“It seems more fitting that you should name him.” She pulled back the blanket that enfolded the infant so Dagobert could see the replica of his own birthmark on his son. He stiffened beside her at the sight, though she could not say why. By the time she glanced up, he was frowning at the wall.
“We lost a good companion two years ago. He was a fine and noble knight, a man loyal and true. Thierry, Eustache and I traveled together.” Dagobert paused and Alienor did not force his recollection, knowing the man’s death could not have been easy to prompt such a response from her spouse.
“’Tis a fine name,” she said when she realized he would say no more. “Thierry or Theriadoc?”
Dagobert smiled down at her. “Simply Thierry.”
“Thierry.” Alienor addressed the babe with his new name as if to test the fit. Her son opened his eyes and she smiled, speaking her thoughts aloud. “In truth, I had expected you to name the babe for one of your forebears.”
The way Dagobert straightened beside her made her wish she had held her tongue. “Nay, ’tis better thus,” he insisted. Alienor wondered at that, but had not the courage to question his meaning. Their accord seemed both new and fragile, and she did not wish to dismiss it so quickly. She chose to trust that he would confide in her in time.
“His eyes are like yours.”
Dagobert leaned closer, seeming to have sensed her sadness that the babe so little resembled her. “Aye, but he has your golden skin and dark hair.” He ran one hand over the ebony hair on Thierry’s head and the babe wriggled in Alienor’s embrace. Alienor watched Dagobert smile at his son’s antics, then caught her breath when he suddenly met her gaze with that same loving expression.
“It suits me well that no other has eyes such as yours,” he whispered. His fingertips brushing across her cheek before he bent and kissed her thoroughly once more. Alienor felt secure in the knowledge of his love and dared to hope for their shared future.
Perhaps they would have a second son.
’Twas only when the sun rose and the catapults began their daily assault on the south wall that Dagobert reluctantly rose from the great bed. Alienor was alone with her realization that he was still a hunted man. She shivered despite the heavy blankets draped over her shoulders, wondering how long they would have together before the king claimed Dagobert once more.
She did not imagine her husband would evade the king’s wrath twice.
“We received Foix’s support just before the attack on the east wall,” one of the household knights confirmed as he led Dagobert on a survey of the state of the keep. The catapults launched volley after volley of rocks but Dagobert was already managing to ignore the sound. He flicked a glance over his shoulder to find Eustache frowning in concentration as he listened to the knight. Eustache looked more robust with each passing day, the light of suspicion as bright in his eyes as ever.
“How many are within the keep?” Dagobert studied the apparently unmarked length of the curtain wall. ’Twas amazing what good masonry could withstand.
“Three hundred and forty, including the women,” the knight responded.
Eustache whistled under his breath. “’Tis a lot of mouths to feed.”
The knight nodded rueful agreement. “Aye. The storeroom is full but I fear ’twill not last past the Yule.”
“Raimon de Toulouse has promised support before Yule,” Dagobert said, watching a hopeful light settle in the knight’s eyes.
“We might yet win the day,” he said with surprise. “’Twill be a tough winter for those camped in the valley. I suspect many will seek the comfort of their own hearth with the first snow.”
“Aye,” Eustache agreed, squinting off into the distance. “Should their numbers lessen, ’tis possible Raimon’s forces and ours could regain control of the road together.”
Dagobert nodded. “Tis our only chance.” He was unwilling to voice his own doubts about Raimon’s dependability. “We must hold on until Yule and stand ready to fight.” He drew a deep breath, welcoming that familiar tinge of salt into his lungs, and glanced at the knight. “I would see the extent of the stores.”
“Aye.” The knight turned his course, leading the way though Dagobert knew it well.
“No one has been over the wall since the east cliffs were taken?” Eustache asked as they strode back toward the keep.
The knight shook his head. “No one would risk it. The Basques are scattered over the hills, and ’twould be nigh impossible to avoid them all.”
