They rendezvoused with the larger group and made the long journey back to Montbryce safely. Mabelle came out to the courtyard to greet them and to take the child.
“He’s a beautiful boy, Dorianne. Welcome home, daughter. You’re safe now. Saint Germain is a fortress since your abduction. Hasten the day when we can be free of the dangers threatening us now. Your girls are anxious to see you.”
Tears trickled down Dorianne’s cheeks and she had to blow her nose. “I’ve missed them terribly.”
Turning to Baudoin, Mabelle asked, “What news of Robert?”
“Nothing, maman, but we’re convinced he’s in Caen. Caedmon and I will stay here with you. Ellesmere is in good hands and there’s no threat to it. We’ll await Henry’s command.”
Dorianne hastened off to the nursery to reunite with her daughters.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Not long thereafter, King Henry extricated himself from the domestic political problems besetting him in England and arrived in Normandie with an invading army. Caedmon and Baudoin joined him.
“This war won’t end peacefully until my brother is captured and I’ve won a complete victory,” Henry told them. “I will win. I’ve put my trust in money.”
Baudoin and Caedmon had indeed seen the great barrels and carts full of coin.
The King smiled. “Money makes it possible to fight with more men. It will allow me to make promises to Comtes and barons. The more I promise, the more likely they are to abandon my brother. Even those who hold lands from the duke and owe him fealty have already left him in my favour, abandoning their true lord.”
Baudoin grimaced. “Majesté, suddenly Normandie is a land full of fear. We’ve heard of people burying everything in cemeteries, leaving nothing in their houses for robbers and thieves.”
The King shook his head sadly. “It’s a result of my brother’s greed. I’ve summoned men from Le Mans and Anjou and Bretagne, and they have come willingly at the prospect of gain. All know the rewards to be had. My brother has no money left. He’s spent it freely. He’s had his castles rebuilt, walls repaired and strengthened, battlements constructed and trenches made in front of castles. At Caen he built a trench stretching from Rue d'Esmeisine to Porte Milet. But do you know what he does when he runs out of money to pay his mercenaries?”
Baudoin and Caedmon both shook their heads, though they had heard rumours.
Henry smirked. “He hands over his burgesses to the mercenaries, who then ransom them back to their families. This is a man who pretends to be a king! Many of his own burgesses now hate him.”
***
The war commenced. Curthose sought to make alliances with the King of France and other factions, but Henry had bought them off.
The cathedral town of Bayeux fell to Henry. Baudoin sent an account of events to Dorianne and his mother. Mabelle unfurled the parchment and read the missive to her daughter-by-marriage.
Maman, Dorianne,
We are well, as I trust you are.
The inhabitants of Bayeux defended themselves bravely, not wanting to surrender to the king and he couldn’t take them by force. Gonthier, their constable, rode throughout the region, bringing prisoners and booty which greatly assisted the town. King Henry was very displeased that Bayeux’s resistance threatened the advance on Caen.
The king and some of his knights, including Caedmon and myself, assembled and went to Bayeux together, where we set light to the town. Flames leapt high, chapels and churches burning, houses and food-stores toppling. The church was entirely destroyed and its precious possessions taken outside.
Henry took the city and laid waste to the area as far as Caen. The war has grown and become more violent. Curthose hasn’t been able to recover anything or return to Bayeux. No one can remain between Bayeux and Caen. The peasants are too afraid to till the land, join their oxen together or plough the fields and the merchants do not dare go about the town or transport their merchandise.
On to Caen! We will find our brother.
Baudoin.
Caedmon and Baudoin took advantage of the confusion in the aftermath of Bayeux to work with another knight, Robert FitzHaimo, to capture influential citizens of Caen. They met with the King at Yvrandes, in a hermitage surrounded by a great wood called the Lande Pourrie. They told him their plan.
The king was pleased. “It’s a good plan. These prisoners you’ve brought are powerful men, born in Caen. We can have the town through them.”
Baudoin folded his arms across his chest. “Oui, they’ve agreed that if you release them and make it worth their while, they’ll hand over Caen. But it must remain secret.”
