The Baron's Bride

by Joanna Makepeace

  Tears blurred her eyes and she looked away from him. Did he guess at that last meeting she had had with Kenrick in Allestone wood? Did Lady Eadgyth? No, surely Kenrick could not have informed his mother of his intention to meet with her when she had enjoined on him the need for secrecy!

  Sir Walter waited until she had gained control, then he said quietly, “We have already discussed Lord Alain’s request for your hand in marriage and I made it plain to you at the time what my wishes were. Now more than ever, Gisela, I must insist that you obey me and accept him.”

  She gave a furious gasp and sprang to her feet.

  “Father, you cannot ask this of me now…”

  “Now, more than ever. Child, I have been lying here wondering what would have happened to you had I been killed.”

  Her hand sprang to her mouth. “Father, you have no intimation of…?”

  “No, no,” he said testily. “I have told you I am much improved, but the fact remains that I am in no condition to protect you adequately if such an occurrence happened again. It has made me think very hard, Gisela, that your one assurance of safety lies in becoming the Baron’s bride.

  “I have spoken with him again this morning and he has expressed a wish for the marriage to be solemnised very soon. He also told me of your meeting with Mauger of Offen. Child, do you realise you could very easily become that man’s prey?”

  A terrible shudder passed through her body and Sir Walter did not miss her reaction.

  “Yes,” he said grimly, “I see you do know, only too well, what might befall you should you fall into his hands. Do you tell me that marriage with Lord Alain de Treville is equally abhorrent to you?”

  “No,” she said hastily, “but—I cannot express it properly—I cannot like the man. He seems too stern, too restrained—too cold…”

  “You are afraid of him?”

  Her blue eyes met his grey ones squarely and he could see she was struggling to come to terms with her own feelings of revulsion for the match.

  “No,” she said at last quietly, “I do not think I am afraid of him, yet…” She broke off, biting her nether lip. “I cannot see us living in amity together—as—as I had hoped to do with—Kenrick.”

  “Ah,” he said gently. “You were easy in Kenrick’s company. He made no effort to thwart your wishes. You were children together, but life with a husband is very different, Gisela, and I think, in time, you might have discovered that Kenrick had faults, too—weaknesses would perhaps be a better word—and life would not have been so fanciful as the troubadours tell.”

  She blushed as she understood that he had divined her most secret longings.

  “There will be much to be done here at Allestone. Life could be a challenge for you and I think, in time, you will enjoy that. Alain de Treville will prove no compliant husband, but I believe he will not prove too hard a master either.”

  “You think I am afraid that he will beat me?” she asked shakily.

  “That is possible,” he said laconically, “knowing you as I do. You might well deserve it—on occasions.”

  “He will not break my spirit,” she retorted, her chin lifting defiantly.

  “Nor do I believe he would wish to do so. You can deal well together, Gisela, provided you are willing to make the best of the marriage.”

  She was silent and he could see by her heightened colour and the suspicion of tears upon her lashes that she was very close to breaking down.

  He sighed inwardly. He loved this beautiful, wilful child so dearly that it almost broke his heart to force her into this match she so vigorously opposed, yet he was sure it was the best arrangement he could make for her and he resisted the temptation to weaken now.

  “You will obey me?”

  Her lips trembled as she turned to face him again. She could not continue to oppose him. As he had said, the continued protection of Baron Alain de Treville could assure the safety of all at Brinkhurst. She nodded and, bending, kissed his hand, which was gripping the coverlet with unaccustomed tenseness.

  “It is for me to obey. I must obey.”

  He reached out and ruffled the smooth band of fair hair showing beneath the veil’s edge at her forehead.

  “Your mother would have been proud of your resolve. Go and talk to Aldith about finery for the ceremony.” He pushed her gently towards the doorway as she stooped to kiss him.

  She went reluctantly to seek Aldith and found her within their small chamber, attempting to find some suitable hanging space for the gowns she had managed to bring from Brinkhurst.

