Thomas lifted an eyebrow. “Because he is not of our house.”
CHAPTER NINE
“What do you mean the stone is inferior?” Dennis asked, turning a piece of red-colored stone and over in his hand. “We cannot mine stone around here because of the clay in the soil. The stone will crumble. This stone has come from quarries near Chepstow that mine red stone, and it was brought here on cogs that were full of stone. We were simply reusing stone that has held for a hundred years and now you are telling me it is inferior?”
The stonemason was Welsh and knew his craft. He had come all the way from Cardiff to assist in the rebuilding of St. Austell, and he was being paid handsomely from the fortress’ already-strained coffers. His Welsh accent was heavy as he tried to explain.
“Aye, the stone that has held up these walls for a hundred years was sound stone, but the collapse of this wall has crushed some of it,” he said. “I do not have good remaining stone to work with.”
Dennis was exasperated. “You managed to rebuild half of the wall and now you are telling me the remaining stone is inferior?”
The stonemason nodded firmly. “It has been badly damaged by the ballistas aimed against the walls. I do not know if I can use it to finish rebuilding.”
As Dennis examined the stone in his hand, Charlotte walked up beside him. She had caught some of what the stonemason had been telling her brother, and peered at the stone in Dennis’ hand as Dennis focused on the mason. Everything was wet because of the two steady days of rain they had endured, making the stone rather slippery and soft. Dennis sighed heavily.
“Then what do you suggest?” he asked. “We cannot leave the wall half built.”
The stonemason put a dusty finger against his nose in a thoughtful gesture. “Send word to the quarry where this stone was originally mined,” he said. “Near Chepstow, did you say?”
Dennis nodded but his patience was limited. “That will take time,” he said. “Possibly months. I am willing to use stone that is not red in color. Where can we find some?”
Again, the mason was thoughtful. “I believe there is a granite quarry up near Bodmin,” he said. “I have heard it is quality stone. Mayhap I should visit and see for myself.”
Dennis sighed heavily, with relief. “Excellent,” he said. “I will send you with a contingent of men and transport wagons. From here to Bodmin should take you a half a day’s travel at most.”
The stonemason nodded firmly. “I shall be along my way in the morning, m’lord.”
Dennis handed the red stone back to him and turned to his sister with a roll of the eyes. “I thought we were going to have trouble,” he muttered. “Who knew that the stone that has comprised our wall for a hundred years is now considered inferior? Astonishing.”
Charlotte snorted as she watched the stonemason set off for the half-repaired wall again. Six days after her beating by Ryan, she was still bruised on her right cheek and eye, but she was, for the most part, back to normal. The first day after the encounter, she had remained in bed with a splitting headache and nausea, but the next day she was on her feet and resuming her normal duties. She was, if nothing else, a tough woman.
Dennis had tended to his sister as a brother was obligated to, making sure the physic was available to her and generally ensuring she was comfortable and that her needs were met, but he refused to engage in any conversation with her. He was positive his sister would be out for Ryan’s blood, and he was equally positive that he would react as a protective husband would.
A week into his marriage, he couldn’t remember when Ryan hadn’t been at his side. The past few days had seen such discovery between them, bonding and sharing thoughts and feelings as he had never done with anyone. Whatever affection he had initially felt for her had quickly turned into something else, an adoration he couldn’t begin to describe.
Therefore, if Charlotte made a move against Ryan, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his emotions out of it. Although he had never struck his sister in his life, he wondered if it would come to that. Charlotte was a bully and a brute, and if he was forced to defend Ryan against her, then so be it.
“The Launceston ballistas pummeled our wall into dust,” Charlotte said, breaking in to his thoughts. “I am not surprised that there are unsalvageable portions.”
Dennis grunted, watching the men as they continued to work on the crushed section. “I was hoping to set aside the dowry I received from my marriage to Ryan, but it seems as if I will have to use it to pay for new stone.”
