“Téo,” he mumbled, his eyes never leaving de Russe. “I must tell you something.”
“What?”
“I have claimed Lady Ghislaine.”
Téo’s head came up and he looked at him curiously. “Claimed her? What do you mean?”
“Bodily.”
That became clear in an instant and Téo’s eyebrows lifted with some shock, but also with realization. Frankly, he wasn’t surprised. He knew Gaetan’s appetites when it came to women so it wasn’t a surprise in the least. But in the same thought, he knew it was about to become quite complicated given Aramis’ feelings for the woman.
Deadly, even.
“I see,” he said. He set his knife down; he suddenly didn’t feel like eating anymore. “Forgive me, but mayhap it was not wise to do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because surely you have known that Aramis is….”
Gaetan cut him off. “Of course I know,” he said. “He is sitting across the table from me, shooting daggers from his eyes as he stares me down. He and I discussed this delicate situation back in Worcester and he was most amiable then, but that has changed. He told me that he would step back and allow me to pursue the lady but his actions have said otherwise.”
Téo sighed heavily. “Gate, you have been my friend for many years so forgive me for what I am about to say, but you did not need another conquest, and certainly not a conquest in the sister of Edwin of Mercia,” he said quietly. “If there was one woman you should have kept your hands from, it should have been Ghislaine of Mercia.”
“I plan to marry the woman.”
Now, surprise was registering across Téo’s face. “Marriage?” he hissed. “What madness is this?”
Gaetan tore his eyes away from Aramis and looked at Téo. “No madness, I assure you,” he said. “I do not know how it happened, but somehow I have fallen in love with the woman. I have asked her to be my wife and she has agreed. Instead of judging me for it, I should think you would be happy for me.”
Téo had to make a conscious effort to close his mouth. He simply couldn’t believe what he was hearing and his first reaction was that it was all a whim on Gaetan’s part; Gaetan was not the marrying kind. Moreover, the man had bedslaves and everybody knew it. What would Ghislaine think about whores in her husband’s house? But Téo wouldn’t think to disagree with his friend in that fashion, so he kept his thoughts to himself. He knew that the right woman could change a man; perhaps that was the case.
But it was a damned surprise to him.
“I am happy for you,” he finally said. “’Tis a shock, that’s all. I never thought I would hear those words from your mouth.”
Gaetan nodded as if in complete understanding. “Nor did I.”
Téo shook his head, chuckling as if he still couldn’t believe it, and raised his cup to Gaetan. “May you know great happiness, Gate. And your mother will be thrilled.”
Gaetan smiled faintly. “Aye, Lady Dacia will be consumed with joy.”
“Now to tell Aramis.”
Gaetan’s smile fled and he looked across the table to see that Aramis was still staring at him. He set his cup down.
“There is no time like the present,” he said. “I cannot have the man competing with me for a woman who will be my wife. I would have to kill him.”
Téo’s blood ran cold, mostly because he knew Gaetan was not speaking figuratively. He was speaking literally. He simply nodded as Gaetan stood up and went around the end of the table, heading straight for Aramis and motioning the man to follow him outside. Aramis didn’t hesitate. He was on his feet and close behind Gaetan as the two of them quit the convening hall.
But Téo wasn’t happy about that. He wasn’t entirely sure the private discussion wouldn’t come to blows and, if that happened, the men would have to be pulled a part. He knew both men well enough to know that neither one would stop until the other one was dead, so that meant it would literally be a battle to the death. With Kristoph’s life on the line, they couldn’t be distracted with a situation like this. They had a mission to accomplish and time was growing short. He turned to de Winter, seated on his right.
“Get Wellesbourne and St. Hèver,” he muttered. “I will get the others. Gaetan has gone outside to address Aramis on a very touchy subject and if punches are thrown, then we must be there to stop anything from escalating.”
De Winter glanced at him over the rim of his cup. “You mean Lady Ghislaine?”
