerous endeavor, neither he nor Brice could allow such brutality to go unanswered and unopposed. If his opposition and actions must be done quietly and with little or no notice, so be it. Lord Gautier’s lessons sank deep into his soul and he would keep his honour by carrying out clandestine rescues of those unfortunates trapped in Huard’s power.
It was not until later, as he climbed the stairs to his chambers, that Emma’s words finally struck him—the lady’s courses were upon her. The realisation froze him there as he thought on all that meant to him, to her and to their future.
Fayth did not carry Edmund’s child.
Their link was severed and their paths went in different directions. Anything that had happened between them in the past was simply that—past.
Giles was her future and she would, God willing, bear his children to carry his name. As he waved Emma off to her own pallet and lifted the latch on the door he almost laughed. He knew it would not be as easy as that, but he suspected that once she was with child he could claim her fierce loyalties. Pushing the door open, he moved quietly as he took off his clothing, placed his sword down and climbed into the bed. Or tried to, for the lady now lay sleeping in the very centre.
Easing her onto her side, he slid down next to her. She stirred, but he whispered to her, urging her back to sleep, for Emma had revealed how much work she’d accomplished before taking ill. Her gentle breathing told him she had succumbed, but in her sleep she leaned back against his body and rested there.
After four days on the road, riding and sleeping in the torrential rains, with the cold seeping into his bones, nothing could have felt better than this. Her soft bottom against his groin did not inflame him this once; instead he held her close and breathed in her scent, finding comfort there. The horrors he’d seen and learned of, and his worries for their future, faded away as he lay there with her. Although he thought he would not gain sleep this night, he felt it tugging him down.
In that moment, nothing could feel more right to him.
When he woke and saw the fear back in her eyes, he wondered when things had gone awry.
Chapter Fourteen
G iles woke to find Fayth sitting against the wall staring at him. Her face was pale, but it was the fear in her gaze that drew his attention. Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he leaned up on his elbows and tried to figure out what had happened.
‘I need to use the chamber pot, my lord,’ she said.
Well, that would be one thing he had not considered. He usually left the room as soon as he rose, leaving her to her ablutions in private. This was the first morning since sharing a bed that he had not.
‘You should have woken me,’ he replied as the other reason she needed privacy occurred to him.
Her courses were still upon her.
Grabbing up his clothes and weapons, he opened the door and called for Emma. ‘She will see to your needs, Fayth.’
These female bodily functions were a mystery to him and one he would rather avoid. Though most women he knew dealt with it matter-of-factly, they were not born and raised as noblewomen and how ladies dealt with the whole matter was something he really did not wish to think on.
But think on it Giles did, even as he stopped in the smaller chamber and pulled his braies, shirt and tunic on, tied his stockings up and then his boots. Buckling on his belt and scabbard, he realised that Fayth did not play the high and mighty lady-of-the-manor here. Her role as steward was a temporary thing, and then she would go back to doing whatever ladies did. He slid his sword into its leather carrier and his dagger into his boot.
What did ladies do?
Thinking back to his time fostering with his Lord Gautier, he remembered his wife sewing and embroidering, seeing to the state of the keep and those who lived in it, and praying. Lady Constance prayed much. And so did the ladies who attended her. But most importantly, they saw to their lord’s comfort.
He reached the hall and took his place at table, waiting on the light fare they ate in the morn. His men and those who served him entered, ate at the other tables and left to their duties. Giles waited to see if she would come down to eat before seeking out Roger and Brice with orders.
Finally she entered and he watched her every move as she walked from the stairway and made her way along the hall to the front. A soft smile here, a word there, to anyone who met her gaze or offered a greeting. Then he realised what was missing—Fayth had no companions other than her servants. Any other noblewoman he knew of or had seen always had a gaggle of other women around them or were in a gaggle of women around another woman.
Fayth was alone.
At the time of his arrival, he had isolated her on purpose for her safety and his peace of mind. While she had recuperated from her injury and while he had been still not certain of her motives or actions, it had been easier to keep her in her chambers. Once married, he had been unhappy with the thought of her wandering around the manor unescorted and unobserved. When he had assigned Brice to aid her, he had given her need for companionship no thought for he knew that Brice would protect her.
