Wessex Weddings 05 - Her Banished Lord

by Carol Townend

  ‘Then why the hell did you?’

  Hugh lifted his shoulders. ‘We were talking. I fell asleep.’

  Brother Reinfrid was watching closely. ‘Am I to under stand that not only have you and Lady Aude made a public declaration, but you have also slept together?’

  Hugh nodded. ‘Yes, Brother.’

  ‘Then all other considerations aside, I must point that you imperil her soul and yours, if your union is not blessed.’

  ‘Brother, that cannot be right,’ Aude said. The monk had placed a strange emphasis on the words all other considerations aside. This only served to strengthen Aude’s conviction that she must discover what was being left unsaid. But before she discovered it, she simply could not stand by while Edouard and Hugh discussed her future in this way. She was no longer a child. ‘A marriage is binding without the blessing, everyone knows that.’

  Brother Reinfrid folded his arms, tucking his hands out of sight up the sleeves of his habit. ‘Strictly speaking you are correct, my lady, but that is a state of affairs which the Church frowns upon and intends to change. Marriage is no light matter—why not accept the blessing of the Church to help you in your new life?’

  Beside her, Hugh was muttering. Aude thought she caught some thing about the Church being ‘hell-bent on extending its influence’, but when she glanced enquiringly at him his face was a blank.

  ‘What you are hinting at, Brother—’ Hugh’s voice was dry ‘—is that if I confirm this marriage, Lady Aude might find herself in harm’s way simply by her association with me, but that if I do not confirm it, her immortal soul is at risk?’

  Edouard laughed. ‘Either way, Hugh, you are damned.’

  ‘Yes, we have made, it would seem, a devil of a choice. On the one hand Aude’s virtue is saved by our marriage, on the other, the marriage might put her in danger. There may come a time when she is accused of assisting a felon.’

  A devil of a choice. Sweet Mother, would he ever forgive her?

  Edouard looked earnestly at them. ‘What do you want, both of you? I may not like the position in which you find your selves, per son ally, I would far rather you had done things properly. However, I realise why that was impossible. I would have you under stand that I will support you, whatever you decide.’

  Edouard thinks Hugh loves me, Aude thought with a little frisson of astonishment. Surely he must realise Hugh is trying to get me out of the pit I have dug for myself? Hugh does not love me, he is being noble…

  ‘Thank you. For myself,’ Hugh said slowly, giving her one of those cold half-smiles, ‘I would like this marriage. I am scarcely in a position to be marrying anyone, but since we find our selves in this impossible position, I am content.’

  This impossible position. Aude’s stomach clenched.

  I am content. Was that the truth? Aude wished she could read him, but those eyes—grey at this moment—were on her, he was waiting for her reply. Grey eyes, Lord, that wasn’t good.

  Aude swallowed her doubts. ‘And I,’ she said.

  Father Ambrose clasped his hands. ‘Very well, we shall conduct the blessing at once.’

  ‘Here?’ Aude’s eyes went wide. ‘This instant?’

  ‘Why not?’ Edouard made an impatient sound. ‘You may have put the cart before the horse in some areas, but that does not mean you should miss out on a Church blessing.’ He gestured at the priest. ‘Come on, Father, let’s get it over with.’

  Aude closed her eyes, praying with her whole being that Hugh meant it when he said that he would like their ‘marriage’ to stand.

  ‘If you are content, Brat, then so am I.’ Hugh ran his hand over his stubble-darkened chin with a grimace. ‘Although I could have wished for a wash and shave…and a change of clothing first.’

  Aude looked swiftly away, she would take Hugh in rags, if he but knew it. If only he loved her, if only he could be restored to his proper status. ‘You shall have both as soon as may be arranged,’ she said. ‘And food— I’ll warrant a proper meal wouldn’t go amiss either.’

  The blessing had been over before Aude had a chance to blink.

  The day passed in a haze of nervous anticipation as the entire village, or so it seemed, threw itself into preparations for that evening’s feast.

  Her wedding feast. They would not allow her to organise it.

  ‘You are to sit there, my lady,’ Edwige said, pointing firmly to a bench in the sun. ‘You are not to lift a finger.’

