“’Tis unlike the present count to feel remorse,” the guard insisted.
“Aye, I would agree,” Roger’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. “I have oft during this ride wondered whether the wheat was tainted in some way.”
“Aye, there is a new healer in Toulouse, one said to have dangerous skill with poisons,” the other man admitted.
The wagon fairly bounced with the vigor of Roger’s nod. “Aye, ’tis whispered that he knows the ways of the East,” Roger’s voice gained yet more assurance. “And ’twas rumored that some of the less supportive vassals of Raimon died mysteriously this summer, just after the wheat harvest.”
A rustle of cloth and jingle of mail betrayed the guard’s hasty crossing of himself. “Many a black art is there to be learned in the East.”
“Indeed, and the less I know of such doings the better,” Roger concluded darkly.
The guard grunted in assent.
The burlap stretched over the contents of the cart rustled, and the gazes of the two concealed knights met as they pulled their knives silently. Cloth tore on the outer side of the wagon, followed immediately by the sound of kernels spilling onto the road. The guard laughed.
“Aye, grain ’tis,” he pronounced, slapping the stack of sacks with a heavy hand. The bulging bags shifted and Eustache’s eyes widened in dismay. “But I’ll be eating none of it. On with you and get yourself back before midday.”
“Aye, that I will,” Roger agreed, clicking his tongue to the horse hauling the cart.
The wagon jolted forward again and Dagobert dared to release the breath he had been holding, grinning at Eustache at the success of their ruse. A sack threatened to topple on them and they grabbed at it as one but too late. The weight landed on Dagobert’s chest, forcing the air from his lungs abruptly and prompting Eustache to smother a chuckle. Neither dared to move or utter a sound.
The cart labored up the steep road to the gates, men shouting to stay the catapults until they had passed. Moments later, a chill shadow fell over the cart and Dagobert knew they passed between the towers on the outer gates. He exchanged a significant glance with Eustache, knowing that Eustache was as surprised as he that their deceit was succeeding.
The road grew more level and Dagobert closed his eyes, picturing their progress across the narrow causeway that spanned the distance to the main gate. He wished he could push back the burlap and gaze out upon the view he loved so well. It would be just another few moments until they were out of the archers’ range.
The main gate had barely cast its cool shadow over the cart when a woman’s scream rent the air.
“Alienor!” Dagobert cried, leaping to his feet and casting the cloth aside with one smooth gesture.
“No!” Eustache shouted, grabbing to restrain Dagobert and missing his friend. Dagobert dove from the cart and the knights of Montsalvat drew their blades, determined to dispatch this unidentified invader.
“Hold your blades! ’Tis Dagobert!” Eustache yelled in desperation, and the surprised guards fell back from their liege lord’s path. A cry came from beyond the barbican towers, signaling that the attackers had also heard him and understood what had transpired.
“To the gates!” Eustache cried, and the knights ran to do his bidding. The portcullis between the outer towers fell shut with a resonant clang. The wall on Eustache’s right immediately shook with the impact of a load of rocks and he ran one hand through his hair.
“Welcome home,” he muttered, then smiled when the closest knight stepped forward, shaking his hand in hearty greeting.
Eustache glanced from the portal to the keep, his smile widening when he spied Giselle standing at the portal. Her hands were raised to her lips in astonishment as she stared back at him. She stood but for a moment regarding him, then pivoted and disappeared within. One glimpse of her delight at his return made him feel as frisky as a new pup.
Aye, ’twas good indeed to be home again. Eustache turned to bellow orders for the defense of the walls.
Chapter 13
“I can push no more,” Alienor confessed. Tears of desperation blurred her view of those around her.
“You must,” Iolande insisted gently, but Alienor could only shake her head.
“Tis too much.”
“’Tis very close, my lady,” the midwife asserted.
Alienor spared her a glance. “’Twas what you said at dawn.”
The woman smiled. “Oftentimes the first makes his way slowly into the world.”
