by Amy Mullen
"Who is it?" Ronan asked from below. He voice was whiny, bordering on screechy.
"Your cousin." Turstin laughed.
"Please leave me be." Ronan’s voice came from the darkened cell.
"I have come to speak with you about a few of the things you spoke of yesterday. What you tell me may alter what I suggest the king does to you, though it is up to him in the end. This conversation can help you."
"I no longer care," Ronan said. Turstin now stood on the other side of the locked door that held the prisoner in. A wall of iron bars separated them, locking Ronan away from the world.
"I care, and you will speak, or I will have the door unlocked. Thus far, I do not plan to come in."
Turstin set the torch in the holder on the wall. It lit all but the darkest corners of the cell. It would be the most light Ronan would see while awaiting his fate. In the cell, he would see only an hour of natural light when the sun was high over the trees beyond to the east.
"How old are you again, boy?"
"I am of 16 years. I have already told you of my parents. What else do you want?"
"Tell me about your mother."
"Why do you torture me so?" Ronan jumped up and faced Turstin.
"You say you are a Bigod. I do not know how to believe you. I do not remember you."
"My mother’s name was Mary. She was a laundress at your beloved Renoir. I already told you we were cast out."
"You said you were but five then. How can you remember any of us?"
"I knew I was an outsider. I studied you all. I wished to be viewed as one of the family, but I was not. Phillip saw me occasionally, but otherwise all I had to do was watch."
"And you knew me on sight because you remember how my father looked? I find that hard to believe."
"I already told you this! You favor your father heavily, and my memories are quite vivid," Ronan said, his voice like a hiss.
"You speak well, for a child who would have not had any education, living on the streets of London," Turstin said.
"My mother was well-spoken and taught me all that she could. She made up for some of the education I should have had at Renoir."
"You fully admit you are not legitimate. You would never have been able to claim anything, let alone Renoir."
"Aye, but you are right," Ronan said, now pacing. "In a way, if this would have worked out, it would have been far better than if I had stayed on at Renoir until I grew up."
"But you did not. You were robbed, so you formed a plan," Turstin said, hoping to jar more of a confession out of him.
"I went for Isabel. When she did not respond, I took up with Constance, mostly for the fun of it. She thought me to be older and would do anything I asked of her."
"Did you ask her to dig around in the tunnel?"
"She had some romantic notion of opening the tunnel so she might sneak out at night and meet me in the woods. She was obsessed with the story of how Gemma and Nicholas met. I went along with her idea. It kept her busy for a few hours."
"So you care nothing for her?"
"Would you? She is not a smart girl, now, is she? She is spoiled and annoying. Ah, but she is lovely if she keeps quiet. Once I saw you, I knew I could use her to get to you, after I failed to get Isabel’s attention."
"Your plan was garbage."
"Aye, you may be right. I had no other means to get what I wanted."
"And you wanted Renoir."
Ronan sat down and refused to look at Turstin.
"If I could not be there, at least my children could."
"I assure you, any woman I marry would never have time for the likes of you, nor the interest, even if she should fancy herself in love with the likes of you."
"You have a high opinion of yourself," Ronan said and then spat on the floor.
"No, only of my ability to keep a wife happy."
"Constance would have come to me."
"I never would have married her. She is not to my liking."
"You would have gotten used to her. I did."
"She loves you," Turstin said. He put his hands on his hips and leaned forward. "You have ruined her life. Do you care for no one but yourself?"
"You are no better," Ronan said, finally making eye contact. "You could not have been happy about Isabel when you arrived, yet you were willing to wed her to get Renoir."
"’Twas different," Turstin said.
"Yet you did it for Renoir, for the feeling of belonging again."
"Aye, you are right."
"I did not think you would miss the girl."
"You were wrong."
Ronan sat and put his head in his hands. "She was to go to the west and be left in good hands. I thought she would be secured and would offer no fight. I wanted to see you suffer for agreeing to marry a de Vere. I should have left everyone wondering where she was. We would have had an entire day to put more distance between her and Blackstone, had I not had a message sent."
"She ended up on a slave ship. Do you comprehend what could have happened to her?"
"That was not my intention."
"You do not sound sorry, but that is fine. Here you will have plenty of time to think about it. Mayhap you will have new answers for the king. Henry is a good king, but he comes down hard on those who cross him. Not only did you arrange for the abduction of Lady Isabel, you sought to stand in the way of a marriage contract set forth by the king himself. I might be mistaken, but I think that is treason against the crown. May God have mercy on your soul."
With those words, Turstin spun and took the steps as rapidly as he could. He left the torch behind and wanted to leave Ronan behind as well. He was over the rift between the families and now saw more of how his uncle Phillip truly had been, rather than the unrealistic notion he had held in his mind of his family. Some were good, and some were not. That did not make them all bad, and he had nothing to be ashamed of in this. No family would be perfect.
****
Isabel knew it was time to go. Turstin delayed their trip to Renoir until after the noon meal. She had spent the morning with Sydney and Emme and tried to forget about Constance. It was hard and it hurt, but the girl had never in reality been her friend. So in the end, she was cutting loose someone who would do more harm than good in her life.
