by Amy Mullen
"We go west, cross the River Lea, and then turn south. ‘Tis not a long ride."
"Lead then," Turstin said.
"As you wish," Matthew said with a nod. He urged his horse ahead and led the way at a comfortable pace.
"Are you wary of Renoir?" Turstin said to Isabel once Matthew drew ahead of them. "I have heard tales of what happened between the Bigod family and your own, and I wish to gauge your concerns."
She glanced at him. Her face was soft and noncommittal as she spoke. "I do not know how you wish me to answer, milord."
Turstin chuckled. "I only wish you to answer with truth and honesty. I would be bored with a wife who hid her feelings and acted as a timid nursemaid rather than a woman. Do not fear to be who you are, for I expect nothing less."
"I am not sure…"
"Nay, Isabel, if your mind is half as beautiful as your face, we shall have a long and happy marriage. I wish you to always speak to me as you feel, not as you think you should."
"Very well, milord."
"Turstin."
Isabel glanced at him. "I am not sure I understand."
"My name is Turstin. Say it. I wish to hear it from your lovely lips."
Isabel’s hands tightened around her reins so snugly her knuckles paled, but she said it. "Turstin."
"Wonderful. Now, can you answer my question?"
"I am afraid I will react badly to Renoir. Much happened there, and I almost lost my sister because of the family that used to reside within those walls. I cannot say how I will feel until we get there."
Turstin had a choice to make: he could learn to separate Isabel from his anger toward Gemma and Nicholas, or he could be miserable with his new wife. Though weeks ago he would not have imagined choosing to embrace his new life with this woman he barely knew, now he knew the right answer. Isabel would be his wife—his and only his, and no one would come between them, not even her sister.
If he allowed his anger to fester and set it all upon Isabel’s lovely shoulders, everything would be lost. He had not known love and now, looking upon her face, it did not seem such a terrible proposition after all. To be loved by such a beautiful woman would not be the burden he imagined.
"I appreciate your honesty. I do not know what to think of all of it. The stories are varied, and I will be the first to admit one cannot truly know what happened unless they witnessed those events. I am newly knighted, and now a landowner, and I wish to settle in with my new wife, start a family, and enjoy all life has to offer."
"You make it sound so easy," Isabel said as her eyes fixed on the horizon. "I wish I could live so freely, myself."
"Why do you feel you cannot?"
"I do not know any other way."
"That is a shame, Isabel."
She said no more as he watched her ride. Isabel’s back was straight, her shoulders back, and she rode as if she had all the confidence in the world at her disposal. Her eyes sparkled as she let out a long breath and then closed those eyes for just a moment.
"So, we must cross the river and head south. Is it always passable?"
"It is now. Nicholas had a bridge constructed over the river after…"
"After?"
"After Gemma was taken. He had a hard time getting across, and his men had to wait while he went alone, and he did not want that to happen again. The bridge was taken out a few years ago when the flood waters rose in the spring. His men had it fixed quickly, though I cannot say he used it often. No one goes to Renoir."
"My men have been there since the day Henry secured our marriage contract. They are not expecting me today, but they know I will come at any time. I have to see the state of the castle for myself and make my wishes known. They will work on it up until our wedding. I hope to have the great hall and the solar secured, as well as the gate, so we may move in immediately after we are wed."
"I understand."
"And though this will take some time, the inner wall will be torn down, a new outer curtain wall will be erected to increase the overall size of the stronghold, and the current outer wall will become the lesser, inner wall. I have heard Renoir is small, and I wish to change that. I have the means, and I cannot think of any better investment. I wish to keep Renoir as it was. Changing the walls is unavoidable, but I will keep the features such as they were."
They came upon the bridge. It was not large but could easily hold the men and a heavily laden wagon, if needed. The waters of the river ran still with sunlight glinting from the surface. Lush green trees grew toward the sky, the leaves waving lazily in the light breeze. Turstin hoped the lands were as lush near the abandoned village. He had to draw people back or the castle would never sustain itself.
