The codex lay open to an entry which described a dream. Worn out and wandering in Asia Minor, Caedmon FitzRam had not known if he would ever see his Agneta again, and was unaware she had borne him twins.
The rumors about Xerigordon are enough to make the hairs on the back of my head stand up...except I have no hair. I remember the first time I saw Agneta’s beautiful hair. It was very short. What a bittersweet memory. I ache for her, in my heart and my loins.
I’ve had a recurring dream. I ride up to a castle. Agneta is there, but she’s been transformed into a tree...a beautiful lush green tree. She smiles at me as I approach, and then I hear a sound. It’s birdsong. I frown, not knowing where the sound comes from. Agneta slowly raises her arms and they become branches. I look up at the branches, and see two birds nesting.
I wish I could fathom what the dream signifies. I asked a Romany, but all he was interested in was my coin. He mumbled something about the castle foretelling great wealth. That surely can’t be true. Maybe I didn’t understand his language properly.
Though Aidan knew the passage well, its full meaning struck him for the first time. “Blythe and I were the two birds. Ragna was right. I am part of the heritage of this family. It is my responsibility to carry on the line.”
He felt a sudden intimate connection with his father he had never felt before, despite their bond. Caedmon had ached for a woman, as Aidan ached for Nolana. He didn’t recall his father reading out that part. If only his story could end happily too.
Happily? Caedmon and Agneta FitzRam had drowned. But they had lived happy lives with each other and their children. His father and mother would have given thanks that their deaths had saved the lives of their children. The family was painfully aware his mother’s days were numbered in any case. Aidan’s suggestion they sail on La Blanche Nef had not caused his parents' deaths. It had saved his own and his siblings’ lives. There was nothing to atone for in that. It was the fault of the drunken captain of the ship that it had foundered and sunk.
An enormous weight lifted from his shoulders. He tied the bindings, clutched the book to his breast once more, kissed it and returned it to its proper place. He resolved to move into his parents’ chamber, feeling certain it was what they would have wanted.
NO MORE WHEEZING
Grouchet was too fat to sit a horse and chose instead to ride with Nolana in the wagon. She dreaded the journey, but he soon fell asleep and they arrived at his estate without incident as the sun was setting.
They partook of a small supper. Nolana was unnerved by the pitying looks of the household staff. It was evident they feared their master and she sensed they knew something she didn’t.
She pecked at her food, though she had eaten little for days. Would he leave her be, as promised, or expect her to fulfill her marital duty now she was in his house? She suspected promises meant naught to him.
He leaned into her. “Not hungry, I see. Too anxious to enjoy another romp, eh?”
She smiled weakly. “I am still sore, especially after the long journey in the wagon.”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it better. Come.”
Her belly churned. Time to accept her fate. Aidan was not about to come charging through the gate on a magnificent steed. She allowed the baron to lead her by the elbow to their chamber where he summoned a maidservant to assist her. “I’ll go for one last nightcap while you prepare.”
He had already drunk several tankards of ale with his supper and it was a miracle he remained upright. The timid maid helped her undress and gave her a pretty shift. It was of fine quality, but not new. “Whose...”
“The mistress before you. She died.” The woman bobbed a curtsey and left.
Nolana climbed into bed and pulled the linens up to her chin. She would soon be forced to surrender her maidenhead to a brute she did not love. She had expected more, but such was the fate of many women. She wondered if her mother had felt anything for Neyll Maknab. If she had not—
Grouchet stumbled into the chamber, already in his nightshirt. At least she had been spared the spectacle of watching him undress. He staggered to the bed and lay down heavily, thumping his chest with his fist. “A bit winded...the steps.”
He lay on his back for a while and Nolana listened to his labored breathing. Only his death could save her now, but he wheezed on.
God forgive me for wishing him dead.