  ‘But I want to help!’ With a smile, Aude allowed Edwige and Louise to push her onto the bench.

  ‘Not allowed. We need space to work.’

  Resigning herself to the inevitable, Aude gave in. Good, at least I will have time to think through the consequences of this marriage. In bright sunlight, her bold declaration seemed recklessly impulsive.

  Had she done the right thing? Would Hugh come to resent her for forcing him into marriage? Did he do so already? Naturally, once the fuss had died down she would offer him an annulment. An annulment might be the last thing she would want, but if it stopped Hugh coming to hate her, it would be worth it. No, no, what was she thinking? An annulment? Never! She loved him, she would fight to keep him. If Hugh were to ask for an annulment, however, that would be another matter.

  In the meantime, it was perhaps no bad thing for Hugh—temporarily at least—to be able to act as her husband. It gave him a legitimate reason for being in Wessex and he could now assume another name, Hugh of Alfold. How English that sounded! Surely no one would suspect that Hugh of Alfold and Hugh Duclair, Count de Freyncourt, were one and the same person.

  Yes, perhaps she had done the right thing after all. On the other hand, that cold look he had given her had chilled her to the marrow… ‘My lady?’

  A child with flaxen braids had come up and was offering her a posy of marigolds and lavender, picked no doubt from her family’s field strip. Childish fingers had tied the flowers together with a few wisps of straw.

  ‘For me?’ Aude took the posy care fully, it was in imminent danger of disintegrating. ‘Thank you. What is your name?’

  ‘Fritha, my lady.’

  The child wandered back to a woman who was hovering outside a nearby cottage. The mother was fair like her daughter and painfully thin, and as their eyes met, Aude recalled being told that she was a widow of what was referred to here as the Great Battle. Hastings. The woman gave Aude a brief smile and a nod that Aude realised was more shy than brusque and ducked inside the cottage.

  Progress, Aude thought, her mood lifting. Two days earlier, Fritha’s mother had ignored her when she had bid her good morning.

  She ran her gaze over Alfold. The watch-point was manned. One or two of the villagers were back in their fields. Others must be in the barn, their presence there betrayed by the rhythmic beat of the flail and the dust sifting out into the sunlit road.

  Edouard and Hugh came out of the hall.

  Hugh caught her eye and waved. ‘We’re going to find the river,’ he said, holding his tunic away from his chest with an expressive grimace. In his other hand he was holding some thing that looked very like her brother’s best red tunic. ‘A swim, followed by a bath.’

  Aude nodded. As Hugh and her brother disappeared round the side of the hall, Oswy, his arm no longer in its sling, approached. He was holding a braided belt. ‘Mother said to give you this.’ He lowered his voice. ‘She was afraid it might not be good enough, but it is her best one.’

  The belt was pink and blue with cream threads running through it.

  ‘Tell your mother it is beautiful, I like it very well.’

  Oswy turned to go.

  ‘Oswy, a moment, your shoulder…?’

  Grinning, Oswy made a circle with his elbow. ‘Better, my lady, it is better.’

  ‘I am so glad. Oswy?’

  ‘My lady?’

  Aude gestured at the bustle inside the hall; at the people running in and out, at the cart setting off for last minute supplies from Winchester, at the cloud of smoke gusting
through the vents in the cook house roof. ‘There is to be a feast tonight.’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  ‘Please make sure your mother knows, we are hoping she will come. And would you please invite the other villagers too?’

  ‘What, all of them?’

  ‘Yes, indeed. I hope everyone will come.’

  Oswy’s eyes lit up. ‘I’ll tell them!’

  As the shadows shortened, more people came up to her bench. Some brought gifts, some their good wishes. By the time the sun was at its zenith, Aude felt like a queen. She had almost managed to relegate her misgivings to the back of her mind. She could not say what it was about her marriage to Hugh, but even villagers who had previously watched her with the most jaundiced of eyes came to introduce them selves.

  Someone else coughed at her elbow. It was the miller, a tentative smile on his face.

  ‘Good morning,’ Aude said. Up until this moment the man had worn a permanent frown when in her company.

  ‘Good morning, my lady, I hear you have wed that Hugh fellow, the one who helped Oswy and organised the watch-point.’

