by Robyn Carr
“I think I would be most bored in your country. In our fashion, work is noble and laziness is a sin. I doubt you will find that any of my people do not know who is mistress here, despite my poor costume.”
“Yea, this I have noticed as well. You have trained them very nicely.”
“Trained them?” She chuckled. “Sir Ryland, I beg you consider how seriously a servant will follow orders to cure meat if the one who issues the orders cannot say how ’tis done. That, as in any task, is the essential: to give instruction in the chore. Since I was a small girl I have been taught each task to be done in my home so that I can see each is properly completed. Can you order work done without ever having done it yourself?”
“Certainly,” he said rather stiffly, tucking one hand into the central fold of his gambeson and seeming to look skyward.
“And your English estate prospers?” she asked.
He seemed nearly to flinch and his eyes were on her face instantly. “What do you hear of my lands, my lady? Does Hyatt criticize what I have?”
She bent to pick up her basket. “He has never mentioned you, nor what you have. Even now that you are here, he does not wish to discuss you with me.”
“Ah, and have you not wondered why?”
“Nay, I have only …”
“I will tell you why. Though I was the firstborn, I was weak and small as a child. Three years after my birth came Hyatt, large and strong from the beginning. We were the same size when I was ten and he seven. Yet he was the robust child, and our father decided early that I would not survive and Hyatt should be taught the workings of the land and keep; Hyatt was prepared to take what I would not live to inherit. He was the favored one, always. My father, I think, was disappointed to find that I survived and, in fact, became stronger and larger each passing year. But he was glad that I survived when that black day came when Hyatt was accused of tampering with his wife.”
The tone of self-pity mixed with anger in Ryland’s voice caused Aurélie to listen carefully to his words. So the jealousy was the first impetus to all their problems. Lord Laidley had wrongly shown favoritism to his younger son, and the problems had begun. Before the end had come, all of them had been deeply hurt, not only Hyatt.
“Messire, by your own words, Hyatt was not at fault … but your father.”
“I do not dispute that. But neither did Hyatt strive to set that problem aright.”
“Oh. Does he threaten your demesne?”
Ryland looked off, irritated. She remembered what she had overheard from the knights; had Ryland been responsible for the breach of love between father and favored son? Had he done the dreadful deed with Faustina because he was so tormented he could not resist revenge? If so, Ryland had tripled the crime now, for he seemed propelled by a vengeful cause, driven by bitter memories from his childhood.
“Sir Ryland,” she said as gently as she could, “I think you and your brother have been hurt enough by your father’s poor judgment. You have your father’s demesne and it is safe from Hyatt. He has fought and won his own lands despite his impoverished beginnings. ’Tis done now. I think you only do yourself harm by clinging to bitterness and hate.”
“How odd, my lady. You sound as if you are very devoted to him, when I was told that you begrudge this marriage and only acquiesce to keep yourself and your people safe. He killed your husband. I would think you would hate him.”
Aurélie felt deep pity for the man, though she knew she should not soften toward him. “Giles fell in battle, messire. I could have been stripped and chained, but I was wed. Hyatt is a difficult man to please, but he is honest and fair, and his authority here is indisputable.”
“You speak with great pride, madame. I believe you love him.”
“If I speak with pride, ’tis because I respect him. What more there is, I will not share with you. When you seek to slander him and cast a doubtful light on his deeds, you should not do so before his wife. And I am a wife, Sir Ryland, whether loving or grudging. And in wifely loyalty I am bound.”
“You are wrong to chastise me, my lady,” he said as if deeply chagrined. “I have come here to make amends to my brother. ’Tis Hyatt who refuses to accept kinship with me, yet I did not turn him out of Lachland as a youth. Perhaps he has a right to his hostile notions, but it is all wrought of Faustina’s treachery and his father’s betrayal. In this he is not alone, for it was I, shunned as a boy, turned away from my father, and protected by my mother and my nurse. I would lay away my miseries with Hyatt’s … but he refuses to call me brother now.”
