Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Any chance I can purchase the puppy from you?” he asked her.

  Jeniver shook her head firmly. “As much as I would like to help, I will not sell you my dog,” she said. “But I will tell you who I bought him from.”

  Gallus pursed his lips in mock irritation as Maximus, sitting next to him, leaned in his direction. “All you need do is pick any one of these puppies that roam the hall and rub it with black ash from the fire. She will not know the difference.”

  Violet heard him. “I will, too!” she said, standing up on her seat. “He needs to be big and… and have big ears and… and he needs to be black!”

  Maximus held up a soothing hand. “Very well, Vi,” he said. “You shall have your black puppy but we will have to go far away to get him. He may be grown up by the time we return, depending on how long we stay in Paris. There are lots of things to see there. Lots of women to… that is, lots of people to see.”

  Violet cocked her head thoughtfully, completely oblivious to his reference to female companionship. “Can I go?” she wanted to know.

  Maximus shook his head. “It is too long and dangerous a journey to take you.”

  Violet didn’t like that answer. “But I want to go!”

  Maximus wasn’t particularly good when dealing with small children, as he didn’t have the patience such a thing required. As he tried to figure out how to explain to Violet why she could not accompany them on such a long journey in terms she would comprehend, Lily, seated next to him on her father’s lap, put her finger up her nose and drew forth a wad of mucus. She then proceeded to wipe it on Maximus’s arm. The man groaned in disgust, grasping for any scrap of linen or even bread to wipe it off with, as Tiberius, on the other side of Maximus, laughed uproariously.

  “Lily, what a good girl you are,” Tiberius crowed. “Will you do that again?”

  Maximus pushed himself away from the table and away from Lily’s nasty nose as everyone laughed at him. He ended up on the other side of the table, sitting in Lily’s vacated seat between Violet and Honey. As Maximus made a menacing face at Lily, Honey spoke.

  “Lily,” she scolded. “How very rude. That is not something young ladies do. You will not do that again.”

  Tiberius tried very hard to suppress his smile, putting himself in the line of fire for a motherly scolding. “All apologies, Honey,” he assured his mother. “She will not do it again.”

  Maximus grunted, unhappy with his niece and with his younger brother. “When I have children, they will all be male,” he said, pointing a finger at Lily, who was still giggling. “They would not do such a dastardly thing as that.”

  “Why not?” Jeniver asked from the other side of Violet. “I have seen young boys do much worse.”

  Tiberius was back to snickering, now joined by Gallus. “Indeed they do,” Gallus said to Maximus. “Remember what we used to do as children? Remember how Uncle Quintus used to fall asleep in front of the hearth and fart uncontrollably? Remember how we would try to light his farts on fire?”

  They spoke fondly of their father’s younger brother, a man who had died many years ago. Still, the memories were quite warm and Tiberius started laughing.

  “Remember when we lit his breeches on fire doing it?” he said. “We burned a big hole in the seat of his pants and singed off all of the hair on his arse. He was so incensed that he refused to change his breeches and walked around for the rest of the day so everyone could see how naughty we had been. And do you recall that he….?”

  He stopped, suddenly looking at Jeniver and realizing he was speaking of a man’s naked arse in her presence. But the moment he stopped, horrified, Jeniver read the expression on his face and burst into giggles.

  “Go on, Sir Tiberius,” she encouraged. “Please tell me more of this uncle who walked around with his singed buttocks revealed to the world.”

  “Nay,” Honey said, quite firmly. “Not another word from your mouth, Ty, or you shall feel my wrath. How dare you speak of such things in the presence of a lady. She will think us horrid, uncivilized creatures.”

  Jeniver was fighting off a smile. “Truly, my lady, I am not offended,” she said. “In fact, this is more fun than I have had in quite some time. Do not be angry for it.”

  Honey eyed Jeniver, seeing that the woman was smiling for the first time since she had known her. It was difficult to deny her a bit of humor in an otherwise dreadful day, but she couldn’t, in good conscience and in good taste, let this line of conversation continue.

