by Amy Mullen
"Please help me," Gemma said, her voice calm and steady. "I am trying to sew up your husband-to-be, and he is being quite grumpy about it."
"What?" Isabel ran the last few steps and halted when she caught sight of his wound. His arm was crusted with blood, and the bandage wrapped tightly around it was colored a bright red. A bucket of water sat on the floor, and Turstin was scowling.
"What happened?" she asked.
"I found Ronan," Turstin said. "He is with Nicholas."
"You did? What did he say? Why did he do this?"
"He has not said a word. I have not yet questioned him. I wanted to wait for you," he said.
"And this?" Isabel put her hand up near his arm but stopped short of touching him.
"He was not as easy to subdue as I thought," Turstin said, trying to smile at her.
"Do you want to do this, Isabel?" Gemma asked. "I am more than willing to give the chore to you. He is most disagreeable."
"I will," Isabel said. "Is there wine? Has the priest made any poultice?"
"Aye to both," Gemma said.
"I have all I need, then," Isabel said as her sister left them.
"Is it deep?" Isabel asked. She reached into the water and pulled out a cloth.
"No, not too deep, but it bled for quite a while," he said, as he watched her intently.
"I have to remove the bandage now. I will wet it first. If the blood has dried, I do not want to rip your skin or reopen the wound when I remove it." She dripped water onto the bandage and dipped the cloth again. Once the bandage was soaked, she slowly untied it and removed it from his arm. The bleeding started anew, so she pressed a dry cloth to it and held it there.
"Next is the wine. It might sting," she said. She removed the cloth and splashed it before he could reply and then put the cloth back in place to slow the bleeding. Working quickly, she closed the wound, packed it with poultice, and wrapped a new bandage around it. All the while, Turstin was silent as he watched her work. He winced a few times but otherwise showed no signs of discomfort.
"You took that so well," she said as she finished. "’Tis funny. I remember Gemma doing this very thing for Nicholas, after he returned from Renoir. The wound was in his thigh, though."
"Mayhap ‘tis Renoir," Turstin said. "Mayhap ‘tis cursed."
"Nay," Isabel said and then giggled. "’Twas just the first of many times she had to sew him up. He had a way of making people angry. He still does at times."
"’Tis a hazard of knighthood," Turstin replied as she stood. "I need a shirt. I was feeling weak, but I am much better now. I will dress and return. Please stay here, and we shall go see Ronan together. If anyone has the right to question him, ‘tis you."
"I thought you would like to," Isabel said. "Where did you find him?"
"I will tell you when I return. I will be quick. He is down in the outer bailey near the gate. Nicholas has him secured to a post for now."
After he had dressed, they walked together toward the gate. Isabel’s stomach tightened as they approached. Lord Beret was there, along with Nicholas and Gemma. Constance was nowhere to be seen. Ronan was indeed tied securely to a post, much like Isabel had been on that boat. The soldier perked up as she approached and then put his head down after eyeing Turstin momentarily.
"This shall be quick," Turstin said. "I want simple answers, and I want them now. Lady Isabel has some questions as well."
Ronan lifted his head and stared at her with a smirk on his face. "I have followed you for years, Lady Isabel. ‘Twas you who would inherit Renoir. You should not have it, for it should be mine."
"Pardon?" Turstin asked.
"Do you not know who I am, cousin?" Ronan said, glaring at Turstin.
"Cousin?"
"Aye, I am a Bigod, the same as you. The difference is I did not throw away my family name. I was never allowed to claim it."
"What are you speaking of, boy?" Turstin demanded.
"Nothing. I have nothing to say. I came to you for work, and you attacked me and brought me here. You cannot hold me. Let me be!"
"We already know you planned for my disappearance and made it happen. Constance has told us everything," Isabel said. Constance had not told them everything, but there was no reason to tell Ronan that.
Ronan’s face reddened quickly. He gritted his teeth as he began to thrash against the pole, trying to break free.
