Redemption (The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition Book 3)

by Anna Markland

  “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you utter a Saxon word.”

  Ram laughed. “You’re right. Here’s another. Oli Crosse, we must get that taken care of.”

  Caedmon hadn’t felt anything until he saw the marble sticking out of his flesh and then the bile rose in his throat. By now a frenzied crowd of animated Florentines had gathered, making apologies, offering assistance. Several of Ram’s men had also run to the scene, ready to protect their lord from harm.

  “Vite,” Ram ordered one of his men. “Fetch our own physician.”

  “Oui, milord.”

  “I owe you my life, Caedmon.”

  “You would have done the same, Baudoin.”

  Caedmon had been dozing in a giant bed in the opulent villa of a Florentine nobleman who had witnessed the incident. He’d offered them his hospitality, and the earl had expressed his delight at the establishment of another good contact in Italy.

  “Let’s hope that’s true.” Baudoin wandered around the room, picking up ornaments and examining them. “This is the first time you and I have had the opportunity to be alone together. To speak our minds.”

  Caedmon turned to lean on one elbow. “Speak it now. We should have no misunderstandings between us.”

  Baudoin perched on the edge of the bed. “When I first learned of your existence, I shared Robert’s misgivings and resentments.”

  Caedmon shrugged, but shouldn’t have. It hurt. “I can understand that. It was a natural reaction. Anger almost destroyed me.”

  Baudoin shook his head. “But I decided quickly that harboring those feelings in the long term would only harm our family.”

  Caedmon bit his bottom lip. “You’re a wiser man than I.”

  His half-brother hesitated, then went on, “But—still—I never thought I would come to like you, love you even, like a brother.”

  Caedmon felt his face redden and his heart race. “You don’t have to—”

  Baudoin stood. “Non, Caedmon. I’m not saying these things because you saved my life. Time after time as we’ve journeyed, I’ve found myself drawn to you. You’re a man to be respected, and I’m honored to have you as a brother.”

  Caedmon was overwhelmed. He’d been an only child all his life. “The honor is mine, Baudoin. Merci.”

  They clasped hands.

  “The physician says you’ll be ready to travel on the morrow. How do you feel? It won’t be easy traveling with your arm strapped to your body.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  Four days later they were in the seaport of Genova. The Montbryce physician examined Caedmon’s shoulder, and declared it sufficiently healed to allow the removal of the bindings.

  “You’re lucky, my boy. You seem to heal quickly,” the trusted Norman said.

  “Like most of us in the Montbryce family,” Ram remarked. “I remember when my brother, Hugh, was wounded at Hastings, he recovered remarkably quickly. He accompanied me to Ellesmere the first time I ever went there. What a shock that was, I can tell you. The castle the Conqueror had granted me was a derelict earthwork.

  “Anyway, enough reminiscing. I seem to do a lot of that these days. As I was saying, ostensibly it’s the Bishop of Genova who rules here for the Emperor, but Frangipani told me that merchant families like the Adornos have the power. This city has one of the largest and most powerful navies in the whole Mediterranean.”

  I wish Agneta could see some of these places. The Mediterranean isn’t like any body of water I’ve seen before. It evokes memories of Heysham, though I doubt this sea is as cold! I wonder if Leofric and Coventina have married yet.

  The Romans arrogantly called this Mare Nostrum, ‘Our Sea’ but where is their empire now? The Normans should pay heed.

  They continued to follow the coast, passing through the Genovan colony of Monoikos before heading inland. This way they hoped to avoid the rigors of crossing the Alps. Still, it took four days to get to Arles, from where they struck out for the north, hugging the banks of the Rhone to Lyon, the Massif Central looming to the west and the mighty Alps to the east. They were cold, wet and hungry by the time they arrived in Lyon. They located a lodging house with a large communal bathhouse and took advantage of it to get warm.

  Ram admitted, “I was tempted to break open the wine from Beneventum as we struggled along against the wind. In fact, we should have brought a bottle in here to enjoy, instead of this swill.”

  Caedmon and Baudoin agreed, but kept on drinking the inferior wine.