  “I am not angry,” she assured her. “But this subject is most distasteful. Surely there are other subjects to speak of than a man’s burnt arse.”

  Jeniver, Gallus, Maximus, and Tiberius broke into soft laughter. It was a humorous moment in a day that had known only sorrow. Jeniver was actually feeling better than she had all day and she reached for some of the cooling beef that was still on the table, tucking a moist piece into her mouth. There was still humor left in the world and, in spite of her terrible day, she would feel laughter again. There was hope that the dark days would pass. As Maximus began to tell another story about Uncle Quintus, who was evidently a character of a man, a man dressed for travel entered the hall.

  Honey, who was in the process of cleaning off Violet’s sticky fingers, happened to catch sight of him near the entry to the hall, which was a glorious example of a herringbone Norman arch. Recognizing the servant she had sent to Coventry, Honey glanced at her sons, and at Jeniver, who seemed to not have noticed the servant near the door. Her sons were telling stories and Jeniver was listening intently.

  Casually, Honey stood up, ushering Violet away from the table because the little girl wanted to run to a pack of puppies over near the smoldering fire pit. Admonishing Violet to stay away from the fire, Honey made her way through the hall, quite nonchalantly, as she headed to the servant lingering near the door. The hall was rather crowded and there were people between them, but as she drew near, the man noticed her and shuffled in her direction.

  “My lady,” he greeted her. He was an older man and the trip to Coventry had left him vastly exhausted. He brushed the dust off his thighs as he spoke. “I have returned from Coventry with a priest. I have sent him to the chapel.”

  Honey was pleased. “Excellent,” she said. “And he knows why he is here?”

  The servant nodded. “To perform a wedding mass.”

  Honey passed a glance over to the family table where Tiberius was telling a grand story now because he was using his hands animatedly. She thought on how to get Gallus and the lady to the chapel when, in fact, she already had the perfect excuse. Gaerwen was still there. She was rather displeased at herself for using trickery to get them there, but as she saw it, there was little choice. She wasn’t big enough to beat her son into submission so her only other option was coercion. She hoped that Gallus would someday forgive her for it but, on the other hand, she didn’t much care. It was for the man’s own good.

  “Indeed,” she said quietly. She returned her focus to the servant. “You have not told anyone why I sent you to Coventry, have you?”

  “Nay, my lady.”

  “Good,” she replied. “See that you do not. Now, I want you to return to the priest and ensure he has food and drink. I will bring my son and the lady to the chapel in a few minutes. Off with you, now. Be swift.”

  As the servant scurried away, Honey made her way back to the table where her sons were now laughing uproariously. Even Jeniver was giggling over something that, Honey suspected, might have been along the lines of burnt buttocks. Those kinds of stories always managed to come from her sons. Lily was sleeping on her father’s lap in spite of the noise and Honey went to Gallus, reaching out for her granddaughter. Gallus carefully handed the girl over.

  “Now,” Honey said, cradling the sleeping child, “Gallus, please escort Lady Jeniver to the chapel. A priest has come to pray.”

  Gallus looked somewhat confused, but Jeniver was already on her feet. “You sent for a priest?” she asked, almost
incredulous. “I did not know that you summoned one. He has come to pray for my father?”

  Honey was careful in her answer. “He is in the chapel,” she said. “Gallus will take you there.”

  With that, she turned away because she didn’t want them to pepper her with more questions than she was willing to answer. As it was, Jeniver was already on the move and Gallus, doing as his mother asked, was on his feet and preparing to escort the woman. As Honey handed Lily over to one of the serving women and had another one go to collect Violet in order to take the girls to bed, she turned in time to see Maximus and Tiberius following Gallus and Jeniver from the hall.

  So this is to be a family affair, she thought as she trailed after the group. Honey had to admit that she was bracing herself for what would be an undoubtedly emotional event. Now, it would come down to the last stand of a man who did not wish to fulfill a deathbed promise his mother had made on his behalf, but Honey had no intention of backing down. She wasn’t going to give Gallus a choice.