Isabel gasped and took a step backward. "Speak!" she said with more force than she intended. "Why did you do this?"
"Renoir should be mine! Why should Turstin have my family home? I have had nowhere to go and no one to call family since my mother died, alone and broken on the streets of London. Why cannot I have a home like everyone else?"
"You keep saying you are of my family, yet you give me no names. Who are your parents? I know all of my family, and the name Ronan is not familiar to me," Turstin said, his voice rising. "Who are you? Speak now!"
"I am the son of Phillip Bigod," Ronan said in a steady voice as he gnashed his teeth. "He was my father." Both Gemma and Nicholas gasped, but Isabel held quiet and still. She was not overly shocked by anything at this point.
"Impossible!" Isabel said, after a long minute had passed. "He never married and was confined in King Henry’s dungeon."
"He was not married to my mother. She was a laundress there. He made her his leman while waiting for Lady Gemma to agree to marriage. He spoke of love to my mother, yet in the next breath spoke of how he would wed Gemma one day. My father allowed us to stay, and I thought ‘twas because we were family. I was his son! When Renoir fell, they all ran to the far corners of England and left us. I was five years old. My mother spent the end of her life begging in London, facing the worst of men, and she died with a broken heart."
"What does that have to do with us? With Isabel?" Turstin asked, stepping closer to Ronan. "And be aware I have no problem getting the answers out of you in any way I can. If you do not want to speak, you can sit for years, if you wish, until you are ready."
"You will torture me then? Your own flesh and blood? You would be so cruel?"
"Nay, I believe torture is wrong and brings about nothing but false information from the desperate." Turstin shrugged and stepped even closer. He was so close to Ronan their noses almost touched. Isabel held her breath, unsure of what would happen next. "But I can assure you, I can make your life so uncomfortable, you will beg for a chance to speak. Time alone in a cell would bring out the truth."
Ronan glared at Turstin for quite a while before he spoke. "I have nothing to say."
"You do! You do!" a shrill voice said from behind them. "You will not leave me to take the blame for this! I won’t let you!" It was Constance. Isabel had not heard her approach. Before she could turn, Constance flew to Ronan and started hitting him with her fists. "You never loved me! You used me as an instrument of revenge. I hate you! I will not pay for your crimes!"
Turstin pulled her off of him, but not before she had landed a few weak blows to Ronan’s face. The anger in Ronan’s eyes grew, and he frantically tried to kick out at whomever he could reach. He kicked nothing but air. "You witch! How dare you!"
"If you do not speak, she will walk free, and you will pay for the crimes," Turstin said. Isabel spun to face him, her eyes wide with surprise. He winked at her and then returned his attention to Ronan. "Is that what you wish?"
"She was in on it!" Ronan blurted out. "I wanted to woo Lady Isabel while she was at Tenwick so I might have Renoir. Constance talked me out of it and professed her love for me. Isabel was too good for the likes of me. She barely acknowledged me. When Turstin came, I knew him instantly, for he favors his father in looks and build. I remember him by name, the grandson of Hugh, who went to Normandy with his father. I saw my chance to reclaim what should be mine."
"You thought of her first?" Constance said. "I did not know that. You lie!"
"I have heard enough!" another voice chimed in. This time it was Lord Beret who spoke.
"Let us finish,
please," Turstin said to him as the man stepped forward.
"What else do you need to know?" Ronan asked as he sneered at Turstin. "When I failed to get the attention of Isabel, I told Constance to win your heart." Ronan was tiring quickly. "When the plan changed, I had to get rid of Isabel, so I arranged for it. Once she was gone and Constance married you, I would secure work at Renoir. She would be your wife, but it would be me she sought in the night. It would be my son who would inherit Renoir, not yours." Ronan finished and then spat in Turstin’s direction.
"You fool!" Turstin said. "What gives you the idea I would have turned to Constance, even if Isabel were to disappear? Renoir was Isabel’s, not mine. I would not have been able to claim it if we did not wed."