  “It’s a pity we weren’t traveling in the other direction. We could have let the vicious Rhone current carry us down to the sea,” Ram jested, relaxing in the hot water. He let out a long sigh. “This is good for my knees. Now if I had your mother here, Baudoin, to take care of my other needs, I’d be a happy man.”

  Caedmon glanced at Baudoin. The steam had already reddened his face, so it was difficult to tell if his father’s suggestive remark had embarrassed him. “Given both your tendencies to mal de mer, it’s better we’re going the other way,” he teased them. “How’s your shoulder, Caedmon?”

  “The cold makes it stiff, but it’s healing. The hot water does help.”

  The route became flatter and easier and in a sennight they’d reached Alensonne, where they intended to stay with Ram’s brother, Antoine, who now governed that castle on Ram’s behalf.

  “A lot of memories here,” Ram observed as they approached the castle. “First time I came here, Antoine and I were faced with solving the mystery of the sudden death of the seigneur—my wife’s half-brother, Arnulf. I’ll tell you the tale later.”

  “Does Antoine know about me?” Caedmon asked as.

  “Robert told him when he came back to Normandie.”

  “What will be his reaction?”

  “Antoine will be accepting. He’s a compassionate man. I could tell you tales of him and Hugh, whom you’ll meet in a few days at Domfort, but I’ll leave it for them to tell.”

  As Ram predicted, Antoine and Hugh and their families were welcoming. Caedmon was surprised to learn both brothers had married women who were not Normans.

  He was enthralled by the tale Antoine told of how he and his brother had met and rescued their wives from oppressive circumstances. That Antoine had adopted and raised as his own a dwarfed child who wasn’t his son bore testament to his deep love for Sybilla and to his honorable nature. Their fine sons were known as Adam the Giant and Denis the Dwarf. The love and respect the siblings shared with each other and their parents warmed Caedmon’s heart. He’d never had a brother, although he and Leofric had always been close friends.

  Hugh retold the same story, as Ram predicted he would, but his account of the harrowing trial presided over by William the Conqueror resurrected old resentments in Caedmon’s heart.

  When they reached the Calvados two days later, Ram wanted Caedmon to see the ancestral castle Montbryce at Saint Germain, and admitted he wanted to spend some time there, though he was anxious to get back to Mabelle.

  Robert was in residence at the castle and he and Caedmon met again. It was an opportunity to get to know each other. They shared a tumbler or two of the Montbryce apple brandy, and Baudoin told his brother about the events of the crusade and the rescue.

  “That’s an incredible story of bravery, Caedmon. I salute you,” Robert said, after hearing about the abandoned fortress.

  “Not only that, mon frère, Caedmon saved my life in Firenze.”

  Robert never took his eyes off Caedmon as Baudoin told the story. “And how is your shoulder now, mon frère,” he asked.

  “It’s healed. If I’d been wearing my metal arm braces, I wouldn’t have been injured, but we’d been to Mass. This is fine apple brandy.”

  “We should also salute Baudoin,” Ram said with a smile, obviously sensing Caedmon’s discomfort with the attention. “This has been a life changing experience for you, mon petit, hasn’t it?”

  “Merci, Papa,” the shy Baudoin replied.

  “It will sta
nd you in good stead when you become the Second Earl of Ellesmere.”

  Baudoin and I have become friends on this journey. He’s a quiet man, but one of keen intelligence and fortitude. Our father has seen strengths in him he didn’t see before. I believe he has lived in Robert’s shadow. Many of the Norman Crusaders who returned with us have chosen to remain at Saint Germain, and the rest are traveling on to England with us. Amadour is staying at Montbryce. It was hard to say goodbye to him.

  “Yuletide is drawing nigh and I want to get home to share the season with Mabelle.”

  “And I’m anxious to see how Agneta fares, with the baby. I’ve been away eleven months. I pray the child safely born and my wife hale and healthy.”

  “The babe must be about three months old. My first grandchild.”

  As they rode away from Ram’s childhood home, Caedmon said, “I understand now your pride in your heritage, my lord Rambaud. Normandie is a beautiful land.”

