by Amy Mullen
And understand she did. The first time he had touched her cheek with his lips had been an eye-opener. This kiss, however, had been a whole new experience. In those few moments, everything in her life had changed. A small motion, a touch, lips lingering on hers, his hand possessively holding the small of her back, and she was forever a changed woman. Such small things, put together, had the power to overcome her common sense. Aye, she understood.
Despite whatever had happened to her, she was blessed. The king had sent her a man, fit and handsome, strong and sure, who would care for her. She knew little of love other than how she felt for Turstin. It was something men and women grew to feel for each other. With Turstin as her husband, this would never happen again, and she would not worry again for her safety. He might not love her, but he would protect and care for her.
"There," Matthew said. Isabel’s head shot up as he pointed. A small shack, not unlike the one she had chosen for her own shelter a day before, appeared before them. This one, unlike the other, was not empty. A steady stream of smoke rose from behind, and light could be seen from within.
"But someone is in there," Isabel said, alarmed.
"We will make it worth their time and effort to give us shelter for the night," Turstin said. They slowed and then halted twenty or so paces from the shack. It was larger than Isabel had first thought, but in comparison to Blackstone, it lacked anything that would shelter them if they were being followed.
"Identify yourselves!" a voice said, booming through the darkness.
"Aye, I am Turstin, knight under the employ of King Henry. I am accompanied by Matthew, soldier from Blackstone Castle, and Lady Isabel, sister of Gemma de Vere."
"What do you seek?" the voice said as a man emerged from behind a tree.
"We seek shelter for the night and will pay you well, if you should agree. The lady has run into some trouble. We only wish a night of sleep, and we would be on our way toward Blackstone on the morrow. Not only will I give you coin, I am sure Nicholas de Reymes will do the same for your assistance."
The man stood silent for a moment before he yelled, "Son, bring the torch. We have guests."
A boy came around the side of the shack, an axe in one hand and a torch in another. He was no older than Miles, and carried the same stern expression as Isabel’s nephew, when called upon to assist his father. It made her miss her family even more. As the boy neared, Isabel could more clearly see the faces of father and son. She sighed in relief. This family appeared friendly.
"Nicholas de Reymes comes this way each winter to see we are not in need. He allows me to hunt on Blackstone land, should I make the trip. To say I owe him a debt would be the truth. I am happy to have you, but I must know why you are here. Should we prepare for trouble?"
"Nay, at least, I do not think so," Turstin replied. "I believe we left the trouble behind once we passed London. There is no reason to believe we were followed. The lady was taken from her family, and I have retrieved her. We are anxious to return her to Blackstone, but in the event they know of her home, we thought it best to finish the trip in the daylight. We can remain alert, but I have had no indication we have been followed this far."
"Lady de Vere," the man addressed her, "this is true?"
"Oh, aye," Isabel said, nodding her head vigorously. "These men mean me no harm. They are truly who they say they are."
"I am Ernost. This is my son Giffard. My wife Odile and the rest of my children are within. We can offer the lady shelter, but you will sleep outside. We will join you and keep watch. Please, allow us to aid you."
An hour later, Isabel sat before a cheery fire, gratefully scooping venison stew from a crude wooden bowl. She had not eaten much at the inn or the day before that and had not known hunger this strong in a long time. "’Tis good, the stew. My thanks to you," she said, nodding to Odile.
"We are blessed, truly. My Ernost is a great hunter. He felled a deer just this past week. We often do not have meat for our stew. But no matter, we have a good life here. Now, my dear, you must eat and then rest. I can bring you water if you wish to clean up."
"That would be lovely, but I do not want to trouble you."
"No trouble, milady. I will bring a bucket around out the front. You can use it, and I will make up a pallet for your rest. I am sorry I cannot offer more."
"’Tis more than enough. You are too kind," Isabel said as she finished her food. One of the young girls sitting nearby came to take the bowl from her and giggled. Odile stood to leave the small wattle-and-daub dwelling.
Looking around, Isabel marveled at the way the family had all they needed in just two rooms. She would remember, from this day forward, to appreciate everything in her life and to thank God for her husband-to-be. Standing slowly, she smoothed out the skirt of her kirtle and went out the door after Odile.
****
Turstin finished eating as Isabel wandered out from the cottage. She was stronger than she knew, and he had been proud of her bravery that day. Though she had shaken violently while riding with him on Slash until they were well out of London, she had acted when she needed to save herself. He had been surprised, and aye, he had been pleased.
How quickly things had changed for him. He had ridden from Blackstone after they had fought, knowing he had made a grave mistake. His pride had stopped him from offering her comfort or from taking the words back. Instead of righting the wrong, he had run away.
He had lied when he said he would not love her. He did. Today was a sharp reminder that no one person had any control. Life would happen, and there was no stopping it. Love would grow, and there would be no denying it. Turstin loved everything about her, and now he had a second chance to make things right.
It would take time to prove himself, but he would. They would marry soon, and he would spend the rest of his life taking back his harsh words and foolish actions. He had spent the last few days imagining their life together, and he could find no fault. She would bear his children, and they would live in peace and, he hoped, in love.