"Henry would have given it to you anyway. You are the only Bigod he cared for."
"You are mad," Isabel said.
"You are a witch, too!" he said.
"This plan of yours is full of holes," Isabel said. "It never would have worked. The only thing you would have accomplished is my death or imprisonment. You are a terrible, terrible man."
"Enough," Turstin said. "I think Isabel has heard enough, and so have I. What will we do with him, Nicholas?"
"He will occupy the same cell his father once did," Nicholas said. "And he will stay there until I hear back from King Henry. I am not sure if he is still in Oxford or not, so it may take a while to get to him."
"And of Constance?" Turstin said.
"I think we leave that up to Isabel," Nicholas said.
"Excellent idea," Turstin said.
All stared at Isabel. The uneasy feeling from earlier in the day ebbed, as she decided it was time to cut Constance loose once and for all.
Isabel walked with purpose toward Constance, who was now standing at her father’s side. She stopped in front of her, her expression blank.
"I cannot pretend we are friends any longer, though I will treasure the time we spent. Now I understand the strange hours you kept and the odd things you would say. You were in love with Ronan, weren’t you?"
"Aye," Constance said as tears fell down her cheeks. "I know you do not care, but I am sorry, Isabel. I would do anything to take it all back."
"You are right. I do not care," Isabel said. "I want you to leave, and I never want to see you again. I do not think you need any punishment for your role in this, as I believe you are going to suffer enough, once you are parted from Ronan and married off by your father."
Constance cried harder, bringing her hands up to her face. Her father put his arm around her and scowled at Isabel but did not stop her from speaking again.
"As far as I care, you are free to go. Your punishment is of your own making. I do wish you well, but I will not think about you after this day. I will not allow you to hurt me again, and I will not let the memories of you intrude on my future."
"What?" Constance said. "Really?"
"Aye, unless Nicholas or Turstin deem otherwise. That is my wish. Goodbye, Constance." Isabel swung around and walked through the bailey with purpose. She did not look behind her, nor did she stop until she reached the dais in the great hall.
Standing and looking at the fire, she waited. She waited for the tears to come or for the fear to return. Nothing happened. Again she waited for the familiar feelings to emerge, the tingling in her body, the shortness of breath, and the hammering of her heart, all of which were the beginnings of one of her spells.
Nothing happened.
"Isabel?" Turstin said as he strode into the hall. "Constance is gone, and Ronan has been locked up. We are in the clear now, and the nightmare is behind you."
"I know," she said. "More so than you can imagine."
"Is there anything you need? You have been so strong these last few days. Mayhap there is something I can do for you?"
"Kiss me."
Turstin’s smile faded. "Pardon?"
"Kiss me. Now."
A dark look crossed his face and then vanished. He closed the distance between them with lightning speed and took her into his arms.
"Like this?" he asked, planting a light peck on her cheek.
"Nay," she said as she started to tremble.
"Then this?" he asked as he pressed his lips to her forehead.
"Not like that," she said in a whisper.
"So you must mean this," he said as he lowered his lips to hers. "You mean what people live and die for? Wars are fought for? That kiss?"
Isabel closed her eyes as he claimed her mouth with his. Everything else disappeared but the sensations he created within her. He moved softly at first, gently parting her lips with his. Isabel’s hands reached up tentatively to touch his back. He was firm and warm, and she ran her hands up his back slowly as she tried to pull him closer.
Turstin sighed against her mouth as he pulled away. "You have no idea what you do to a man, Isabel," he whispered.
"Any man?" she asked, taking hold of his hands.
"Just me. Or at least, it had better be just me. You realize, my dear, we can wed soon."
"I know. I am happy to count the days."
"As am I."
"There is something I want you to know," Isabel said, holding his gaze as if she would never look away. "I love you, Turstin. I do. I love you, and I am happy to become your wife."
"Isabel …," he began, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips.
"Do not speak. I know you will not return my affections. I believe we will have a strong relationship, regardless. So long as you kiss me like that, we will be fine."