He struggled to rise up onto his hands and knees, succeeding after three tries. “Now, the memory of last night’s romp escapes me. Let me see your delectable little body again, my sweet. He pulled her shift up roughly, exposing her. He licked his lips and reached to pull his nightshirt over his head. She couldn’t avoid looking at his maleness. Thanks be to the saints his head was covered momentarily. She might have laughed had she not been so afraid. She stared in fascination at what hung between his legs...a wrinkled prune topped by something the size and shape of a crooked thumb. From what she understood of the marital act, it involved the male member being inserted into the female’s body. She wasn’t sure how that might work in this case. Perhaps there was more to come.
He tossed away his nightshirt, enfolded his member in a beefy hand and shuffled to loom over her, breathing heavily. She trembled uncontrollably, despite the heat of a hearty fire in the grate. He moved his hand rapidly on his shaft, now peeking out in apparent surprise from the end of his fist. Bile rose in her throat.
His face was as red as the blood garnet of the signet ring bobbing up and down before her. Sweat poured from his brow. He braced himself with his free hand beside her head. “Only a short while now, my sweet,” he rasped. “Spread your legs.”
Mammie. The name died in her throat. Calling for her mother was useless. She obeyed him with a whimper and squeezed her eyes shut, setting her jaw. With a grunt, he collapsed onto her, forcing the breath from her lungs. She bit her tongue and tasted blood, bracing for penetration.
He lay absolutely still. She waited, holding her breath. He didn’t move. Surely there was more to it than this. She was afraid to move. It was good if he’d fallen asleep, except she might suffocate.
She squirmed and tapped his shoulder. “My lord, I cannot breathe.”
There was no response. She poked more forcefully, struggling to be free, digging her heels into the mattress. It was then she became aware of what was missing...the wheezing. A fierce trembling took hold and dread filled her belly. She lay trapped beneath a corpse. Her wish to see him dead had come to fruition. She had she cursed him and God would punish her for it. The chamber spun. She fisted her hands and pummeled the sides of his body, trying to scream.
She didn’t know how much time had passed before the weight was dragged away. Frantic voices shouted. A woman cooed and clucked. Nolana’s nakedness was covered with something warm but rough, and she was carried from the chamber, wailing uncontrollably.
FLIGHT
The shock and undeniable relief of her husband’s death kept Nolana abed for a day. She stared into nothingness most of the time, unable to shed a tear. She called on the memory of Aidan’s smiling face as a lifeline whenever the horror of what had happened threatened to drown her.
She did not want to set eyes on the baron again, but it was expected she help prepare him for burial. The servants struggled mightily to dress Grouchet in his knightly finery, their noses wrinkled. She came close to giggling on occasion, sinking her teeth in the flesh of her hand to restrain her nervous laughter. He looked ridiculous, but rituals had to be observed.
It was a relief to have the ceremony over. She inhaled deeply as she climbed the stone steps out of the crypt, shrugging off the niggling feeling of guilt that she had wished him dead. It was evident she was now looked upon as a woman who seduced men to their deaths. If only they knew the truth.
Her emotions were in knots. She was free of the Norman and had become a woman of wealth and property. But her stepfather would expect his due. He believed Grouchet had bedded her, thanks to her own chicanery. It was
only a matter of time before he learned of the baron’s demise and her vulnerability as a woman alone.
Aidan FitzRam too would believe the baron had taken her maidenhead. He wouldn’t want her. He had probably gone back to the monastery.
Safety from Maknab lay in the north, but she would never make it there alone and a cohort of Northumbrian guards from her husband’s demesne would be of no help. She could not expect it of them.
The atmosphere in the castle was one of relief. The baron had not endeared himself to his household. They fawned over Nolana. She had done the impossible...slain the dragon. Maknab would not hesitate to spill their blood.
Though they treated her with respect, these people were strangers to Nolana. She felt isolated. She needed a friend. Aidan had been her friend. He had been willing to aid her though she was a stranger. He might no longer want her, but he was the kind of man who would honor a friendship.
She was not sure where Kirkthwaite Hall was located, but it was in Northumbria and someone in the castle would know. She prayed Aidan was there and had not returned to Lindisfarne.
