By Right of Arms

by Robyn Carr

  “Girvin, hold, I beg you,” Aurélie whispered. “Faon, do not! He is your own flesh!”

  Faon drew her breath sharply in, lifting her proud chin as she did so. She had been cast aside by Hyatt, tricked by Ryland, and used most brutally by Hollis. What next, she dare not think.

  “She will kill him,” Ryland said. “Tell Goliath to step back and drop his ax, and come with us peacefully.”

  Aurélie disregarded Ryland, though he held her so tightly that she felt cut in half. Still, she focused on Faon’s green eyes. The dress that the haughty mistress wore was tattered and ill-fitting. Her hair was not its usual mass of coppery curls, but dirty and unkempt.

  “Faon, Hollis does not win this contest. As I left the lists, Hyatt was ahead by much. ’Tis Hyatt you will have to deal with, not the brute. Do not harm the boy.”

  “Come, Faon,” Ryland urged in a cajoling tone. The blade moved in her hand, rising toward the boy. “Come with us, Faon, and we’ll have the best of them yet.”

  Faon’s raging eyes darted to Ryland’s face. Then the green glitter went back to Aurélie.

  “He is a noble babe, Faon. Hyatt will rear him to take his due. You cannot doubt that.”

  The glitter increased as tears gathered in Faon’s eyes. The sound of horse hooves pounding down the lane could be heard, a sound like no other. In these narrow city streets, emptied because of the tournaments and feasts, only one person would ride so. Aurélie smiled. “ ’Tis not Sir Hollis,” she said shrewdly. “ ’Tis Hyatt, come to settle this.”

  “Nay,” Ryland shouted. “He’ll not find one of you alive!” He tossed Aurélie aside in a move of sheer panic, lunging for the stairs. His hands were stretched out toward the boy and the knife. Faon backed away and gasped in sudden fear. But the ax was swift and sure and the sound was faster than the sight. There was a whiz and thump and only the weapon’s handle stuck out of Ryland’s chest. A look of terror gripped his face as he slumped. Faon seemed not to react, but still held her own blade at about the waist of her child.

  The hooves came closer, the noise echoing between the closely built houses. Aurélie raised herself quickly. She stepped toward Faon, but not too near for the woman to pass her if she would come down the stairs. Aurélie reached inside her cloak and produced the leather purse she had offered to Hyatt.

  “By the rear door, Faon. Girvin will let you pass. I wager his horse is tethered yonder.”

  Her eyes darted toward the huge servant. “This last time,” Girvin agreed.

  Faon’s eyes teared again and she did not lower the blade. “I tried to kill you. You will ask him to chase me down.”

  “Nay! You are the boy’s mother. I know what that means.”

  Faon stepped down. She pressed the blade close to the boy and used him as a shield as the sound of the approaching horse came closer and slower.

  “Let me have the child, Faon. Please.”

  “Tell him to move,” she said, indicating Girvin with her frightened eyes. Girvin did not require the command, but moved quickly, the blade still precariously close to Hyatt’s son.

  Aurélie stepped closer, caution guarding her step, sympathy clouding her eyes. “Take the silver, Faon, and leave the boy. If you take Derek, I dare not say what he will do.”

  “Will you take care of him? Do you swear?” she asked, a tremor in her voice.

  “Yea, Faon. I give you my word.” The sound outside of the gallop slowed to a stop. “Quickly, lass,” Aurélie breathed. “Take flight. I can forgive you, but if he cannot …”

  Derek reached toward Aurélie, and Faon choked on a sob. She dropped the dagger and reached for the silver. In a flurry of skirts she ran out the door that Girvin had kicked open. Without pause Aurélie whirled to face the messenger. “Let her go,” she commanded.

  Girvin let his chin fall in a nod.

  “How did you know where to come?”

  “We saw them yesterday, my lady. I followed Ryland from Hollis’s pavilion today, sensing his plan to come here.”

  Aurélie sighed. “Someday you must tell me how one so large gets about so easily without being seen.”

