Ragna came running. “We were in the Hall. They have found my sister?”
Together they hurried there, bursting through the door with excitement, both shouting at once.
Agneta stood quickly and Caedmon threw his arms around her, laughing. “It’s news of Blythe, at last!”
His wife clasped her hands to her mouth as tears trickled down her cheeks. “Blythe,” she whispered.
Caedmon knew he was shouting, but couldn’t seem to do otherwise. “She’s in Cologne! Of all places! I passed through there during my misbegotten journey to the Crusade!”
Aidan had by now jumped up to grab the parchment from his father’s hands. “What’s she doing there?”
Caedmon slapped his son on the back. “As you see, my boy, she’s said to be a guest of someone named Count Dieter von Wolfenberg. We’re invited to retrieve her, which is an odd choice of words. The whole epistle is ambiguous. There is no outright mention of money, but—”
Aidan looked angry. “You mean they want us to pay to free her? Is she a prisoner?”
Caedmon scratched his head. “I’m not sure. Though the letter is in perfect English, it was obviously written by someone whose native tongue isn’t English. It’s almost too perfect. I wonder how she came to be a “guest” of this man? The last we heard from our King Henry she was taken forcefully from the cathedral at Mainz when someone tried to kidnap Matilda. Now the abductor wants us to retrieve her.”
“Will we all go, Father?” asked sixteen year old Edwin.
Caedmon tousled his youngest son’s hair. “No Edwin, the Empire can be a dangerous place, but I’ll certainly go to retrieve my girl.”
“And I will accompany you, Father,” Aidan said with authority.
Caedmon was about to argue, but it was Aidan’s right as Blythe’s twin brother to aid in her rescue. His son had been in torment while Blythe was missing.
Ragna folded her arms across her chest and sulked. “I’m never allowed to go anywhere, or do anything.”
Edwin snorted. “You do nothing but complain, Ragna. If I’m not allowed to go then you’re surely not going. You’re only thirteen, and a girl.”
Ragna stamped her foot and fled the room. Meanwhile Agneta had slumped into a chair, sobbing. Caedmon went down on one knee at her feet. “At least we know she’s safe.”
She gripped his hand. “But Caedmon, Cologne is so far away. I feared for you when you journeyed that way before. Poor Blythe, she’s so compromised now, no man will want to marry her.”
She spoke the truth. Blythe’s whereabouts had been unknown for many months and now she’d turned up in the hands of a foreign Count. Her reputation would never recover. He grieved for his beautiful, spirited daughter. But she was courageous and had survived whatever ordeal had confronted her. He was determined to bring her home, whatever the cost.
***
Caedmon offered his men-at-arms the choice as to whether they wished to accompany him and Aidan. He didn’t want to take too many men and give the appearance of a belligerent force, but he also wanted the security of armed men about them. He made it clear they were not going for plunder or for gain. It wouldn’t be an easy journey, and in all likelihood they wouldn’t be home in time for Yuletide. However, he did have contacts along the route from his days on the Crusade.
On a chilly November day Agneta, Edwin and Ragna bid a tearful goodbye to Caedmon and Aidan and a score of Shelfhoc men.
Caedmon kissed his wife deeply. “I’ve sent a messenger to Baudoin at Ellesmere. He’ll get word to Robert. We’ll stay at Saint Germain de Montbryce for a day or two after we cross, perhaps gather more men there. Robert will want to help us. I know it’s fruitless to tell you not to worry, but remember that Blythe will be with me the next time you see me.”
He lowered his voice so only she could hear. “Before you know it, I’ll be back in your bed, touching all those places you love me to touch.”
Agneta laughed through her tears and blushed, pressing herself against his erection. “You’re going to have an uncomfortable ride, my Lord.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Blythe awoke early, startled out of her sleep by the sound of raised voices outside. Since the capture of Tuitium and the blockade, the streets were often more or less deserted, especially early in the morning, and she wondered what the hubbub was about. She’d lain awake for hours worrying about Dieter and had finally succumbed to exhaustion.
