The door creaked open and Dane appeared.
It was like the sun had just come out from behind the clouds; everything seemed to instantly brighten in his presence, and Grier felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of him. In the light of morning, he looked like an angel. A big, powerful archangel. Surely he was what Michael and Gabriel looked like, with eyes that could see into her very soul.
But the truth was that she wasn’t sure what to say to him. Should she apologize again for retching the meal he bought for her all over the floor? As she tried to work up another heartfelt apology, he spoke.
“Good morn to you, Lady de Russe,” he said pleasantly. “Did you sleep well?”
Lady de Russe. It was the first time she’d heard her new title from his lips and there was a certain surprise to it. She was no longer just an oblate, or a woman in a sea of women that meant nothing. The marriage the day before hadn’t been a dream. Now, she was officially Lady de Russe, Duchess of Shrewsbury, and that realization made her feel strangely proud. But to his question, she nodded unsteadily.
“Very well, my lord,” she said. “This bed… it is as if I am sleeping on clouds.”
He grinned. “It is, indeed.”
Her eyes widened. “How do you know?”
He laughed softly and stepped into the room. It was then that she noticed he was carrying a big satchel in his hand, made of tanned leather. As he swung it up onto the table, he answered.
“Because I slept on it, too,” he said. “I am not surprised that you did not feel me crawling in and out of bed. You were sleeping like the dead.”
Grier wasn’t sure what to say to that. She was fairly certain it was well past sunrise, and it was very unusual for her to sleep so late, so she suspected he was annoyed that she had been so lazy.
“It was a very busy day yesterday, but I assure you, I am ready to depart,” she said. “If you could have the servants bring my clothing, I shall quickly dress. I am sorry to have kept you waiting.”
He looked at her, the smile fading from his lips. “Is that what you think?” he said. “That you have kept me waiting? In fact, you have not. I have had a good deal of business to transact this morning, so if anyone has delayed our departure, it is me.”
With that, he turned to the leather satchel on the table and began to untie it. Grier watched him, somewhat confused that he’d not called for the servants to bring her clothing.
“Do you know where my clothing is?” she asked. “You do not have to bother the servants. I am perfectly capable of going to retrieve them, if you can only tell me where they are.”
“Your clothing is here.” Dane whipped out a garment of some kind, made from pale yellow damask with gold buttons on it. He held it up in front of him as he turned to her, showing her the full scope of the magnificent gown. “Do you like it?”
Grier stared at it, shocked and confused. She pointed. “That,” she stammered, “belongs to me?”
Dane’s smile returned. “This is a large town and there is an entire street of merchants,” he said. “The innkeeper knows the man who owns the largest stall in town, so he awoke him at dawn. I have spent the past hour with the merchant, his wife, and his daughter, who picked out an assortment of things that a duchess will need. Come and see what else I purchased for you.”
Grier was stunned. He handed her the yellow gown, so fine and soft that it was like angel’s wings. It was lined with even softer material and had long, flowing sleeves. As she was inspecting it, Dane began to pull forth other gowns; an emerald green silk, a red wool, and a flowing linen gown the color of eggshells.
“The merchant’s daughter was about your size, mayhap a little taller, so these garments should fit well enough,” he said. “If they are too long, we can have them altered when we reach Shrewsbury Castle. There are matching shoes for the gowns, but they are rather weak, so I purchased sturdy leather slippers for you as well. I noticed the ones you wear are terribly worn.”
He was pulling out more merchandise than Grier had ever seen; matching shoes, several combs, things to wear on her head, scarves, hose, and shifts. All of it was ending up in a pile on the bed. Then he began to pull out little pouches, peering inside of them before setting them carefully upon the table.
“These are oils and balms,” he said. “The merchant’s wife said they were the latest things from France and Italy. Not knowing what you would like, I simply purchased all of them. You can look through them and see if they are to your satisfaction. If not, then I will take you to their stall and you can select what you wish.”