“Then do not demand it, Ryland,” she advised in a soft voice. “Say your piece and go on your way. You have what you desired and Lachland is yours. Leave Hyatt be. Your presence here reminds him only of his unhappy youth.”
“His unhappy youth?” Ryland laughed, but it was a bitter and empty sound. “I see that you have not heard me. Never mind, you are right.” He took her elbow and turned her to leave the garden. How swiftly his anger had turned to indifference. “You are right; ’tis done. I am only a guest of English blood. I have Lachland, Hyatt has his Aquitaine demesne, and King Edward is well pleased. I require no more. Perhaps I will go for a ride. Will you join me, my lady?”
Aurélie was a bit jolted by the change of mood, the abrupt reversal of a boyish temper to a courtly flirtation. “Nay, Sir Ryland, I have a great deal that needs to be done.”
“Then I shall leave you to it,” he said, bowing away from her and walking briskly through the garden along a path that would take him toward the town.
Aurélie stood for a moment in some confusion, watching him go. He did not use a determined step, but dallied somewhat along his way. She followed for a while, carrying her basket of herbs into the village where Ryland was meandering. He nodded amiably to each person he passed, chatted for a moment with a man wearing his own livery, climbed the ladder to the northeast parapet to look at the castle and town and outer bailey from a loft.
Something about Ryland so distracted her that she found herself wandering without direction or intention. She seemed to follow his path somewhat. Soon she stood before the gate and bridge. Ryland was looking over the outer wall toward the forest and farming plots. Nothing in his posture or actions suggested the earlier anger and hostility she had heard.
She stood back as there came a shout and the bridge was lowered. Hyatt rode in ahead of a wagon heavily burdened with felled trees. Upon seeing her, he dismounted and pulled his destrier aside. “This load should be taken to the inner bailey, where you will find Delmar waiting. When these trees are stacked to his liking, return to the clearing for another load.” He turned to his wife then, smiling. “Do you come to greet me, chérie?”
“Hyatt, what is this? Why are you bringing unsplit logs into the bailey?”
“Delmar claims that with a few additional men he can construct wagons for me.”
“Wagons? Whatever for?”
Hyatt put a casual arm about her shoulders and led her away from the outer wall as the massive gates slammed closed behind them. “We can hardly carry goods from De la Noye in the few wagons this place has available. The villeins have a few, but they are needed to move tools, seed, and other necessities from town to fields.”
“But where on earth will you carry goods?”
“From our fruit trees and gardens we will take food to the Sebastian Monastery. They will trade us good Gascon wine for necessary stock and crops. We will keep a bit of wine for the castle and send some to England. In return, we will receive cloth and wool and hardware that cannot be found here. There have even been promises made to your father in Flanders, but until I am certain how the land is settled, Lord Lavergne will wait.”
“But Hyatt, surely scavengers will halt the wagonloads and …”
“There are plenty of guards. Do not worry.”
“But …”
“Did Giles never send what he had grown here to trade with other keeps and towns?”
“Nay, Hyatt. We made do on what we h
ad. We always had enough.”
“Enough? My lady, there is no need to make do. This is a rich farming burg. We cannot send vegetables and chickens to England to sell, but wine and cloth and ironworks travel quite well. I sent a man to deal with the Sebastian brothers, and they were delighted by the trade since they cannot sustain themselves on grapes alone. We shall soon have better than enough. This can be a place of plenty.”
“You mean to make money on our goods?”
“Of course, Aurélie. Now, what have you been up to? What brings you to the gate, if not to greet your husband?”
She shook her head as if to shake away one subject and approach another. “I have seen your brother this morn, messire. He spoke to me in the garden.”
“Did he offend you somehow?” Hyatt asked stiffly.
“I find his presence to be an offense by itself. But I must tell you that Ryland’s complaints of his childhood seem to exceed even yours. He claims a bitterness wrought of being shunned by your father. He says that he carries a burden of anger from his youth, for you were the favored one.”