Alienor would have made some comment about this being the arrival of her last child, but another contraction stole her breath away, leaving her trembling in its wake.
“In truth, I can fight no more,” she said, wanting no more than to surrender the battle.
She barely noticed the ripple of agitation that passed through the assembly of women in the solar. Indeed, they were most welcome to deliver this child without her.
“My lord, you cannot,” the midwife protested.
’Twas Iolande’s gasp that made Alienor look up. Her heart stopped when she found her husband in the portal, his gaze locked upon her.
“I can and will.” Dagobert shed his helmet, coif and gloves as he crossed the chamber. He cast them carelessly aside, his attention fixed on Alienor.
She could make no sound in her amazement, so convinced had she been that he must be injured or dead. His gray gaze was filled with concern as he bent down before her and she noted the way his new growth of hair stood on end. The touch of his fingertip beneath her chin was so unbearably gentle that Alienor started to cry.
“How long has she labored?” he demanded of the midwife without averting his gaze.
“Since the moon rose.”
Dagobert nodded slowly, one hand dropping to touch Alienor’s stomach with a feather-light stroke. “’Tis close,” he whispered to her, giving her an encouraging smile that warmed her very heart. “You cannot abandon the field when victory is so close.” Their gazes locked and held and Alienor felt a smile dawn through her tears. Dagobert was alive, he was with her—and he regarded her as if she was the center of his world. Her hope blossomed anew.
“Just as I was telling her, my lord,” the midwife began, but Dagobert interrupted her with a gesture.
“Fetch my lady wife some cool water, if you please.”
“The babe is large, I fear,” Iolande explained.
Dagobert nodded at his mother before returning his attention to Alienor. Even for that moment, she missed the warmth of his gaze. His very presence convinced her that she could complete the task before her. Indeed, his survival gave meaning to their child’s arrival once again. Alienor would have confessed as much, but another contraction seized her. She gritted her teeth against the scream that rose in her throat.
“Push, love.” Dagobert’s hands gripped her shoulders and she heard his gentle command even through the pain. She struggled to do his bidding, her fingers digging into his arms. When the strain had passed and left her panting, Alienor met his gaze. She was embarrassed that he should see her thus, but reassured by the tenderness in his eyes.
“Indeed, you are early, my lady,” Dagobert murmured, brushing his lips across her forehead. “I was hard-pressed to arrive in time to witness my son’s arrival.” The warmth of his hand slipped beneath her hair to massage the tension from her nape. Alienor drew from his strength, needing to tell him the truth in her heart before the pain came again.
“Dagobert, I truly have no wish to leave you.” She whispered her confession without looking up, her heart nearly stopping when she felt his fingers pause for a moment. Was he pleased or disappointed?
“Nor do I wish to ever let you go, my love,” he whispered with such conviction that Alienor met his gaze once more. Dagobert brushed a damp strand of hair back from her face with a fingertip, smiling tenderly as he cupped her chin. “We must have a long talk and dismiss our doubts, then begin anew,” he assured her. She smiled and he winked before he continued. “But let us see
first to our son.”
“It could be that I bear our daughter,” Alienor chided him, not wanting him to be disappointed, but he shook his head with confidence.
“Nay, love, from the very first I have known the babe to be a boy.”
A boy. The son he desired above all else. No wonder he was so pleased with her. Alienor’s breath caught as her muscles tightened once again, the room spinning as Dagobert scooped her up in his arms. He seated himself behind her on the birthing stool, much to the shock of the returning midwife.
The midwife’s response fed Alienor’s agitation and she twisted around, meaning to protest Dagobert’s presence, but he would not be dismissed. Indeed, his very stillness was a welcome relief from the flustering of the women. He whispered reassurances in her ear and she leaned back against him. When next the pain came, she drew strength from his serenity, pushing as she never had before, and felt the babe move downward with his encouragement.
