The Countess Bride

by TERRI BRISBIN

  “I name my son, Gaspar Dumont, as my heir, with all rights to those lands and titles.”

  “Do you swear fealty to me as King of England, before God and this assembly, for the lands and titles confirmed to you this day?”

  Richard held out his hands and the earl placed his in the king’s grasp. “I am your man, sire.”

  Before the king released him, the bishop stepped forward and made the sign of the cross above the earl’s head, consecrating this oath. Once done, the king released the earl and clapped him on the shoulders, bringing him to his feet. The earl took his place next to the bishop, and Catherine knew it was time for Geoffrey to swear his oath. There could be no prouder day for either of them, and the tears flowed freely now down her cheeks. With a nod, she released his hand so that he might go when called.

  This time, the herald called him only by name for, as Eleanor had explained to her earlier, all titles relating to the Langier estates had symbolically been returned to the king by his brother. Geoffrey rose and walked to the place before Richard. Kneeling before the king, he lowered his head in homage as his brother had. The king’s deep voice rang out once more, sending shivers through her with each word.

  “Geoffrey Dumont, the lands and titles of Langier have been granted to the Dumont family by right of inheritance and in recognition of service to the crown. It is my wish that these lands and titles be conferred upon you this day so that you may serve me by serving them as guardian and steward of their people and their gifts. Do you accept this confirmation of the title of Comte de Langier and all it entails?”

  “I do, sire,” Geoffrey said. His voice was strong and clear, resonating with power and maturity.

  “Geoffrey Dumont, do you swear fealty to me as King of England, Duke of Aquitaine and Normandy and Count of Anjou and Poitou, before God and this assembly, for the lands and titles conferred upon you this day?”

  Geoffrey raised his head and met the king’s gaze. “I do, sire.”

  Now the king reached for Geoffrey’s hand and slid the ring given by the earl, their father’s ring, onto his finger. With his hands between Richard’s, Geoffrey lifted his eyes to the king. Before he could say the words, his brother moved to his side and placed a hand on Geoffrey’s shoulder. Overwhelmed by this sign of peace between them yet not wanting to intrude or embarrass them, Catherine clutched her napkin to her mouth to cover the sounds of her cries.

  “I am your man, sire,” Geoff said to the king. The bishop came forward once more to bless the new count, and then Richard called out his last question.

  “Comte de Langier, whom do you designate as your heir?”

  “Sire, I name Christian Dumont as my heir until such time as, by God’s will, I am blessed with children.”

  “It is declared that Geoffrey Dumont is, from this day forward, the Comte de Langier, holder of all of the lands and titles conferred upon him as belonging to Langier. Further, it will be known that Christian Dumont will stand as heir of his brother’s holdings.”

  A great cheer went through the chamber, almost deafening in its intensity, and Catherine let the sobs she’d held in through the formal procedure out now. Masked by the celebration, she could weep openly for many inspired by such a commanding and impressive ceremony did so. She watched with pride and joy as Geoffrey and his brother first hugged each other and then were greeted and congratulated by many friends and court members.

  Although she wanted to be with Geoff, she understood her place was not there, not yet. He needed time to adjust to the demands and expectations of his new position. So she sat at the table and sipped some wine. Soon she realized that she would not want to distract Geoffrey from the celebrations he deserved.

  “Your Grace?” she said, leaning closer to the queen. “Would it be inappropriate for me to retire for the evening?”

  Eleanor smiled and patted her hand. “Appropriate and wise, my dear. Lady Constance will accompany you back to our suite.” Catherine rose and walked with Constance off the dais and out through the corridor leading to the royal apartments.

  The sound of running footsteps behind them startled her, and she turned just as Geoffrey caught up to her and swept her off her feet. Spinning her around and around, he laughed, calling out her name. Then, already dizzy from the spinning, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hungrily—so ardently that they fell against the wall, to the obvious amusement of Constance, who burst out laughing.

  “Where do you go, my lady?”

  “Geoffrey…er, my lord,” Catherine said, realizing now that he held a much higher rank and could not be called by his familiar name in the presence of anyone but family. “You must attend to the king and to others, and I did not want to intrude on this special time for you. Go now.” She pushed at his shoulders, but he would not release her. “Please.”

  He stepped back a tiny bit and then looked down into her eyes. “Were you crying?”

  “Aye, my lord. I was.”

  “Were you impressed?”

  “Aye, my lord, you were most impressive,” she teased, but meant it nonetheless.

  “I will endeavor always to impress you, my lady.” He kissed her again and then let her go.

  She did want him to know the part of the ceremony that had made the deepest impact on her, so she pulled him close and whispered, “I am most happy that you and your brother are at peace.”

  “I am as well, Cate.”

  When it seemed as though he would stay longer, she waved him off. He claimed one more kiss before running back to the hall. Constance laughed and, as they turned back to their path, another sound behind them made Catherine glance back. Christian Dumont stood watching. He nodded to her, then followed his brother.