As she approached the stables, Nicholas caught up with her. "Isabel, you are looking lovely today."
"My thanks to you," she said. "Why are you grinning?"
"Because it has been a most fruitful morning. Turstin and I speared a boar and have laid the bad blood between the families to rest."
"I am so glad to hear that," Isabel said. She stopped near the entrance to the stables as the smell of fresh hay reached her nose. "I was hoping you would one day feel as I do, but I did not expect it to come so quickly."
"There is more," he said.
"Aye?"
"Rose has returned."
"My horse?" Isabel said, stunned. She had been all but certain she would never see her again.
"She came to the gates late last night. She is a bit thin and needs rest, but she came home. I have never heard such a thing before."
Isabel ran into the stables and to the stall where Rose was kept. There she saw her. The horse was indeed a bit thin but approached Isabel right away and nuzzled her as Isabel cooed. "I am so happy to see you, sweet Rose. You came home to me. I thought I had lost you forever."
"She is well." A stable boy came up beside her. "I have groomed and inspected her. She is fit."
"Does she have any injuries?" Isabel asked.
"A few sore spots, but she is not lame. She will need to be walked. Would you like me to do it?"
"Nay, I will when I return from Renoir. I will bring her apples and walk her in the bailey. Could you ready a different horse for me?"
The stable boy nodded and worked hurriedly to prepare her mount. Turstin’s destrier was being led out by Matthew, who smiled brightly at her.
"Is Turstin ready to go?"
"Indeed he is
. I am bringing his destrier to him right now."
Isabel walked out into the sunshine to find Turstin waiting for Slash. Matthew, too, was ready, as he was to chaperone the trip. They mounted as soon as the horses were ready and were halfway to Renoir before anyone spoke. Matthew traveled behind them, giving them space. The day was beautiful, and Isabel was enjoying the cool breeze and the warm sun. It was the first time in a long while that she was not terrified to ride outside the walls. Danger was always near, but she was no longer willing to let fear run her life.
"So Rose has returned. You must be excited to have her back," Turstin said as they crossed the river and rode toward Renoir.
"Aye, I thought she was gone forever."
"She must have had a good life at Blackstone to return."
"What can I say about it? The horse loves me," Isabel said and then laughed.
"I want you to know something," Turstin said. "When we get to Renoir, I have much to say to you. You did not want me to speak when you professed your love, so I will not speak about the subject again, unless you ask. Is that agreeable to you?"
"It is," Isabel replied. "I am so happy today. Let us not ruin it. I did not tell you I love you to get you to say it back. I can only hope we will be happy, and mayhap one day you will find you love me, even if it is against your will."
Turstin pushed his horse into a gallop. "Keep up, Lady Isabel. Your castle awaits."
Isabel laughed and urged her horse forward.
As the trees cleared and Renoir came into view, Isabel gasped and reined her horse in until they could safely stop.
"Turstin!" she cried. She could not tear her eyes from the sight before her. The castle was changed. The outer curtain wall, which would have to hold while the new one was built, was different. There was now a gaping hole at the top of the tower that had once held her sister. Mighty blocks of stone lay in a pile on the grass, waiting to be carted away.
Isabel slipped from her horse and fell to her knees. The one thing she had asked for, and the one thing he swore he would not do, was the one thing he had done for her. She wiped the tears from her eyes as she tried to focus on the wall. Some rebuilding had been done, but it needed more work. They had removed the top of the tower but had kept the bottom intact.
Her heart swelled as Turstin alit and came to sit beside her in the grass. "It looks a mess, does it not?"
"I cannot believe you did this for me. Now the wall is incomplete. Do you not worry about that?"
"Nay, my men are quick. The outer part of the wall will be patched and secured before any other work is done. The inside can wait. The room that once held your sister is gone. In its place will be nothing more than a nook where soldiers can rest."
"But why? You said it was important to you to keep Renoir as it is, other than expanding the size by building a new outer wall."
"Because you are more important to me than my vague memories. I needed to prove that to you, and this was the only way I knew how. The day after we fought and I rode from Blackstone and from you, I knew I had made a foolish mistake. You know as well as I do, Isabel, the pain of having someone in your family who puts a black mark upon your family name. I hid from being a Bigod for so long, and now I am happy to share my name with the world, but it does not mean my past will decide my future—our future."
"But…," she began as tears started anew.
"But nothing. Do you not see? You mean more to me than anything. I have been blessed by the king and by God to have you."
"I am overwhelmed right now. I do not know what to say." Isabel reached out and took his hand.
"Then will you finally allow me to speak?" he asked.
Isabel nodded in response, trying not to cry harder. Her heart was exploding. She had never known it could be like this. He had done it all for her, without even telling her.
"I love you, Isabel. I know what I said. That was my pride. I was lying, but I promise ‘tis the last lie I tell you. I love you."