He had never looked to her comfort or care.
Until now.
He stood as she drew close and assisted her to a chair, holding onto the hand he claimed as he aided her in sitting. Once more he wished that he could see more of her, for her Saxon dress prevented him from seeing enough to know if she was still pale or not.
‘Where are your ladies?’ he asked without prelude. ‘Did none live with you to share your company or foster with your parents?’
‘Good day, my lord,’ she said quietly, but nonetheless he felt the rebuke over his haste. But she did not remove her hand from his, so he took that as a good sign.
‘Good day, Lady Fayth,’ he said. ‘Are you well?’
‘I have no ladies, my lord,’ she said, ignoring the question about her health. Just as well since there was nothing more he could ask or say on the matter.
‘When your father was lord here, did no one serve as companion to you?’ Finally releasing her hand, he picked up an apple and cut it in two, offering her a piece. She shook her head, accepting only a cup of ale from the serving woman.
‘Two of my cousins stayed here, my lord. One returned to her parents’ home to be married and the other was called home before the king went north.’
‘So you have been here alone since that time?’ She nodded. ‘And your mother? When did she die?’
‘Two years ago, of the fever,’ she answered.
‘I do not mean to probe in old wounds, lady. I seek a way to aid you in your position here as my wife. Is there some other cousin you would like to invite here? Or I could send to my friend, or rather his wife, to see if she knows of any suitable companions—if you were to permit it? Lady Elise always seemed to have an overabundance of women surrounding her.’
Part of that, he knew, was due to the presence of the three men who served her husband. Mostly due to Soren, but many others were attracted to him or Brice or even to Simon before his recent marriage.
‘I cannot think of one right now, my lord.’
Of course not. With war raging she probably thought him mad. ‘When things settle, think on it. I am not opposed to such an arrangement.’
He let her eat, or drink for she sought no food this morn. The aftermath of her stomach illness most likely the cause.
‘Did something untoward happen in the village yesterday?’ he asked.
He could not bear to see the fear in her eyes and could not explain it to himself. Their last encounter had been one of passion and pleasure, freely given and accepted, but had her doubts risen once he’d left the keep? Did she worry once more on her guilt for placing herself under his touch?
Was this why married men sought out others for their pleasure, leaving only the need for children between them and their wives?
Nearly every man of consequence he knew kept a leman for their pleasure, not just noblemen but a
lso others who were high in the esteem of their dukes or counts, knights and landowners on the same level as he was now. They went from their wives’ beds to their lemans’ arms, sometimes in the same night or sometimes for days or weeks at a time. After planning a new keep for the area near the fork in the river, he thought that it would be easy enough to have his lady wife there and keep a leman here for his visits.
What was he thinking? Truly, he was going mad. Glancing at the lady now, he knew from the moment her eyes had met his, even as she had pleaded for another man’s life, that she was the one woman he wanted. He wanted her in his bed, under his touch, at his table and in his keep. He wanted her to bear his children and to grow old with him.
He could blame it on losing his senses in the battles he’d fought or from too many days in the rain or on many other circumstances, but none of that mattered. When he’d allowed himself to dream, sitting in the rain, looking at the hill that would become their new home, he had seen her at his side. Truly, he wanted no other.
Fayth tried to form an answer to his question, but got caught up by the curious light that entered his eyes just then. It was as though he were noticing her for the first time and finally taking stock that he had a manor and lands and a wife.
She remembered waking briefly in the night and thought she remembered him climbing into bed, but the sleeping herbs in Emma’s posset had fogged her mind. Upon waking fully this morn, wrapped and warmed by his naked body surrounding hers, Fayth had simply lain there, enjoying the comfort he provided. If anything bad was to happen between them, that moment and this one were what she would try to hold on to.
‘Was it memories of your father again, Fayth? Did it bother you being in the village?’
For as merciless as he’d first appeared before her, sword in hand, fighting his way through her men to get to her, it seemed a distant memory now after the smaller things he’d done. Easing her people’s way. Protecting them from danger. Now, this concern for her comfort and her pain.
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