  Girvin smiled devilishly. “And you may tell me how one so small commands troops with such finesse.”

  Hyatt hit the door to his quarters with such speed and force that he nearly tripped over the body of his brother. Straight ahead, standing like a sentry at the door that led the way out through the back, Aurélie stood, holding Derek. She did not react to the blood on Hyatt’s face because she was determined that he would not follow Faon.

  “It was Faon and Ryland,” Girvin reported. “My ax.”

  “Where is she?” Hyatt snarled.

  “Gone, my lord,” Aurélie said. Hyatt took a step toward his wife. “Nay, Hyatt. Leave her be.” She stopped him with a hand on his chest and slowly let her hand rise to touch the blood, dried now, on his cheek. “She is alone now and can do us no harm. You have no cause to hunt down a woman.”

  “She may return with yet another scheme. I have let her go for too long.”

  “Nay, Hyatt … she is beaten.”

  Aurélie rose on her toes to place a light kiss on Hyatt’s lips and in the close exchange, Derek encircled his father’s neck with chubby arms. Hyatt took the boy and slipped an arm around Aurélie’s waist. “You are sure, lady?”

  “Yea, Hyatt. If we are strong enough to love, we are strong enough to be merciful.” She sighed and leaned against him. “Please, my love. I shall never ask you to pardon an enemy again, but let us not raise up your son with the knowledge that his father killed his mother.”

  Hyatt’s eyes clouded with doubt, but Aurélie’s voice pressed him. “If the contest is met, take me home.”

  He looked down into her eyes and a smile grew on his lips. “ ’Tis met, my love. Did you doubt it?”

  “Never, Hyatt. ’Tis met … and done.”

  Epilogue

  The ground outside the De la Noye wall was covered with a fresh blanket of late snow. All through the night the wind had howled, the snow coming in ruthless blasts against the castle walls while Lady Aurélie labored with her first child. The morning dawned clear and bright, the sun shining on the fresh, new whiteness, and yet the lady struggled to give birth.

  At dawn, unable to bear the moaning pain of his wife any longer, Hyatt brooded in the hall. It was Guillaume who said, “When my wife labored with children, I found they were born much more quickly when I chopped wood.”

  Hyatt knew good sense was at work. He donned a heavy fur jerkin and high leather boots, and took a long-handled ax outside the castle wall. He plied the ax with all his strength, bringing down a tree at the forest’s edge. It was not the lord’s duty to split logs for the fire, but Hyatt could not bear the idle wait while his wife labored.

  A tidy stack of split logs grew and Hyatt was damp with sweat under his heavy garments despite the chill of the air. A blast of the horn from the high citadel caused him to bolt upright, leaving his ax standing in the log. The lady had given birth.

  He looked toward the castle, his breath drawn in as he waited. There was a long pause. There was to be one blast for a girl child, two for a son. Yet there was naught but silence.

  He turned and began to run toward the gate. It would not end in injury … did the child not live?

  As he neared the wall he heard a blast of the horn, but he continued to run. Ah! A second blast. It was a boy.

  A third blast came. Hyatt’s face went pale, but he hurried on. They had not discussed what signal to use if the child did not live, or if Aurélie … It was Guillaume who had promised the call from the donjon.

  His feet thudded across the bridge.

  “Sir Hyatt, what is it? What has the lady delivered?”

  He did not pause to answer for he was driven only by dread. He could not imagine the meaning. Perhaps they meant only to call him back; perhaps the child had not come. Or his wife lay in mortal peril. Or worse. He thundered through the portcullis and ran to the hall.

>   Guillaume sat before a winter fire, a mug of ale in his hand and his stiff leg propped up. Girvin stood nearby, also hefting ale. They did not wear the faces of doom or death.

  “Sir Hyatt,” Guillaume said cheerfully. “You are getting slow in your old age. You should have taken a horse to the wood.”

  “Guillaume, three blasts sounded! What is amiss?”

  “Aught amiss, lad. We did not cover all the possibilities with our code.”

