By Right of Arms

by Robyn Carr

  “Hyatt! Let me down! What will people think, especially since they know I am enceinte.”

  “Oh, the very worst, I am sure,” he laughed. “How terrible for you if they think that your husband, father of your child, holds some affection for you.”

  “Bah, ’tis not of affection, and we both know it. You taunt me and seek to embarrass me. You only do this so that all who see, your people and mine, begin to assume that we have accepted each other.”

  “ ’Tis time, is it not?” he asked with a shrug.

  “Time or not, it would be a lie. Just another of your games, Hyatt.”

  His arm tightened about her waist. “Don’t be too sure, Aurélie.”

  She turned to look into his eyes. Her smile was superior and mocking. “Do you now wish to speak of affection, sir knight? Of devotion? Of love? Does my husband and father of this babe wish to pledge something greater than utility of services to this union?”

  His eyes narrowed, but his smile was bright. “Do you admit that you hunger for such promises?” he countered.

  She strained against him suddenly as if she would throw herself down from his steed. She was infuriated by his refusal to issue tender words. The strength of the arm that held her tightened. “Nay,” he said softly but firmly, “do not in a foolish moment hurl yourself to the ground and do injury to yourself and the child. You prayed for a baby for many years, Aurélie, and now one is quickening in you. Be still, for your own sake.”

  She looked at him closely. “What makes you so certain I prayed for a child?”

  “It is whispered by all your villeins, yet only you and I are aware that more than prayers were required to ease your barren consequence.”

  “Do not be cruel, Hyatt,” she whispered.

  “Then do not be rash, my Aurélie. Take what I willingly give you and cease in your demands for more and more of me.”

  “What have you given me?” she argued, feeling the injustice of his words. “A husband to bury. A hall that was once mine to rule is now yours, and I am instructed to see it kept for you. There is a child to be born, but from whence did it come? From a loving spouse, or a conqueror? And now, before scores of serfs and knights, I warm the great warrior’s lap en route to the wall, but before you came, Hyatt, I walked to the donjon proudly, with my head raised, to command my knights and archers.”

  He pulled on the reins and the horse paused. The glitter in his eyes bespoke anger. “You are ever ungrateful, my lady. Yea, you have buried a husband: a man who did not lie beside you, did not consummate your union, did not rule his house or his men, but forced you to be the man he was not. Yea, you ride with your lord to the wall, confident that the knights and archers will be firmly led and victorious in protecting you and yours. And within you now is a child. Conceived in love? I cannot say. But, ’twas not wrought of rape, nor brutal conquest, nor indifference. You ask for oaths, promises, deference, and the verses of love sung by lesser men—but I give you an honorable marriage, a legitimate child, the strength and experience that should ensure you many future nights of peaceful sleep, and in our private solar you share sweet and tender bliss with me. To keep these assurances for all your days you need be only honest and loyal. I beg no simpering words of love, for words are only as good as the person who utters them, nor do I ask you to be grateful for what you have. You know you have never had so much, nor been so safe and well kept. We both know it.”

  He silently urged his mount forward, almost daring her to argue. By the stern set of his jaw, she knew better than to voice any further protest. The truth of his words angered her, but in the back of her mind there was a jeering. Giles said he loved me, and gave me no love. Hyatt will not say he loves me, yet his actions bear out more than I dreamt of. Where is the sense of this confusion?

  They passed into the outer bailey and toward the great gate. Paused there in wait was Girvin, clad in armor and outfitted with his weaponry. A glance around the perimeters of the wall showed Aurélie that many archers were in place and De la Noye was well defended.

  “Sir Hyatt, it is Ryland.”

  She felt Hyatt stiffen as if an arrow had pierced his back. For herself, she flinched, for she knew not what horror had passed between brothers that would induce Hyatt to call himself a bastard, but she reasoned it must have been vicious.

  “What does he want?”

  “He brings word of your father’s death,” Girvin said. “He seeks friendship and kinship, his messenger says.”

  “Damn him to hell,” Hyatt barked.