  “We shall have to send for more from Brinkhurst,” Gisela said baldly as she sank down dispiritedly upon the bed. The puppy jumped on her lap and she kissed his ears, finding comfort in his demonstrative loving.

  “Then the marriage contract is to be signed?”

  “Yes, my father insists. I have no choice, Aldith.”

  “It’ll be no bad thing,” Aldith said cheerfully. “I’ve said as much before. You’ll be my lady and a fine chatelaine you’ll make. I know.”

  “You are very confident.”

  “He’s a handsome bridegroom and most likely a skilled lover.”

  “How would you know such a thing?” Gisela demanded indignantly.

  “A woman of my experience can make a fair guess at such matters,” Aldith replied, smiling.

  “So you think he is handsome?”

  “Don’t you?”

  Gisela considered. “I don’t think I have considered that. He is well built and his features are not unpleasing, but he is too dark for my liking and his expression too stern and unrelenting, almost arrogant,” she conceded, “but,” she added with a little cynical smile, “he is not too old.”

  “There you are, you are making the best of it already.”

  “Perhaps, but there will be many a tussle for dominance between us, I’m thinking.”

  She was ruffling the puppy’s fur when she laughed and said, “I will call you Hereward, after the Wake. He spent his life opposing the Normans.”

  “And lost,” Aldith replied succinctly.

  Chapter Five

  To her surprise, Gisela was invited to take supper in the hall that evening. Huon came to her chamber and made the request from his master. So far, arrangements had been made for her to eat in her own chamber, except for breakfast, which she had taken alone after the Baron had already left the castle.

  She accepted the invitation issued so courteously by Huon in a voice which suggested he was afraid she might refuse and so anger his master. Gisela saw by his expression that he was greatly relieved.

  She dressed with care but soberly, mindful of the fact that she would really have wished to don mourning garb for Kenrick, but that was patently impossible.

  She descended the tower stair with Aldith in attendance. Sigurd had taken charge of Hereward, who resented being deserted by his adoring mistress.

  Lord Alain rose at once to greet her and led her to the dais where a chair had been placed for her next to his own. She felt tongue-tied in his presence. She had given way to pressure. She would be this man’s bride, but she could not be easy in his company. Now she felt his eyes upon her, appraising her, and she glanced briefly at him, acknowledging the fact that he, too, had dressed with some care in a fine scarlet over-tunic, which enhanced his dark good looks.

  She seated herself, knowing that her legs felt weak, and waited while Huon approached with a ewer and bowl of rose water for her to rinse her hands before beginning the meal which he proffered on bended knee. Unused to such ceremony, she felt even more ill at ease.

  Lord Alain was speaking and she turned politely to face him.

  “I hear the hound pup has become extremely devoted. I hope he will not be too much trouble for you.”

  “No, no,” she disclaimed hastily. “He is very gentle natured. I treasure him already.”

  “Good.” His lips twitched slightly. “I understand you have named him Hereward. I hope that is no incentive to him to hold my Norma
n blood in despite.”

  Her own lips curved into a smile in answer and she said a little defensively, “I have always admired the exploits of the Wake as I think most of us of Saxon blood continue to do.”

  “He was a fine soldier. How could any of us deny that?”

  He served her delicacies as they shared cup and trencher and she was gratified to note that though he ate heartily, his manners were good and he did not drink too frequently from his wine goblet. She could not have borne to be wed to a drunken sot.

  He said without ceremony, “Your father informs me that you have consented to become my bride. You honour me greatly, Demoiselle Gisela. I shall make every effort to assure your comfort and happiness here at Allestone.”

  Her own fingers trembled on the wine cup as he offered it to her and their hands touched.

  “My father wishes the match, sir. It is not for me to gainsay him.”

  He regarded her gravely. “I know it is usual for maids to be reluctant at first, especially as you know so little about me.”

