Nunnery Brides

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Boden watched his brother’s features close. “But you do not believe her.”

  Dane didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, he finally shook his head. “I do not know her,” he said hoarsely. “The truth is that I have only been married to her for a short time. I do not know her. She says she only wanted to help me, but how do I know that is true? Boden, what would you think if you intercepted a message like that right after a raid that saw one of your men killed? What in God’s name would you think?”

  Boden swallowed hard. Looking down at the missive, he was genuinely trying to be objective about it. After a moment, he set the missive back on Dane’s table and found the nearest chair, sinking heavily into it.

  “I don’t know,” he finally said. “But she did not want to marry you. We all knew that.”

  Dane waved him off. “And I did not want to marry her, but that does not mean it was because I had a secret lover.”

  Boden looked at him, his dark gaze intense. “What did you do to her, Dane?”

  Dane leaned back in his chair, weary and slightly tipsy. “She is locked in our chamber,” he said. “I have not done anything to her. I simply locked her up until I could decide what’s to be done.”

  “And what is to be done?”

  “I do not know. I wish I did.”

  They fell silent for a moment, each man to his own thoughts. Boden had the advantage of not being emotionally involved in the situation; he knew that. He’d had limited contact with Lady de Russe but from what he’d seen, she didn’t seem the subversive type. He had a feeling that he knew why Dane was so upset about this; he’d seen the man with his new wife. He’d seen the way he looked at her.

  Like a man in love.

  Matters of the heart were always the most painful.

  “I know your wife even less than you do,” he said after a moment. “But from what I have seen of her, she does not seem bitter or underhanded. I have heard that the kitchen servants adore her, and Lady du Reims seemed quite fond of her. The woman has been living in a convent all of these years and I do not think they teach them treachery or subversion there. If she knows ap Madoc and is trying to help you with the man, then mayhap you should believe her because, in all honesty, the letter does not seem a certainty of betrayal. The timing of it is simply terrible. Mayhap, that is all your wife is really guilty of.”

  An unbiased view of the situation confused Dane even more, because after the rage and hurt had faded, that was exactly what he’d been thinking, too.

  Was that possibly the truth?

  “Then you think I have jumped to conclusions?” he asked.

  Boden shrugged. “I do not know,” he said truthfully. “Mayhap, you should interrogate your wife the way you interrogated the Welsh prisoner, for certainly, all I heard the day you were given the letter was a good deal of growling and weeping from behind closed doors. I cannot imagine that conversation with Lady de Russe was very productive. Did you give her a chance to explain?”

  Dane shrugged. “I asked her,” he said. “She… tried to explain.”

  “I am thinking that, mayhap, you did not really listen to her.”

  He was right. Dane sat up in his chair, thinking of his brother’s advice and wondering why he couldn’t have seen that. Leaning forward, he put his head in his hands.

  “I am sure that I didn’t,” he mumbled. “Boden, I do not know how this has happened, but the woman has broken my heart. I thought I was quite immune to such things.”

  Boden wasn’t surprised to hear that. It was the confirmation of what he’d suspected. “You fell in love with a woman who is your wife,” he said. “That is something men hope for but seldom experience. You feel as if she has betrayed you, but I am willing to believe she has not. Dane, I have seen the way the woman looks at you. Any man should be so lucky for that. I cannot believe she has a lover somewhere, not from the way she looks at you.”

  Dane lifted his head, looking at him. “Then you think I was wrong?”

  “I think you must calmly speak with her. Only then will you know for certain.”

  “I feel like such a fool.”

  “That is not something I usually hear from your lips.”

  Dane grinned weakly, looking at the pitcher of ale, the empty cup, and thinking he should probably sober up a bit before trying to speak with Grier. He didn’t need the complication of alcohol twisting his already-heightened emotions.

  “And it is not something you will hear again,” he said. “Thank you, Boden. You are surprisingly wise when you are not wrestling with Willie.”

  Boden chuckled. “I will not let it go to my head,” he said as he stood up from the chair. “If I can do anything more, I am happy to.”

  “You have done enough, Brother. You have my gratitude.”

  Boden gave him a smile before heading from the chamber, passing by Dane’s chair and putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. It was a strong, reassuring hand, and Dane was grateful. It gave him the confidence to do what he needed to do.

  He had a wife to see.

  He’d left the door unlocked.

  It was a thought that had very slowly occurred to Grier. After Dane had left her, it took some time to realize she hadn’t heard the lock turn again. The sound of the big iron key in the lock was loud and distinctive, and she’d not heard it. That meant that the interior bolt she’d thrown was the only thing keeping that door locked.

  If she opened the bolt, then the door, too, would open.

  Wearily, Grier sat up in the chair she’d been curled in, thinking that rather than die in this chamber, she should simply return to St. Idloes.

  Flee.

  Remaining locked up in the keep of Shrewsbury like a prisoner for the rest of her life wasn’t a better option than returning to the abbey where she’d been starved and beaten. In truth, she had a routine there, and it was the only thing she’d known, so the few days she’d spent as the Duchess of Shrewsbury would surely be forgotten, in time. It had been the glimpse of a life she was never meant to have.