  Only much later, as she drifted off to sleep, did Catherine realize that for the first time in their acquaintance, the earl’s eyes had not turned cold and hard when he’d looked at her in the corridor. For once, only troubled concern filled his gaze.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Geoffrey observed the meeting with a sense of awe. Although he had some amount of experience in tournaments and a few minor battles, the scope of the engagements being discussed were beyond anything he knew. And to be in the presence of the greatest warriors and military strategists of the age was a humbling experience. The king demonstrated the quick mind and excellence in planning a campaign that had earned him the respect of most of the world. Now, his attention was focused on the intentions of Phillip Augustus of France.

  “What say you, Guillaume? Is Rouen safe?”

  The man known as le Maréchal answered his king. “Aumale gives some protection to Rouen, and with that intact it is safe. If what we hear is correct, that area will be Phillip’s first target.”

  “Not Gaillard or even Rouen itself?” the king asked.

  “Nay, sire,” le Maréchal explained as he pointed at a map spread out on the table before them. “Despite his claims otherwise, Gaillard will withstand any siege. And, of course, he must get to it in order to set up a siege.” He pointed again to the map. “And we control the lands surrounding Gaillard, up to Gisors itself.”

  “Phillip has no liking of that!” the king called out to everyone present. “As I have no liking that the Vexin is under French control. Would that I could…” His words drifted off, but their meaning was clear.

  “But sire, we are all ever mindful of the Treaty of Louviers, and only seek to protect what is ours,” Guillaume le Maréchal placated. “If Phillip makes the first move—”

  Richard jumped to his feet and walked around the table, leaning over to look more closely at the cities of Normandy and France. “He will, Guillaume. I know him and it goads him to be stopped at Gisors as much as it bothers me that he is there at all. He will move. And he will do it soon.” Looking at his commander, he asked, “Are we ready for whatever comes?”

  “Mercadier is making arrangements now, sire. He awaits your word and presence to finalize the plans.”

  “Then let us join him at Gaill
ard and prepare a warm welcome for the French king.”

  His words signaled the end of the council session, and Geoffrey was not surprised to discover that the move to Gaillard was already underway. He spotted Christian off on one side of the room and made his way there. The final details of moving men and nobles and the king to his war castle on the Seine would take some time to arrange, so Geoffrey guessed that they would not leave for at least two or three days.

  Christian did not speak, but nodded at him to follow. His brother kept his own counsel in these situations and Geoff knew he would not speak in the open about his feelings on the king’s plans. A few minutes later, they stood outside on the ramparts of Caen Castle, watching the activities in the yard below. Luc and Aymer approached.

  “We are to Gaillard then, my lord?” Luc asked Christian.

  “Aye, and it is as you suspected, Luc.”

  “’Tis the way of kings to take and relinquish and take back again.”

  “How did you know this, Luc? Were you present in the council discussions?”

  Christian smiled at him. “Luc can discover the truth of most situations before others suspect. He has…”

  “Spies?” Geoff asked. He knew his brother relied on this knight, as castellan of Greystone and more.

  “I prefer to call them informants.”

  “And what have they told you?” he asked. Interestingly, he noticed that Luc waited for his brother’s nod of permission before continuing. He hoped that one day Aymer would be his “Luc.”

  “The provocation that Richard needs is coming. Phillip craves an opening to the sea, and with the limitations placed by Richard’s Rock, Aumale is his next target. The mustering of forces is making Phillip nervous enough to do something unwise. Since Aumale is so important to the defenses of Rouen, Richard cannot afford to lose it. And that will be his pretext for taking back Gisors and the Vexin.”

  The depth of Luc’s knowledge impressed Geoffrey, and he looked to Christian for his opinion. He and his men were already sworn to Richard’s campaign and he wanted to understand all the players in this game. “You think the king will go that far?” he asked.

  “Control of the Vexin is at the heart of this, and each king picks at old wounds. The one who makes the first move may regret having done so when it is finished,” Christian explained.

  “Just so,” Luc confirmed.

  “Our part?” Geoff asked.

  “Why, to be faithful vassals to our king!” Christian smacked him on the shoulder and laughed. “That is the easy part.”

  “Easy? How so?”

  “With Guillaume le Maréchal and Mercadier directing our strategies and Coeur-de-Lion leading us in battle, we will be unstoppable. I would not want to be Phillip if he initiates this fight.”

  Geoffrey thought on his brother’s words. More than a little nervousness passed through him at the thought of his first true battles ahead. That was mixed with a hearty dose of expectation and excitement at the challenges and experiences to come.

  “You see, Luc. Newly raised to his titles and he is already chaffing to do battle for his king.”

  It struck Geoff, then. He would march into battle in a few days. His heart pounded and his palms grew sweaty. This was happening. Finally, all that he had planned for and prepared for over the last three years was coming to fruition.

  “I am ready,” he answered.

  There was much laughing and boasting, but something bothered Geoffrey. His first step taken, he wanted to secure his marriage to Catherine before he left on the king’s campaign. If anything happened to him, she would be alone. As much as he wanted to believe that Christian supported him, Geoff did not trust that his benevolence would extend to Catherine now that she—now that they both—had defied him.