Each contraction brought steady progress. Dagobert held a cup of cool water to her lips and bathed her face between contractions, the solid strength of his presence making the task no longer seem insurmountable. The rest of the room and its inhabitants faded away for Alienor as the contractions became so close as to seem without cessation: there was only the low reassurance of Dagobert’s murmured words. When the babe finally eased into the midwife’s waiting hands, his aims tightened around Alienor in relief and he pressed a kiss into her ear. The child hollered and the midwife grinned.
“A boy,” she announced.
Alienor almost laughed, falling back against Dagobert in her exhaustion. Her eyelids drifted closed despite herself. ’Twas done. ’Twas done, and Dagobert had his son.
“You spoke aright,” she whispered.
“Aye.”
He held her as the cord was cut and the afterbirth came away and there was nowhere else Alienor wanted to be than within the circle of his embrace. She felt him lift her easily into his arms and stand up, then he laid her atop the bed.
“Dream of his name, love, for the choice is yours,” he whispered with a gentle kiss to her cheek. Then he was gone, and the midwife briskly cleaned Alienor as she slumbered. The considerable weight of her son was laid on her stomach after he had been washed as well. Alienor smiled in her half-sleep, her arms closing around the softness of her dozing child. He was tall, tall like his sire, and she marveled that the realization could please her so.
Dagobert descended the stairs to the hall slowly, feeling a curious combination of exhaustion and elation. A boy—and Alienor was fine. He breathed a silent sigh of relief, letting the fear he had never acknowledged slip from his shoulders now that the ordeal was over. Her heartfelt confession that she did not wish to leave convinced him that they would soon eliminate whatever obstacles remained between them. Let her sleep, then they would talk in truth.
“Well?” demanded a man’s familiar voice.
Dagobert glanced up, his grin growing wider in recognition. “Guibert!” he exclaimed, shaking the older knight’s hand with pleasure. “’Tis good indeed to see you here.”
“And Alienor?” There was no small measure of concern in the older knight’s gaze.
“Asleep, as is the healthy boy she just delivered.” He watched Guibert’s eyes light with pleasure.
“A boy,” that man repeated with satisfaction. He gestured to a small man seated before the fire whom Dagobert had not noticed before. “You have a great-grandson, Kado!”
That man smiled as he rose to his feet to shake Dagobert’s hand. “You are Iolande’s son,” he said. Dagobert nodded with surprise, seeing an echo of something familiar in the man’s foreign features.
“Are you Arpais’ father?” Dagobert asked, guessing the truth as Kado gripped his hand.
That man’s smile turned sad. “Aye, but I waited too long to seek her out again.”
“Alienor knows?” Dagobert looked between the two men and his concern eased when Guibert nodded.
“We have been here a month.”
“She is a fine woman,” Kado said. “Guibert raised her well.”
Dagobert smiled. “That he did. My lady wife is a pearl to be treasured.”
“A good choice we made for her husband,” Kado said to Guibert in a mock undertone, and that knight chuckled.
“Aye, this one will do.” Guibert patted Dagobert on one shoulder.
“’Tis a boy!” Iolande cried from the top of the stairs, and all those in the hall turned at her words. Excited chatter spread through the household at the news. Dagobert found his hand pumped by dozens of familiar souls. He accepted a chalice of wine, realizing that ’twould be hours before he could find his own sleep. ’Twas Alienor who needed the rest more, and the sooner she regained her strength, the sooner he could speak to her and set matters to rights.
Alienor awoke to find her back warm and sighed with contentment that Dagobert had curled behind her. The keep was virtually silent, as was oft the case before the dawn. Even the attackers had need of some rest. She could almost believe that all was well again. Alienor listened to the regular sound of her husband’s breathing, amazed at how much she had missed simply lying abed with him. His arm lay across her waist and she savored its weight, shivering with delight as his breath tickled across her nape.
’Twas so good to have him home again.