  “Hell is in Innesse,” Girvin rumbled, low. “Ryland comes from England, Hyatt. He was not sent with Edward’s forces, but his troop is not small. I think that his army, coupled with Sir Hollis’s, would be a bad omen.”

  “You know the bastard as well as I,” Hyatt grumbled. “Do we invite him in? Coddle him, and pretend that he seeks kinship?” Hyatt leaned away from Aurélie and spat in the dust of the road. “ ’Tis a lie, and I do not deal in lies.” He glanced briefly at his wife and then looked back to Girvin. “There was nothing in the way the sun rose this morning to indicate that this would be a black day, yet everything that has transpired thus far has been a burdensome lot of trouble—and I have not yet broken my fast.”

  “Invite Ryland in with half his troop,” Girvin suggested. “There is no reason you must accept kinship with him, yet I would wish to see how Ryland instructs his men. Will they camp outside our wall and await Ryland’s orders, or do they travel straightaway to Hollis? I would know, Hyatt.”

  Hyatt began a smile that was wholly sinister. A silent chuckle shook his shoulders. “A wager? I say Ryland is too clever to send his men to Hollis.”

  Girvin smiled, and his grin was the devil’s own. “Aye, but I say Hollis comes here.”

  Hyatt gave a sharp nod of his chin toward the gates. “Handle him gently, Girvin. He is afraid of you.”

  Girvin put on his helm, and the slate eyes that shone through the narrow slit glittered like steel blades. By his eyes alone it looked as if Girvin craved bloodshed.

  Hyatt turned his mount abruptly, not staying in the courtyard for even the sight of Girvin crossing the moat. He hurried his destrier toward the hall and when Aurélie looked at him, his eyes were cast far away, perhaps into the past.

  “Who is Ryland?” she asked gently.

  “He is a centaur from Hades, but instead of the body of a horse, he has the mind and heart of a jackass.”

  “Is he kin of yours, Hyatt?”

  “When I was a small boy there was one I called brother whose name was Ryland, but I have known no brother since, for many years.”

  She placed a hand on his chest, but still he would not look at her. His eyes remained on the road ahead. “Will you tell me about it, Hyatt?”

  “Yea, but on a day when the telling does not cause my head to pound in fury. There is a chance you will be an old woman before you know. But do as you are fond of doing, Aurélie. Listen to the gossip of the men and see what you learn.”

  His voice had the sound of anger and pain, and she knew it was best to shrug off the insult. “Hyatt, if it is true that your father is dead, I am sorry.”

  “You needn’t be, for I am not. It means that his pain is finally at an end.”

  “Was he ill for a long time?”

  “Yea. His body was fit enough, but his heart and mind were twisted by the treachery of his wife and his son … and the word was that he never recovered.”

  * * *

  Aurélie sat beside Hyatt at the trestle table, a bowl of pork and coddled eggs before her. Her hunger had fled with the coming of Ryland, but her husband ate. He devoured his breakfast in a defiant mood, stabbing his meat and tearing his bread from the loaf in a vicious swipe. His bowl was emptied and filled again, two tankards of cool milk were gulped, and through the meal his brows were fiercely drawn together, his movements tight and jerking.

  “Have you not seen this Ryland for a long time?” she asked with hesitancy.

  “I would hav
e preferred not to see him, madame,” he grumbled without looking at her. “Unfortunately, he is a knight bidden to the king and our paths often cross.”

  “Why does he come?”

  Hyatt’s mouth turned in a sarcastic line. “Perhaps in answer to your prayers, Aurélie. Surely you have prayed for my comeuppance, and I assure you, a worthy opponent is at hand. Ryland conspires with Hollis.”

  Aurélie gulped at the memory of her sworn oath to Perrine on that day so long ago. She knew better than to try to soften Hyatt’s agitated mood. “Does he mean to harm you?”

  “In fact, he has always meant to.”

  Aurélie looked again at her bowl of food. She could not suppress the fear she felt for her husband. His angry attestation of what he had given her rang back through her thoughts many times. Three months before she would have delighted in the arrival of one of his enemies. Now she feared she might lose him before she really had him.

