by Robyn Carr
Girvin gave a slow nod. “ ’Tis good. There are those among the Sire de Pourvre’s men-at-arms who are worthy of Sir Hyatt’s troop and those are the same ones who cannot easily yield. Sir Hyatt looks for loyalty that is difficult to break.”
“Will you be merciful?”
He shrugged. “It depends on what this Sir Verel will dare.”
“But if you watch him …”
“You plead for so many lives.”
“There are many. Holy Mother of God, say you will try to preserve rather than punish those things you admire. He is loyal. He is strong.”
“I shall use caution.”
Aurélie whirled away, dissatisfied with the response. She feared for Verel, who had often criticized Giles’s lack of discipline with the men. Verel was a good leader. Giles often had said he would make a good lord.
“My lady.”
She turned back as Girvin beckoned.
“If it is possible to bring him to the side of the victor, it will be done. The weight is on Sir Verel’s shoulders, not yours, to find the side he serves. To give fair warning of the best and most loyal may save bloodshed and provide a better guard in your future.” He smiled broadly. “Sir Hyatt will be pleased.”
Her cheeks burned scarlet. She fled from him and gained the common room quickly, her feet putting the distance swiftly behind her. She entered and eyed the familiar scene of knights and squires working.
“Sir Hyatt’s captives are being released and this hall will soon hold injured in need of ministrations. You will make room for them.”
A few startled eyes rose to look at her. Clearly these men were not accustomed to taking instruction from a woman. The door behind her softly closed and she was aware of Girvin’s presence, but it was to the landing at the base of the staircase where the men-at-arms looked.
She turned to see Hyatt, just descending. There was a faint smile on his lips as he regarded her.
“You have spoken to the Sire de Pourvre’s knights?”
“ ’Tis what you ordered me to do,” she said impatiently.
“Did you offer to free those who can submit?”
“They are beaten. What more do you wish?”
“Your word that they will safely reside here.”
“It will take far more than my word to make them heed your rule here, my lord. I offered them release without their arms to reside at your mercy. I can do nothing more. Perhaps one of them will slit your throat as you sleep.”
His brows rose in amusement and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Then keep them tied, lady, lest my blood stain your naked breast, for that is where my bare throat is likely to be found.”
There were a few chuckles about the room. She heard the shuffling of men gathering up their gear to make room for her injured. “Hyatt,” she said in a breath, shamed to the core.
“They will make room for your men, Aurélie. Warn those you tend that I have no desire for more killing. But I will reward violence with violence. It is my way.”
He came down from the last step and pulled his gauntlets from his belt, passing Girvin to go outside. The hulking knight followed and Aurélie was left to look at the few men still getting their things moved. She struggled to control the rage she felt, clenching her fists at her sides. She did not know how to fight him. He left her no way to spar. She could not show her fallen knights any bruises, she could not swell with the bastard offspring of an errant knight, and she could not abandon them for her own solitary mourning. It would be easier to tend the wounds of those who had fought beside Giles if Hyatt had at least abused her.
But her anger fell abruptly away as the first of many knights of De la Noye entered the hall. She looked at Sir Delmar and pain dimmed her furious eyes. Sir Delmar was too old for fighting and the bandage about his head had started to yellow. He shuffled weakly, carrying his shield but no weapons. One arm was tied to his chest and there was suffering in his eyes. Vengeance would wait.
“Sit by the hearth, Sir Delmar, while I find women to help me here.”
Again her emotions were steadied by work, for at least a dozen who entered the hall needed her attention. The women from the cookrooms came willingly and some village women were brought to the hall to receive their men. She learned that the more serious of the wounded were tended by squires and pages of Hyatt’s and only those who could wait for tending were held as captives. But still she found infections among them, and unset limbs that would heal badly and remain deformed.
Many questions were asked of her and she tried, with painful difficulty, to explain that Hyatt’s occupation was complete and she could think of no alternative save total surrender.
“He cannot turn us into English forces.”
“Nay, but until you see some French army, let him think he can. I have seen his broadsword work. He is swift and will not ask you twice.”
Almost two hours had passed and Aurélie was already exhausted when Sir Verel came into the hall. He cast wary glances about the room. A few of Hyatt’s men casually watched the mending of the wounded. Aurélie knew they were far from trusting even though none braced himself for any uprising.
She guided Sir Verel to a bench and bent to the task of cutting away the bandage at his thigh. She silently worked, not meeting his eyes. She found no problem with his injury and tied a new linen strip around his thigh. She rose to repeat the task on his upper arm, again avoiding his eyes.
“I will avenge your husband’s death,” he whispered.
“My husband is Sir Hyatt. Were you not told?”
“You coddle the bastard?”
“I obey, since I cannot fight.”
“Do you invite him to stay? Here?”
“Nay, but he requires no invitation from me. He will not be beaten by any army, much less a single knight. Do not be foolish.”
“He has taken your husband’s place. He deserves to die.”
“He will kill you, Verel. I cannot protect you.”
He grasped her arm in his good hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Long ago Giles said that if he fell, I would take De la Noye and rule, since there is no heir. Guillaume was to be my seneschal.”