The King turned to FitzHaimo. “Can we trust them?”
The knight chuckled. “To make sure, we’ve insisted they provide their sons and nephews as hostages. They’ll pretend to obtain what’s necessary and pay their ransoms.”
This plan was successful and Caen surrendered to the King, without much bloodshed. Henry’s men flooded into the town.
Baudoin and Caedmon made immediately for the cells below the castle. They searched by torchlight, rags over their mouths. Baudoin’s eyes watered. “How can he have survived this stench?”
Caedmon shook his head and continued the frantic search. Cell after cell revealed broken, confused men, terrified by the torches thrust into their dark existence. But nowhere could they find Robert.
***
Unaware of events in the world above him, Robert was wrenched from his cell and dragged along the darkened corridor. It was the first time in months he’d been outside the black hole. He didn’t recognise the men, but they bore the Curthose device on their tunics. The mute giant wasn’t one of them.
His hands were tied to something. His heart beat faster. Was this to be the end then? Was this his execution? Death would be welcome. He heard the sound of the lash before he felt it tear into his flesh. His ravaged body recoiled, but he didn’t have the energy to cry out. He didn’t bother to count the strokes as they bit into his skin. He’d be dead before they stopped.
Then, he was back in his cell, his mangled back on fire. He remembered his indignation when he’d first learned Dorianne had been whipped. He heard loud voices above. It disoriented him. Did he hear his name? Was it the angelic host calling him to heaven? Searing pain overwhelmed him. He blinked hard, trying to hold on to his wits, but couldn’t. The voices receded, leaving, leaving him to the black meaningless existence he’d endured for too long. He would die alone in this awful place.
“Dorianne,” he murmured with his last breath.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Baudoin and Caedmon were devastated not to find their brother. They were on the point of leaving the prisons, their hearts heavy, when Baudoin stopped. “Listen,” he said to Caedmon.
Caedmon cocked his head. “What is it?” He waited, frowning. “All I hear is a cat’s mewling cry.”
“He’s here,” Baudoin replied turning back. “I feel him. I feel my brother’s presence. There must be more cells somewhere.”
He and Caedmon turned back, creeping carefully along narrow dark corridors. After many long minutes Baudoin heard Caedmon shout, “Here! A stairway.”
They descended the steep slippery steps, their torches held high to illuminate the narrow walls. They peered into an oubliette.
“There’s a man in there,” Caedmon cried.
Baudoin strained to see, his eyes watering. A wretched man lay on a bed of straw. “He’s dead, I think.”
Caedmon smashed the crude lock with his sword and they entered the world Robert had endured for months. The mangled creature prostrate before them didn’t move. A cat scurried by them and was swallowed up in the blackness. Then they heard a faint whisper. “Dorianne.”
Bile rose in Baudoin’s throat, his heart thudded in his ears. “By the saints, it’s Robert! Hold the light here.”
His fury intensified when he saw Robert’s bloody back. “He’s been flogged—and recently. A parting gift! Call for more help.�
�
Robert groped the straw. “Espérance?”
Tears streamed down Baudoin’s face. He grasped his brother’s hands firmly. “Oui, you have hope now, Robert.”
With Caedmon’s help, he lifted Robert over his shoulder. The Montbryce men-at-arms came at the call and they and Caedmon helped guide Baudoin up the steps to the courtyard. Robert cried out when the light assailed his eyes. Baudoin quickly tore a strip from the crude shirt and tied it over Robert’s eyes.
“Robert,” Baudoin strained. “It’s Baudoin. You’re safe now. Caedmon is here. We’re here for you.”
“Dorianne?” Robert rasped.
Baudoin wiped away tears. He could barely speak. “She’s safe, my brother. You have a son.”
“A son? I have a son. But where is Espérance? Don’t leave her behind.”
Caedmon and Baudoin looked at each other and shook their heads.
“He’s delirious,” Caedmon said.
Robert fainted.