  She looked askance at him as he ate. It had been such a long time since she had enjoyed the luxury of a friend or advisor to whom she could talk. The priest had never served in that capacity, but in the past there had been Guillaume and Perrine. In matters of manning the castle or managing the villeins, Guillaume had been like a father or older brother. And while she had never confided the truth about Giles, Perrine had seemed to know. The older woman’s gentle advice, support, and faithful service had helped her through many a confusing and lonely hour. She wished for someone to talk to about her husband.

  He is right, she thought forlornly. I complain for the sake of pride, for never have I had so much. The route of our alliance was all wrong, but our existence as man and wife is right and honorable. He is the enemy, yet I hunger for his touch, yearn for his child, and pray for his long life, for a son would need a father such as he. He is enemy no more, for he guards this castle and these people from any avenger, English or French—something Giles could never do. And though he may never love me, in his manner there is the promise that he can be steadfast if he is not betrayed.

  The door to the main hall finally opened and Aurélie knew instantly that the man was Ryland. He was older than Hyatt; taller and of a thinner build. His face was slightly narrower, but his brown hair, deep-set brown eyes, and square chin were remarkably like Hyatt’s.

  He wore a deep green cloak that swirled as he entered. He carried his helm in the crook of his arm, and embroidered upon his surcoat was the blazon of a hawk with golden lightning jutting out behind it.

  Hyatt’s gaze slowly drifted to the tall man and when their eyes met Ryland smiled, but his was not a smile of greeting or delight. “Well, Hyatt, you seem to do better for yourself each time we meet.”

  Girvin came in behind Ryland and stood just inside the door, grimly watching the reunion. He stood tall and silent.

  “What do you want of me now, Ryland?”

  Ryland looked around the large room, his brows raised and his lips turned up in a smile as he surveyed the wealth of the holding. His shoulders trembled slightly as if in a rueful chuckle as he glanced at each candlestick, tapestry, and wooden furnishing. He was slow to return his gaze to Hyatt. “I think I have never quite understood your continued hostility toward me, Hyatt. ’Twas not I who cast you out.”

  “I asked you, what do you want?”

  “I bring you tidings of your father’s death.”

  “I have no father. ’Twas his choice, not mine.”

  Ryland approached the table and placed his helm in front of Hyatt’s plate. “As the old man neared death, he had come to regret his hasty mood. I thought you should know that.”

  “How do I know you do not lie?” Hyatt asked calmly.

  “Why would such a lie serve me?” Ryland shrugged. “To the contrary, ’twould be better for me and my English lands to be the only son of the old lord. But you were your father’s favorite, and he was ill from the day he sent you away.”

  “It has been many years since I left his house. He had abundant time to send his regrets to me.”

  “Pride, Hyatt. Surely you understand that.”

  “I have understood none of what happened, nor do I perceive a change of kinship now.”

  “You are too cold, Hyatt,” Ryland said, smiling slyly. His eyes shifted from Hyatt to Aurélie and one brow lifted. “This castle held a good booty, I was told.”

  Hyatt slowly stood, his hands pressed down on the table. Aurélie could sense the stiffness of his body, the tension in his words. “The lady is my wife. If you cannot keep your eyes from her, regard her with the highest respect. You will find I am hard in this concern.”

  Ryland smiled in surprise, a laugh escaping him. “Wife? Hyatt, you have changed greatly.” He made a sweeping bow before Aurélie. “Madame, it is a rare pleasure to make your acquaintance. Despite my brother’s bitterness, we are kin now, you and I. I am Ryland Laidley, Lord of Lachland, which lies in the north of England.”

  Aurélie gave a slight nod, lowering her eyelids to acknowledge him, but she responded no further.

  “Where is Faustina?” Hyatt asked.

  “Wales, my brother. With her countrymen and family. She has been gone from Lachland for a long time.”

  “He sent her away?”

  “Nay, Hyatt. She fled, finally. I gave her escort to her home.”

  “And the child?”