They all knew about it. It was possibly the worst kept secret, ever. Téo simply nodded and that was enough for de Winter. He set his cup down and did as he was asked while Téo explain the situation to de Moray, de Lara, and de Reyne.
Very quickly, the seven warriors were rising from the table and heading out of the rear of the convening hall as Antillius and his men watched them with confusion. They had no idea where they could all be going, all at once, and although Antillius thought it rather odd, he didn’t follow them. He assumed they’d return.
Little could he have guessed what was really going on.
“Aramis, we must clear the air between us. Something has happened since we last spoke at Worcester about Lady Ghislaine and it is troubling me.”
In the darkness, Gaetan and Aramis faced off against one another. The village was dotted with fires this night, including one that was just outside the convening hall, creating enough light to see by. Gaetan could see Aramis’ hostile expression flickering in the firelight.
“Nothing has changed,” Aramis said steadily. “I told you that I would not press my suit with the lady until you did it first.”
Gaetan sighed heavily. “Aye, you told me that, but look at you,” he said, growing agitated. “You have been glaring at me all night and I swear if you had a sword on your person right now, you’d chase me down with it. This is not how you and I have conducted our friendship, Aramis. What has changed that you should look as if you hate me so?”
Aramis’ manner was stiff; it wasn’t easy for the man to talk about his feelings. That made him vastly uncomfortable. But Gaetan had a point. Perhaps, it wasn’t fair not to let him in on what he was thinking.
On how much he was feeling.
“I do not hate you,” he said, averting his eyes for the first time. “But I will admit… I am feeling quite inferior in this quest for Lady Ghislaine. You have everything, Gate – bloodlines, land, money, reputation. I am not so bad, you know. I have amassed a reputation for myself and my father is the Count of Roeselare. My bloodlines are older than yours, dating back centuries. When my father dies, I will have the titles and wealth that you have.”
“I know that.”
“And I was not born a bastard as you were.”
Gaetan shrugged. “That does not matter. None of that matters.”
Aramis took a deep breath, fighting for calm. “Mayhap it does not,” he said, “but every time I come around Lady Ghislaine, you chase me off as if I suffer a great plague. You are purposely keeping her away from me.”
Gaetan nodded. “Of course I am,” he said, feeling his dander rise. “Why would I not? You have given me permission to speak to her first and I cannot do that if you are always around, always trying to turn her attention away from me. Would you not do the same if the situation was reversed, Aramis? And be honest.”
Aramis opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. He was vastly frustrated. “I suppose I would do what I had to do in order to keep her for myself.”
“Then why do you fault me for it?”
“Because even if she rejects your suit, she will not know me well enough to accept mine,” he said heatedly. “Am I not to be given a chance in this, Gate? Or are you doing all you can to eliminate the competition?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
The question hung in the air between them and Aramis, at his limits of frustration, simply turned away. “Mayhap I would,” he said. “But if I knew you were going to push me out of any contact with her, I might not have agreed to back aw
ay while you pursued her.”
Gaetan could see the man’s annoyance but he had no pity for him. This was a competition and Gaetan had done everything in his power to ensure he emerged the winner. He’d already won, in fact, but Aramis didn’t know that.
It was time he did.
“It is over, Aramis,” he said softly. “It is over and I have won.”
Aramis’ agitated pacing came to a halt. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that she has consented to be my wife.”
Aramis didn’t say anything for a moment as he attempted to digest the statement. “You have asked her?”
“I have.”
Like most driven men, Aramis hated to lose. He had the same competitive instinct in him that Gaetan and the others had. That was why they got along so well with one another. The understood each other. Because of that, it was extremely difficult for him to concede defeat because he’d built up this idea in his mind of Ghislaine and of a future with her, to the point where it blurred with the reality of the situation. He simply couldn’t surrender.