The men-at-arms carried their broken lord on a litter to the Abbeye aux Hommes where the monks shaved the lice ridden hair from his face and body. They bathed his lacerations and applied salve, washed him and tended the sores on his body, then rebandaged his eyes against the light. He remained in a stupor as they ministered to him.
“How bad is it?” Caedmon asked as Baudoin emerged from the infirmary.
“It’s bad,” Baudoin replied angrily. “He’s been beaten, starved, humiliated, deprived of light. It will be a long road back to good health. He’s emaciated. I can barely recognize him. It’s hard to believe a Norman nobleman would treat another this way. So much for chivalry.”
Caedmon put his arm around Baudoin’s shoulders. “Dorianne will help nurse him back to health.”
Baudoin shook his head. “I doubt if she’ll want to touch him the way he looks.”
“Never underestimate the power of a woman’s love,” Caedmon replied.
Baudoin was lost in his thoughts for a long while as they stood in the silent cloister of the Abbey. “I’ve sent messengers to Saint Germain. But I doubt he’ll be able to travel for a few days.”
A monk appeared with news Robert had awakened. They entered the infirmary. Robert lay on his side on a palette. Baudoin could barely restrain the tears as he clasped his brother’s hand. “Robert—Robert—we thought you were lost.”
Robert coughed. “Baudoin? Where—am I? It’s been—so—long—since I talked—with anyone—I—”
“Don’t worry about talking, Robert,” said Caedmon. “We’re relieved to have found you.”
“Caedmon? You’re—both here?” Robert had difficulty making his voice work. “Take me home—I want to go home—to Montbryce—I want to die there—not here.”
“You’re not going to die, Robert,” his brother retorted. “We’ve gone to too much trouble to save you. Dorianne would never forgive us.”
“She will—not want me now—I’m not the man—she married,” Robert whispered.
“You’re doing what I did, Robert,” Caedmon said. “I was afraid Agneta would never speak to me again when I returned from the Crusade, and yet she welcomed me back with open arms.”
“But Caedmon—you didn’t look like this,” Robert said sadly, running a gaunt hand over the ribs protruding from his once broad chest. He coughed deeply. “I don’t want her to see me. She will—want to flee.”
Baudoin snorted. “I won’t be the one to try to keep her away from you when we return home.”
“Nor I,” Caedmon added. “King Henry plans to leave Normandie tomorrow. He’s been called back to England to deal with the Investiture problem, but he’ll return as soon as he’s able.”
Baudoin wanted to hearten his brother. “Curthose has avoided capture this time, and Henry won’t stop the fight until he has his brother soundly defeated. He’ll leave Caen and Bayeux garrisoned until his return. If possible we should leave with him on the morrow to take advantage of the escort to Montbryce. Will you be able to travel, Robert?”
“Oui,” Robert replied weakly. “I’ll be ready. I want—to be as far away from Caen as possible—and I want to see my son. Did you find Espérance yet?”
Baudoin shook his head. “I don’t understand. Who is Espérance?”
“My cat.”
Caedmon and Baudoin looked at each other. “Non, we didn’t find a cat.”
Robert gripped his brother’s arm, surprising Baudoin with his strength. “You must find her.”
Baudoin put his hand on Robert’s. “I’ll try.”
Robert eased his grip. “Merci,” he rasped.
Baudoin turned to Caedmon and whispered, “I’ll send a messenger on ahead.”
***
Robert couldn’t stay atop the horse on which he was mounted. He had no balance, no strength in his legs, no sense of concentration on the road. Caedmon helped him remount behind Baudoin and tied his hands loosely around his brother’s waist. Robert lay heavily against his brother’s back as they rode and Baudoin held on to him.
The monks had provided them with salve and from time to time they had to stop when the pain became too much for Robert to bear. They helped him dismount and applied the salve. The last two hours of the journey were completed in the rain and as they rode into the courtyard of the castle, Robert had to be taken from the horse and carried to a chamber. He’d passed out.