Charlotte’s expression seemed to harden. “It is only right, considering it was her kin that smashed the wall.”
Dennis looked at his sister, preparing to say something about the beating Ryan had dealt her, but he held his tongue on the matter. If Charlotte wanted to discuss it, then it would be up to her to broach the subject. He knew it was on her mind; it had been six days and she hadn’t said a word about it. Like an invisible weight hanging between then, the subject was there waiting to be introduced.
“I was hoping to save that money for more important things,” he said. “It seems a shame to waste it on stone walls.”
Charlotte shrugged. “What else would you use the money on?”
Dennis lifted an eyebrow. “On you, for example,” he said. “You will marry someday. I must provide you with a dowry.”
Charlotte’s cheeks flushed a dull red and she looked at her feet as she kicked around small rocks in a nervous gesture. “I would not worry over that,” she said. “I will not marry.”
“Why not?” he asked. “We have spoken of this before and although you have been vague on the subject, you have never expressed outright refusal of it.”
Riston picked that moment to emerge from the knight’s quarters. He was at least a half the length of the bailey away from Dennis and Charlotte, but he was noticeable enough in the midst of the busy ward. As he began to stroll across the bailey towards the keep, Charlotte watched him. He was tall, dark-haired, and handsome. Dennis noticed his sister’s expression. He knew what she was thinking.
“Still Riston?” he asked softly. “I told you to forget about him. He is not interested in marriage.”
Charlotte tried to look indifferent but she wasn’t doing a very good job. “Neither am I,” she said. “At least, not now. Perhaps that will change in time.”
“Perhaps it will, but he will not,” Dennis tried to be tactful. “He is looking for an advantageous marriage, something you cannot provide. Moreover, he does not want a wife who can beat him in a fight.”
“Not many men do.”
“Clive does.”
Charlotte looked at him sharply. “De Camville?” she said, shaking her head. “He is not a desirable marriage prospect.”
“Why not?”
“Because he is not.”
“He would make you a fine husband, Charls.”
Again, Charlotte shook her head, averting her gaze. “Nay, little brother. I shall not marry.”
Dennis wriggled his eyebrows in defeat and returned his attention to the activity on the wall. “A pity,” he said. “I am finding marriage most agreeable. I would wish the same happiness for you as well.”
Charlotte looked up from her feet, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. She was expecting some taunt or other insult to come flying out at her with regards to the beating she took at the hands of his wife, or the situation in general, but none was forthcoming. Dennis seemed to be genuinely serious.
Charlotte wasn’t quite sure what to say to him. When she was drunk, she had a good deal to say to him, but sober and in a peaceful conversation, words were difficult for her. Deep down, she was an insecure woman who didn’t fit into her world, and she hid behind drink to give her courage. If she would admit it to herself, she was envious of her brother and his marriage, which he evidently found agreeable. Maybe that was the root of her problem more than anything else, more than vengeance or age-old hostilities. She was also deeply curious about it.
“I have not
seen your wife lately,” she finally said. “Did you finally send her back to Launceston?”
Dennis shook his head. “I did not.”
“Then where has she been?”
Dennis didn’t look at her as he spoke; he was looking at the activity at the wall. “I have kept her to the upper floor of the keep, for obvious reasons,” he said. Then, he looked at her. “I did not want her to give you an opportunity to seek revenge for the beating she dealt you. It is my intent to keep her safe.”
So the subject had been opened. Charlotte met his gaze, fully prepared to tell him exactly what she thought about that incident, but she ended up grinning. Then, she actually chuckled. She was rather pretty when she smiled, because it softened up her mannish features, but she didn’t smile nearly enough to make a difference.
“It was a rather shocking moment, wasn’t it?” she said. “I would never have guessed she had such courage in her.”
Dennis was rather surprised that his sister was laughing about it. In fact, he was astonished. “She is not the weakling you believed her to be,” he agreed. “I do not know many men that would have taken you on the way she did.”