  ‘Yes.’ She held up a hand. ‘But please could you speak more slowly, my under standing is better if you speak slowly.’

  ‘Yes, my lady. I give you both my good wishes. I have been wanting to speak to you—the mill stones need cutting. In the next few days, when you have a moment, please could you ask your husband to make arrangements for the stone-dresser to visit Alfold?’

  ‘Certainly. And I hope we may see you at the feast,’ Aude said.

  ‘Thank you, my lady.’

  The alewife approached with a wooden beaker brimming with ale. ‘Here, my lady.’

  Aude took a wary sip; she had tasted English ale before and generally it wasn’t to her taste. But this ale… She smiled.

  ‘You brew a fine ale,’ she said, and meant it. ‘It has a good flavour and it is most refreshing. Thank you.’

  ‘You are welcome, my lady. It can’t be nice being banished like this.’

  ‘B…banished?’

  The alewife sent her a strange look. ‘From the hall, my lady. Goodness, whatever did you think I meant?’

  Aude was saved from forming a reply as Hugh and Edouard reappeared at the far end of the lane, which led from the river. Their hair was dark with water and they were laughing together as they had done when they were boys.

  Close by, the lane was smoky with the dust made by two girls winnowing corn outside one of the cottages. As Hugh and Edouard approached, it struck her that their manner with one another was almost too easy. Hadn’t Edouard for bid den her to speak to Hugh back by the Seine in Jumièges? Aude puzzled over this as she sipped her ale. Had her brother ever really turned his back on Hugh? Given their long-standing friend ship, it seemed unlikely. The rift between them must have been a blind…

  As she watched, Edouard threw his head back, clapping Hugh on the back. At present, they were certainly behaving like men who had never ex changed a cross word in their lives.

  What about that argument she had interrupted in the church, those under cur rents she had felt? A veil lifted. Hugh had come to Alfold not to check on her well-being as she had assumed, but to make contact with her brother!

  Aude managed a casual nod when they looked her way, but she did not take her eyes from them as they turned towards the hut next to the cook house. Hugh had announced a wish to take a warm bath after his swim and this hut was the laundry. Water had been put on to heat, the great tubs were doubt less prepared. Aude had taken no part in any of this, and she certainly would not join them now to have it out with them, not when their every word might be over heard.

  What else were they keeping from her?

  Had her brother really come to Alfold to visit her? Had that been the real reason for his appearance? In the first shock of seeing him, that had been her assumption, but so much had happened since then…

  She was married to Hugh—Heavens, what a tangle! She must tease it into order. Thankfully, sitting on this bench in enforced idleness, she had time aplenty.

  It could well be that brotherly love was not the main reason that Edouard was visiting Alfold. Had Edouard arrived with another meeting in mind? Had he come knowing Hugh was nearby?

  Yes, she would stake her life on it, Edouard had come here intending to rendezvous with Hugh. They must have arranged it back in Jumièges. And if Edouard had come to meet Hugh, then it followed that Hugh must have been intending to make contact with her brother not her, when he had arrived here a few days ago.

  There was a chill in the air that put her in mind of autumn. Aude shivered.

  How convenient for them that Richard of Beaumont had granted her this small piece of England. But where did that leave her? What must she now make of the kisses she had shared with Hugh? Of their time together? She had hoped Hugh was growing fond of her, but once again, it seemed she had misjudged a man.

  Hugh was not fond of her, he had used her. His charm had made her forget how ruthless he could be. He had certainly not hesitated to steal her boat twice when he needed to. Stupid, stupid, when would she learn?

  Men used women.

  Edouard had used her to try to make a string of suitable marriage alliances. First with Count Martin who, while he had been kind, had used her betrothal with him to cloak the relationship he had had with Sir Jean. There had been Count Richard, who had set her aside in order to marry Emma of Fulford. There had been Sir Olivier, doubt less chosen because he was a landless knight and Edouard knew that Aude’s life with their father would make her sympathetic towards him.