He could not help but watch as she knelt down and dipped a cloth into a bucket and began to wash her face. Isabel gently dabbed the cloth on her arms, wincing slightly as she did so. Every motion was graceful, and he had to admit she was probably the most perfect woman he had laid eyes upon. It wasn’t about her beauty—though he longed to run his fingers through her cascading brown hair and could stare into her large, green eyes for hours—it was more about how she handled herself. Most women in her place would have fainted or gone into hysterics during the ordeal. She had not. Instead, she possessed a quiet strength even she could not see.
"More ale?" Ernost asked, interrupting Turstin’s reverie. Turstin quickly stared at the ground as the sound of the man’s voice caught Isabel’s interest. He did not want to be caught staring like a lovesick swain. Nay, ‘twas best he admired her from a distance now so he did not spook her. Love was more dangerous than any enemy he had faced, but he now welcomed it. After what he had done, he was not sure she would ever feel the same.
"Aye, ‘tis good ale," Turstin replied, turning his attention to Matthew, who sat silently staring off into the darkness. "Matthew?"
"Agreed," the soldier replied. "It is good."
"What are you waiting for? What is in the woods?"
"I am not waiting for anything, milord, just watching. It has been a strange series of events, do you not agree?"
"Isabel is fortunate to be safe, aye," Turstin said. "And we must keep her as such until we can return to Blackstone."
"I’ll not sleep this night, "Matthew said, "but will watch the woods until dawn. Blackstone will not be far once we start out again. We will be within the walls before sundown, if we ride straight through."
"You will rest," Ernost said, "’I shall keep watch. You need your rest to protect the lady. My son and I will be awake. No need for you to worry."
"We shall take turns sleeping so you are not taking such a burden on your own."
"Fair enough," Ernost r
eplied.
"Your devotion to Isabel is to be admired," Turstin said. He lowered his voice as he spoke to Matthew.
"I have known her since she was a young thing. The de Veres have been good to me, and I have enjoyed being in their service."
"You know, I am to marry Isabel. I wish to know more about the family."
Matthew drained the last of his ale and stared off into the distance. "They have known much pain, but they are a family of love. When Nicholas arrived, ‘twas not certain what would happen. It was a tough time. Soon after that I married, and I chose to stay."
"I have heard the stories, but they were vague," Turstin said. He was not sure if Matthew knew of his family name but he did not feel the urge to fill him in, not yet, anyway.
"Gemma was an innocent, though she would not have you treat her as such. A proud lady, one who would always fight back. The world is much stronger than one lady, though. ‘Twas terrible what happened, but it all came to an acceptable conclusion."
"And of Phillip and Hugh Bigod?" Turstin asked.
"There is not much I could tell you," Matthew replied. "I do know they did not act alone, and if you have heard the stories, you know as much as I do. I was there to protect the lady and aid my lord, as ordered."
"You make the family sound as if they are a step below the saints."
"I am sure they are all but human, milord," Matthew said with a chuckle.
"But surely, the Bigod family name has been run into the ground, after all that happened."
"I would not know. Gemma and Nicholas rarely speak of it and only do so when they have to. I suspect they have moved on to live life without concern for those events. I know those in the villages talked, but it has been years and years since. The Bigods are all but forgotten."
Turstin was not sure if he was happy or not. Those deeds were so long ago, and it seemed only he held on to them. The rest of the world had moved on. Nicholas and Gemma now knew he was a Bigod, but word would spread. Tongues would speak of it in surprise, but beyond that, would it matter anymore?
Despite it all, Nicholas had still summoned him when Isabel was in trouble. Perhaps some respect could grow between them. It had already happened, but Turstin had been too stubborn to embrace it. Now was the time to accept and tie the families together. What had happened all those years ago no longer mattered, and it appeared he was the last to realize it.
"Matthew, would you be averse to hearing an offer from me?"
"Milord?"
"You have proven strong and capable. Your devotion to Lady Isabel is admirable. Once we marry, I will need a man like you. If it were to be agreeable to Nicholas, would you accept a position in my household? I have some men, and the king has offered more, but I wish to handpick those closest to me. What say you?"
Matthew stared at Turstin, his mouth agape. "You wish to bring me to Renoir? I did not think you were serious when you mentioned it before."
"Aye, I am serious."
"But milord, I am a cripple. I took an arrow in the leg when assisting Lady Gemma outside the walls of Renoir. Surely you can find men much stronger and younger to fulfill your needs."
"Nay, I want you. I care not about your limp. You call yourself a cripple, yet I might not have gotten out of that place with Isabel without your aid. The offer stands. Should you show interest, we can discuss it with Nicolas when we return."
"You are too kind, milord. I shall consider your offer."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Turstin had slept last. There was no sign of another human all night. If the slave traders had followed, Turstin, Isabel, and Matthew had lost them. The trouble was behind them. He remembered his vow to tear the place apart. As soon as they returned, he would send a man from Blackstone to Oxford to deliver a message to the king. Once married, he would see the king himself.
For now, he focused on his betrothed. He heard her soft voice and laughter. The sounds lightened his heart. Turstin forced himself fully awake. It was time to move on, and he was excited to see her home. Though he cared little for what Nicholas and Gemma had thought of him in the past, he now wanted to show his devotion and worthiness of Isabel by returning her home as quickly as possible.