  He pulled Christian aside to ask a more personal question. “How does Emalie manage the separations? What do you do to prepare for times like this?” He needed to tell Catherine that he was off to fight, but lacked the finesse he thought would be needed to handle it with care.

  “Emalie was raised to expect this life. Her father traveled between his estates, just as ours did, and Emalie watched and imitated her mother. With Luc normally in charge of the castle and defenses, she keeps busy with all of the other daily responsibilities that a chatelaine must.”

  “I know that, Chris. I mean in a personal way. How do you leave her? What words do you say when they may be your last to her?”

  A stricken look passed over his brother’s face and then pain filled his eyes. “Not the right ones this time, I fear,” he said in a whisper. “We had not settled the discord between us and there were no soft words of farewell.”

  “This was my fault, Chris. I am sorry for having caused these problems for you and Emalie.”

  “Nay, brother. You were the catalyst, I admit, but the fault of these difficulties between us is mine.” Christian walked to the side of the ramparts and looked over the crenellated wall at the courtyard below. “I thought I had dealt with all the demons that plague our marriage. I began to believe that I was worthy of the love she bears me. But old enmities raise themselves and I do not have the right weapons to vanquish them.”

  He spoke as though he meant a real person, but Geoff was not certain of it.

  “Is there aught I can do to help you? I would do anything for you and your wife, who have done so much for me.”

  Christian began to answer, then stopped. Thinking for a moment, he said, “There is not, for only I can make it right between us.”

  Uncomfortable with the tone and direction of these comments, Geoff tried to lighten the moment. “Then you must make certain that you return to your wife and repair the breach between you.”

  “I will try. And I hope you will cover my back in battle to ensure that?”

  “Aye, brother.”

  “I see someone who has bided her time until she could speak with you. Go to her now and speak the words so there are no regrets when you leave.”

  Geoff looked down and saw Catherine standing below, in conversation with one of Eleanor’s ladies. Could his brother’s words mean he had accepted their betrothal?

  “Do I have your support then?” he asked, holding his breath as he waited to hear the words.

  “I cannot give you what you wish for, Geoff.”

  Shaking his head, he prepared to go. He had thought that Christian’s presence here and his participation in the ceremony last evening bespoke a new understanding between them, but he was wrong.

  “Geoff, hear me. Please.” Chris stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I would ask that you consider your actions before taking them. You acted in haste that day at the convent, and we have not yet sorted it out. Do not repeat your hurriedness and do something that cannot be undone.”

  “I will marry her.” Why could Chris not just let this go? Why must he try to stand in the way of how it would be?

  “If you will, wait until we return from the king’s campaign. Give yourself and Catherine time to consider what this will mean. The impact and importance of it.”

  “You mean give you time to find a way to annul it, do you not?”

  “I have no power over you now, Geoff. The ceremony last night severed any links that caused one of us to be master over the other. Now we are only two brothers in service to the same king.” Christian walked closer to him. “And I say what I mean—take these next days or weeks and know that the feelings just discovered, just recognized and voiced between you, are true. Do not rush into this. If the betrothal process had occurred as we were planning, you and your bride would have had months to accommodate yourselves to the marriage. Take some time now to contemplate this.”

  “And if I am convinced when we return from Gaillard? Will you still oppose her?”

  “I will take the same time to examine my objections. From brother to brother, I urge you—do not act in haste.”

  Catherine looked up just then and saw him watching her. Her face lit with a smile and she waved to him. He had not
spoken to her since the ceremony last evening, and there was so much now to say to her. Not the least of which was his brother’s request to postpone their wedding until his return.

  With a nod to Christian, he walked the ramparts to the nearest tower and made his way to the courtyard where Catherine waited. The same young woman who had been with her in the corridor accompanied her now. At his approach, they both curtsied before him, a symbol of his new rank.

  “My lord,” they said in unison.

  “My ladies,” he answered.

  “Sir Knight,” they said, curtsying once more. Startled, he noticed that Aymer was at his side.

  “Lady Catherine. Lady Constance.” His friend bowed to each, and then they stood in a strange silence for a moment or two.

  “Shall we walk?” Geoffrey held out his arm to Catherine and she placed her hand on it, coming to his side. Lady Constance did the same with Aymer and soon they were walking in the large though somewhat crowded expanse of courtyard within Caen Castle. When Aymer and Constance drew back a bit from them, Geoff said the words he had been feeling all day.

  “I miss you, Catherine.”

  “And I miss you, my lord,” she answered. Then she reached up and whispered in his ear. “Geoffrey.”

  “I especially miss you in my bed,” he whispered back, and he received the reaction he’d hoped for.

  A deep blush rose from her neck to her face, and she looked away. The best part was that he knew, could feel, that her response to his words affected her body. When he lowered his gaze, he could see that her nipples pressed against her gown, even as his hardness pressed against his breeches. He guided her to a more secluded alcove along the wall and stopped. Geoffrey drew her closer, kissing her mouth and remembering the taste of her essence when last they’d loved.

  When he felt their kisses become too heated for such a public scene, he held her away and took a deep breath. Guiding her to a stone bench, he sat down with her at his side.

  “Catherine, there is so much to say.”