"Oh!" she exclaimed as she threw her arms around his neck. She dared to press her lips to his. The passion she felt for him came pouring out of her. She kissed him with abandon, relishing the feeling of being loved by a man so wonderful, a man whose darkness had won her over and brought her into the light.
"Careful, milady," Turstin whispered against her lips as the kiss ended. "I can promise you, my men are watching us right now and are having a grand time of it. Matthew has been kind enough to stay back, and even turn away, but he does have a job to do—to see to your innocence."
Isabel laughed as she hugged him again. "Matthew knows you can be trusted. Mayhap ‘tis me who is out of line. Shall we then get up and go inside? I am most eager to see the work that has been done. Nicholas said the women you asked for to help sew have come back to Blackstone, which means you have made progress."
"Before we go, I want to ask you something."
"Anything."
"Will you marry me, Isabel?"
"Marry you? We are already to be wed, and soon."
"I know of the marriage contract and our betrothal. Those are in the eyes of the king and God. I want to know you want to marry me for me. I want to hear you say you love me again, and I want to make your life as good as it can be."
"I love you, Turstin."
He groaned. "Your words are like magic."
"I will marry you."
"Who would have thought? A Bigod and a de Vere, madly in love."
"Not me."
"Who would have thought the animosity I carried for all of these years turned out to be for naught? That the mistakes of the past would almost lead us astray?"
Isabel laughed and her eyes twinkled as she kissed him again. "You speak too much," she said to tease him.
"What else would you have me do?"
"Kiss me again."
"Again?"
"And again and again and again."
"Your demands please me greatly," he said.
Epilogue
One year later
Isabel stood outside the great hall of Renoir Castle. The sun beat down on her upturned face. Her hands lifted to her stomach, which was large with child. She was due to give birth any day and, though her back hurt, she was content and happier than she had ever been.
"There you are," Turstin said as he came up behind her. "I told you to rest."
"I can only rest so much."
"Is our bed not comfortable enough?"
"Our bed is amazing. The nursery is ready. I am fine, really. I just wanted some air. The baby has moved down, and I can breathe more easily. Gemma told me those are signs the time is near. It relaxes me to be outside, and I am most anxious about giving birth."
"You should have called for me."
"I told you, I am fine. I wish to catch up. Has Ernost agreed to live within the walls yet? You have been trying to convince him since we wed."
"He insists on staying in the village until the outer wall is done. He said they would agree to a small home there, but not until."
"Ah, he is so stubborn. We owe him so much. The wall is coming together, but ‘twill take more time," Isabel said as the baby inside her moved. Her heart swelled as it did each time she thought of how lucky she was.
"I know. I may have to hire more men."
"Can you afford to feed them? There are already so many."
"They will come, and we will have enough. The fields yielded plenty, and I am not worried about the coin it would take, should we run low and have to buy from London. Now that our son is due any day, I worry more and more about security."
"Oh, you sound like Nicholas. He was so sure the baby Gemma had this past winter would be a boy."
"And he was right," Turstin said. Nicholas had been right. They had welcomed a son before the summer planting season had begun.
Isabel studied her home as Turstin wrapped his arms around her from behind. Her gaze fell to the far wall where the tower had been reconstructed. The wall had been fixed, and no one would ever know a dungeon was o
nce there. Every time she glanced at the wall, she was reminded of what he had done for her. The one thing he did not want to do was change his beloved Renoir, but he had.
Renoir was her home now, and she was happier for it. Miles was there, as was Matthew, who agreed to come with his wife and children, with the blessing of Nicholas and Gemma. Matthew was with Miles each day, teaching him all that he knew when Turstin had other duties to attend to. Even without those people she loved so much, Renoir would still be home.
"How do you think Miles fares?"
"Miles is stronger than I thought he was. He does well."
"I am so pleased to hear it. Do you supposed he can have a break today? I would love his company. I know you are going to force me to rest soon."
"Aye, I will, and you know it."
A sharp pain ripped through Isabel, and she gasped. Bending, she clutched her back. Maybe it was time to go rest after all.
"You must go get Ernost’s wife," Isabel said as she gritted her teeth.
"Are you well, Isabel? What is it?"
"’Tis time, I think. The baby is coming."
Turstin’s eyes grew wide, and his hands started to shake. "Are you sure?"
"I am not sure," she said as another pain came, this time starting in her back and moving around to the front. "But ‘twould be a good idea. She has agreed to be a midwife. The nursemaid we found is here, but she cannot do it alone."
"First," Turstin said, "I will take you to our bed so you can have some privacy." He scooped her up in his arms before she could protest.
Isabel laughed as the pain subsided. "I can walk!"
"Nay, you will not walk. I cannot help you with the pain of bringing our child into the world, but this I can do."
Isabel rested her head on his shoulder. She studied his face as he carried her through the great hall, toward the steps that lead to their quarters above. His fair hair was growing long, his brown eyes as mesmerizing as ever. The gentle side of him that only she knew shone through his determined expression as he started up the stairs leading to the solar. He carried her with ease. She could not have asked for a better man to be her husband.
"I will get her quickly," he said as he laid her gently upon the bed.