  “You know even less about me, my lord,” she countered. “I cannot but wonder at your choice. Surely there are more noble ladies at court who would make more suitable chatelaines for Allestone?”

  “I think not. I know all I wish to know about you. You are beautiful, and—” his lips parted in a broad smile “—strong willed enough to make an efficient and capable mistress of my household and a fit mate for me.”

  She said dutifully, almost mechanically, “I shall strive to please you, my lord.”

  He laughed out loud. “If you constantly do that, I shall be both surprised and somewhat disappointed.” Meeting her puzzled gaze, he explained, “I have always enjoyed our verbal engagements, Demoiselle Gisela. It was this quality that first drew me to you.” He lifted their wine cup in a smiling toast and was amused to see her blue eyes blaze back at him.

  She looked down at the body of the hall, meeting boldly the avidly curious glances of Lord Alain’s retainers who had this opportunity to view Lord Alain’s betrothed for the first time. She noted that Sir Clement, his seneschal, and his lady, Rohese, were absent, apparently taking their meal in their own apartment.

  “I hope, in time, to take you to Normandy, to present you to my lady mother and the rest of my family. I have just sent off a message to her, informing her of my good fortune in acquiring so lovely a bride.”

  She turned back instantly. Strange, she had not thought of Lord Alain as having a family. It was ridiculous, of course, and she listened with interest while he talked enthusiastically of his boyhood home and how he had come into service in England and, eventually, to fight beside the King’s side.

  She realised how hard it had been for him, a younger son, to make his way in the world and could only admire him for that for, it seemed, he had done so by sheer grit, hard work and loyalty.

  A man-at-arms entered the hall and approached the dais, deferentially saluting his lord. “We discovered a man entering Brinkhurst soon after noon, my lord, and mindful of your strictures against looting, we arrested him and brought him to Allestone. He begs to speak with either Sir Walter or the Demoiselle Gisela. Since Sir Walter is indisposed and now settled for the night, I wondered if…” He blinked in Gisela’s direction apologetically.

  “Keep him within the guardroom tonight.”

  Gisela said quickly, “He may have news of another survivor. There are still men missing from the household, I hear, or—or he may have information about the mercenaries. I would like to see him at once, with your permission, my lord.”

  “Very well. Bring him here, but see he is well guarded.”

  A man was hustled into the hall and pushed unceremoniously towards the dais. The prisoner kept his head bent, as if ashamed, but there was no mistaking that rotund figure and Gisela gave a little relieved cry.

  “This is Oswin, my father’s reeve. Where have you been all this time, Oswin? We feared you were dead.”

  Oswin’s clothes were torn and dirty and, as he lifted his head, she saw his round cheeks were besmirched by tears.

  “Mistress,” he cried brokenly, “tell them I would never steal from Sir Walter. Forgive me, Demoiselle Gisela, I was so afraid when the attack began and when I saw what those men intended—I—fled. When I saw the manor was in flames I hid in the forest and—afterwards—afterwards—I was too ashamed of my own cowardice to come back. Then—then, today, I…”

  “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Oswin. You were wise to run. Of course I understand. I am sure my father…”

  She was interrupted by the Baron’s voice speaking authoritatively. “Well, now we know who this fellow is. Keep him locked in the guardroom. I shall wish to question him further.”

  “No.” Gisela rose angrily. “Oswin must not be treated like a criminal…”

  “Do as I say,” the Baron commanded. He turned a set, stern face towards Gisela.

  “Demoiselle, please accompany me to my desmesne office.” He held her wrist in a light but tight hold and she was half-pulled from her place. She turned to protest but caught sight of the angry jut of his jaw and understood that this time she had really infuriated him. She watched helplessly as Oswin was hustled out through the screen doors again, still volubly protesting his identity and his reasons for entering Brinkhurst manor.

  Only then did she allow herself to be drawn towards the door behind the dais, registering the fact that Lord Alain had signalled for Aldith to follow them.

