Hearts and Crowns

by Anna Markland

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Peri hastened along the hallway beneath the west gallery, her thoughts on Tandine. The corridor was deserted at this hour, most people making their way to the Great Hall for the evening meal. It grieved her that her friend was facing an unhappy marriage, while she—

  It struck her like a lightning bolt that, despite the difficulties, she did not consider herself trapped in an unhappy marriage. Gallien must have some feeling for her. His rapture when they made love was real. Her body heated thinking of the dark desire in his eyes whenever he looked at her breasts.

  She did not see Geoffrey the Handsome leaning nonchalantly in the shadows until she was upon him. “Oh!” she exclaimed as he grasped her hand.

  He whirled her body, pressing her against the wall. “You promised me a token, my little Angevin.”

  It came to her in a wave of disgust that he had forgotten her name, if indeed he had ever known it. She struggled to free herself. “Milord Geoffrey, I promised nothing. I am a married woman.”

  She had once thought his distinctive laugh charming, but now it grated on her nerves. This immature boy was a pale imitation of the man she had wed. He tried to kiss her, but she turned her head away with a grimace, panic rising in her throat. “My husband is a jealous man,” she warned.

  This king-in-waiting had no honor if he planned to make her an adulteress.

  Tears rolled down her cheek as he grasped her chin, forcing her to face him. He clamped his mouth on hers, gathering up her skirts, forcing his knee between her thighs. Surely he did not intend to rape her in the corridors of Westminster Palace? Someone might be in the gallery above. Her knees threatened to buckle. She gagged.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Geoffrey swivelled his head. Peri gulped air, looking beyond her assailant to where a dark haired man stood, his hands braced on his hips. But there was something amiss with one hand. Tandine’s betrothed.

  “Be gone, sir. This is none of your business,” Geoffrey said imperiously.

  Peri pushed Geoffrey, but his grip held firm. “Please, let me go, milord.”

  Geoffrey seemed to ponder the matter for a few moments, then released her. “Until the next time,” he threatened as he strolled away.

  ~~~

  Devlin de Villiers blessed his luck. He was heartily glad he had followed Gallien de Montbryce’s wife when he had espied her leaving the chamber of his betrothed. He had not expected to stumble across her in a compromising situation with Geoffrey of Anjou.

  She babbled her thanks at him, tears streaming down her face. He hooked his mutilated hand in his black cloak, gathering it to cover his arousal as he put his good arm around her shoulders. A great deal rode on his conviction that Montbryce’s pride had prevented him from revealing anything about his first marriage. “I am Devlin de Villiers.”

  “Tandine’s betrothed,” she murmured.

  “One and the same,” he replied, relieved his name obviously meant nothing to her.

  She leaned into him, her voice raspy. “I am faint.”

  Her perfume intrigued him, but he must not let his voice betray his desire. “You are safe now. I will escort you to your husband.”

  She pulled away from him, her eyes wide with apprehension. “Non, he is busy with the king. I do not want to upset him with what has transpired. Please fetch Tandine, then you can both see me safely to our chambers.”

  He executed the courtliest bow he could summon. “Gladly,” he declared, smug in the new knowledge he had gained about his quarry. Peridotte de Montbryce loved her husband, but feared his jealousy. She was now in Devlin’s debt. He had rescued her, and she did not want her husband to learn of the incident. Geoffrey of Anjou fancied the wench.

  Devlin was well pleased with his afternoon.

  ~~~

  After the long day of deliberations and Henry’s bullying, Gallien sought a few moments peace and quiet in the small chapel above the west gallery of the Palace. He was not an overly religious man, but his heart and mind were in turmoil. He sensed he was not alone in his irritation at Maud’s participation as the only woman. If she’d had something intelligent to offer to the discussions, his opinion might have been different.

  He knelt, steepling his hands in prayer. He gazed at the candle flickering on the altar. His thoughts drifted to the goddess Arianrhod. It was a favourite family tale that, in a dream, she had revealed to his grandfather, Rhodri, that Rhonwen was his destiny.