Mabelle and Dorianne stood clinging to each other in the downpour, the rain mingling with the tears as their beloved was brought home. They couldn’t recognize the bald, broken and blindfolded man who’d been carried into the castle. They followed the sad procession to the chamber, but Baudoin barred their way at the door.
“Why have you not brought him to our chamber, Baudoin?” Dorianne asked.
“Dorianne—maman,” he began, “Robert will need a few hours to regain his strength before you see him.”
Dorianne’s mouth fell open. “But Baudoin,” she stuttered, “I long to see him, to hold him.”
Baudoin clenched his jaw. “He doesn’t want you to see him this way. You must respect his wishes.”
“Come, Dorianne,” Mabelle coaxed. “Robert will sleep now. He’s home. We have our darling boy home. Baudoin is right. We’ll see him later. We’ll nurse him back to health.”
She led her daughter-by-marriage back to her own chamber where Dorianne took her son from his nursemaid. “Papa is home, Alexandre, everything will be fine now. Papa is home,” she whispered to the gurgling infant, her face streaked with tears.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Robert’s valet Danyel Bonhomme was relieved his master had returned safely. He tiptoed into the chamber to see if the Comte was awake, barely recognizing the gaunt figure prostrate on the bed. Lying on his stomach, Robert struggled for a moment with the blindfold, but then covered his eyes with it again.
“Who’s there?” he asked nervously.
“It’s Danyel, milord, I’m elated you’re home. Shall I prepare a bath for you?”
“Oui, Danyel. I would like to bathe. That’s one of the pleasures I missed the most. Hot water will be a delight. But not too hot—the wounds on my back.”
“Oui, milord, I understand. I’ll make everything ready, and I’ll lay out clothing for you. Perhaps a bed robe for now?”
Robert didn’t answer right away, and Danyel wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Then he heard his master whisper, “Probably the best. I don’t intend to do anything today.”
Danyel made the wooden bathtub ready and the stable boys filled it with hot water from the kitchens. The valet was taken aback when Robert snapped angrily at the boys. “Too much noise. Hurry, you’re making too much noise.”
Danyel laid a thick drying cloth against the back of the tub and helped his master rise from the bed and make his way slowly to the tub. Robert leaned heavily on the servant as he stepped into the tub. Suddenly he swayed and grasped Danyel’s arm more tightly, his fingers digging into the young man’s flesh.
“You won’t let me fa
ll, Danyel? I can’t—see.”
“Non, milord,” Danyel replied, worried at the look of abject fear on his lord’s face. “I won’t let you fall.”
Carefully he helped his master settle into the hot water, placing a cloth and soap in his hands. “Madame la Comtesse has asked me if you’re awake yet, milord. Shall I tell her to enter?”
“Non,” Robert said quickly. “I’ll bathe first.”
“As you wish, milord. I’ll inform la Comtesse.”
Robert tried half heartedly to wash his body, but didn’t have the energy. The soothing warmth of the water relaxed him and he dozed until he became aware of the soft feel of the soaped cloth on his skin. “Merci Danyel, I’m as weak as a baby.”
When there was no reply, he became alarmed, fearful as to who was in the chamber with him. Roughly, he grasped the hand and stilled it. He could feel immediately it was a woman’s hand and the panicked notion it might be his wife took hold of him. “Non!” he rasped.
Dorianne whispered, “Robert, be calm, my love. I want to wash you.”
He shook his head and forced her hand away from his body. “You’ll never wash the stink from me, Dorianne. I don’t want you to look at my body. I’m not the man I was.”
His wife pulled against his grip. “Robert, you insult me if you believe I married you only for your body,” she said softly. “Let me help you. Please don’t shut me out. I was also abducted. I need your comfort.”
Her words gnawed his heart. He laid her hand against his cheek. “Dorianne, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I failed you.”
She cupped his face in both hands and kissed him on the lips. “Non, Robert. I failed you. I trusted Pierre.”
Robert shuddered. “Wash me, Dorianne. Help me cleanse my soul of this torment.”
She took the cloth and washed his ravaged body, then helped him stand and step out of the tub. The effort made him shake and he had to lean on her.
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