  He led her into a small chamber within the thickness of the tower wall. It contained a table, a fald chair and stool. Two rolls of parchment and an unrolled one, beside inkwell and quills, showed this was the Baron’s place of business where he discussed with his reeve and seneschal, as well as his sergeant-at-arms, the household accounts and gave out his instructions for the running of the household and defence of the fortress in time of need. He pushed her down upon the stool and went to stand behind the table, arms folded, his dark eyes smouldering.

  “You need not fear. Dame Aldith is just outside the door and will come if called.” He leaned forward until his face was very close to her own. “Demoiselle, do you enjoy deliberately contradicting me before my men?”

  She drew back, for the first time confused and really afraid of his anger.

  “Please—please, I do not understand.”

  “You understand very well. I need to question that man. He may be a trusted servant of yours but he made himself scarce at a very convenient moment. At the very least he should be charged with dereliction of duty. Now he comes snivelling back to you and you want me to treat him as if he were a child in arms. I want to know where he has been skulking all this time, what his real excuse is for absenting himself. He could have been back hours ago.”

  She was shocked to the marrow. “You cannot mean that you suspect…?”

  “These mercenaries make their attacks after being given good information. Your father was conveniently away from the manor and only returned later to become embroiled in the fighting. Someone in your household was responsible for giving a signal inviting those brutes to attack. I have been questioning all your men, aye, and your women, too. It may be that this fellow wished you well and arranged the attack after he knew you had ridden out. At all events, I intend to get to the bottom of it and a spell in my guardroom will make him hesitate before lying to me.”

  She gave a great gasp of horror.

  “I cannot believe that…”

  “Obviously not. You are too trusting, demoiselle.” He was glaring at her across the table. “We shall deal better together as husband and wife if you do not openly continue to oppose my decisions. I said I admired your spirit and I will, on occasions, listen to and defer to your judgement, but not before my retainers. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes,” she stammered, too shocked by his outburst to argue. “Yes, my lord, I—I understand that I put you in an unfortunate position and…”

  “Go on thinking about that.”

  He stood upri
ght abruptly and eventually sat down at the table, fingering the unrolled parchment moodily, as if he was striving to regain his temper.

  She was not sure if he had finished with her and sat on for moments, watching him uncertainly, her eyes huge in her pale face, then, as she made to half-rise, he pushed the parchment towards her.

  “Do you read? This is the marriage contract Father John drew up in the presence of your father and me earlier today. I wished to inform you of the conditions.”

  She nodded. “I do, a little, but I am sure it is satisfactory if my father has agreed to it.”

  “The provisions are simple. Your father has promised a dower, subject to his means. I shall not insist on any hurry about that since the damage to Brinkhurst is considerable and, of course, he must have lost an amount of coin in the raid. The Michaelmas rents had only just been collected.”

  She had not thought of that. In the event, the Baron might well have changed his mind about his offer of marriage, since her father’s possessions had been greatly lessened by this attack.

  He continued. “I have made over to you land that is mine to give freely should I die without heir and the King, as is his right, could repossess this castle. You will be adequately provided for and, since you are your father’s sole heiress, Brinkhurst will eventually become yours unless he marries again.

  “That seems unlikely since your mother died so long ago but—” he shrugged lightly “—who knows what will happen these days? Your father is still relatively young and entitled to some future happiness, I’m sure you will agree.”

  Her tongue seemed frozen and she could not reply to him, though she was puzzled by her own reaction. All these arrangements were to be expected and he was showing unwonted civility in making her aware of them.

  He said abruptly, “I also wished to discuss with you arrangements for the ceremony.”

  Her head jerked in spite of her resolution to make no objections or even to appear opposed to the match.

  “I think the ceremony should be soon, before the holy season of Christmas, if possible. After that, the bad weather may well be upon us and the knights and your friends in the shire might not be able to attend and bear witness.”