“Sieg! Sieg!”
She struggled to don her bed robe. “What does that mean? I must find Anna.”
She almost bumped into the little maid as she opened the door to her chamber. “Anna, what’s happening?”
Anna’s cheeks were always two shiny red apples, but now her entire face was beet red and she was breathless with excitement. “Victory for Köln!” she shouted in German. “Victory for Graf Dieter! We’ve beaten the Emperor! Our brave Köln boys and our courageous Saxons have sent him packing!”
Dancing around, she grabbed Blythe who’d understood little, except that Dieter was safe.
The entire household threw itself into preparations for the triumphant return of its hero, their master, who by all accounts filtering up from the streets had played a large part in the victory. Berta, the cook, set off to prepare all the Count’s favourite dishes in time for his homecoming. Throughout her stay in his house, Blythe had known the servants respected their master, but now she saw how much they loved him, how proud they were.
She was conflicted. Her heart told her she loved him. Her head told her he’d kidnapped her and held her for no reason. His actions had dishonoured her, and she would never be able to marry. No man would want her. He didn’t want her, except for his gain. He planned to ransom her to her family. Her heart whispered that she should tell him she loved him. Her head scolded that he would laugh in her face, that he wasn’t the kind of man to fall in love with a woman, especially a foreign woman. He was perhaps a man who might take improper advantage of her confession of love?
She longed for his return to assure herself he was safe. But she needed to see her parents again, hoped her father would come for her, rescue her from this torment. Better to spend her days as a spinster at home with her loving family than here in a foreign land with a man she loved, but couldn’t have.
From an upstairs window, she watched as Dieter and his men rode into the street. She clenched her fists and pressed them to her mouth, uttering a prayer of thanks that Count Dieter Von Wolfenburg had returned unharmed. Pride flooded through her at the sight of the crowds hailing their champion. He sat so tall in the saddle, smiling and acknowledging the accolades with a wave of his hand. To be loved by such a man. Desire flooded through her. She arched her back, ran her hands over the pert nipples of her breasts, then down her belly, bringing them to rest on the aching need between her legs.
She gasped when he glanced up at the window. She stepped back, hoping the thick glass had prevented his seeing her, then hastened down to greet him.
***
Dieter was elated by the tremendous welcome Köln had given them, but he was tired. He’d thought Blythe might come out to meet him, and was disappointed she hadn’t. He scanned the windows. Was she watching? Did she care he’d returned safely? He’d thought of nothing else on the journey from Andernach.
The servants mobbed him when he came into the house, bowing and clapping and cheering. Blythe came quietly into the hallway and his mouth fell open when he saw her. She hadn’t braided her hair. He’d never seen her with her hair down. The auburn tresses fell about her shoulders like liquid amber. His rute swelled at the sight.
He continued to graciously accept the accolades of his servants, hoping none of them would notice his arousal. He wanted desperately to bury his fingers in Blythe’s hair, to press her body to his, to kiss her and thrust his tongue into her mouth. She stood motionless, hands clasped tightly in front of her. He sensed her tension and strode over to her. He put his hand over hers.
“Dieter,” she murmured
shyly, “you’ve come home safely.”
It heartened him to hear her call his house her home. “Yes, Blythe. I’ve come home—to you.” He raised his hand to touch her tresses. “Your hair—” His breath caught in his throat.
He was aware his servants were still milling around, watching curiously, and was glad of it, otherwise he might have done something improper to her at that moment.
He forced himself to move away from her. “I must excuse myself from your presence, Lady Blythe. It’s been a long journey, and I need to bathe.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. She blushed to the roots of her hair. Was she imagining him naked in the tub?
“Of course. Bernhardt has all in readiness, I believe. Perhaps in the dining hall later you can tell me all about your heroic deeds.”
He kissed her hand and smiled. “Until then!”