Dagobert nodded, then caught sight of Alienor stepping into the bailey. She turned as if seeking someone, his heart leaping when she spotted him and he saw the flash of her smile. She carried something red and headed toward him, and he left the men to meet her halfway.
“I thought you resting,” he chided gently, pleased to see a light in her eyes once more. She smiled at him as if he were the only man in the world, making him marvel anew that she loved him and that she would indeed stay by his side.
“’Tis too dull abed without you,” Alienor jested, and he chuckled even as she flushed at her own bold words. Unable to resist, he bent and kissed her soundly. The calls rising from others in appreciation of his gesture made Alienor blush scarlet.
“You did that apurpose,” she accused, but the sparkle in her eyes undermined her indignation.
“Aye, I did, love,” he confirmed, emphasizing the last word deliberately. The way her lips softened almost made him forget her convalescence.
Alienor’s eyes lit and she shook one finger under his nose. “We must wait a month,” she reminded him.
Dagobert could not resist the opportunity to tease her. “Hasten back to bed, love, and make it a mere fortnight,” he jested, pleased when she laughed aloud.
“I shall do my best, sir,” she promised. She pressed the red cloth she carried into his hands. “Truly, I came only to bring you this.”
‘Twas red samite, though Dagobert could not understand why she brought it to him. “This was what you stitched in the solar,” he said, remembering.
Alienor nodded. “Unfurl it,” she instructed, and he did as bidden, catching his breath at the fine work before him. “’Tis your insignia,” Alienor added unnecessarily, but Dagobert did not tease her. He was too astounded that she had taken the time to create such a gift for him.
He held a banner of red samite, as long as his arm on its short side, three times that in the other direction. A white unicorn lay amidst the red field, looking back over his shoulder. The detail of his fur was lovingly embroidered in silk and his yellow eyes glinted with what might have been mischief. A garland of spring flowers encircled his neck, and a golden crown set with red rubies rested atop his head. The pearly spire of his horn rose nobly above the crown. Around the perimeter of the banner was a twisted garland of grapevines ripe with fruit, their dark green leaves fairly glistening against the crimson.
“Tis beautiful.” Dagobert knew that this was the moment to tell Alienor of his decision but was uncertain how to start. “Alienor, I ride out no more to battle,” he began, but she interrupted him.
“Giselle told me that you did not crusade. I know this already.”
“Aye, love, but you do not know that there will be no more crusades for any cause.” He watched to see if she understood his meaning. Her eyes widened as if she dared not believe, and Dagobert nodded quickly. “’Tis truly so, Alienor. I have already fulfilled my pledge to my sire, for I vowed to try to regain our legacy. I have kept my promise but I failed. ’Tis your efforts alone that spared me from certain death.” He smiled. “I thought ’twould be fitting recompense to inflict my presence upon you for years in return.”
“Dagobert,” Alienor breathed with obvious delight.
He laughed as she launched herself into his arms with unmistakable joy and caught her close.
“I was so afraid,” she whispered against his chest.
“Be not afraid, love,” he said sternly. He gripped her chin and compelled her to meet his gaze. “I hav
e no need for such worldly responsibilities when you are by my side. With the grace of God and the king, we will raise our children here at Montsalvat and tend to our own affairs, for together we each have all that we need.”
“Do not make this choice simply for me,” Alienor urged.
Dagobert saw that she would support his quest despite her own desires, should he wish to pursue it still. He felt blessed once more that she was his bride, and let his conviction show when he shook his head. “I do this for both of us, love. The task passes now to Thierry, for by all rights, I should have died in my attempt.”
Alienor smiled slowly and he saw with amusement that her tears were rising yet again.
“I should have you weep into the cisterns,” he teased, and she flushed, pressing a heartfelt kiss to his lips.
“’Twould only turn the water there to salt.”
“True enough.” He held her close, hoping she was not disappointed that she had worked so diligently on a banner he did not need. To his surprise, he realized she was watching him.