Charlotte rubbed the right side of her head, still sore from the blows. “I suppose she had reason to do what she did,” she admitted, glancing uncomfortably at her brother. “The goat… I did not kill it as I told her I did. The truth was that it had nearly strangled itself on the leash because it was so agitated and by the time the cook and I discovered it, it was nearly dead. I finished the job quickly. Once it was dead, there was no reason not to cook it.”
Dennis gazed steadily at her. “Is that the truth?”
“It is.”
“Then mayhap you should tell her that. She was quite devastated over the animal’s death, as evidenced by the bruise on your face.”
Charlotte looked away, eventually shrugging. “I understand her need for revenge,” she muttered. “As we sought revenge on her for father’s death, she sought revenge against me for the goat. We both sought to punish those responsible for the death of those we loved.”
Dennis sensed something more in her softly uttered statement. “That is extraordinarily insightful.”
“I can be insightful at times.”
Dennis reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “I realize you and I have been at odds since I brought her back to St. Austell,” he said quietly. “Charls, you are my sister and I love you. It is just the two of us now. I respect your abilities as a warrior and in moments like this, you have great common sense as a woman. Please tell me now that this peace I have tried to bring between St. Austell and Launceston will not have you and me at each other’s throats for the rest of our lives. What I have done was try to spare us from more death and sorrow. I do not want to lose you as we lost father. I want us to grow old and raise families. Do you not understand that?”
Charlotte nodded, looking embarrassed. She was not good with expressing her emotions as her brother was. “I understand.”
“Will you at least stop trying to provoke Ryan? She does not deserve it.”
She sighed heavily. “I will,” she said after a moment. “But you realize we will more than likely never be the best of friends.”
“I understand,” he said. “But it would please me greatly if you would at least tolerate her. For my sake. She really is a courageous woman and quite sweet at times.”
As Charlotte nodded reluctantly, unwilling or unable to say more, Dennis put his hand on her head affectionately. It was as much as he could hope for at the moment and he was satisfied.
“You do not have to hide her from me,” Charlotte said after a moment, sounding resigned. “As strange as it sounds, she has managed to knock me off my feet and is therefore deserving of some respect.”
Dennis grinned. “Is that all it took for her to gain your esteem?”
Charlotte shrugged, moving away from him. “At least she has courage,” she said. “She knew she could not beat me in a fair fight and sought to take advantage of my distraction. That shows tactical cunning.”
Charlotte was expressing her approval in the only terms she could understand, and Dennis let her go. He watched her walk off across the bailey, yelling at men who were too slow to get out of her way. He was deeply relieved that she was at least coming to terms with Ryan’s presence. He had seriously wondered if she would. Dennis returned his attention to the wall for a few minutes longer before heading up to the keep.
At Dennis’ request, Ryan had remained in their chamber mostly, behind locked doors with Lyla when Dennis wasn’t with her to keep her company. Today, however, Ryan and Lyla had grown bored beyond measure and had taken to cleaning out the chamber and changing out the hay in the mattress. Clive had been sent to watch over them, poised at the top of the stairs and watching the women bustle about. He thought Lyla rather pretty, so the watching had been somewhat pleasurable for him.
Their zealous cleaning had spilled over into the second chamber on the floor and the big, dirty loft where Rodrick d’Vant had breathed his last. They had quite a project on their hands, and Clive had been roped into helping them with the big mattress in the loft, when Dennis mounted the top step and saw all of the activity. There were brooms, buckets of water, and a big basket of hay being put to good use. He grinned as he made his way over to them.
“Clive is a knight, not a house servant,” he told his wife as he came up behind her. “This kind of work is most undignified for him.”
Ryan turned around to see that he was grinning. Dressed in a brown broadcloth with her glorious hair pulled back off her face, she was covered in chaff from the hay. But no amount of chaff or dust could dampen the smile on her face.
“He has become my slave,” she said imperiously. “Beware that I do not make you my slave as well.”