Aurélie saw the vicious gleam in his eyes, and though she was unaware of any such arrangement, she reasoned it was possible that Giles had made such a promise. In any event, Verel was the most likely, even if he was among the newest to join Giles’s men-at-arms. “And me, Sir Verel? Did Giles bequeath me?”
The young knight’s eyes softened. “I have always been your protector. Have I ever lacked honor in my treatment of you? I would not have wedded and bedded you before your husband was cold in his grave.”
“That has all changed,” she said softly.
“I cannot bear to think that he …”
He was stopped in mid-sentence by the startled gleam in Aurélie’s eyes. “You speak like a lover, Sir Verel. Our conversations have been few; nothing ever bound us but Giles.”
“I have worshipped you! I could not come closer, for my honor was at stake.”
“Oh, Verel, stop! Say no more! I cannot endure these words. You must believe me when I say that Hyatt will surely harm you if he thinks you harbor jealousy for his place in my bed. God help us, I did not know of this greater bond, this desire. Swear you will never speak of it again.”
“But my lady, the English swine does not please you. I know you wish to be free of him, even at the cost of life.”
“Swear!”
“How can I? I …”
“I shall ask them to tie you, Sir Verel. I shall tell Hyatt of your desires.”
“You couldn’t do that. You wouldn’t.”
“To save you, Sir Verel, I would tie you myself. You are the best that remains of De la Noye’s knights. I want you to live.”
She was certain that she had not reached his better sense, for his eyes were aglow with both hunger and agony.
“I will do nothing. For now.”
“Oh, Verel, I am afraid for you.”
“Do not worry about me, Aurélie,” he said, using her name for the first time in her recollection. She was shocked by the passion in his voice, the unconscious flexing of the muscles in his arms. She had not known this knight desired her. And she had not been aware that Giles valued him beyond his warring skills and that he had made promises regarding De la Noye. The shock of this revelation was almost as intense as the heartbreak of being overthrown.
She tore her eyes away from his and swallowed hard. She picked up a linen bandage with trembling fingers and tied it around his arm. “Your injuries are minor. You need not remain in the hall.”
“Protect yourself, Aurélie,” he whispered.
“I will not try to advise you past today, Sir Verel. I have warned you; that is all I can do.”
“I expect nothing more.”
She rose to leave his side and found she could not face any of the men. Without raising her eyes, she ventured to the stair. She nearly collided with Hyatt’s broad chest. With a startled gasp she looked up into his suspicious eyes. She had no idea how long he had been standing there and she watched as his gaze drifted slowly from her face to Sir Verel’s, then back to hers again.
“Your wounded are tended, my lady?” he asked.
“Yea, they are being cared for.”
“Good. Are there any problems among them of which I should be aware?”
She shook her head, half frightened and half sad. “Please, milord, may I be excused? I can bear no more of them.”
He touched her cheek with the knuckle of his finger. “Go ahead, madame.”
She fled up the stairs toward her chamber, pausing at the top to look down at Hyatt. She imagined that his eyes were burning into Sir Verel, for he stared into the common room. Then he slowly turned to follow her up the stairs, leaving everyone who saw them to wonder if they bedded together in the light of day.
Aurélie knew he would follow her. She sat on a small stool in front of a cold hearth, struggling to collect herself. He came into the room, but stood just inside the door.
“What is it you should tell me?”
“There is nothing, Sir Hyatt.”
“You are unsettled.”
“Indeed,” she flung back at him. “Would you be at ease in such a circumstance? I have had to explain to my dead husband’s forces that I am wed to the conqueror and seek their docile acceptance of our lot. Lord above, Hyatt, I am ever amazed at what you expect of me.”
“No more than I believe you are capable of.”
“Please … give me a few moments alone, I beg of you.”
She turned away from him, hearing the door softly close as he left. A shudder possessed her.
Her mind went over the years of companionship with Giles. She shook her head in disbelief. She had tried to bear her burdens graciously, while the villeins whispered piteously about her sadly barren state. And she had hungered for affection, craved physical love. Had she known that Verel, the most handsome among them, had lusted for her …
Her shoulders shook with her sobs. She had felt such longing that when the conqueror came, her body betrayed her even to the enemy. Surely she could not have resisted Sir Verel, had he but spoken his desire. And now, Giles, who had never touched her, was dead, and an honorable knight of France wanted her. But between them stood an English warrior who would not hesitate to kill. Hyatt held fiercely what he had claimed.
She wept piteously. The only time in her life that a man had spoken words of love and passion with the will to consummate such oaths, he was a prisoner and she was wed to the victor. The Englishman had arrived and acted quickly, branding her in vows and body as a wife, but there was nothing of love. All she had ever prayed for was the love of a good man, and the joys of intimacy and children such a love could bring. It had always seemed like such a modest prayer.
“Oh Verel,” she cried, “had your passion been spoken sooner, I might have yielded all. Hyatt might still hold the power of life and death over me, but he would not know my secrets. Now, such spoken words will only be stained with my tears, and your blood.”
She had longed to hear words of love. Now through pain and fear, she wished she never had.