“Accept my token,” she urged. “Let it fly from the highest tower of the keep, so that all know the Count de Pereille defends his own.”
Dagobert grinned, claiming another triumphant kiss.
“And that he looses a new banner to herald the arrival of his son.”
“Aye,” Alienor said. “That, too. Let them know that you do not surrender.”
“Men on the walls! Awake! Men on the walls!”
The cry in the night had the entire keep scrambling from the warmth of their beds in early November. Dagobert was already shrugging into his hauberk when Alienor awakened.
“Don your warmest pelisson,” he commanded her tersely and she noted that he buckled on his sword. She rose from bed, dressing quickly and gathering Thierry close. Shouts rose from outside and her heart pounded in fear that they would lose the keep this night and ’twould all be over. Giselle appeared out of the shadows with her wool mantle and shoes. Alienor could only watch Dagobert’s grim countenance while the maid tended to her with shaking hands.
He tugged his mail coif over his head and threw the two women a sharp look.
“To the storeroom with you,” he said and Alienor nodded immediate agreement. Truly he expected the worst if he would send them all there. “Take all that cannot fight and stay there until we return.” He bent and touched his lips to hers, brushing one hand across his son’s brow before he pivoted and was gone.
“God bless,” Alienor whispered. She was almost certain that Dagobert had turned to look back from the top of the stairs, but in the darkness ’twas hard to be certain.
“May they come back to us,” Giselle whispered beside her.
Alienor dismissed her own fears, knowing that the others would look to her and Iolande for strength. She took her maid’s cold hand in her own and gave it a squeeze, summoning a smile when Iolande strode into view.
“Come, we must get to the storeroom,” Iolande said.
Alienor followed her mother-in-law along with the other women.
The storeroom lay beneath the hall, burrowed out of the rock underlying the keep itself. As the women reached the hall, the men’s shouts grew more clear. The echo of steel-on-steel rang terrifyingly close, and they hastened of one accord to the stairs. Someone had the foresight to take a lamp, and its flicker easily illuminated the cramped space with its rough-hewn walls. The space was filled with anxious women instead of winter provisions.
There was no way to measure the passing of the night. Alienor guessed the time by the number of feedings Thierry demanded, while others watched the oil slowly disappear in the base of the lamp. The muted sounds of the fighting raged above them, first louder then more distant. The keep finally fell into a silence that seemed both expectant and eerie. The women studied each other, obviously wondering what had happened. No one spoke, and the sound of footsteps in the hall above brought a gasp to more than one pair of lips.
The oil ran out in that moment and the storeroom was plunged into darkness.
There were countless footsteps, Alienor corrected, her heartbeat beginning to race. Was the hall over-run? Thierry dozed, oblivious to the tension around him, and she wished she could echo his tranquility. Did the attackers come to claim the spoils? Had all of Montsalvat’s knights been lost in the night?
The trapdoor to the hall swung open overhead and Alienor blinked in the sudden light. The other women must have been similarly surprised for they made not a sound. The dark shadow of a man came down the ladder into the space with haste and Alienor swallowed a scream as he reached for her.
“’Tis safe enough to climb up,” Dagobert said. Alienor scanned his shadowed features as her eyes adjusted to the light. He seemed unscathed but ’twas hard to be certain in the half-darkness. “Tell me that you did not sit in the shadows all this time,” he jested, looking around. The women exhaled as one, laughing amongst themselves as they recognized their liege lord.
“Are you hurt?” Alienor demanded under her breath as Dagobert helped her to her feet. His quick head shake of denial all the answer she needed. He glanced at the others awaiting his response and gave the women a reassuring smile.
“Nay, there are but four casualties amongst us, all of them honorable losses.” He crossed the storeroom and quickly clasped one woman’s hands within his own. “Corba, I give you my most sincere regrets, for Philippe was amongst the four.” Dagobert held her hands steadfastly as she gulped against her tears. When she had composed herself, he reached out to another woman, her plump face dissolving into tears before he spoke.