Dennis laughed softly, reaching out to kiss her hand and then spitting out the pieces of straw he had managed to kiss. Ryan giggled.
“I am covered with the stuff,” she said. “Kiss me at your own risk.”
Dennis wiped the chaff from his lips. “I will take my chances,” he said, his gray eyes twinkling at her. Then, he looked around the loft, noting that the bed was pulled apart and someone was repairing the rope sling that supported the mattress. “Who is doing all of this work?”
Ryan brushed a stray hair off her forehead as she followed his focus. “Lyla and I are doing most of this,” she said. “Clive and a few male servants have helped with the heavier items.”
Dennis nodded his approval. “Do not strain yourself with heavy things,” he said. “I do not want you to injure yourself.”
He was being kind and concerned. Ryan smiled at him, feeling such warmth and adoration for the man. Aside from their very bumpy beginning, six days of an agreeable marriage had seen her fall very deeply in love with him. She wouldn’t tell him, of course, because she was fearful he wouldn’t feel the same way. She knew he was very fond of her and there was compassion and sweetness in everything about him, but love… well, that was never expected within a marriage, and especially not in an arranged one. But she knew that she had his affection and she would have to be content with that.
“I will not, I promise,” she said. “But we could use your help putting our mattress back on our bed.”
He swept his arm in the direction of their chamber. “Lead the way, madam.”
With a smile for his eyes only, Ryan headed towards their bedroom and Dennis followed. Lyla and Clive followed also and it was Clive and Dennis who eventually heaved the big mattress back onto the bed. As Dennis brushed off his hands, he noticed that their chamber was cleaned up and organized. He also noticed the fabric they had purchased a few days ago neatly stacked against the wall and he pointed at it.
“We have yet to take this material to Mistress Patrizia,” he said to Ryan. “Would you like to take it now?”
Ryan nodded eagerly. “I did not want to ask, knowing you have more important things on your mind.”
His tone soften
ed. “There is nothing more important than you. Ask and it shall be done.”
It was a sweet thing to say, murmured in the most delicious of tones. Ryan’s heart fluttered. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I will change into a fresh gown quickly.”
Dennis touched her cheek as he turned for the door. “Clive and I will arrange the escort while you do,” he said, practically shoving Clive from the room. “Come down into the hall when you are ready to depart.”
Ryan looked rather surprised. “Go down into the hall? Unescorted?”
Dennis winked at her. “I will see you down there in a little while.”
He shut the door softly behind him, leaving Ryan and Lyla looking at each other somewhat surprised. Ryan finally shook her head in wonder as she turned for her trunks.
“That is the first time he has told me to leave these rooms unescorted,” she said. “I wonder why?”
Lyla also went to the trunks and began helping Ryan open them. “He must feel that it is safe,” she said. “Mayhap his terrible sister is finally locked up in the vault.”
“Or still incapacitated after I thrashed her.”
“I wish I had seen it!”
Ryan grinned as she began pulling out surcoats. “I wish you had as well,” she said, unwilling to comment more on Charlotte because she honestly didn’t know what more to say. She waved her arms at her cousin. “Hurry and change your clothing. I would return in time to oversee the evening meal.”
Lyla scattered, heading for the washbasin just as Ryan was. “Dennis has let you oversee the meal for the past three days,” she said excitedly. “He must trust you a great deal.”
Ryan poured clean water into the earthenware bowl. “He is simply allowing me to carry out my duties as chatelaine,” she said. “Truthfully, the cook and the servants have been very cooperative, especially with Dennis following me around like a guard dog. It has not been such a difficult task.”
“I would imagine not,” Lyla agreed. “Has Dennis said anything more about his sister?”
Ryan shook her head. “Not a word,” she admitted. “I do not know if she is well or still injured. He has not mentioned anything about her and, frankly, I do not care. I am glad to be rid of her in any case.”
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II Page 138