"You do not …" he started as he backed up a step.
"Nay, not another word," she said as she stood on tiptoe and planted a light kiss on his cheek. "Please do not speak. Let me finish. I am also aware of how much your home means to you, and I regret asking you to remove the tower. It will cause me pain, but I will learn to live with looking at it each day. Gemma is no longer in that tower. All I have to do is remind myself of that each day, and I will be fine."
"Please, let me finish," Turstin said.
"Nay, not a word. Please."
Turstin sighed. He squeezed her hands. "I will not speak of love and towers if you make me one promise."
"Anything," she said.
"Come with me to Renoir on the morrow. Today, we will spend the day with Emme, Sydney, and Miles. We will have dinner outdoors and relax. We have earned it. Then, we will ride to Renoir."
"I see no reason why not," Isabel said.
"It is settled then," Turstin replied. "My arm could use the rest today, and then we start anew, without the shadow of the past over us."
"That sounds good to me," Isabel said. "Now, I believe Mass has been held up, and ‘tis high time we get on with it and our day."
Chapter Twenty-Six
The next day, Turstin left Isabel after breaking his fast and promising her they would be off to Renoir soon. He had something to do first. Though he wished to put everything behind him, he was pushed to speak with Ronan again.
Though it was early, he had already been up and about for quite a while. Nicholas had roused him at first light. He had a hunt planned and asked Turstin to go. Though surprised, Turstin could not deny his host. It was a peace gesture that would finally put them together as friends and erase the animosity between them. They had gone on foot, not far into the woods, taking just a few hounds with them. The knights, using nothing but spears and their wits, felled a boar and brought it home. A great deal had been settled between the two men that morning.
He strolled toward the outer wall to the cell that now held Ronan. A message had been dispatched, but no one was sure where King Henry was, so Ronan would have to endure the wait there. The thought pleased Turstin, though he did not care to have him so close to Isabel.
Matthew was one of the men guarding the cell. He stood when Turstin approached to be let down the steps to the cell. "Good morn, milord. The prisoner is secure."
"Matthew, I wish to see Ronan. But first, I have to speak with you about a matter mos
t important to me."
"Indeed, I am listening," Matthew said.
"As I mentioned, I could use a man like you. There is much to be done at Renoir. The outer wall will take months, if not years, to finish to my satisfaction, and my stonemason has yet to arrive. I have men who can build, but they can only patch and fix stones. They cannot see to a new wall. There is only so much work we can do until he arrives. I have to hire many men. There are repairs going on there, and the inner wall has been torn down. Half of it still sits in the bailey, waiting to be moved. I have families coming in, and my men are strained to keep order as it is. I also need a cook, and it is my understanding your wife has been training under her mother to fill that role."
"I do not know what to say," Matthew said. He shifted from one foot to the other. "I am sure there are a great many men without a limp who would serve you much better, milord."
"Nay, I want you. My seneschal, Oswin, is with me, but I need a squire. I know this is often a spot reserved for those chasing knighthood, but I want you."
"I could not leave Blackstone. They have been good to me."
"I have spoken to Nicholas, and you may do the same. He has agreed, with your consent, of course, that you may go. You would be a familiar face to Isabel as she starts her new life and also for Miles, whom I have agreed to foster."
"So the families are finally at peace, once again?" Matthew said.
"I believe we are. Nicholas has told me of your relationship with Miles and how much the boy looks up to you. It will be good for him to continue training with you."
"I am most honored by your request. I had been thinking it over, but I did not think you truly meant what you said."
"I meant it. Please speak with your wife and Nicholas and Gemma, if you wish, and then let me know."
"I will do so, milord," Matthew said.
"Now, I will see Ronan."
"Do you wish entrance to his cell, or do you simply want to go down to speak with him."
"I do not want into his cell. I might regret what I do."
Matthew unlocked the door, revealing the steps that led to the cell below. Turstin grabbed a torch from the wall and disappeared into the darkness.