After a quick stretch, he sat up and was greeted by one of the children. They offered water and an apple. He took both and said his thanks. Greedily, he gulped the water, leaving half to wash his face. The apple was a bit sour, but it took the edge off his hunger. A bit later, it was Isabel who offered him food—this time, a bowl of stew.
Ernost sat beside Turstin. The trees beyond blotted out the sun, but it was a lovely morning. "You slept soundly?"
"Aye, for the time, I allowed myself to do so," Turstin replied. "I am in your debt. What can I do to repay you for your assistance?"
"Nothing, milord," Ernost said. "’Tis only right what we did, and we would do it again."
"What do you do?"
"I am a blacksmith. My wife makes candles. We travel to London for five days each fortnight. She sells her candles, and I do odd work for coin. Once in a while I sell a sword or dagger."
"’Tis not the best life," Turstin said as he finished his food.
"We manage to survive, and we are happy. I would call that a good life."
"Aye, I would have to agree. I have a proposition for you."
Ernost listened, his eyes on watching the woods beyond. The man was always on guard. Turstin waited for a reply, but none came. It seemed Ernost was a man of few words.
"I am restoring Renoir. Isabel and I will live there once we are wed. I need many men and women to help keep Renoir going. Both you and your wife have skills I need. Would you consider life in Renoir with us?"
"We cannot leave our children," Ernost said, his eyes widening in surprise.
"I would never ask you to leave your children. You are all welcome."
"I do not know if castle life is right for us. We are good people and are used to living freely."
"You would still be free. I offer protection and coin for your work. Your children are welcome and will have advantages there they might not have while you live here. If you became unhappy, you would be free to leave."
"I have heard stories of bad behavior and of those serving their lords being mistreated. I am not doubting your honor, milord, but am simply looking out for my family."
"You have nothing to fear with me and Renoir."
"He is right," a feminine voice said softly as a shadow fell over them.
Turstin studied Isabel as she stood before him. Her face was bruised and scratched. The wound on her forehead did not bleed but was visible along her hairline, and her kirtle pooled at her feet, as it was too long for her frame. He stared for a moment too long, because despite all of those things, she was strikingly beautiful to him, and in that moment, he counted every blessing he had. She was at the top of the list.
"I shall speak with my wife, and we will consider your offer."
"Wonderful," Turstin said. "Please come as soon as you can, if you wish to come. Do you know how to get to Blackstone?"
"Of course," Ernost replied.
"Stop there. They can direct you to Renoir. ‘Tis but a short ride west of Blackstone. I hope you come."
"I’ll go speak with her now. Sometimes, it takes her a while to come up with the right answer," Ernost said as he stood and left.
"You might as well sit down," he said, shielding his eyes as he peered up at her. A stray ray of sunshine settled on his eyes, reminding him of the passing time. They should go soon.
Isabel sat. She watched the children for a moment as they played a game, chasing each other around the small shack.
"I hope they come," she said, finally.
"Aye, my offer was sincere."
"I know it was. I think seeing them here in the woods reminds me of how good my life is. I have taken for granted the large stone walls that protect my family. We have knights and soldiers. They only have each other. They seem happy, yet always being on guard has to take its
toll. I feel so awful for being ungrateful and frightened as I was."
"Aye, we are blessed. But you cannot feel bad about how you felt or feel. I am sure you had your reasons."
"I do not hate the Bigods, you know. Not any longer."
"Nay? Not even Phillip?"
Isabel laced her fingers together in her lap. "I used to hate him, but now I just feel sorry his life was so miserable. ‘Tis not any more fair for me to hate each Bigod I meet simply because of what Philip did. It would be the same as people hating me for the deeds of my brother Gavin."
"Tell me about him," Turstin said.
"There is not much to tell. Truthfully, though Phillip went along readily and tried to harm my sister, Gavin was the one behind it all. He went mad. Gemma said talking to him was like talking to the wind. He did not listen, and there was no reason. He just went with whatever he felt at the moment. He fought for the king, but mayhap his mind was too weak and it broke. Not all men can see death and dying and shrug it off."
"No man shrugs it off, Isabel. ‘Tis a gift to deal with it and stay sane. When it is kill or die, the act becomes less daunting. No good man kills for fun, only for necessity. Mayhap you are right. I have seen men go raving mad from battle and all it entails."
"I hope I am nothing like him. Sadly, I did not know him well."
"I never met him. I cannot say how he was or why for sure, but I would never assume you were anything like him. I know you are not."
"We did not have much of a chance to talk about this," Isabel said. "I want you to know I care not from what family you come. I do not care if you are a Bigod. I only wish you would have told me sooner."
"’Tis complicated, is it not? You can understand why I did not want to say anything right away?"
"You wanted Renoir and did not wish to scare me."
"Selfishly, at first, I cared only about Renoir. But as we spent time together, I grew to care about you, too," Turstin said. He reached over and took her hand. He marveled at the warmth of her skin as her fingers wrapped around his. "It did not take long."