“You never intended to give me a fair chance,” he finally said. “All of that talk in Worcester about being fearful that you were not worthy of her was just talk. You were trying to make me feel pity for you and, fool that I am, I was honorable in a situation where you were not.”
Gaetan didn’t like having his honor questioned and most especially not by a friend. His manner stiffened. “How was I not honorable?” he fired back. “You told me I should ask the lady if she felt something for me, or have you conveniently forgotten what you said? I am not going to speak with the lady on personal matters with you hanging over her shoulder every second of the day, Aramis. I am allowed to have time alone with her.”
“But what about me?”
“There is no ‘you’ in this equation. There is only Ghislaine and me, and I will marry the woman. So, if you do not gracefully accept this situation, you will be very sorry. Is this in any way unclear?”
The situation between them was becoming quite strained. It was no longer two friends having a discussion, but two men competing for the same women. In matters of that nature, only the strong would survive and Aramis wasn’t about to surrender in a case where he felt he’d been wronged.
Slowly, he approached Gaetan until he was mere inches from the man; he had the height advantage by an inch or two, but Gaetan had the power advantage. He had the strength of ten men and the skill behind his sword to back it up. As the two men gazed at one another, staring down in a deadly game, Aramis was the first to blink.
“A lady can always change her mind, you know.”
Gaetan’s fist came up faster than Aramis could duck. The blow caught him in the chin and he went reeling backwards. It stunned him but didn’t knock him off his feet. As he charged Gaetan to retaliate, the host of knights suddenly emerged from the shadows, throwing themselves in between the battling titans.
Téo, de Lara, and St. Hèver had Gaetan while Wellesbourne, de Winter, and de Moray had hold of Aramis. De Reyne stood in between the two factions, trying to keep a distance between them.
“Nay, Gate,” Téo hissed. “Not over a woman. You will not destroy what you and Aramis have over a woman. Do you hear me?”
Gaetan was beyond rage at the moment. Had his men not stopped the fight, he was quite sure he would have killed Aramis. He, too, couldn’t believe it had come to this but, in the case of his heart and Ghislaine, he was willing to do anything to keep her, even destroy an old and dear friend. In fact, nothing else mattered at the moment. But he was prevented from responding when distant screams began to fill the air.
Back in the village, people were screaming and running; the knights could see them in the darkness. There was panic going on and that was enough to divert the men from their anger and set their warrior instincts on edge. No one could quite see what was happening and they began to gravitate in that direction, just a little, to see what the issue was when suddenly, a woman sprinted towards them carrying an infant against her chest.
“Homines Ossium!” she screamed. “They have come!”
Gaetan recognized the name of the tribe in an instant. They had only been speaking of them a few minutes earlier. The Men of Bones tribe had decided tonight was the night for another raid and all he could think about was Ghislaine, in that little cottage with only a silly dog and a priest for protection. In that instant, the warrior in him took over and he made a break for the convening hall where his possessions were. Behind him, the knights were running right along with him. They were nearly to the door when Antillius and his men emerged, great concern on their faces.
“What is happening?” Antillius demanded.
“Your Men of Bones have chosen this night for a raid,” Gaetan said as he burst past him, into the hall and to the corner where all of their possessions were stored. “What is your usual procedure for a raid, de Shera?”
Antillius didn’t even realize Gaetan had addressed him by his new Norman name. “We must herd the women here, to this hall,” he said. “That is the only way to protect them.”
Gaetan shoved his helm on his head, as did the others around him, all of them grabbing broadswords and any other weapons they could get their hands on. There was a tremendous sense of urgency in the air.
“What about the raiders?” he demanded. “Will they kill the men or are they only interested in the women?”
Antillius could only think of his daughters who, he hoped, were still in the kitchen next to the hall. “They only want the women,” he said. “But they will kill the men to get to them. This is our fight, Norman. You do not have to….”
Gaetan and his men were already bursting out of the hall, running for the village that was caught up in a maelstrom of panic. As Antillius armed his men and began shouting orders, Gaetan turned to his knights.