Chapter Five
Aurélie looked from the window in her bedchamber into the inner bailey below. Orderliness slowly fell over the castle. The cloths and tents that had housed the wounded and captive were being dismantled and villagers wandered in and out of the bailey doors. Everyone who had fought for Giles had accepted their freedom.
She heard the chamber door open and close and knew that Hyatt had returned. She had used an hour of time to compose herself, but it seemed not enough. Months, she reasoned, might not ease the plight in her heart. She did not turn to look at him.
“Sir Girvin tells me to be wary of Verel, and I know Guillaume would risk his life for you. Are there others?”
She shook her head. She knew of no others who were so driven. It amazed her that there were things she did not know of her own people. She had not expected Verel’s spoken desire. What else had missed her close perusal?
“I know it is difficult for you. You did well.”
Aurélie turned toward him. “It is difficult for them, milord. I would ask one thing more.”
He gave a slow nod that she should voice her request.
“Please do not touch me so before my people. They look hard at my face and hands, hoping to see some marks that shows I fought you until I had no strength to stay you.”
“I don’t know why, Aurélie. Surely as they view us they should see it would be very foolish for you to fight me. Women are not expected to die for nothing.”
“There are those who think De la Noye is something.”
He put up his hands, palms facing her. “If it serves some purpose for you, I shall keep my caresses to the privacy of our chamber.”
“It saves me some dignity. Am I not allowed that?”
“There is seldom dignity in being captured, my little Aurélie. You are very slow to understand. And caution your hot young knight; I will not condone his appraisal of you as if he already tastes your sweet flesh.”
“How dare you …”
“Did I mistake his eyes, madame? If his gaze had been fingers, I would have had to slay him for trespassing.”
“What do you know of it? He was Giles’s staunchest vassal. He mourns his lord.”
“ ’Twas not mourning, chérie. It was lust. Do take special care, for Verel can be replaced … and you cannot.”
He strode out of the chamber, leaving her alone with his warning. Nothing was ever missed by this man. She sat heavily on her bed, staring at the wall. She, and each of her vassals, stood naked before him. He accurately interpreted every glance, gesture, whisper. She had seen confusion only once in his eyes, and that was his perplexity over how Giles had won and maintained her support.
She meant to learn Hyatt’s weakness. However, she did not expect to gain any knowledge by sulking in her room. She would relearn this keep, as she had learned it twelve years ago. She would watch the organization of two opposing forces, judge the strength of her people, and observe the habits of this new troop of men. She meant to become as good at judging her foe as he was at judging her.
Aurélie made only cursory trips through the common room, entrusting the tending of the wounded to other women. She examined the cookrooms, spoke with the villeins for the first time since the coming of the English. She paid her calls to widows and children. She saw weaponless soldiers installed with their families or casting about in search of a place to bed down. Hyatt’s men and additional servants had left little extra space in the hall, outbuildings, and stables. A knight who had once resided in the hall took his refuge with a recent widow. A page who had lost his knight was placed with another, but this time his role was to carry bales of hay. Where there had been four to a room, there were now ten. Wagons, tents, and mean shelters littered the outer bailey, for many residents had been rousted from their inner bailey or village hovels. Aurélie
worried whether there was enough food to feed them all, victor and vanquished alike.
The sun was lowering when she moved through the corridor toward her chamber. She was halted in mid-stride by a shriek, a ringing slap, and the abrupt opening of a chamber door. Baptiste came stumbling from the room backward, tripping on the frame and falling against the opposite wall, a hand clasped to her reddened cheek. Aurélie was but five paces away. She saw the girl’s tear-filled eyes and the shocked wonder on her face.
“I’ll have you whipped, you belligerent slut!”
Aurélie looked toward the chamber to see a wildly enraged woman brace herself against the frame with both hands. Coppery tresses fell errantly over her bare shoulders, her eyes sparkling with fury. She looked ready to hurl herself at Baptiste, and Aurélie flew to place herself between the two.
“Nay, madame, do not harm her,” she ordered, crouching to see if Baptiste was hurt.
“I would not have burned the child, madame,” Baptiste choked.
Aurélie turned pleading eyes to the stranger. “Madame, the girl serves well, but it is her first day of chores after a battering from these knights. Patience! Please!”
“Bah, the ignorant whore deserves a battering. She is a fool. She meant to bathe my son with scalding water.”
“Madame, she is a child, and she has never tended the young for her duty. She usually attends to my needs.” Aurélie turned to Baptiste. “Why have you not kept yourself to my rooms?”
“I ordered her to serve me. I am of Hyatt’s house. ’Tis my right.”
Aurélie’s temper was slowly building. “You may enjoy a victor’s right without destroying the spoils, madame. If you have needs, seek me and I will place the best servant in your hands. Baptiste is a tender lass and need not suffer your abuse.”
“And who are you?” the woman demanded.
“I am Aurélie, and I was the lady of this hall.”
The woman showed some surprise and then quickly collected herself, crossing her arms over her ample chest and leaning in the frame of the door. She leisurely surveyed Aurélie from her toes to her nose, a superior smile playing on her lips.