  “Oui, my pride is in the land, but it’s much more than that. I haven’t been able to live in my own country for thirty years. It’s the blood I’m proud of—Montbryce blood—the same blood that flows in your veins. But we each bring two families to our birth. You also carry noble Saxon blood. It’s not the blood of the Woolgars, as you believed, but the blood of your mother’s proud family. You’re the future of your mother’s country, a joining of our two great heritages. You’re aware, of course, that our Conqueror was bastard born? But did you know that when he was Duke of the Normans, he invariably signed official documents Ego Willelmus Cognomine Bastardus? He made his bastardy his greatest strength. Make it yours, then it can never be used to hurt you.”

  Caedmon bristled. “I can accept I’m half Norman, and take pride in it, but I’ll never accept the brutality with which the Conqueror ruled my mother’s country. He’s not a man I would wish to emulate.”

  They rode in silence for a while, then Ram said, “I don’t reveal this to anyone other than members of my family, but there have been many times I too have been appalled by the brutality of some of my fellow Normans, William included. If the king had insisted, I would not have been allowed to ransom Mabelle all those years ago. He firmly believed I should not be financing rebels. It would probably have cost my family their lives.

  “But I knew William, fought with him. I would have given my life for him willingly. He was a great warrior, a man who saved Normandie from anarchy and brought her to greatness. I was proud he called me his friend.”

  Caedmon pondered his father’s words as they crossed the water to Dover. He’d thought never to see England again and it moved him because the earl was right—he represented the future, and there was nothing to be gained dwelling on hatreds. Tomorrow couldn’t be carved from tombstones. Trying to reach the future through the past was futile. He prayed Agneta would accept him back. Together they could carry his England forward.

  Ram’s voice broke into his thoughts. “By the way, we need some other way for you to address me, instead of my lord Rambaud.”

  “Aye, my lo—Sorry. It’s become a habit.”

  He wanted to call Rambaud father, but was still mindful that this man was one of the most powerful men in England and Normandie. “How would you like me to address you?”

  “Father would be fine,” Ram said with a smile. “Or mon père if you feel like practicing your French.”

  They exchanged a smile as they took up their positions with Baudoin to help bring the boat ashore.

  Homecoming

  To Lady Ascha Woolgar at Shelfhoc Hall,

  I am pleased to send you the good news that your daughter-by-marriage has been safely delivered. I believe it is important for you to come to Ellesmere. You will be welcomed here.

  Mabelle, Countess of Ellesmere.

  Mabelle had a mischievous smile on her face. “What’s your opinion, Agneta? I don’t want her to learn you’ve given birth to twins until she arrives.”

  Agneta eyed her curiously and read the letter again. “You would welcome her? She’s the woman your betrothed bedded.”

  “She’s no threat to me, nor to any of us. She must be devastated about Caedmon and no doubt longs to meet you and her grandchildren. What a surprise the two of them will be.”

  The letter was dispatched and a reply received three days later.

  To the Countess of Ellesmere,

  I am indebted to you for the good news of my Agneta. At your suggestion, I will travel to Ellesmere. I thank you, Countess, for your kind consideration. I wish to express my regret that I never disclosed Caedmon’s existence to the earl, and for the shock it must have been to you and your family to learn of it. I humbly beg your forgiveness. No malice was ever intended. I pray for the safe return of your husband and son, and thank God for the delivery of a healthy child who might take Caedmon’s place, if my son can’t be found.

  In penitence and the hope of forgiveness,

  Lady Ascha Woolgar

  And so it was that Lady Ascha Woolgar came to Ellesmere Castle a sennight later. She was ushered into the Great Hall where the countess greeted her. She prostrated herself before Mabelle. “My Lady Countess, forgive me my sin. Forgive my wantonness that has caused this terrible grief.”

  “Please rise, Lady Ascha. None of us here bear you any malice. I’m sure the aftermath of Hastings must have been a nightmare for you. You are anxious to see your daughter-by-marriage, and meet your grandchildren.”

  Ascha rose slowly and straightened her skirts. Then Mabelle’s words seemed to penetrate. “Grandchildren?”

  “Oui, there are two of them, a boy and a girl.”