“I am going for Lady Ghislaine,” he said. “Aramis, you come with me. The rest of you find all of the women you can and bring them back to the convening hall. And if one of those raiders gets in your way… you know what to do. Do not let them get the women.”
The knights nodded, securing helms and gloves. Though this raid was unexpected, they were always prepared for battle. It was what they were born to do. Téo clapped Gaetan on the shoulder as he headed into the village.
“Et pro Gloria dei,” he said.
Gaetan responded to him. “Et pro Gloria dei,” he said, turning to the others behind him who were preparing to charge off. “For God and Glory.”
His men responded, most of them touching each other’s arms or hands, which was usual with them. It was a physical touch to confirm the bond of warriors, of the words they spoke. They never went into battle without doing that. As Gaetan finished securing his helm, he turned to Aramis, standing next to him.
He didn’t see the man he had been ready to kill seconds earlier. He only saw his brother.
“Et pro Gloria dei,” he murmured.
Aramis nodded, taking a balled fist and knocking it against the hilt of Gaetan’s sword and, in that gesture, Gaetan knew that everything would be well between them. There was no doubt. Brothers-in-arms superseded everything else.
Together, they raced off into the darkened village, off to save the woman they both loved.
Ghislaine was enjoying the best sleep she’d had in weeks. Years, even. Tucked up, nice and cozy, in the little alcove bed, she was deliciously snug and warm with Camulos laying up against her, providing his doggy warmth. As she slept, it was with her arm over the once-despised dog.
Her experience with Lygia, Verity, and Atia had been a pleasant one. More pleasant than she had expected. The young women had made a very hot bath in a copper tub from the water that had been steaming over the hearth and they’d stripped her of her dirty, torn clothing and put her on a stool right in the middle of the tub. Ghislaine sat stock-still as they poured the hot water over her, making sure to be very careful with her bandaged leg, before proceeding to scrub every inch of her skin.
Ghislaine wasn’t used to being treated to a bath. In fact, her baths were usually quick events, certainly not something that anyone helped her with, so to have three young women make such a ritual out of it had been very odd for her, indeed.
Sitting upon the stool, Ghislaine submitted to their scrubbing with horsehair brushes and soap that smelled of violets. Her hair was washed with flat ale and scrubbed with a bit of the soap as well. She felt she was being buffeted by powerful winds as she was subjected to the brisk scrubbing and rinsing, drying and oiling, until she was sure several layers of skin had been removed. But the truth was that it felt wonderful and, for the first time in her life, she enjoyed her sweet-smelling bath.
Perhaps there was something to this bathing ritual, after all.
After drying and brushing and braiding her damp hair, she was put into a long soft tunic with a round neck and long sleeves. Atop the tunic, the women put yet another tunic on, this one shorter so that the longer tunic beneath showed through. The bottom tunic was white while the tunic on the top was a pretty blue shade. It was even embroidered around the neck in white thread. The top tunic also had laces on the side to make it fit the wearer, so two of the women made sure the tunic fit her shapely body before piling yet one more tunic on top of her, which was more like a cloak with a soft fur lining. Ghislaine was thrilled with it. Little doe-skin slippers were placed on her feet simply to keep them warm.
Brushed, washed, combed, braided, and finally dressed, Ghislaine was helped to the bed and tucked in by the three women who then excused themselves to allow her to sleep. Ghislaine was very grateful to them.
Odd how such a simple thing as bathing made Ghislaine feel happy and content. She might even come to like such a thing. Perhaps after she and Gaetan were married, he might allow her a servant or two to help her bathe like that every single week. Maybe even every day. Her world had always been one of warfare and politics, but in that gentle hour, it took three strange women to show her what a woman was supposed to be like. She could only imagine what Gaetan would think, seeing her cleaned up for the first time and not looking like a forest urchin.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 33