  She had to get away.

  Looking around the well-appointed bower, she thought quickly on what she could take with her. The woolens she’d worn from the abbey were gone; after she’d vomited all over them, she had no idea what had happened to them, only that they’d been taken away. Dane had purchased four dresses for her, all beautiful and fine things, but the only one that wasn’t an expensive feast for the eyes was a linen dress that she hadn’t worn yet. It was plain enough, and she had to have something to wear.

  She didn’t want Dane thinking she’d taken the most expensive things he’d given her.

  Quickly, she changed into the linen gown, which was too long for her, just like the others were. Because the shoes she’d worn from the abbey were in tatters, she did have to wear the solid leather slippers Dane had purchased for her, but that would be all. She had a shawl she’d brought with her, which had wrapped up her meager belongings of a comb and a clean shift, so she found the shawl and her shift where Euphemia had put them in the wardrobe. That was what she had come with and it was what she would leave with.

  As she wrapped her possessions up in the shawl, her gaze fell on the table near the bed. The marriage brooch was sitting there, in one of the rare times she set it down, and all of her rapid movements came to a halt when she saw it.

  Seeing that beautiful brooch was like a dagger to her heart.

  A modest wife knows a chaste bed.

  With a heavy sigh, she went to look at it. Not touch it; look. She wasn’t going to touch it again. Dane had given it to her on the event of their marriage, but the relationship they were building was gone. Hanging on to it as if it were the last vestiges of something she had lost was foolish. The truth was that it reminded her of Dane, and she wasn’t going to keep something that reminded her of the man she loved and lost through a mistake she’d made.

  In fact, she slipped the gold wedding band from her finger and set it next to the wedding brooch. She knew everything was
her fault, but it was made worse by the fact that Dane simply wouldn’t listen to her. He’d made up his mind that she was a traitor the moment he saw the letter.

  She couldn’t fight a man’s preconceived perception.

  She was going to return to St. Idloes and never look back.

  Grabbing her belongings, Grier headed to the chamber door, noticing the stone-cold food still on the tray next to it. She hadn’t eaten in three days, so she grabbed the stale bread and the dried-out cheese, stuffing them into her mouth. She wasn’t sure when she would eat again, so she broke the bread in two, eating one half and stuffing the second half into her belongings. The bread was so hard she nearly broke her teeth, but she had to get something into her stomach.

  She had a long trip ahead of her.

  Very quietly, she opened the chamber door, peering out into the corridor and half-expecting to see a guard there. But there was no one in the dark, cold corridor, and she took a few timid steps outside, looking for any sign of anyone who might try and stop her. The corridor remained still and dark, so she quickly closed the door behind her and made her way to the end of it only to hear footfalls on the staircase that led up to that level.

  Someone was coming. In a panic, she thought to run back to her chamber, but she would have been seen, so she pressed into the shadows of the nearest doorjamb just in time for William to walk past her.

  He didn’t see her hiding in the darkness as he continued on to the master’s chamber door and began to knock. Startled, and thinking he’d come for her, Grier bolted out of her hiding place and raced down the steps, hearing William as he called to her through the closed chamber door. He was calling her name. She continued to run from the keep, running outside into the cool November sunlight, rushing to the inner bailey gatehouse and ignoring the guards there.

  They let her run past.

  Across the bridge that spanned the moat encircling the inner bailey and the keep, she continued into the outer bailey. It was full of people, as it usually was, but Grier didn’t make eye contact with anyone. She was terrified Boden or William or Dastan might see her and stop her; it was imperative she get through the gatehouse unimpeded. Once through, she was hoping she could lose herself in the town and find her way to the road to St. Idloes. She wasn’t afraid to ask for directions, but she was afraid of what would happen when Dane realized she was gone.

  He would probably think she’d run straight into the arms of the enemy.

  If he thought she was sending Davies a letter to conspire with him, then surely he would think running from the castle was a solid indication of her guilt. She wasn’t entirely sure he would come for her, to be truthful, because if he was angry enough, perhaps he’d be pleased to be rid of her. On the other hand, she was his wife. It was possible that he viewed her as a possession, and he would want to reclaim that possession.

  Grier couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t come for her, so she began to re-think her destination of St. Idloes. If he came for her there, she could only imagine that Mother Mary Moria would turn her over to him. He was her husband, after all, and she was his property. She would be back where she started.

  With that thought on her mind, she thought it would be best to lose herself in any number of the villages in England or Wales, and, perhaps, even find work as a seamstress. She could even work in a tavern, serving food and cleaning. She’d never done it before, but surely it couldn’t be too difficult. She could learn. As she pondered what the dismal future held for her, she was nearing the gatehouse. Just a few more yards and she would be free and clear of Shrewsbury castle, and free of Dane and his anger.

  It was difficult to take those few last steps, but she knew this was for the best.

  … wasn’t it?

  Wiping at the tears that were leaking from her eyes, she nearly crashed into a man coming through the gatehouse. Startled, she looked up to see more men coming through, and one man in particular that she recognized.

  And one woman, too.