"What of those whom we shall need to keep the castle running?" Isabel asked, speaking without his prompting for the first time on the trip. "At Blackstone and Tenwick alike, there are many who must work to keep things running. It is overwhelming at times, keeping track of it all. As a girl I took it all for granted, but during my time at Tenwick, I learned to appreciate how complicated it truly is and how hard everyone must work."
"That is a concern," Turstin said as his horse stepped onto the bridge and crossed. They followed an old path, barely visible in the growing grass, toward a hedgerow lining an open, overgrown field. "I have to hire many people. They will be given protection in return for their work. If I can afford a wage, they will receive one in time. Mayhap there are those within the walls of Blackstone who might seek a higher position than the one they currently hold, or have children who wish to find their own way somewhere new."
"You wish to steal those who serve at Blackstone?" Isabel asked, her green eyes boring into his.
"Nay, not without the permission of Nicholas, of course."
"Matthew may be willing. He is a good soldier, though he has a limp. He once took an arrow to the leg and has not been the same since. He is determined, though, and a good man. He is close to Miles, Nicholas’s son. Matthew has been teaching him about knighthood and combat while Nicholas is otherwise engaged. Matthew’s wife is Adela. She is the daughter of our cook. She has been in the kitchens learning with her mum for as long as I remember. She would make a more than adequate cook."
"Seems you have put some thought into this then?"
"Nay, not really," Isabel said. "I thought of it just now as I watched Matthew ride before us. I know as long as they remain together, they will be happy."
"Do you believe in love, Isabel?" Turstin asked. She might not answer, but he had to ask anyway.
"I do. I believe Gemma and Nicholas love each other, as well as Matthew and Adela. There are many more. I once thought it a magical thing, but I have not experienced it for myself."
"As your betrothed, I will admit that is good to hear. I would hate to take a wife whose heart is with someone else."
"No one has my heart."
"You sound so sad, Isabel."
"I wish to be done with this trip, is all," Isabel said, her back stiffening. Her gaze settled far ahead of them. He too glanced ahead and saw the tops of the walls of Renoir Castle.
"That must be Renoir."
"Aye," Isabel answered, her voice small and weak.
Confused at her sudden change in demeanor, Turstin studied her face for a moment. What about this story did he not know, and what had actually happened at Renoir Castle?
Chapter Seven
Isabel held her breath as they rode nearer to Renoir. The walls rose above the ground like angry daggers, awaiting a living, breathing victim. A wisp of smoke spiraled into the sky, and an acrid smell of burning wood permeated the air around them as they neared the gate. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and told herself it was but wood and stone. It could not hurt her. Her memories, however, could hurt her. They splintered through her mind, stiffening her body, and squeezing her throat tight.
Matthew spoke, his voice penetrating the fog forming around her brain. Isabel opened her eyes and rested her vision on Turstin as he gazed at the castle walls. S
he became confused at his expression. ‘Twas one of pain and happiness together which set his lips in a firm, tight line. Isabel kept looking at him as it made her feel safe.
Men atop the wall eagerly waved to Turstin. The gate creaked as it started to rise. Renoir did not have a moat or a drawbridge, and the massive gate appeared beaten but never breached. It groaned as it slowly rose like an open, gaping mouth ready to devour her.
"Come, milady. This will be our home," Turstin said, his face now relaxed. "Let us enter together. I am excited to see what needs to be done and how this home has withstood years of emptiness."
She could do nothing but nod as she urged Rose to follow him through the imposing gate. Once they were inside the outer bailey, the gate closed behind them, with all of Nicholas’s men except for Matthew staying outside until they were ready to return to Blackstone. Some fifty men-at-arms surrounded them, many grinning and cheering at the return of their lord. They were all strangers to Isabel, and she felt more alone than she had ever felt in her life.