  The earl was to be force-fed a wife.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The chapel of Isenhall was a small, round structure tucked between the south side of the keep and the south wall. It would seat ten or twelve people at the most and actually had pews, unusual for a church. Honey didn’t like to stand so Antoninus had benches placed upon the wooden floor. There was a stone altar, covered with silk, with a beautiful golden cross upon it and an array of golden candle holders that held fat, white tapers. Above the altar, to the left, was a large lancet window that allowed light and air into the otherwise stuffy room.

  Crypts from two generations of de Sheras were orderly, bunched up against the east side of the room in a small alcove while the previous owners of Isenhall, the House of de Gernon, had several crypts in the vault below the chapel floor. Because of the premium of space inside of Isenhall in general, the chapel had been built in two levels with the ground level being that of an unusual wooden, and not dirt, floor.

  Jeniver entered the chapel before anyone, eager to meet the priest who would offer up prayers for her father’s recovery and also for his soul. The dusty, musty smell hit her in the face and she sneezed, more than once. The first thing she saw was a thin man in heavy robes sitting on one of the benches, eating a big hunk of bread. A servant in traveling clothes stood next to the priest, holding a tray with a cup of wine and other bits of food upon it. The man who was eating looked up sharply when he heard people enter, crumbs on his bearded face.

  “Are you the priest?” Jeniver asked as she approached him. “My father is the one you have come for. I am Lady Jeniver ferch Gaerwen.”

  The priest blinked, confused by her statement. He brushed off his beard. “Your father, my lady?” he repeated. “Is he in need of a priest?”

  Jeniver came to a halt, standing next to the man as he rose wearily from the pew. “He was badly injured today in an ambush,” she said. “The lady of the house has graciously sent for you. I would like a healing mass said for my father. He is in great need of healing prayers.”

  The priest looked at her strangely. He truly had no idea what she was talking about. He turned to look at the servant who had brought him to Isenhall, but the servant backed away, evidently unwilling or unable to explain away the confusion. The priest returned his attention to the beautiful young woman standing in front of him.

  “There must be a misunderstanding,” he said. “I did not come to pray for the dying. Were you expecting someone to?”

  Gallus, standing behind Jeniver, entered the conversation. “If you are not here to perform a funeral mass, why have you come?”

  “He came to perform a marriage mass.”

  The voice came from the entry to the chapel and they all turned to see Honey standing in the doorway. When she realized all eyes were upon her, she stepped into the chapel and quietly shut the door. Only then did she turn to face the group.

  “He came at my request,” she said, looking directly at Gallus. “He is here to perform the marriage ceremony for you and Lady Jeniver.”

  Gallus stared at his mother. “Marriage mass?” he repeated. He had to make a conscious effort to keep his mouth from hanging open in surprise. “You brought him here for that?”

  Honey nodded, stepping closer. She remained fixed on Gallus as if he were the only person in the room.

  “I promised Lord ap Gaerwen that you would marry his daughter,” she said evenly. “I intend to keep my promise.”

  Now, Gallus couldn’t help it, his mouth hung open and he looked at his mother as if she had gone quite mad. “You agreed to a betrothal that you did not have my permission to agree to,” he clarified. “We have not discussed it further, which I assumed we would, but now I find that you have summoned a priest for such a purpose? Did you think to bully me into submission, then?”

  Honey held her ground. “Listen to me, Gallus,” she said. Then, she looked at her other two sons who were gazing at her with varying degrees of surprise. “All of you will listen to me and listen well. I am a sick woman. I do not have long for this life. I am not going to die knowing that my eldest son is still in limbo grieving his dead wife and my other two sons are foolishly unattached. Is that what you think I want? I do not have the luxury of time to wait for you idiots to come to your senses and provide me with more grandchildren. Gallus, I know you have been miserable since Catheryn’s death but in Lady Jeniver, I see a chance for happiness for you again. Is that too much to hope for? Your happiness? Or are you simply going to pine away for the rest of your life, leaving two young daughters motherless after I die? Do you think it will make my passing a peaceful one if I know my entire family is in a state of turmoil?”