~~~
One of Kirkthwaite’s men-at-arms rushed into the Hall as the family gathered for the midday meal. Leofric came to his feet immediately. The man bowed to his captain. “There is a troop of armed men outside the rampart. They request entry.”
Leofric glanced at Aidan, who had come to stand beside him, before he turned back to the soldier. “Whose devise do they bear?”
“Grouchet.”
Apprehension coiled in Aidan’s gut. “Do they appear to be belligerents?”
The man shook his head. “No, my lord, they are a lady’s escort.”
She’s fled to me.
He looked over to Ragna, who had risen abruptly, her mouth open, apparently speechless for once. Edwin grinned from ear to ear. Aidan did not stop to think of the implications of such an action on Nolana’s part. Her husband would surely pursue her, but the only thing that mattered was she had fled to him. “Allow them entry. I myself will accompany you. Come, Leofric.”
The minutes he stood waiting in the bailey were the longest of Aidan’s life. Perhaps it wasn’t Nolana. Who else might it be? Was life with Grouchet so unbearable she had run away? He would kill the Norman if a hair of her head had been harmed.
She rode into the courtyard, but didn’t smile when she saw him. His shaft soared at the sight of her, but his heart fell. He reached to put his hands on her waist to help her dismount. It seemed long ago when he had helped her down from the wagon in the grounds of the abbey. Then she had worn simple Highland garments, and he had been garbed as a monk. Now she was dressed like a lady and he wore the clothing of a nobleman. He hoped when he opened his mouth, words would emerge. “Baroness Grouchet,” he croaked, regretting it instantly.
She put her hands on his shoulders, her green eyes showing surprise at his attire. “Please don’t call me that, Aidan.”
Her breasts grazed against him as she slid from the horse, silk skirts whispering against the leather of the saddle. He wanted to press her body against his own and kiss her, but she was another man’s wife. He couldn’t take his hands off her. “Nolana,” he whispered.
Leofric cleared his throat. Edwin rushed forward, grabbed Nolana’s hand and kissed it. Ragna appeared out of nowhere and threw her arms around Nolana, who seemed flummoxed by this affection from strangers.
Aidan wished he was the one embracing her. “You’ll smother our guest, Ragna. This is my sister, Nolana. And you’ve already met Edwin, and Leofric.”
She must judge him a cold fish. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Welcome to Kirkthwaite Hall. Please, come inside. We were sitting down to eat. You must join us. Your escort is welcome also.”
He had wanted to show his elation that she was entering his home, take her to his parents’ chamber, now his, and ask her to share it with him.
She turned to give instructions to her captain. Aidan noted the authority in her voice and the man’s deference. Being a Baroness suited her. Gone was the fear and uncertainty, but there was no smile, no innocence. Disappointment flooded him.
She allowed him to take her hand to escort her inside, but did not look at him. “I was afraid you might have returned to the monastery, but I see...”
He tightened his hold on her hand. “I will never go back there. The monastic life isn’t for me. I doubt if they would have me anyway.”
Her skin grew warmer. Suddenly, she halted and turned to look at him. He had thought the fear gone, but it still lurked in the green depths. “Before you welcome me into your home, I must tell you I am again seeking sanctuary.”
He took hold of both her hands. “Nolana, I will do anything I can to protect you, but you are another man’s wife. The law of the Church won’t allow me...”
She gripped his hands. “He’s dead, Aidan. Dead. I wished him dead, and now he is.”
She sobbed and swayed against him.
She had killed him. He would lose her to the gallows. “Dead? Your husband?”
Everyone had come to a halt around them, listening, mouths agape. He waved them away. Ragna pouted, but Edwin dragged her off.
Aidan felt the softness of Nolana’s breasts pressed against him. He had dreamt of fondling her, longed to put his lips on her nipples and suckle. His knees threatened to give way. His arousal throbbed and tingled. She was a rag doll in his arms. She must be exhausted, but he had to know. “How did he die?”
A deep breath shuddered through her. “I cannot tell you, not yet.”