She opened her eyes to find her own hand resting lightly on the bundled form of her son. She nestled the sleeping babe closer to her breast, suspecting ’twould be but a few moments before he awoke. He was a marvel. She traced the plump curve of his cheek, smiling when his little fingers gripped her fingertip.
She hoped she would manage the task of nursing more effectively than she had the night before. There had been a tremendous amount of sucking, but not much milk had emerged from her breasts. Iolande had warmed goat’s milk for the infant, but he had shown little taste for it, seeming to prefer nuzzling Alienor even without reward.
The baby gurgled then and opened his bluish eyes wide. Alienor hoped that Iolande and the midwife were right in their assurances that her nursing would only improve.
She guessed ’twas but a matter of moments before the babe cried and sat up carefully, lest she disturb Dagobert. She lifted the babe, pulling her hair away from her bare breast then jumped a little when he latched on to her nipple with determined vigor.
It felt different to her and she watched as the babe calmed. He suckled with less insistence. His eyes closed and she knew that he was getting milk.
Pleased, Alienor glanced at Dagobert, her cheeks heating when she found him watching her.
“There was no cause for concern,” he assured her with a smile.
She was certain that she flushed to the tips of her toes under his warm regard. “You are pleased with your son?” The question seemed foolish but she was unable to think of anything else to say.
Dagobert smiled then sat up beside her and wrapped one arm over her shoulders. “I would have been well pleased with daughter or son.”
Alienor was surprised. She had been so sure that he desired only a son.
He cleared his throat and met her gaze again, his serious expression making her heart stop in her throat. “In truth, ’twas your welfare that concerned me most of all.” His voice was husky and Alienor swallowed. Dagobert traced the curve of her jaw with a fingertip as she stared down at their son.
Had she heard aright?
“You jest with me,” Alienor whispered, hoping he did not. “You always wanted a son, and loved me in pursuit of that goal.”
He shook his head as she watched. “I always wanted to love my wife.” Dagobert inhaled deeply, giving Alienor a crooked smile before he continued in an unsteady voice. “Make no mistake, love, for I am proud of this little one and his ten fingers and toes. ’Tis indeed a fine boy you have wrought, but ’tis his mother I would cherish before all else.”
“You are afraid that I will leave you with the infant,” she accused quickly, but her heart was not in the protest.
He shook his head in denial. “My sole fear is that you will choose your faith over me and our marriage, and truly, I could not blame you if you did. I have failed to confide in you and to trust you and I cannot blame you for thinking ill of me.” His voice was low and husky. “I could find a wet nurse for the boy, but for me, there could be no other than you, Alienor.” His intensity could have left no doubt of his sincerity, and Alienor thought her very heart would burst. “Should you prefer the vows of a parfait to marriage, I would not hinder you,” he pledged. “But I would have you know the truth before you decide. I love you, Alienor, and there is naught I can do to change the way of it. My love, will you grant me a chance to win your heart?”
Alienor felt her tears rise and she reached up to touch his cheek. “I said I would leave only because I could not stay beside you and know you did not care for me,” she whispered. “I have loved you long, Dagobert, and will remain gladly by your side now that I know the way of things.”
Relief flashed in Dagobert’s eyes before his mouth closed over hers, his kiss hungry and possessive as it had never been before. Her passion rose to the fore immediately, and an untimely complaint from their son the only thing that drew them apart.
Alienor turned the babe so he could suckle her other breast, certain she had never been so graceless in her life, but Dagobert watched her every move with love shining in his eyes.
“He is tall like you.”
“But not like you?” Dagobert teased, kissing her with a gentle thoroughness that left her breathless. “You will stay?” he whispered one last time, and Alienor nodded quickly.
“Aye, for there will be no more secrets between us.”
“Nary a one,” he agreed so easily that she knew his vow was true. Another triumphant kiss made her heart sing with newfound joy.
“Have you decided on his name?” Dagobert asked eventually, but Alienor could only shake her head.
Unicorn Bride: A Medieval Romance Page 28