  He closed his eyes, a vision of Peri’s face appearing behind them. He shook his head. This was not the place to be meditating on Celtic deities.

  He stared again at the votive. “I am not afraid of death, Lord, but grant I may return from Flandres. I want to see my beautiful wife heavy with my child. I want to grow old with her. I intend to tell her of my love before I leave. I should have done it months ago, but—”

  “What’s going on here?”

  Dieu! That voice. Somewhere in the corridors below the upper gallery lurked Devlin de Villiers. Gallien crossed his body with the sign of the crucifix, rising from his knees to hasten out into the gallery.

  He walked stealthily towards the sound of the voice he detested more than any other. The torches had not yet been lit in the darkening corridor below. Trusting the heavy brocade curtain concealed him, he peered into the gathering shadows. Who was de Villiers speaking to?

  Red hair. Fury gripped him when his wife leaned into de Villiers. He strained to hear their whispers.

  “...your husband...upset him...to our chambers...gladly...”

  He remained for long minutes after they had gone, his back pressed against the balustrade of the gallery. If he moved he would retch. His knees trembled. His heart had shattered into a thousand pieces.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Peri was too upset to eat. She remained in the opulent chamber provided by Henry, sending a servant to the Great Hall with the excuse of a headache. She undressed and climbed into bed, anxious for her husband’s arrival. Should she tell him of Geoffrey’s behavior and her rescue by Tandine’s betrothed? She had not seen Gallien all day, and wondered if he would share with her details of the discussions with the King.

  The fire burned down in the grate and still he had not appeared. She struggled to stay awake, but finally fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of lying beneath him, writhing with pleasure.

  When she awoke at dawn, the bed was cold. He had not come. It was the first night since their marriage they had not slept together. Even on the long journey from Ellesmere, he had cuddled into her in the elaborate pavilion the whole family shared when they camped for the night.

  Foreboding gnawed at her. Something was amiss.

  She peered out into the hallway, summoning from a sleeping alcove the maidservant assigned to her—a far cry from her days as lady-in-waiting—and was soon coiffed and dressed.

  She made her way hastily to the Hall. Surely Gallien must be there. The Earl and Countess sat amid other barons and nobles, breaking their fast. Her father-by-marriage came to his feet and hurried to her side. He kissed her hand. “Good morning, Peri. How do you fare this day?”

  Something in his tone set her on edge. It was as though he expected her to be upset. “I am well, milord Earl, and you? Have you seen Gallien?”

  The Earl frowned. “You have not seen him?”

  She did not want to reveal that her husband had not come to her bed. She shook her head. “Not today.”

  The Earl looked over at his Countess, then took a deep breath, holding her hand tightly. “But, ma chère, he has already left. With Étienne. We deemed it strange you were not there to see them off.”

  She wished heartily that the drum beating in her ears would cease. “Off?”

  The Countess had reached them, her face strained. “Peri, my dear.”

  The Earl put an arm around her shoulders. “They left at dawn. For Flandres.”

  ~~~

  Peri blinked. She did not recall being carried to her chamber. For that matt
er she had no recollection of swooning, but supposed she must have. It was becoming an unwanted habit.

  She felt something cool on her forehead. A familiar voice spoke her name. She closed her eyes again. Better to remain in a stupor than awaken to the reality that Gallien had left without a word of farewell.

  “Peri.”

  Tears trickled down her cheeks, but she did not open her eyes. She remained silent, not trusting herself to speak.

  Her mother-by-marriage persisted, squeezing her hand. “Peri, wake up.”

  A lead weight crushed her chest, making it hard to breathe. “Leave me, please,” she rasped.

  “Gallien will return safely,” the Countess whispered, but Peri heard the fear in her voice.

  “He did not say goodbye. I did not know he was leaving.”

  “Perhaps he wanted to spare you the sadness. He asked us to remain silent. We thought he would break the news to you.”

  “Non. He cares nothing for me. I am a burden he would rather do without.”

  The Countess put an arm to her back. “Let me help you sit up, daughter.”

  The chamber was still spinning. “I only want to lie here. Please leave me be.”

  Her mother-by-marriage insisted. “I do not know why my son left without farewell. It is inexcusable, but he does care for you.”

  Peri groaned, curling up on her side to relieve the bile rising in her throat. “I am going to be sick.”

  She was grateful for the bowl thrust under her chin as she retched, unable to control the trembling shaking her from head to toe. She flopped back onto the bed, appreciative of another damp cloth that cooled her forehead and cleansed her mouth.

  “Rest, child. We embark on the long journey back to Ellesmere on the morrow.”