  She was speaking quite angrily by the time she was finished, which was unusual for the normally sedate woman. Gallus stared at her a moment before grunting unhappily, putting both hands to his head and turning away from the woman, running his fingers through his hair in a frustrated gesture. He hissed and sighed, indicative of a man with a good deal on his mind. He ended up pacing over by Tiberius and Maximus, coming to pause between his brothers.

  “I am sure you feel you are doing what is best for me,” he said, trying to be calm about it. Then, he gestured to Jeniver, who was standing in place looking rather shocked about the entire circumstances. “What about her? The woman’s entire life has been upended and now you want to upend it more by having her marry a stranger?”

  Honey looked at Jeniver. “What will you do if you do not marry my son?” she nearly demanded. “Will you return home? Marry a sweetheart who toils the fields or works in a shed? Can you not see that your father wishes for you to marry the Earl of Coventry? It will be a good life for you with much prestige. Will you not obey your father’s wishes?”

  Jeniver didn’t want to get into an argument with a woman who had been very kind to her. Much like Gallus, she was in a bad position. She wanted to resist but she knew that she could not. Her father’s wish was for her to be taken care of in the event of his death, but he was not dead yet. Still, she was presented with a wonderful opportunity. There wasn’t much she could do to refute any of this for she was, essentially, at their mercy. And they had promised Gaerwen she would be taken care of. Heavily, she sighed.

  “I will not return home to marry a sweetheart,” she said quietly. “I do not have one. My father wishes for me to be taken care of but he is not dead yet. He made the bargain when he thought he was at his end.”

  “And he is closer to his end now than he was when he struck the bargain,” Honey said, rather firmly. “Whether the man lives or dies, he made an agreement that was accepted. Whether you marry Gallus now or in five years, the agreement will still be the same. The only difference is that your father may not be here to witness it and I certainly will not be here if you wait. Therefore, you will do it now.”

  Jeniver could see there was no way out of this. She looked at Gallus, who was clearly upset by the entire circumstance. “If the earl does not wish to fulfill my father’s w
ishes, then I will not think him a lesser man for it,” she said quietly. “He saved my life and I shall always be grateful to him.”

  In the midst of his frustrated ticking, Gallus came to a stop and looked at her. “Do you want to marry me?” he asked.

  Jeniver wouldn’t look at him. She could feel her cheeks growing quite hot but she had no idea why. The earl was handsome and in the brief conversations they’d had, she had come to like him. There was interest in her heart. Perhaps she was ashamed that there was no interest in his.

  “It is clear that you do not wish to marry me,” she said, avoiding the question. “I do not blame you for it. You do not know me and I do not know you. I am not embittered by the rejection.”

  Gallus peered at her. He was aware she had not answered the question. Dropping his hands from his head, he went over to her and planted himself in front of her.

  “Answer me,” he said quietly, with a measure of gentleness. “Do you want to marry me?”

  Jeniver kept her head down, eyes averted. She wasn’t sure she could avoid the question again, not with him demanding an answer.

  “I would be agreeable if you are,” she said, so softly that he barely heard her. “But you are not agreeable so the question is irrelevant.”

  Gallus stared at her, aware that he was feeling something odd and giddy in his chest. So she was agreeable? He was genuinely puzzled by her answer. But he was also strangely flattered and encouraged by it.

  “But…,” he started, stopped, and then started again. “I am not a young man. Surely you would want a husband closer to your own age.”

  Jeniver looked up at him, then. “How old are you?”

  Gallus scratched his ear. “I have seen thirty-seven years.”

  “And I have seen eighteen. I fail to see the issue in our ages.”

  Gallus blinked, somewhat stumped by her answer. “Then I suppose there is none,” he said. “But I already have two children you would be a mother to. This does not concern you?”