My Enemy, My Love--World of de Wolfe Pack

by Ruth Kaufman

  Boats with wood towers built atop them floated on the river. So this is what King Philip’s army had been working on in addition to trying to sap the walls. Another shiver racked her. Would the thick stone walls continue to prevent their success?

  Her father appeared at the top of the wall, standing in a crenel. He wore chainmail and carried his helm under his arm. Did she imagine that his hair was grayer, or was it merely the glint of sunlight?

  She couldn’t hear the herald’s words. The shake of her father’s head told her all she needed to know. He refused the exchange, as she’d expected. Yet how many times must she endure her father’s rejection?

  Either he was confident the fortress couldn’t be breached and that they could wait out the siege with remaining supplies or until King John sent aid, despite the ships and siege tower awaiting the king’s command. Or maybe he didn’t trust Philip not to harm anyone if he agreed to the exchange and preferred to take his chances in battle. Maybe he was determined to not appear weak.

  Her father looked up, and straight at her. Her heart stopped. After so many weeks, was he finally going to acknowledge her? Or was he actually looking at King Philip? She wasn’t sure until he ran a finger over his left eyebrow.

  Tears filled her eyes, and she swallowed hard so she wouldn’t cry. He’d signaled her with their special gesture. She’d first smoothed his bushy brows as a young girl sitting on his lap, at first frustrated that they wouldn’t lie flat when she wanted them to, then amused by the way they bounced back up. They’d played that game over and over, laughing and laughing. Such a simple way to create a bond between father and child.

  He still loved her. She understood, though it didn’t alleviate memories of her suffering. Was he telling her couldn’t have let them all in, and thus he couldn’t have let only her in…that as a commander, he couldn’t show her special treatment? If he’d seen how cold and afraid she’d been, he might have wavered. Great sacrifice was a sad truth of war. She ran a finger over her eyebrow to let him know she’d received his message. He nodded, then turned and went inside.

  Her heart surged, tears threatening once more. Could all of this have been prevented? If her father wanted her to stay, wouldn’t he have sought her out before issuing the command to leave? So many questions, so few answers.

  She turned to the side as tears dripped down her cheeks and she swiped them away. She might never see her father again. If only they had a similar code for the welfare of her mother and siblings. Longing to be reunited with her family clutched her heart. If they all survived, would they be able to put this behind them and live happily again? She shivered, then closed her eyes and imagined them all sharing a meal at their home in England. Her sisters would be smiling as they had months ago—

  Apollo took off his cloak and put it around her. The heavy wool retained his heat and smelled of him. She wished she could stay enveloped in comfort, for the day had barely begun.

  “Seeing your father for the first time in so long must’ve been difficult…and made worse by what he decided. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you. Your concern is a balm. I feel less alone.”

  “I’m glad. I wish I could do more.”

  “Being helpless is horrible. Clearly our kings think the end will be worth the means. For them, at least, if not for their people.”

  Their gazes met for a long moment. All that had happened and uncertainty about what was to come immobilized her.

  The herald returned with the message they’d already guessed. He kept his focus on the ground.

  Aline didn’t know her heart could sink lower, but it did. She whispered, “Apollo. Does that happen to you…forced to deliver news you know the recipient doesn’t want to hear?”

  “Yes. Since I didn’t create the message and have no input into how it’s interpreted or carried out, I make peace with that. I’ve done my job if I’ve brought the news as swiftly as possible. And I’ve learned to keep my opinion to myself when I disagree with responses—”

  “That is most unfortunate. Then you shall return apace and tell him We will kill his daughter,” the king ordered the herald.

  “Sire,” Apollo began.

  “Your Grace!” she cried. “Please. I beg you. You can see my life is meaningless to my father. He denied me admittance for weeks, left me to freeze in the ditch with the others and wouldn’t accept me today despite your most gracious offer.” Despite the king’s glare, Aline didn’t regret her outburst, and was glad she’d summoned the courage to stand up for herself.

  “I’ll think on it.” King Philip pursed his lips. “Apollo, take her back to your hut. I’ll send for you if needed. We’ll proceed as planned.”

  Though her heart raced so fast her chest hurt, though she and some members of her family might perish today, she dared ask, “May I remain to watch?”

  From a very safe distance to avoid returned fire. Her father would be shooting at her. Never had she thought it would come to that.

  Choosing to remain in the cold she’d come to despise did seem odd. Being able to make some choice, even about this, made her feel stronger. How it would affect her should the chateau fall?

  “You wish to behold Our victory over your English? Why not? Adieu.” The king and his men left her and Apollo alone.

  “Would he really have me killed?” she whispered. Her throat was too tight to speak louder. “And after promising me to you?”

  Apollo shrugged. “We are at war. Even what seems unfair or wrong might be justifiable. Depending on which side you’re on. And how much power you have.”

  “I respect you for being a staunch supporter of your king. How far would you go for him? Would you jump off the cliff to your death if he asked you to? Where do you draw the line if you don’t draw it at murdering not only an innocent woman but your betrothed?” Her fingers were like ice. The lack of gloves served as yet another reminder of her precarious situation.