  ~~~

  Peri spent the day in bed. Her tears had long since dried up, but her nose was plugged, and her breath persisted in catching in her throat. Her head was stuffed with feathers. She had heard of people dying of grief. Perhaps death would end her agony.

  The Countess cosseted her, feeding her broth, uttering soothing words.

  Guilt crept into Peri’s heart. “You have sent your sons off to war, maman, and I have offered you no words of comfort.”

  The Countess stroked her hair. “They will return safely. Henry wants a show of strength. It is unlikely Clito will join battle.”

  A vision played behind Peri’s eyes—Gallien lying on some faraway battlefield, bleeding to death. She reached hastily for the bowl, retching again.

  Her eyes watered and the trembling began anew. “I’m sorry. I must have eaten spoiled food.”

  The Countess shrugged. “No need to apologise. I am a healer. How long have you been feeling sick?”

  Peri lay back against the bolster. “A few days, but only first thing in the morning.”

  The Countess looked at her curiously. “Gallien said nothing?”

  Peri felt her face redden. “He is an early riser. Usually he is gone before I awake.”

  “When were your last courses?”

  Peri had to think back. “November.”

  The Countess grinned. “My dear, you are with child.”

  Peri gasped. Of course! Fermentine’s courses had stopped. Peri had thought she was late because of the Yuletide festivities and the long journey. She gaped at her mother-by-marriage, a lead weight settling in her gut. Gallien had gone off to war leaving her with a child in her belly. But it was obvious he cared naught for her, nor for any offspring she might bring forth.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Whoa! Gallien. I am not your enemy,” Étienne shouted as the broad side of his brother’s sword whacked his bicep. “We are training, not trying to kill each other.”

  Gallien wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his shirt sleeve and threw his sword to the ground. “I’m sorry, Étienne, my thoughts were elsewhere.”

  Dangling his battered arm at his side, Étienne used one hand to rub his wet hair with a linen. Despite the January chill, both men had perspired with the exercise. “Your thoughts have been elsewhere since we left Westminster. What ails you?”

  Gallien picked up his muddied sword. “I am tired of waiting here in Pevensey for the ships that are supposed to take us to Boulogne-sur-Mer. It’s been three days of watching knights arrive from far-flung parts of England.” He picked up an oiled cloth and wiped his sword, examining the edge. “A man can only sharpen his weapons so many times.”

  Étienne shook his head, his black hair a tangled mess. “Non, brother, you were a bear with a sore paw before that. It was hard to leave your wife—”

  Gallien held up his hand. “Enough! I don’t wish to talk about Peri.”

  As he and his brother had traded blows, he could not forget the bitter memory of Peri in Devlin de Villiers’ arms.

  Étienne braced his legs. “You know what your problem is, brother?”

  Gallien bit his bottom lip, glaring at his sibling. “Non, but I am sure you are going to tell me.”

  Étienne backed up a pace or two. “You are the luckiest man alive to have a wife like Peri, but you refuse to see it. You’re determined to believe she is Felicité, when no two people could be more different.”

  Gallien scowled. Hearing his wife’s pet nickname on his brother’s lips intensified his pain. Would he choke on the words if he told of his discovery? “I caught her.”

  Étienne snorted. “Doing what?”

  “With de Villiers. In the corridor below the west gallery. History repeats itself.”

  Étienne gaped at him. “And what did she say when you questioned her?”