***
Aidan FitzRam had accompanied his father to the castle de Montbryce in Normandie many times. Whenever they went there, Caedmon took his son into the crypt where they reflected on the life of Aidan’s grandfather, Ram de Montbryce, Earl of Ellesmere and Comte de Montbryce. Though Caedmon was Ram’s illegitimate son he’d been welcomed wholeheartedly into the Montbryce family, especially by the Earl’s wife, Mabelle. The FitzRam family had benefitted immeasurably from the love and legacy left to them. Aidan respected his father’s wish to tell and retell the narrative of his relationship with his father and the Montbryce family. Aidan too would pass on the story to his children.
Breaking their journey at Saint Germain took them out of their way. However, it afforded them the chance to visit with Aidan’s uncle, his father’s half brother, Comte Robert de Montbryce and his wife Dorianne. Robert’s five children, Alexandre, Catherine, Marguerite, Laurent and Romain, greeted their visitors enthusiastically. Aidan liked Alexandre. Although much younger than himself, the lad worshipped the ground Aidan walked on, following him everywhere. The older girls were too bossy for his liking, and the other boys too young.
“I wish I could accompany you both,” Robert lamented. “I will always be grateful for the sacrifices you made in helping rescue me from imprisonment at the hands of the Duke of Normandie. However, the political situation here is so volatile I cannot be away for too long. Dorianne would have my head in any case if I left her alone with the children.”
Caedmon shook his head. “Robert, you and Dorianne have endured too much from separation in the past. I should never have allowed King Henry to send my daughter to the Empire. Events have proven he was unable to protect her. This is my duty to uphold. It’s my responsibility to rescue Blythe. Mine and Aidan’s.”
Aidan, who never failed to be amazed at the physical likeness between his father and his uncle, listened quietly to the conversation between them, and his heart filled with pride. Yet, he was deeply concerned about his twin sister, sensing she faced some sort of crisis that had nothing to do with being kidnapped. He concentrated on sending her positive thoughts.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The journey to Köln took six days. As they passed through Caen, Caedmon pointed out to Aidan the Abbaye aux Dames, where he and Baudoin had found Dorianne and her newborn, Alexandre, and spirited them to safety at Montbryce. When they passed the great hulk of the castle, Caedmon could barely speak of finding Robert beaten and almost broken in the cells. It seemed like only yesterday, yet ten years had flown since that wretched day.
From Caen they travelled overland without incident to Amiens, through Mons and Maastricht and finally to Köln, where they found a city still in the grip of euphoria over the victory at Andernach. News of Heinrich’s humiliation had reached their ears well before they’d neared the city.
Caedmon recalled a little of the Germanic languages he’d picked up during the Crusade, though it had been twenty years since he’d spoken them. They didn’t know exactly where to find Count Dieter von Wolfenberg, the writer of the letter. To Caedmon’s surprise when he enquired, everyone knew where the hero of Andernach lived.
Aidan displayed his impatience with his inability to understand. “What did they say, Father?”
“They speak of this Count as if he’s some kind of hero.”
They found a field near the Rhine suitable for their camp. Caedmon and Aidan left most of their men there, taking a handful of their escort to ride to the home of the Count. As they trotted into the courtyard boys appeared to take their horses. They dismounted and strode to the door. Caedmon rapped loudly with his fist, mouth drawn in a tight line, hand on the hilt of his sword. “I am Sir Caedmon FitzRam. I am here with my son Aidan,” he shouted in his halting German.
A servant opened the door and bade them enter. It was evident they were expected.
Suddenly Blythe appeared out of nowhere and flung herself into her father’s arms, sobbing loudly. Aidan enfolded her from behind in a protective circle and rubbed her back.
“Father—Aidan—I—”
It was Aidan who spoke first. “Blythe, my dear sister, I’ve worried about you. I’ve ached with your aches, wept with your sorrows. I’m overjoyed to see you whole. I never doubted you were still alive.”
They embraced for many long minutes in silence, simply holding each other, reconnecting, while Caedmon gazed at them, relief sweeping over him. Gradually he became aware of a tall, well-muscled man dressed in black standing at the foot of a staircase. This black-haired devil was the Count, the man responsible for his daughter being in Köln. His first instinct was to walk over and pound him into the ground.