Grier was staring at everything with her mouth hanging open. She was so overwhelmed that she simply plopped back onto the bed, having no idea what to even do with all of the new things he had bought her. When she looked up at him, there was distress in her features.
“I would not know if I liked them or not, my lord,” she said. “And these dresses… the only time I have ever seen finery like this is when the local Welsh lords would bring their wives, and even then, they wore nothing even comparable to these dresses. Do you not understand? I have been living in a convent since I was six years of age. Sleeping on the floor and wearing woolen clothing is all that I know. I have never known anything else, so these things… I do not even know what to say.”
He could hear the upset in her voice and he could clearly see it on her face. He hadn’t meant to upset her, but he feared that’s what he had done.
“I do understand that,” he said quietly. “I suppose… I suppose this is my clumsy way of introducing you into the world you live in now. You shall never sleep on the floor again, you shall never know hunger, and the only garments touching your skin will be the finest money can buy. Do you not understand, Grier? You are no longer an oblate. You are a duchess, and it is time to become part of the world.”
Grier sighed heavily, looking to the yellow damask that was laid out beside her. “I never wanted to be part of the world,” she said. “This was forced upon me, as it was forced upon you. But for me… it is different. Forgive me, but it will take me some time to become accustomed to all of this and if I appear ungrateful, then I apologize. I am simply overwhelmed.”
Dane understood, for the most part. He’d been sensing her reluctance, her fear, since the onset, and that was why he’d shopped for her this morning. The woman had nothing, but something inside of him wanted to give her everything. She had given him everything by marrying him, by making him the duke. It was only right that he return the favor and show his gratitude.
“I will try to make it a smooth transition for you,” he said. “But if I come on too forcefully, you will tell me, won’t you? Remember what I said yesterday – all I will ever ask is that you are honest with me, and that means with everything. Agreed?”
Grier looked up at him and there was some relief in her expression. “Agreed.”
“Have I come on too forcefully bringing you these things? You had no clothing at all and, as my wife, I should like for you to be well dressed. It would honor me.”
Grier’s gaze lingered on him. “Even after what happened last night,” she said. “Even after that… you still want to have me at your side?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because I made a horrible fool of myself. I should think you would want to send me straight back to the abbey.”
He shook his head. “What happened was my fault,” he said. “I should have realized you’d not had much to eat and I could have stopped you, but I did not. Will you forgive me?”
Grier was astonished that he should take the responsibility for her projectile vomiting. She shook her head.
“It was not your fault, but mine,” she insisted. “It will not happen again, I promise. I will be more careful.”
He nodded. “I am glad you said that,” he said. “I have ordered a meal for you – gruel and bread. Mayhap, you can try to eat again without becoming ill. We shall introduce meat to you gradually, once your belly can tolerate bread and other foods like that
. There is a very good cook at Shrewsbury, in fact. I am sure she will take great delight in making you many delicacies.”
Grier couldn’t even imagine such a thing. “I have never had delicacies,” she said. “Like what?”
He lifted his shoulders. “Sweets, cakes, puddings,” he said. “Anything you wish. But for now, let us take it slowly so you are not spraying the walls again. The last time I saw something like that, my brothers had become so drunk that it took them three days to become sober. It was as if they’d painted the walls with wine-smelling vomit and my mother was furious.”
He said it with some humor, so she wasn’t offended. In fact, it was the same humor she’d seen from him the night before and she liked it, very much. It made her feel comforted and she was willing to believe that he truly wasn’t angry with her, after all.
“You have brothers?” she asked. “How many?”
He smiled as he reflected on his contingent of brothers. “I have five,” he said. “You will meet them all soon enough. But we shall discuss them later; right now, you must dress so that we can depart for Shrewsbury within the hour. I will send the servant women up to help you.”