  Startled at the sight, she came to a halt, hardly able to believe her eyes. But in the same breath, she knew if the man she recognized had come to Shrewsbury, it would mean death for Dane. Bold as sin, he was walking in through the gates, looking for his victim.

  In her last effort to protect the man, she began to scream.

  After that, everything turned to panic.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Davies!” Grier shrieked. “My God… no!”

  The sight of Davies and Eolande entering Shrewsbury threw Grier into a fit of terror. There were sentries at the gatehouse, many of them, but they didn’t seem to be stopping the Welsh who were entering the gate, so she screamed at them that the enemy was on their doorstep and, dumbfounded, they looked at the woman as if she’d lost her mind. But Grier’s screaming set off a series of events that would throw all of Shrewsbury into jeopardy.

  The Welsh had arrived.

  Davies and his men, hearing the screaming and seeing that they were being singled out, began to remove daggers. When the English saw the weapons, they drew weapons of their own. Two gate sentries were stabbed right away, but the English were swift and they were many; swords came out and they began rushing Davies and his men, who were half-in and half-out of the gatehouse. A brawl broke out as the portcullis shuddered, unable to close because there were English as well as Welsh in the way. More English soldiers poured down off of the walls, and somewhere above it all, the Shrewsbury battle horn sounded.

  That shrill, mournful cry of battle.

  The sound of the horn brought a tide of heavily-armed men rushing from the barracks near the stables. Up at the inner bailey gatehouse, the men on guard dropped the portcullis immediately. But William was just coming out of the keep and he ordered the portcullis raised so he could get through, and he did when it was about two feet off the ground. It was dropped again just as he slipped through and rushed to the outer bailey to see what was amiss. All over Shrewsbury, protocols were put in place as if the castle was being attacked, for surely, when the battle horn sounded, all was not well.

  But Grier didn’t see any of what was going on around her; all she saw was Davies, with Eolande in his grip, and Eolande was hysterical with fear. Grier’s only thought was to help the woman, for she had no idea why she was with Davies, so she rushed forward to pull Eolande from Davies’ grasp, but the man saw her coming.

  His tactics changed.

  Davies was trying to fend off a Shrewsbury soldier and protect his sister at the same time. But when he saw Grier rushing towards them, he knew what would stop this skirmish in a flash. He knew what would subdue the Saesneg soldiers, better or faster than anything he could ever use against them…

  A woman.

  As Grier came near, Davies let go of Eolande, shoved her aside, and grabbed Grier instead. In an instant, Grier found herself pulled up against Davies with a dagger pressed to her throat.

  “Make another move against me and my men, and I shall kill her!” Davies bellowed. “Drop your weapons! Everyone – drop your weapons!”

  As all of this was going on, William raced upon a devastating scene. He had no idea what was happening, but he could see Grier in the grip of a dark-haired man he didn’t recognize with a dagger to her throat. He began bellowing to his men to cease their fighting, but he countered Davies’ command that all weapons should be dropped. Men retained their weapons, forming a nervous barrier around the gatehouse so the enemy couldn’t penetrate further into the castle.

  The lines were now drawn.

  In truth, no one really knew what was happening. Lady de Russe had started shouting and a group of men at the gatehouse produced weapons, and it had escalated from there. But now, William and some of the senior sergeants were trying to calm down the rank and file so that Lady de Russe wouldn’t get a blade through her throat and bleed to death right in front of them.

  “Be calm,” William said, stepping away from the jostling English soldiers to catch the attention of the man who held Grier. “Be calm
and listen to me. If you hurt Lady de Russe, you will not make it out of here alive, not you or any of those you brought with you. Release her unharmed and my men will make no move against you.”

  In Davies’ grip, Grier was furious as well as terrified. She heard William’s words, but she was more focused on Davies as he pressed a knife against her throat.

  “Let me go,” she tried to fight against him and not stab herself in the process. “How dare you return after what you did yesterday? Did you think to sneak in here and finish what you started? Did you think that I would not see you and know of your guilt?”

  Davies held tight to Grier, his mind whirling. What was she talking about? Did you think to finish what you started? He wasn’t sure what she meant, though he could guess. Somehow, someway, she knew that he had been part of the raid in the marketplace and his heart sank.

  If she knew, then others knew.

  This is not what he had expected when he came through the gates but, unfortunately, this was what he’d gotten himself in to. Eolande had tried to warn him, but he would not listen to a mere woman.

  Could nothing ever go as he had planned?

  “Be still,” he told Grier sharply. “I have not come here to harm you, but you have called out your men on me. Tell them to back away.”

  Grier was enraged. “Of course you have come to harm me!” she spat. “You tried to kill my husband yesterday, and now you’ve come back to finish the job. I will not let you do it, do you hear? I will kill you myself before I allow you to harm him!”

  Shocked at what she was saying, Davies didn’t have a fast reply because it confirmed what he’d suspected. She knows! He thought desperately. As he tried to come up with something to say, Eolande came out from behind some men who were protecting her. Standing near her brother, she was a trembling mess. There were too many weapons and too many men, and she wasn’t accustomed to any of it.