  “Child?” he laughed. “Man, Hyatt. The child you were accused of siring on your stepmother is six and ten now, and long ago left Lachland to pursue his training. But, alas, he has gone the way of his mother and defends some hostile Welsh chieftain in Faustina’s homeland.”

  Aurélie had to be quick to stifle a gasp of surprise when she heard Ryland’s reference. She cautiously turned her gaze to Hyatt and saw his coloring deepen and a pulsing appear at his temples.

  “Did she ever name the boy’s sire?”

  “Nay, Hyatt. But you will be pleased to know that she finally admitted it was not you. And I suppose you still deny the fact?”

  “Did she deny it before Lord Laidley?”

  “Nay,” he said, shaking his head. “Upon her journey to her Welsh tribe she told me it was not you, but she said she feared to name the man lest Lord Laidley kill him. She said that one of his own sons would survive the accusation.”

  “Yet she named the younger son. I have often asked myself why she did not let you stand as the accused.”

  Ryland smiled lazily. “Perhaps out of some loyalty for me. I did bring her to Father, after all.”

  “And, I think, kept her free of loneliness. Did you fill Father’s shoes?”

  Ryland’s smile faded. “I did not know she was evil, Hyatt. I thought she would restore a bit of lost youth to the old man. She maligned you, but you did survive, very well, didn’t you?”

  Hyatt did not answer, but looked evenly at Ryland. “My custom is to claim any child of my loins, legitimate or otherwise, Ryland. Unlike yours, there are no bastards of mine scattered about untended.”

  “Ah, yes. You do have a bastard child in keeping, don’t you?”

  “You are making a mistake, if you think to banter with me while you are in my home, Ryland. On the tourney grounds or the battlefield you may taunt and challenge me, but in the walls of De la Noye there will be none of that. I am lord here. First landed, soon to be declared by Edward. And in due time, King John will have to accept my lordship, for my wife, Lady Aurélie, is the widow and only heir of the former lord, who was killed in battle. Anything you say to me will be courteous, for I have the authority to see you chained, or worse. And, I confess, it would give me great pleasure.”

  Ryland seemed somewhat surprised by the calm, direct speech. But he stood erect and listened. Gone was his superior and insolent smile. His eyes were serious. “Hyatt, let us bury this hatred. I could not help you, but I did not knowingly hurt you.”

  “You wish kinship with me now? It is too late, Ryland. You have coupled yourself with my enemies.”

  “Hollis? Come, Hyatt, I need not choose between you. Yo
u are my brother and he is my friend. If we can find a means to lay our old battles to rest, Hollis will keep his distance. I should think that would be incentive enough.”

  “Ah, now we come to it! You offer protection through kinship, is that it? If I will name you brother, Hollis will not attack me?”

  Ryland sighed. “I do not know whether Hollis will attack you, Hyatt. I have not seen him this past year. I have not come this far for Edward’s war, but to bring you the news of our father’s death and my offer of brotherhood, late but sincere. And you should know, lest you hold your hope on some distant promise, there are no more English troops crossing the Channel. Edward has stopped moving armies. His claim to Aquitaine through his mother is satisfied for now. It seems, then, that you and Sir Hollis will be neighbors for some time.”

  Hyatt regarded Ryland coldly for a long, silent moment. He turned his gaze to Girvin and gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod and the huge knight turned and left the hall.

  Ryland, too, looked at Girvin, noticing that the knight had taken some silent command from Hyatt and departed. “I see you still have Goliath panting at your heels, lapping up your orders. What, pray, do you feed the monster?”

  Hyatt smiled, showing his teeth for the first time since Ryland had entered. “The blood of those who betray me.”

  Ryland stiffened indignantly. “Do you give me shelter, Hyatt, or do you send me on my way to seek the hospitality of another?”

  Hyatt slowly lowered himself to his chair. “I shall give you and half your men shelter inside the outer wall. You, your squires and pages will be allowed rooms in the main hall, but the other knights who come inside will have to find their own accommodations. And know this, Ryland: I do not accept brotherhood with you, now or ever. I give you shelter because you are an English knight of Edward and have journeyed far from home. Your stay will not be long.”