“He has always said that.” Hyatt shrugged. “My memory of our childhood at Lachland does not bear it out to be true. I was a heartier lad than Ryland, but I could not become ill to make him appear more lively, nor could I fail so that he would appear smarter or stronger. He was always jealous and perhaps with just cause, but it is not the same as being deliberately cast out.”
“He would lay away that sad memory with your kinship now.”
“It is not possible, Aurélie. Ryland may have many complaints about his early life at Lachland, but it is his estate now. He stood beside my father when the old lord denied that I am of that family blood. You do not take such words back and declare them unsaid. But even that does not sustain my hatred. I could forgive anything done by a boy, but Ryland has committed many crimes against me since he has reached manhood.”
“But Hyatt, what can he gain as your enemy? How does he mean to profit by plotting against you?”
“Oh, I am certain that he seeks to own what I have. He committed so much to wresting Lachland from me, and it is laughable since Lachland was never mine. He engaged Faustina to help him and what he got was an estate impoverished by the bitch and a treacherous woman as an accomplice. Lachland, it is said, is not worth a damn. Ryland is poor, for he has spent his money foolishly.” Hyatt had one arm about her shoulders and threw the other wide to indicate the town they walked through. “And I have become quite rich by comparison. I have oft been accused of being miserly.”
“Hyatt, you do not believe he speaks the truth about wishing kinship with you, do you? There is too much hatred in his voice when he speaks of you, his family, his home.”
“Is there now? I am little surprised. I have not believed for one moment that he wishes to bury the past. Indeed, he is here about another business entirely.”
“Hyatt, why is he here? Please, tell me what you know. This brother of yours tarries about my home, greeting the peasants, viewing the lands, and all in the best of humor.” Hyatt stopped walking and looked down at her. “He looks at De la Noye as an heir-apparent views his future demesne.”
Hyatt smiled, but there was a certain sadness in his eyes. “That is what he does, madame. He fully intends to wage war on me.”
“That is what I feared. Why have you let him enter?”
“You will learn in time, my lady, that it is better to watch the devil than to turn your back on him.”
“Hyatt, there will be a dangerous moment to come. I am afraid.”
He lifted a brow. “Do you doubt that I can keep you safe?”
Her hand went to his of its own accord, giving him a tight squeeze. “Nay, Hyatt. I am worried for you.”
“Ah, the truth finally comes out. Have you finally given your heart to me?”
“Oh Hyatt, cease. You carry on as if naught is amiss. You build wagons and prepare to harvest your first crops in De la Noye. It has not missed the notice of your men that you are much in residence, making only brief sojourns outside our wall, but beyond your watchful eye, you seem to do nothing to protect yourself.”
Hyatt smiled and kissed the end of her nose. “Aurélie, my vixen, you have just given me a very large compliment.”
“How so?”
“If it appears to you that I do nothing to protect myself, then surely it must seem so to others, for no one watches me as closely as you do. And that is exactly the appearance I wish to give.”
* * *
In the south wing of the castle two squires nodded off sleepily on makeshift pallets outside Ryland’s bedchamber door. The hour was late and the disturbing noises from within the room had finally ceased, dulled into the soft whispering of conversation, which lulled the lads into a dozing stupor.
Inside the room Faon snuggled closer to Ryland.
“Ah, wench, I shall sorely miss your company. Would that I could tell Hyatt how much pleasure this visit has been.”
“But you would not. You swore.”
His hand swept over her naked bosom in a casual caress. “I will not confide in him, but …” He lifted her chin so that he could see her eyes. “But I think you have led me to believe there is more between you than there is.”
“Why do you say that?”
“If Hyatt frequented your bed, how would you dare come here?”
Faon lowered her eyes. “Since his marriage, his demands are … less frequent.”
“Ah! Do you mean, not at all?”
“Nay, that is not what I …”
“Stop pretending. If he does not appreciate you, he is the fool. I can see that this marriage is all that Hyatt desires. And the woman adores him.”