“You are Dieter von Wolfenberg?” he asked abruptly in English.
The man bowed. “I’m he, Sir Caedmon FitzRam. I welcome you and your son to my home. I trust you had a safe journey from England?”
Caedmon noted Dieter’s English was flawless. “We’ve come for my daughter.”
“She’s here, as you see,” Dieter replied, “but I would offer you my hospitality for a few days so Blythe has a chance to prepare for the journey home, and you and your son and your horses can rest after your—”
Aidan interrupted, his voice full of scorn. “We don’t need to stay here. We can camp with our men near the Rhine.”
Blythe put her hand on Aidan’s arm. “Aidan, there is no need to camp with your men. I’m so happy you’re here. Please accept Dieter’s offer of hospitality so we can all spend time together. I have no wish to camp in a tent.”
Aidan looked angrily to his father, who seemed as surprised as he at the way Blythe spoke of the Count. She’d called him Dieter. It was almost as if—
Caedmon turned to Dieter. “We are obliged to accept your offer of hospitality. We will stay a few days. No doubt we have terms to discuss.”
Dieter glanced quickly at Blythe, his lips tightly drawn. “Gut! My servants have prepared rooms in anticipation of your stay. Anna will show you the way. If you wish to bathe after your long journey, you have only to let them know. When you are refreshed perhaps we could meet in the gallery. Bernhardt will lead you there.”
Caedmon and Aidan nodded and followed the servants. Blythe went with them, arm in arm with Aidan.
***
Dieter let out a long, slow breath. The confrontation had gone more smoothly than he could have hoped. He watched Blythe go off with her family, happier than he’d ever seen her. He’d known when he heard the demand for entry the angry visitor could only be Blythe’s father. Dread had filled him. He wasn’t afraid of the man’s ire, which was after all justified. But this arrival meant Blythe’s departure.
Dieter had entered the hallway in time to see Blythe run to her father’s arms. As he watched the tearful reunion he knew that Blythe had been brought up in a loving home, and again he felt terrible remorse for having abducted her. He’d brought this family nothing but anguish and still didn’t understand what had motivated him to bring her to Köln. He suddenly felt bereft, an outsider.
He’d seen the expression change on Sir Caedmon’s face when the man noticed him. He expected it, understood the a
nger, and braced his shoulders as the Englishman strode over to where he stood. Though no longer a young man, this grey haired knight was obviously still a force to be reckoned with.
Dieter wished he could put such a smile on Blythe’s face. If only she cared for him. He longed to be enfolded in her arms, so he could bury his face in her lovely breasts, make her cry out with joy as he—
He shook his head and leaned heavily on the banister. This had to stop! She would be leaving soon. She didn’t love him and that was that. He had things to accomplish for his Duke. He pulled himself together and hurried to the kitchens to make sure all was in order for the evening meal.
***
Caedmon, Aidan and Blythe clung to each other in the larger of the two adjoining chambers prepared for the men.
“I was sewing when I heard your voice, Papa. I couldn’t believe it. I hoped you would come.”
Aidan put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Has he harmed you, Blythe?”
She shook her head. “No, Aidan, he’s a noble man. He would never harm me.”
Caedmon didn’t understand. “Is he not the person who abducted you?”
Blythe averted her eyes. “Yes, he is, but I was not the intended hostage really. It was part of an unsuccessful plot to kidnap Matilda.”
Aidan snorted. “Why didn’t he let you go when the plot failed?”
Blythe moved away, fidgeting with the lace of her sleeves. “I don’t know, Aidan. At first I thought he planned to sell me into slavery, but I know now he would never do such a thing. So I surmised he would ransom me to my family, and here you are.”
Caedmon coughed, not sure what all this meant. “He hasn’t asked for a ransom.”
His daughter was obviously surprised by this news. “He hasn’t? I don’t understand.”
Carried Away (The FitzRam Family Medieval Romance Series) Page 5