  Gallien studied his boots. “I did not speak to her of it.”

  Étienne poked Gallien’s chest. “Now I understand why she did not come to bid us farewell. You stayed away from your bedchamber. She did not know we were leaving, did she?”

  Feigning nonchalance, Gallien shoved Étienne’s hand away, swiping the air with his sword. “I am sure of what I saw.”

  “You are a fool, brother. You know Peri. By all the saints, anyone can see you love the woman. She would never betray you with anyone, especially de Villiers.”

  “She knows nothing about him, nor Felicité.”

  Étienne threw his hands in the air. “You’ve never told her? Christ, Gallien, did Felicité destroy your honor?”

  Gallien bristled. “My honor is intact. It’s my wife who—”

  “Arrête! Listen to yourself. She loves you, can’t you see that?”

  Gallien sat down on a nearby fallen log before his knees gave out. His heart was in knots. It was true he had not given Peri the chance to explain her presence in the corridor. “She planned to visit her friend Tandine.”

  “Tandine Grisjaune?”

  Gallien shrugged. “I suppose. She was a lady-in-waiting with Peri, but has recently become betrothed.”

  “Aye! To Devlin de Villiers.”

  Gallien jumped to his feet. “He’s already married.”

  “His wife died—in childbirth.”

  Gallien narrowed his eyes. “How do you come to know so much?”

  “I have made it my business. One day, when he least expects it, I will take the opportunity to kill him for what he did to you and our family.”

  For the first time it came home to Gallien how deeply his catastrophic marriage had hurt the other members of his family. He had never appreciated the depth of his brother’s love. He shook his head as he embraced Étienne. “Non, that is something I will do.”

  Boisterous shouts caught their attention. They looked to the sea. Six ships were sailing into the bay, to the cheers of the waiting knights. Men scrambled to gather their equipment.

  Étienne gripped his shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Promise me you will give Peri the benefit of the doubt. Your happiness lies with that woman.”

  Gallien let out a long slow breath. “First, we must endeavor to survive this folly of Henry’s.”

  Étienne grinned. “You watch my back, and I’ll
watch yours.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The crossing from Pevensey to Boulogne-sur-Mer was rough. Roiling waves tossed the big boats around like corks. Squires tried frantically to calm frenzied horses. Gallien was seasick for the first time in his life. He attributed it to the constant tightening in his gut when he thought of his wife, which was every waking minute. Dieu! He missed her. He longed to run his hands through her long, long hair and bury himself in her warm sheath.

  He saw the rightness of what Étienne had said. He had jumped to conclusions. Peri was not the kind of woman to betray her husband, though God knew he had given her reason enough to be unhappy.

  He had deemed it sentimental foolishness at the time, but he was glad now he had filched a sachet of Peri’s potpourri before his departure. He had it tucked into his gambeson, taking it out to inhale the perfume whenever he felt low.

  In Boulogne, they camped on the cliffs overlooking the Narrow Sea. A gale blew up during the night, and Gallien and Étienne had difficulty keeping their tent pegged to the ground. It didn’t help that they dissolved into hysterical laughter, hanging on to the inside of the tent to prevent it flying off into the sea.

  “It was good to see you laugh, brother,” Etienne remarked the next day as they broke camp. “It’s been too long.”

  Gallien shrugged, but had to admit the laughing fit had eased some of his agitation.

  Under the banner of Thierry d’Alsace, Henry’s nominee as Comte of Flandres, the knights made their way first to Saint-Omer. Thierry was the cousin of the murdered Comte Charles, and thus a credible candidate.

  At Saint-Omer, Alexandre, Laurent and Romain de Montbryce joined the army of knights. Gallien and Étienne gave their Norman cousins a warm welcome. Laurent and Romain returned their greetings with laughter and hearty bear hugs. Alexandre merely nodded in his usual shy way.

  ~~~

  They sat for three rain-soaked weeks, camped in muddy fields outside the town while Thierry negotiated. Gallien paced, fearing he might lose his wits or his fingers to frostbite.