“ ’Tis not true! She fears him!”
Ryland stroked her brow almost lovingly. “You must reckon with this soon, dear Faon. I have seen the way Hyatt watches her, and though he might not admit it, he is smitten with her. And she told me with her own voice that she is loyal to him. In every way. Hyatt is finished with you.”
Faon took a deep breath. “I am his son’s mother. His son will inherit his estate.”
“In time he will turn even Derek against you, my love. If you are wise, you will find a way to best Hyatt before he casts you aside for good. By the way he regards you, that time fast approaches. His woman will not abide your presence much longer.”
“The bitch,” Faon snarled. “Poor mother of a bastard child, what am I to do? Where am I to go?”
Ryland began to laugh. “Somehow, I do not see you as suffering. But, if it is a place to go that you seek, you are welcome to come with me. But I warn you, I will not have that brat along. Or that old woman.”
Faon was quiet for a long moment. She snuggled a bit closer to Ryland, her head in the crook of his arm. She could not lie to herself any longer; Hyatt’s intention toward her had never been one of love or longing, not even in that first coupling. She had, in fact, served him so much drink that he fell asleep. At dawn’s light she had shown him the stains on the bedding and wept at her virgin’s loss, which was a lie. He then took advantage of what he thought he’d done and bedded her with zeal. She became pregnant easily; Montrose pressed the lusty knight for satisfaction.
It had not worked much to her advantage, though, for he not only refused marriage with her, but did not lie with her again. He bought prostitutes on occasion, but rarely. He kept her closely guarded and watched her grow with his son, but he never returned as her lover. She made comments and gestures occasionally, to make the others think they were intimate, for it gave her power with his men. But he shunned her more publicly now. And what Ryland said was true—he watched Aurélie with unmasked lust.
At first there was the pain of disappointment when he had married, but now she had begun to despise him. And she longed for Aurélie’s death. Perhaps she would see them both punished for the way she’d been cast aside.
“Where do you go, Ryland?”
“Not far, my love. I shall be in France for some tim
e to come.”
“And you will keep me safe from him, if I go with you?”
Ryland chuckled. “Do you think he would search for you?”
“If not out of devotion, most certainly to keep me from taking his secrets out of De la Noye and giving them to his enemies. And though you try to conceal it from me, I know you are his enemy.”
Ryland pulled her closer. “How are you so sure?”
“Because I am his enemy, too. He has shamed me enough.”
* * *
Aurélie had been busier than usual throughout the morning and still had a great many afternoon duties she wished to do when Percival’s grandson, Paulis, came to the common room of the hall in search of her. He had been helping Delmar with some building, and his hand was cut and filled with large splinters.
The room was empty but for Girvin and two young squires. The squires were occupied with mending chain mail and Girvin, it appeared, had come to the hall for a midday meal. She had only just arrived herself, nodded briefly to Girvin, and had not had time to speak when Paulis had arrived with a rag tied around his hand.
“I’ll fetch my supplies and see if I can help. Sit down by the hearth; I may need the fire to tend your hand.”
The lad’s face bleached white and he sank weakly onto a stool. Aurélie laughed lightly and placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be frightened, Paulis. I use the flame to clean my tools and to warm salves. I will try to be gentle.”
She went from the room in a hurry and was back quickly. She unwrapped the hand and looked at his injury. “Ah, this is not so bad. The cut will heal itself nicely, but the splinters must be removed, Paulis. They will fester otherwise. Now, you’re a brave boy. Mmmm?”
“Yea, my lady. Do what you must,” he said as resolutely as possible, but he swallowed convulsively.
“First, I should like it best if you watch this bowl for me. I have to place it close to the flame to warm it, but it must not burn or boil. Can you watch the dish while my eyes are busy with your hand?”
He frowned uncertainly, his eyes unwillingly drawn to the cut and surrounding splinters. Finally he tore his eyes away and watched the dish, and Aurélie began to work.