  “She is well?”

  “See to your lady wife, son,” Guillaume said quietly, a smile on his lips.

  He needed no further prompting and took the steps to his chamber two at a time. Aurélie lay in the bed, two pillows to prop her. She held a bundle in her arms and he heard the baby crying. Nima sat close by and Perrine was turned away at some chore, her back to the door. He rushed toward his wife.

  Aurélie pulled back the blanket and proudly displayed a small, pink, screaming little girl. “Your daughter, messire.”

  “My God,” he said in a breath. “I was sore afraid. The lout in the tower sent forth three blasts and I feared the worst. I’ll have the boy horsewhipped!”

  “Here now, that’s a feisty mood when the boy did my bidding,” Perrine interrupted, pushing him out of the way and producing a second bundle. She placed another babe in Aurélie’s free arm and drew back the cover to show Hyatt another child, a small, whimpering boy. “We were at odds with how to tell you from the tower, milord.” Perrine beamed. “Small, but strong.”

  Hyatt’s face lost color as he gazed down at his wife and two children. “Aurélie, are you all right?”

  She smiled tiredly. “I feel wonderful. I am at least as surprised as you.”

  He looked at Nima. “They are healthy? Not too small?”

  Nima nodded her head. “They are perfect, milord. Do you not think them beautiful?”

  Hyatt sat weakly on the edge of the bed. He laughed suddenly, greatly relieved. “Oh, they are indeed beautiful! But, my lady, if you bring them forth two at a time, I shall be hard pressed to feed them all.”

  Aurélie let her lips touch the top of one tiny head. “We have need of a large family, Hyatt, to hold all the possessions you bring to your name. There is so much.”

  There was a soft knock at the door, and Perrine went to answer it. Hyatt touched a tiny hand, kissed his wife’s brow, and covered the babies again. Perrine returned to the bed and whispered in Aurélie’s ear. “Let him come in,” Aurélie said.

  Hyatt turned to see who disturbed them. Father Algernon entered with his head down and his hands folded together. He approached warily, his eyes soft and his lips held together with a slight trembling.

  “My lady, will you let me bless the new babes?”

  Hyatt stood, stepping back from the bed slightly and glowering at the priest. It was Aurélie who had insisted that they not cast the priest out or punish him, but his continued presence at De la Noye bothered Hyatt. Still, he could not deny his wife.

  “I would like you to bless them, Father.”

  The priest leaned over the bed, making the sign of the cross on each little head and muttering his prayer.

  He turned toward Hyatt. “I have much for which I must atone, my lord. If you can forgive me for my betrayal, born of a foolish heart, I shall try hard to serve your family with my knowledge of God and the Church.”

  Hyatt looked at Aurélie, frowning. She held him with her eyes and a slight smile appeared on her lips. This was the first time Algernon had dared to approach him. He looked back at the priest.

  “It has been said that it takes greater courage to love and have mercy than to fight and rule lands. Atone with good works, Father, and you shall have a place here for many years.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” he said, turning to leave as quietly as he had come.

  Hyatt sighed and went again to his wife. “You said you would not ask me to forgive any more enemies.”

  “I do not have to, Hyatt. You have the wisdom to know when to forgive with no word from me.”

  “Somehow, madame, the whole world believes you the loyal and steadfast wife, all servitude and compliance, and yet without even a word of request, you have your way with me on every turn of the hand. How shall I hold together armies of men if they ever learn that a small and quiet woman rules this warrior’s every whim with such ease?”

  Aurélie lifted a baby and placed it on her other side, next to his sister, and then put both her arms about Hyatt’s neck and drew him down to kiss her lips. Though she was weak and tired from childbearing, her kiss caused him to tremble.

  “Just tell them that we have a common purpose, my love, and that is all that matters.” She smiled sweetly. “Now and forever.”

  By Right of Arms

  © 1986 Robyn Carr

  ISBN: 0316129690

  LITTLE, BROWN

  Ed♥n