  And finally there was Hugh. Hugh had come to meet Edouard, of that she was now convinced, but he had not thought twice about asking her to look after Louise; he had rushed straight to her when Gil had been hurt. In both in stances, Aude had been glad to help, but there was a difference between helping a friend and in finding you had been used by a ruthless man whose one ambition was to recover his place in society…

  ‘My lady?’ The alewife was looking at her solicitously. ‘Is some thing wrong?’

  ‘No, everything is fine,’ Aude said, pinning a cheerful expression on her face.

  What were they talking about in the laundry house? And to think that she had been worrying about Edouard’s reaction to her continuing friend ship with Hugh—she had been worrying for nothing. Edouard’s arrival in Alfold could only mean one thing…

  Before Hugh had left Jumièges, he and Edouard had arranged to meet up in England. And despite Edouard ordering her, ordering her, not to speak to Hugh, the two men had remained friends, even allies, through out. There had been signs, Aude could dimly remember a subtle exchange of glances when she and Edouard had encountered Hugh at the Jumièges docks, but she had ignored them.

  ‘They have made a fool of me,’ she murmured.

  ‘What’s that, my lady?’

  Aude shook her head. ‘My apologies, I was but thinking aloud.’

  Hugh and Edouard are working together!

  I have been living in a dream to think that Hugh came to see me, that he trusted me. What man ever put his trust in a woman? Why, even the miller in Alfold must speak to a man when he wants his mill stones dressing!

  ‘Fine-looking man, your new husband,’ the alewife said.

  Aude shot her a look, but the woman’s eyes were kind. ‘Yes, he is,’ she agreed, sadly, ‘I have always thought so.’

  ‘Known him long, have you?’

  Aude had opened her mouth before she realised any reply might compromise Hugh’s safety. ‘Please,’ she said instead, care fully moving Fritha’s marigolds to one side and patting the bench, ‘do join me.’

  The woman brightened, sitting down with such alacrity that Aude realised she should have invited her sooner. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’

  ‘The villagers seem content at my marriage,’ Aude said. At least her English was standing the test of simple conversation.

  ‘Oh, yes, my lady. Your Hugh of Jumièges seems a fine man, he wa
s so quick with Oswy. It will be good to see Alfold in the hands of a practical man, a man of common sense. And his knowledge of military affairs—well, these days a village needs to be defended.’

  Of course! To the Saxons here at Alfold, Hugh was an ordinary man, plain Hugh of Jumièges. They had no idea that by rights he was a powerful Norman count. As an ordinary man, he would fit in well with the English way of life. Ever since their Saxon thane had been killed and his land placed in the keeping of one of King William’s most powerful men, the villagers must have been living in dread of the day he would come to claim Thane Frideric’s land.

  Everyone in Alfold was smiling because Hugh was not a great Norman lord. Aude had no knowledge of Thane Frideric’s character, but this she did know— Thane Frideric had lived in the hall, among his people. He had not set himself apart in the way of a man intent on wringing every last penny from his estates.

  Hugh’s assumed ordinariness was working in his favour here. That, and his deftness and gentleness in the handling of small boys who fell off roofs.

  His deftness and gentleness—pain sliced through her—Hugh was not all ruthlessness.

  Aude handed the wooden beaker back to the alewife with a polite smile. Her stomach was starting to churn, but it had nothing to do with the ale.

  Tonight, she and Hugh would be bedding down together as man and wife.

  Had she done the right thing?

  Tonight, when they retired, she would ask him whether he had come to Alfold to see her, or whether all along he had had it in mind to meet with her brother. She would make him tell her everything!

  Tonight, when they retired…

  Chapter Thirteen

  With the babble from the wedding feast and the clang of pots ringing in her ears, Aude touched Hugh’s arm. ‘Hugh, I will retire now.’

  ‘And I shall join you.’

  Ducking through the curtains into the box-bed, Aude crawled on to the mattress. Hugh followed, drawing the curtains behind him.

  The small space was filled with light from two lanterns hanging from nails above the bed. The extra brightness did little to dispel a peculiar sense of intimacy that Aude could only put down to the fact that this evening, she and Hugh were married. They were both wearing bright finery, she in a blue silk gown with a cream veil and under skirts and he in Edouard’s best red tunic. Aude felt as shy as though they were neither of them wearing a stitch.