Isabel was stunned by the state of the castle grounds. Around her lay piles of rock, and a wide dirt path snaked through the overgrown weeds where the inner curtain wall once stood. A pile of debris near the remaining outer wall burned heartily. Rotted bed frames and chairs sat nearby, ready to go into the inferno. The smell of baking bread caught her attention. There was life in Renoir where none had been in almost ten years.
The men who came to greet Turstin began to wander away, returning to their tasks. One man stood near Turstin and helped him dismount. Isabel stayed near Matthew. After Turstin alit, he faced Isabel. He was most pleased, and his eyes glittered in the early afternoon sun as he beckoned her to come to him.
"Come, you and Matthew, meet my seneschal, Oswin."
A young soldier came to her and stood expectantly. At first, she was not sure what he wanted. She guessed he was no more than twenty years in age. He cleared his throat and spoke. "Your horse, milady?"
"Oh!" Isabel said as she blushed. She jumped down as Matthew did, and both handed their reins to the boy. "Thank you."
"Do not be frightened, milady," Matthew said. "I am here with you. Let us join your betrothed, as he seems most anxious to speak with you."
Isabel put her head down and pressed the weeds down with her slipper. Most of the bailey was overgrown. It had been barren and muddy the last time she had been there. Nature had taken Renoir back. Now, her future husband planned to tame it once again. She stepped, slowly at first, but was soon at Turstin’s side.
"’Tis good to meet you, Lady Isabel," Oswin said with a bow. "Should you need anything, I am always willing to help you in any way I can."
"Thank you." She liked him immediately. Oswin had boyish good looks and long, flowing brown hair caught in a leather tie behind his neck.
Turning back to Turstin, Oswin continued. "We have begun as you have asked. Half of the inner wall is down, and new stone has been ordered. Men have marked out the new wall location but await your final say and the arrival of a stonemason. All of the furniture has been brought out to be destroyed. Most has already gone into the fire. We have found a few trunks and saved them in the great hall, as you asked."
"Good work," Turstin said. "And of the kitchens?"
"They need a lot of work. We brought supplies with us, and my wife has been able to feed us all, but she grows weary. As you might guess, we need help. The stables must be cleaned, but the building is sturdy. Many of the lean-tos have to be taken down as well."
"I want to build as much as possible while leaving Renoir as authentic as possible. Any outbuilding that is not in perfect shape shall be replaced. Is the donjon in livable condition?"
"Aye, the structure is sound. The great hall is adequate, and the solar contains many large chambers. They are dirty, though, milord. ‘Tis nothing a little hard work will not fix. If you wish to keep the donjon as it is, you should find the structure and the layout pleasing."
Isabel gulped as her gaze fell on the entrance to the great hall. Great stone steps led up to the stiff arch that was the entryway. Feeling weak, she clasped her hands in front of her and focused on the ground. She mentally ticked off each breath she took to keep them slow and steady. Renoir was closing in on her, and she did not know how to handle the panicked feeling now rising from her stomach up into her throat. Just stone….wood… she repeated in her head. It was just an empty castle.
Turstin did not notice that anything was amiss with her. He continued to speak with Oswin. "And we have enough timber for all of these changes? I will go around with you, and I shall send an order back to London for anything we may need. I want the donjon to be ready for my wedding night. Isabel and I will move in immediately after we are wed. Though we have not decided on a date, ‘twill be before the autumn ends."
"Aye, milord. The large copse of trees outside the wall must be taken down, if you wish to expand the outer bailey. If local legend holds true, those trees once hid the invading army from a nearby castle, the army that rousted the Old Lord from Renoir. They are too near the walls and must go. We can use the wood for our building endeavors."
"Oswin," Turstin said, "that family of which you speak is the family I am to marry into. ‘Tis through my marriage contract with Isabel de Vere I have gained these lands. I am aware of the rumors. I do not think it wise to discuss these things openly. I do not wish to upset her."