“Guirand and Philippe always fought back to back,” she whispered, evidently anticipating his news.
Dagobert nodded and the two new widows embraced each other in their sorrow. “And thus they fought to the last, for the end came quickly to them.”
“Have they...” Corba began
Alienor was glad that Dagobert spared her the need to say the words. “They have been taken to the chapel. I would ask you to wait for the priest’s summons before you go there.”
Alienor understood that their deaths had been brutal. The two widows seemed to understand that, as well, each clutching the shoulder of the other.
Dagobert turned to the expectant sea of faces and ran one hand over his hair. “The other two were knights hired to the house and unwed—Arnaud de Montlaut and Guillaume de Lombers.” The remaining women breathed a sigh of relief, a subdued ripple of conversation passing through their ranks as a number of them reached out to the two newly bereaved.
“Hasten yourself, Forneria! Do you like that hole so well?” called an impatient man from above. One of the women hurried up the ladder to the hall and her husband.
“How went the battle?” Alienor asked in an undertone when Dagobert pulled her aside to let the other women climb out first. He did not meet her gaze, but grimaced, and she guessed the news was not good.
“We lost the barbican,” he admitted.
Alienor gasped, surprised by the magnitude of the loss.
“The outer gate?” He nodded assent and she gathered Thierry more tightly to her breast. “’Tis so close,” she whispered and Dagobert nodded again.
“Aye, but the stretch of road between the gates is narrow and easily defended.” He spoke with a determination that did not fool Alienor. True enough, the outer gate blocked only the road, for the way the land fell abruptly on either side left no means to build a wall, but the stretch of road between the two gates could be no more than fifty strides.
“They will move the catapult,” she guessed.
“They already have,” he admitted, and her heart sank at the news.
Was it only a matter of time before they gained the keep itself? ’Twas grievous indeed to suffer such a loss, and strange after so prolonged an attack. Surely there were even fewer men camped below than there had been the previous summer.
“But how did they come so close after all this time?” Alienor asked.
Dagobert’
s expression grew even more grim and forbidding. “They came up the south wall.”
“’Tis a sheer cliff,” she exclaimed in disbelief.
He nodded curtly, his reticent tongue finally loosed with a vehemence that surprised her. “Aye, ’tis a tough climb, and no coincidence that the moon is new this night. They were in the tower afore we knew it and the four knights standing sentry there were the sum of our losses. They had nary a chance in the face of such surprise.”
Alienor hugged him tighter, sensing that he felt the loss of even so few men keenly and wishing she had the words to ease his pain. “Why would they wait so long to attack thus?”
“It can only be that they did not know the way,” Dagobert spoke grimly. “I will find the one who showed them and committed those four good men to their death.”
Iolande approached him then and he said no more, gathering his mother into a hug before he helped his family up the ladder. Alienor saw the weight of his responsibilities heavy on his brow.
Perhaps ’twas the sight of that concern that prompted Alienor to end her month of convalescence after Thierry’s birth a week early. When they returned to bed in the wee hours of the morning and the keep fell into restless silence once more, Alienor curled up close to Dagobert and whispered a suggestion in his ear.
“’Tis too soon, is it not?” he asked, though Alienor saw that the thought had its appeal.
“A week more than the fortnight you suggested, sir.”
Dagobert grinned, the shadows in his eyes already being dispatched. “Are you certain, love?” he murmured, rolling onto his stomach beside her. Alienor smiled, her heartbeat racing that ’twould take but one move of the hand tangled with her hair to slide her beneath his weight. How she yearned for that, again.
“Aye,” Alienor whispered. His eyes flashed, then turned smoky and she felt that there was not enough air in the solar.
“’Tis said a new mother needs her sleep,” he mused, pushing the blankets down and baring her breasts to the cool air. Alienor closed her eyes as her nipples beaded, sighing when his breath fanned across her flesh.
Unicorn Bride: A Medieval Romance Page 29