  Ascha looked stunned. “My father, Sir Gawain Bronson, was a twin, but his sister died at birth.”

  Mabelle smiled at the news. “The girl Agneta birthed is tiny, but I believe she’s a survivor.”

  “And what news of the earl, and your son, and Caedmon?” Ascha asked tentatively.

  “We have no news yet. But we must keep faith. Agneta is excited for you to meet the children.”

  As they entered Agneta’s chamber, she rose from the chair where she’d been resting. Ascha embraced her and Agneta took her by the hand and guided her to the cradles where the infants lay sleeping contentedly. Ascha could no longer hold back her tears, and wept with joy at the sight of her grandchildren.

  The Winter Solstice came and went and preparations were under way at Ellesmere for the Yuletide celebrations. The three noblewomen didn’t have their hearts in the process, but went about doing the customary things without much thought. They were interrupted by the appearance of a breathless page who came running into the hall where Mabelle was supervising the hanging of cedar boughs. Agneta had her son on her hip and Ascha held her granddaughter.

  “My Lady Countess,” the boy gasped, bowing.

  “What is it, Edmond?” asked Mabelle.

  “Riders, my lady, a large group of riders—sighted three miles out. It’s the earl and Lord Baudoin, and from all reports a Byzantine knight accompanies them.”

  Relief washed over Mabelle. She wondered if she could run three miles.

  “I can’t go out to meet them. If Caedmon isn’t with them—I—” Agneta stammered.

  Ascha addressed Mabelle. “By your leave, I’ll go with Agneta and the children to her chamber. It’s not seemly for me to greet the earl with you. Go to welcome him home. If there’s bad news about Caedmon, you can send word to us. We’ll grieve together.”

  They left and Mabelle hurried to don a warm cloak so she could greet Ram in the chilly courtyard. His horse had barely come to a halt before he vaulted from the saddle and she ran to press her body against his. He enfolded her in his cloak. She felt his need as she sobbed against him.

  “Mabelle,” he whispered into her ear, nibbling on her lobe, “Yet again, I’ve only to set my eyes upon you and my body betrays my need.”

  “Maman,” Baudoin shouted as he strode towards her, joining his parents in their embrace.

  “Baudoin, my darling Baudoin,”
she whispered.

  There’s something different about him. He seems more mature, more self-assured.

  “I’ve missed you both. But what about Caedmon? You didn’t find him?”

  Ram released her, put his arm around her shoulders and turned her to face the other knight, still mounted on his horse—waiting—unsure. It was a moment before she recognized this man in the foreign uniform as Caedmon. She laughed out loud and kissed her husband, relieved for him that his son had been found, the perils of the long journey not in vain. She smiled too at the surprise the young man was about to receive.

  Caedmon dismounted and came to stand before her. “My Countess, I hope the words come out of my mouth the way I’ve rehearsed them a hundredfold in preparation for this moment. I beg your forgiveness for the grief my folly has caused you and your family.” He went down on one knee, took her hand and kissed it.

  “Caedmon,” she replied. “Please do not kneel. You’re part of this family. The Montbryces would go to the ends of the earth to protect one of their own.”

  Ram laughed. “In fact, that’s what we did. Let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.”

  Once inside the hall, Caedmon turned to Mabelle and blurted out, “What of Agneta—and the child?”

  Mabelle decided to prolong the young man’s agony for a few minutes. His face betrayed his need. She knew that look. “A moment, Caedmon.”

  She summoned a servant and whispered, “Ask Lady Ascha to join us and tell her to bring only the baby girl.”

  A few minutes later, Ascha came into the room carrying Caedmon’s baby daughter. She hesitated when she saw Caedmon and he rushed to embrace her. “Mother, you’re here? And this child?”

  Ascha glanced nervously at Ram, who nodded to her. She returned her son’s smile and said, “Caedmon, this is your daughter.”

  Caedmon took the babe and cradled her to his breast, kissing her forehead and taking her tiny fingers into his big hands. His heart beat erratically as he looked upon a squirming miniature of his beloved wife. He was afraid to voice his emotions, afraid of the answer he might receive in response to his next question. “Agneta?”