  “You may be innocent, but you’re still the daughter of the leader of the enemy.” At least he hadn’t said “our.” “The man who represents your king in my country. I may disagree with things my king does, but that doesn’t mean I can or will take action against him. My position and very life would be at risk.”

  Apollo had spoken in a friendly tone. After his abrupt departure from the hut after their kiss, she didn’t dare take his hand or rely on him for solace.

  Not that she wanted to make any effort to show how she felt, but she remembered how warm his hands were. “What if he asked you to kill me? What then? Could you go that far?”

  “Let us pray things don’t come to that. I doubt I could kill anyone, much less you, Aline.”

  Small comfort. “Then can you help me flee? Please. King Philip doesn’t have to know. If you don’t and he decides to kill me to prove his callousness to my father, my death will be on your hands, too, whether or not you hold the sword.”

  His hair blew in the wind. His expression was as icy as she was. “Aline, I do want to, but I can’t.”

  Though she’d expected that response, it saddened her. Why should he be loyal to or care enough about her, a woman he barely knew and whom he had already gone out of his way to help, over the man who not only paid his wages but could have him imprisoned or killed?

  “Would you answer differently if we were man and wife?”

  He lowered his head. “I don’t know, Aline. I’d have to confer with a priest or scholar to confirm whether loyalty to one’s wife comes before one’s king.”

  “I can’t stop shivering. I’m going inside to warm up until the attack begins.”

  “I’ll go with you. I’ll have Antoine let us know when to come back out.”

  She’d wanted to be alone, but couldn’t ask him to leave his own hut. They paced the small space for what seemed like hours. Whenever she heard a bang or loud noise, she jumped. Had it begun? False alarm after false alarm kept her on edge.

  Their gazes met every so often, but there didn’t seem to be anything left to say. S
he realized that she’d rather have more kisses, both to distract her and because they were so enjoyable. They didn’t seem close enough for that any longer.

  “This is ridiculous,” he said. “Let’s play chess to focus on something besides waiting.”

  Anything to break the silence. “Yes. A bit like fiddling while Rome burned, but there’s nothing either of us can do to change the course of the day or the outcome.”

  She sat as he arranged the chess pieces into their starting positions on the board. For the first few minutes, they focused on the game. They were well-matched. Though it was quiet in the hut, the air seemed vibrant with tension. News could arrive at any moment.

  “Good move,” he said when she captured his bishop.

  “My mother loves chess. Loved?” A sob escaped her. She dropped his piece and bent to retrieve it. “We used to play every night.”

  “Stay with me,” Apollo said softly. “Worrying about what might happen won’t change the outcome. Tell me about your childhood.”

  Aline appreciated his effort to calm her. “We had a gorgeous manor in Cheshire, and I was raised in a loving family with every comfort. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.” At least she’d had many wonderful years. “And you? Apollo seems an odd name for a Norman,” she ventured.

  “I was raised here in Normandy, near Rouen. My father is a scholar who teaches mythology, so my parents named their children after Greek gods. My younger sister Artemis—not my twin, he added with a wide smile, “has two children.”

  Whether or not he wanted to live in one place, the affectionate gleam in his eyes said he clearly loved children. He’d make a wonderful father, no matter the heritage of his offspring. Was she softening to the idea of their marriage now that it seemed impossible? No.

  “Phoebe is eight and Helios six,” he continued. “They—”

  “—are named after Titans.” Why did she feel the need to show Apollo she knew something of mythology? Because she wanted him to smile, which he did. She could sit and watch him for hours.

  “Yes, Phoebe was the Titan of intellect and the Delphic oracle, and Helios was Titan of the sun, sight and oaths. Artemis appreciates the origin of our names and wanted her children to share in that. Make them part of the family in another way.”

  Belonging. Family. Could she have that with Apollo, despite their different beliefs?

  “My mother liked to tell tales of the Greek gods and their offspring at bedtime. One of my favorites was of Helen of Troy—I wanted to be as beautiful and renowned as she. The sin of pride, I know. I found various tales about her fascinating…did Paris abduct her or seduce her? That men promised to go to war for her.”

  “My favorite is Hercules. Phoebe and Helios love it when I tell them of his labors. Though I don’t get to see my family as often as I’d like,” he added.

  But if he were a lord and traveled less….

  Apollo slid his queen forward, then paused and looked at her as if she’d spoken her thoughts. He moved the queen back to her original square without breaking their gaze.

  “Aline.” He leaned forward.

  She met him halfway. Her troubles faded as his mouth moved over hers. As he ran his hands over her back. All she could think was more more more. Pieces tumbled to the floor, the game forgotten. They stood, fitting into each other’s embrace as if they’d known each other for years, not days.

  Apollo’s kisses sparked feelings so amazing that, for a few moments, they even made her stop worrying about the impending battle.

  * * *

  When the kiss ended, Apollo pulled her close for another. She leaned into him and held him tighter. His body urged him to continue. His mind wasn’t sure she was ready.

  Antoine entered, making the decision for him. Another untimely interruption.

  “It’s begun.” The lad’s excitement proved he didn’t understand the true horrors of war.