Grier sensed his urgency so she didn’t ask him any more questions. But she was becoming increasingly comfortable with him and questions were natural. He’d gone out of his way to put her at ease since last night and she appreciated it very much. Dane de Russe was endearing himself to her, whether or not he realized it. He’d been so kind that she surely couldn’t feel anything else towards him.
“I have never had anyone help me dress before,” she said, standing up from the bed and looking at the garments slung across it. “But I suppose I should. I will admit that I am unfamiliar with garments such as these.”
He turned for the door. “You will learn,” he said. Then, he paused, his hand on the latch as he looked at her. “If you are wondering what gown to wear, I am partial to the yellow.”
She turned to look at him, only to see him wink at her as he quit the chamber. When the door shut softly behind him, Grier couldn’t help the smile that spread across her lips. She genuinely had no idea why, only that Dane was kind and handsome, and she thought she might come to like him. Perhaps it was a foolish thought, but she didn’t think so. Something about the man was easy to like.
When the serving women arrived a short while later, the three of them rifled through the goods Dane had purchased, pulling together the lady’s dress for the day. Grier didn’t have much of an opinion about it except she wanted to wear the yellow brocade because her husband had requested it.
The serving women were more than happy to comply.
“How is your wife this morning?”
Dane heard William’s question and he knew exactly what the man meant. There was a lewd hint in his tone.
He’d found his men down in the common room of the inn, breaking their fast for the morning with warmed beef and fresh bread. The room itself was cold, smelling of smoke and unwashed bodies, and the innkeeper was trying to clear out the blocked chimney before starting the fire for the day.
Men were sleeping around the perimeter of the room, now awakening as the innkeeper’s wife began to open up the shutters. Sunlight streamed into the dark room as Dane took a seat at the end of a dilapidated table, ignoring William’s leering question for the most part.
“She is dressing,” he said. His attention moved to Dastan, seated on his right, as the man handed him a cup of watered wine. “Are the men being mustered?”
Dastan nodded. “Syler and Boden are outside, organizing the escort,” he said. “William and I were waiting for you. We heard something interesting earlier this morning that you will want to hear.”
Dane took a hunk of the warmed meat for himself. “Oh?” he said. “From whom?”
Dastan looked over his shoulder to the corner of the tavern where three men were sitting, off in the shadows, eating a meal in the early morning hour.
“That group over there,” he said. “They came in at dawn, when you were off at the merchant’s stall.”
“What about them?”
Dastan turned back to his drink. “They are from a place called Caereinion,” he said. “It is to the south of the lands ruled by the Lords of Godor. Have you heard of them?”
Dane shook his head. “Should I?”
Dastan shrugged. “Godor is a Welsh lordship that once belonged to Dafydd ap Gruffydd,” he said. “The lords that rule over it are minor Welsh royalty, but they still hold some power with their people in the north. Their lands butt against the northern portion of Shrewsbury lands.”
Dane shoveled beef into his mouth. “Has Shrewsbury had hostilities with them?”
Dastan shook his head. “Not really,” he said. “We stay on our side of the Marches and they stay on theirs, unlike those fools to the south near Erwood Castle. But what those men told us of the Lords of Godor was… interesting.”
“Why?”
Dastan glanced at William, who had also spoken to the Welshmen. He was rather surprised young William wasn’t mouthing off about it but, then again, there were times when William showed some control in a situation. Far and few between, but always when it mattered, at least for the most part. William caught Dastan’s look and leaned forward, speaking quietly to Dane.
“Those men serve the Lords of Godor,” he said. “They serve the son of the great lord in particular, a man named Davies ap Madoc. It would seem that Davies made an offer for the Shrewsbury heiress some time ago but was denied.”
Dane looked at William in mild surprise. “And why would they tell you this?”
William threw a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the street outside. “Because they saw the Shrewsbury standards,” he said. “They came in here and when they saw us sitting here, eating, they struck up a conversation. They wanted to know why the Duke of Shrewsbury was in Welshpool, and if he was going to visit his daughter at St. Idloes. One thing led to another, and they told us about ap Madoc’s marriage proposal.”