He took hold of her shoulders and held her apart. “Look at me, Nolana, tell me you didn’t...”
She eyed him and pulled away. “You believe I killed him? You judge me capable of such a deed?”
Relief and apprehension swept over him. “No, but sometimes when a person is...”
She shook her head vehemently. “He was an old man, Aidan. He suffered an apoplexy and died. I was not responsible.”
She might still be his. He scooped her up in his arms. “I will take you to a chamber where you can rest. Then we’ll talk. I’m not sure why you need sanctuary if Grouchet is dead.”
She leaned her head against his chest. “Maknab will want his due.”
Old resentments welled up in Aidan’s gut. “Maknab?”
“Grouchet paid him only part of what he demanded. The remainder was due once I was with child. It was dangerous to remain at Grouchet Castle alone. I didn’t know where else to go.”
Pain snaked through Aidan. The beast had deflowered his lovely Nolana, but she was the man’s wife. She might be carrying the Grouchet heir. He kissed the top of her head, savoring the scent of rosemary in her hair. “I’m glad you came here. I will protect you.”
She had fallen asleep by the time he laid her on the bed that had until so recently been his.
PREPARING FOR A SIEGE
Maknab bristled. He had made the tiresome journey to Grouchet anxious to collect his due, only to learn of the man’s demise. “What do you mean, dead?” he demanded of the stable boy who cowered before him.
The boy avoided his glare. “The baron died...of a fit. We buried him a sennight since.”
Maknab narrowed his eyes. “And where, pray, is the Baroness?”
The boy edged away. “Gone, my lord...but I don’t know where.”
Neyll grabbed the urchin by the throat. “If you’re lying...”
The boys eyes widened in terror. “She took men-at-arms with her. I swear I don’t...”
Maknab tossed him to the ground and he scrambled away.
Where had she fled? He could plunder the riches Grouchet had no doubt amassed, but how much sweeter it would be to see Nolana cower in terror before him, hear her beg. He had endured years with her simpering mother when what he truly wanted was the red haired bitch who had never shown anything but disdain and contempt for him. He grew hard at the thought of bending her to his will.
Suddenly, it came to him. The tightness in his ches
t eased. Adjusting his playd, he turned to his burly henchman. “She’s gone to Kirkthwaite. She thinks the erstwhile monk will protect her. We’ll see about that. Time to finish what my grandfather began. I’ll rid the earth of Kirkthwaite Hall once and for all.”
~~~
Kirkthwaite was ringed by a rampart and ditch, but it was not a castle and Aidan worried they might not withstand a full scale assault. While he had a goodly number of men-at-arms, they may not be enough. It was too late to send to Ellesmere Castle or to Shelfhoc Hall in the Marches for reinforcements. By the time they arrived, Kirkthwaite might lie once more in ruins, its inhabitants butchered by Maknabs. He was determined not to let such an atrocity happen.
He did not want to worry them unduly when he called his siblings together to discuss their defense. Edwin spoke first after hearing Aidan’s concerns. “What we need are more defenders and more weapons.”
Aidan nodded, rubbing the heel of his hand along his chin. Had his brother suddenly grown taller?
Edwin continued. “The villagers have as much reason to fend off the Maknab as we do. They laid waste to the cottages in Bolton and killed many of the inhabitants there, not only here at Kirkthwaite. I wager they’d be willing to come to our aid. If Maknab attacks, he’s likely to destroy the village again.”
Aidan stopped rubbing his chin, then slapped his brother on the back. “Godemite, Edwin, you’re right. They may only be armed with pitchforks and shovels, but they have heart. They’ll be safer within the rampart anyway. Go. See to it. I leave it in your hands.”
Edwin hurried off, his head held high. “Our quiet baby brother is growing up,” Ragna said.
Aidan laughed. “He’s older than you are, Ragna.”
“Yes, but it has never seemed so. Will we be safe, Aidan? I’m a little afraid.”
Aidan put his arm around his sister. “I’m sorry I’ve brought this trouble here. Perhaps I should take Nolana away.”
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