  Apollo wanted to be there to support Aline should the worst befall the chateau. Yet he wanted his king, his army, to win. Never had he been in such an untenable position. “I’m torn between two loyalties—my friendship with you and my people. I don’t want my children to ever suffer this misery.” There was no way to know if they would or wouldn’t. “You’re right. Maybe there is still a way to avoid marriage.”

  “I wish I weren’t. I’m glad you agree.” She didn’t look glad.

  They hurried outside to their safe viewing location. He wouldn’t release her hand. He could tell from her pulse that his heart beat as fast as hers.

  In a thunderous clatter, stones tumbled as the wall near the single outer gate on the right side collapsed. Shouts and cheers resounded.

  Aline’s free hand flew to cover her mouth.

  “We’re in the outer bailey! Hurray!” Swords in hand, a swarm of French soldiers rushed in through the gaping hole.

  The king’s army had taken down part of a fortress built to stand the test of time.

  He and Aline waited, hand in hand, but couldn’t see or hear much else from the vast chateau. Had the middle and inner baileys been breached?

  Eventually soldiers began making their way out, cheering and clapping each other on the back. The first to return couldn’t wait to share the tale.

  “We sapped a tower to seize the outer ward. The underground flames caught fast. After the English cowards retreated to the middle bailey, some of us went around to the west side and were able to climb in through the chapel window.”

  “God showed us the way,” a tall soldier said.

  Some laughed, others celebrated, overfilling cups in their enthusiasm as they poured from wineskins.

  “King Phillip was going to attack the keep. But Roger de Lacy finally surrendered.”

  “This is a great day! Normandy is lost to the English.”

  * * *

  Aline couldn’t breathe. These soldiers had succeeded in invading the built-to-be impenetrable fortress where she’d lived and her father and some friends still did. Well, how many yet lived? Or were injured?

  Perhaps one of the smiling men standing within arm’s length had killed someone she knew. How would she ever feel at home amongst England’s foe?

  Apollo didn’t seem to share the soldiers’ elation on the outside. How did he feel inside?

  Nothing would ever be the same. “What of my—the chateau commander and his family?”

  “I don’t know,” the soldier nearest them said. “Perhaps they were taken prisoner. Casualties have been reported, but they’ve not yet been counted.”

  Not knowing gnawed at her. Who was dead, who was alive?

  “Do you know how Philip treats his prisoners?” she asked Apollo. “Would they be well-cared for or tossed in a cell, without food or bound in chains?” Despite her father’s decisions, she still worried about him as much as the others.

  Apollo put his arm around her, and she welcomed his support. “I don’t know. I never had reason to ask. I can find out.”

  “Thank you. Even if the news is bad, I’d rather know than subsist on false hope. And…what becomes of me now?”

  “That information needs await the king’s judgment.” He frowned, clearly uneasy as he met her gaze.

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” She could say no more.

  * * *

  Apollo tightened his hold on Aline. It seemed a small gesture given her distress, yet there wasn’t much else he could offer and he wanted her close. He’d come to care for her, and didn’t want her or her family—his potential family-by-law—hurt. Yet he celebrated the French victory over her father and the English, while he knew she mourned the loss. How could opposing emotions reconcile?

  “It’s over. Shall we go inside?” he asked.

  “Can we stay a few minutes longer?”

  “Aren’t you cold?”

  She looked white as snow. Lifeless. And he was chilled to the bone.

  “Yes, but the hut is small and dark. The light of day eases my nerves somehow.”

  “I’ll fetc
h another fur, then.” Was there anything else he could offer to make her feel better?

  He grabbed one and returned to drape it over her shoulders. “I felt so torn as the battle raged. Sad for you, yet I couldn’t wish Philip wouldn’t win. No matter the outcome, someone I cared about would lose.

  “You’ve warmed my heart. I’m glad you care. As you said, I don’t want our children to feel this way. Mixed loyalties could very well be a major problem. But I simply can’t think of a good way to avoid our marriage if the king wishes it.”

  “I can’t either.”

  King Phillip had won that battle, too. What could he do to erase the look of defeat on her face?

  Chapter 9

  When the added fur Apollo had kindly brought failed to keep out the chill, they returned to his quarters.

  Aline missed the open spaces of her home’s great hall and even those of the huge chateau. The hut closed in on her, flickering candlelight not enough to dispel darkness without and within. Her world had narrowed to these wooden walls in a foreign land.

  Long moments passed. No one came for them. On the one hand, she hoped the king was so busy gloating and celebrating that he’d forgotten her. At least he hadn’t killed her, yet. On the other, how long could she stay in Apollo’s hut, with nothing to do day after day and no role to play? She’d be a useless mouth to feed all over again. That epithet still pierced sharp as needles. What would become of them?

  What an untenable position she was in, with no way to know what tomorrow would bring and possibilities including anything from her wedding to her death.

  As night fell with no word, her anxiety increased. The chess game lay abandoned. She forced herself to eat some of the food Antoine brought out of continued gratitude that she was warm enough and had food when others went without.

  She jumped at a knock at the door.

  The herald entered. “Lady Aline, I thought you’d want to know. We have news of your family. They’re all safe and accounted for in the chateau.”