Dane stopped chewing. Then, he swallowed the bite in his mouth and took a big gulp of the watered wine. “And what did you tell them?”
Dastan grunted, a sound of regret, and lowered his head as William continued. “I told them that the old duke was dead, and that there was a new duke,” he said. “I am sorry, Dane. I probably should not have said that, but I didn’t think. But I did not tell them that the old duke’s daughter married and that we had come for the wedding.”
Dane sighed faintly. “I see,” he said. He looked over Dastan’s shoulder at the three men huddled back in the corner. “So the Lords of Godor offered for Grier’s hand, did they? Undoubtedly to control the dukedom, I would say. The news of Garreth’s death will get back to them now.”
“I am sorry, Dane,” William said again. “I did not even think not to tell them.”
Dane could see that William was genuinely contrite, a rare state for the overconfident knight. He put his hand on the man’s shoulder.
“If you had not told them, someone else would have,” he said. “It is no secret that Garreth is dead, so I would not worry overly. But I am interested to know if they will offer marriage to Grier again, knowing her father is dead. Did you know any of this, Dastan?”
Dastan nodded. “I did,” he said. “It was about two years ago. Davies ap Madoc sent his father to Shrewsbury to plead on his son’s behalf. It seems that Davies’ sister was also at St. Idloes, and that is how he knew of Grier.”
“And Garreth refused him?”
“Flatly. He did not want his daughter married to a Welsh warlord. As you say, the Welsh would control Shrewsbury if Davies married her, and that would bode badly for the English along the Marches. Besides… Henry would not have allowed it.”
Dane thought it all rather interesting information. “Then I suspect I may have another visit on behalf of Davies ap Madoc,” he said. “We should be prepared for some hostilities when ap Madoc is told Lady Grier is already married.”
&nbs
p; Dastan couldn’t disagree. “The Lords of Godor control quite a bit of the mountainous area from Buttington up to Oswestry.”
“And they wanted Shrewsbury, too.”
“Indeed.”
“You do not think Godor had anything to do with the battle at Erwood last month?”
Dastan shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “Godor to the north, and the warlords further to the south, are not on good terms as far as we know. I am sure he had nothing to do with it.”
Dane pondered that. “Other than a few small skirmishes, Wales has been quiet for over one hundred years,” he said. “Ever since the death of Owain Glyndŵr. I do not expect we are in for another round of rebellion, although you never know. The Welsh nobility is rebellious by nature, and greedy, as evidenced by the attempt on Erwood and also by the proposal to marry Shrewsbury’s heiress, so we must be vigilant. We cannot let our guard down with those bastards for one moment.”
It was a fair statement. As William quit the table to go outside and help with the men, Dane and Dastan sat there in silence, each man to his own thoughts. A serving wench brought around more food and warmed wine, and they took it gratefully, stuffing their bellies for the journey home. As Dane began his second cup of watered down wine, Dastan spoke.
“How is your lady wife?” he asked. “I’d heard she’d been ill last night.”
Dane wiped at his mouth. “She was, but she is better this morning,” he said. He hesitated a moment before continuing. “Dastan, did Garreth pay any attention to his daughter all those years she was in the convent? What I mean is did he ever visit her to see how she was faring?”
It was an answer that Dastan was clearly reluctant to answer. Perhaps he had even known that, at some point, Dane would ask, because the reluctance was evidenced on his face.
“I am sorry to say that he did not,” he said. “But not because he did not care about the woman. I think it was self-preservation.”
“What do you mean?”
Dastan shrugged. “I think she reminded him of his wife,” he said honestly. “Lady Grier was a young child when the duke’s wife died in childbirth with a son. I never knew his wife, but some of the old soldiers have told me about her. She was very young compared to the duke’s advanced years but, somehow, the marriage was a good one in spite of their age differences. Her name was Grier also, you know. Your wife is named for her.”
Nunnery Brides: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 7