"Tis fine," Isabel said, her voice cracking. Her breathing was steady, though she did not feel well. "I know what happened. ‘Tis neither a surprise nor a shock to hear it. I already know. All of England knows, for that matter. I am fine."
"Where are the chests?" Turstin said after staring at her for a long minute. "I wish to go through them so they too may be disposed of."
"May I speak?" Isabel asked.
Turstin faced her. "You have already forgotten what I said to you on the way here? Please do not ask me to speak. Just speak."
"Are you looking for something?"
"Pardon?"
"The chests," Isabel said, "why do you wish to see the chests?"
"Ah, that," he said as he beckoned for her to follow. "I wish to know more about the previous occupants, ‘tis all. Are you not the least bit curious, or do you think you know enough about the Bigod family already?"
"I do not wish to know more," she said as she tried to keep up with his quick, even stride.
"Just come, please?"
Isabel nodded, though he could not see her as she struggled to keep up with his hurried steps toward Renoir’s great hall. She whipped her head around to be sure Matthew was behind her. He was. A sense of relief flooded her. Matthew was familiar, and she needed that right now.
Once they entered, Isabel put her hand gracefully up to her nose. The hall had a smell that hit her in the face like an unmoving stone wall. It was not so overpowering that she gagged, but stale and solid, as if it could not be dislodged.
Turstin chuckled as he neared the fire. Isabel quickly put her head down. She was weak enough on her own and did not want to appear so in what would be her new home. The men milled about, pulling down ratty tapestries and prying wood from the walls, baring the stones for the first time since the castle was built, she guessed.
Old wooden trunks sat near each other, to the right of the fire. There were no trestle tables and the dais, where the Bigods once dined, was gone. Those items were victims of the renovations, already reduced to ash and soot. The floors were devoid of reeds, and the walls were almost bare. His men had wasted no time in doing Turstin’s bidding.
Oswin tapped one of the chests with his foot. "They are all here, milord. Otherwise, linens and old clothing items were found strewn about. The castle was left as if the Bigods departed in a hurry, or the place had been ransacked. Most of it was taken out and burned. The beds and a few tapestries in the solar were all rotted and broken, so they too are gone. ‘Tis as if you get a fresh start here, milord."
"Anything else I should know?" Turstin asked as he eyed t
he chests.
"Aye. We found three small families living within the castle walls when we arrived. They had broken through the lesser gate near the river and had made homes here."
Turstin’s head snapped up. "Where are they now?"
"We chased them out, milord," Oswin said, his voice full of uncertainty. "They fled into the woods."
"How many in each family?"
"Uh, each family had at least three children. Why do you ask, milord?"
"Find them."
"Milord? You wish to punish them?"
"Nay!" Turstin said, his voice booming off the walls. "I want them to stay. We need families here."
"But they trespass…"
"I do not care. They were families seeking shelter. They could not have done much damage. Send men out to find them, offer them shelter and food in exchange for work. Offer them a home in the village in exchange for their help in getting Renoir in good shape again. See if they have any special skills. Bring them back and present them to me when I return on the morrow."
"I will see if we can find them, milord. I will send men out right away," Oswin said as he took a hurried leave from the great hall.
Isabel stood, her mouth agape.
"You are surprised?" Turstin said. "You thought I would order them beaten and imprisoned in Renoir’s finest dungeons?"
"Nay," Isabel shook her head as she desperately wished for somewhere to sit. Her legs felt weak, and the dense, odd-smelling air within the hall was getting to her.
"Then what?"
"I admire you for offering them a home and employment, when many others would have been content to send them off into the woods without much thought to their welfare."
"Ah, Isabel, how little we know each other. I am a knight. I fight hard, and I cannot say I have always done the right thing, but I see no honor in harming the innocents of England."
"I am glad."
Turstin said nothing. Instead, he knelt beside the first of the chests and tapped the side. "These are rotted and must go, but first, let us see what secrets we may unearth. Are you not the least bit curious?"
