by His Ransom
“Yes it was.”
“Then why would you have inspected the food?”
Richard hesitated. “I am your bodyguard. I should have been looking out for you all the time, not just when people could attack you with knives and swords.”
“It was not your fault. I do not blame you.” Of this alone she was certain, for it seemed that Richard blamed himself. Did Guy and Margaret also blame him she wondered. Was that why they stood so far away?
“I blame myself.”
Recognising that she could say nothing to placate him, Rosamunde sank back against her pillows. Even this short conversation was exhausting her. She must have been very ill.
“Could I have something to drink, please?”
Instantly Richard’s arm was around her shoulders, holding her up while he held a cup to her lips. When she had finished, he lowered her gently onto the bed. She shivered at the loss of his touch, but at least she could talk again.
“How is the escort?” She was thinking more clearly now. She knew that she was going somewhere, so she must have an escort.
“All are well. Concerned about you, but there is nothing untoward happening.”
Rosamunde gave up. She could not see Guy’s face clearly and she seemed to have lost the skill of reading his voice. She could not tell whether he lied or not. She had not been able to change Richard’s mind. It would be better to sleep.
“I think I shall sleep again…” she murmured as her eyes closed and her breathing grew deeper.
Chapter Fifteen
Eventually Rosamunde awoke and was able to stay awake. She sat up in her bed and listened to Guy’s council. He had everything in order and there were no decisions for her to make, but it pleased both of them to keep up the pretence that she was still in charge of the camp. She was even able to eat the simplest of foods that could be prepared for her and to drink small beer and wine. She tasted little of it and her stomach protested, but she grew stronger each day.
Guy was explaining that the duke was expected that afternoon or the following morning. Another messenger had been despatched to give the camp notice of his arrival. The duke was making a speedy journey. Guy thought that he must be travelling in a very small party, probably riding all the daylight hours and stopping only when it became too dark to continue. Neither of them mentioned it, but they both knew that the duke’s love for his daughter would ensure that he covered as much distance as possible each day.
It was a sign of Rosamunde’s improved health that she could tell that there was something that Guy was keeping from her. She knew there was nothing to be gained by questioning him. If it was something the duke had entrusted to him, he would never give it up and if it was of a more personal nature, she knew he would tell her when he considered the time was right.
Now that she was recovered, Richard no longer sat close to her or touched her, but stood guard by the entrance to her bedchamber. Since they were no longer on the move, he seemed content to share his duties with Guy and John, a young archer he considered to have shown promise during the siege. She and Richard had spoken little since she had begun to recover and he seemed distracted to her. It would be impossible for them to return to their former easiness once her father arrived, but she had hoped that they could make good use of this time. But Richard seemed determined to avoid conversation with her. He answered any question she asked briefly and volunteered nothing on his own account. She missed his touch. It was no longer necessary for someone to hold her while she ate or drank, but she had not rushed to be able to feed herself. It had been comforting to be held by Richard, whatever the reason. She missed their conversations. He had begun to be more open towards her and now she knew she would never have the chance to be that close to him again.
There was a noise outside and Richard lowered himself to one knee and bowed his head. Guy remained standing, but also bowed. “My lord.”
The duke ignored them both and strode to Rosamunde’s bed.
“So, my dear Rosamunde, I see that Guy’s messenger did not lie. You live.” She saw the relief on his face, but thought that he had aged since she had last seen him. It seemed that fear for his daughter had cost him more than a year fighting the French.
“I live and do very well, father.” She tried to smile, but her tears prevented her.
The duke hugged and kissed his daughter, then sat beside her bed, holding her hand in his. With the other he wiped away her tears. “I hardly dared hope when I heard what had happened.”
“It is thanks to Sir Richard that I still breathe.” Surely now her father must give Richard his freedom. This might be the last thing she could do for him before her marriage.
The duke turned towards his prisoner, who still knelt. “And what do you have to say for yourself, Master Frenchman?”
Still on his knee, Richard pulled his knife from its sheath. Rosamunde gasped and Guy took a step towards the man he now considered his friend. Richard placed the point of the knife against his own breast and stared up at the duke.
“My life is forfeit. I failed to protect Lady Rosamunde.”
“The fellow wants me to kill him,” said the duke, amused, looking from his prisoner to his daughter.
“You should reward him,” said Rosamunde quickly. Her heart was beating fast. She alone realised that Richard was serious. He expected the duke to punish him.
“Do you hear that, you young fool? My daughter says I am to reward you and in this I am inclined to take her advice. I believe you have paid your ransom and I will release you. You may go back to France.”
Richard looked confused, then his face cleared. “No, my lord. I beg you, please make me my lady’s servant, so that I may go with her wherever she goes.”
Now it was the duke’s turn to look confused.
“But I offer you freedom and you beg for servitude?”
“Not so, my lord. You offer to cast me out and I beg to be permitted to stay with my lady. I do not mean to cause trouble,” he added hastily, as he saw the duke’s face darken with anger. “I know that my lady goes to be married. I wish only to serve her as she chooses.”
“That will not be possible,” said the duke shortly. “It may be that I will have to accept your first offer. Please take him to my pavilion, Guy. I shall be with you shortly.”
Guy grimaced. “Taking you prisoner is becoming a habit,” he muttered, as he indicated that Richard should walk before him, even as Richard tried to give up his knife and sword to him. “Keep them. I would only cut myself on them.”
When they were alone, the duke smiled at his daughter, but Rosamunde could only think that her father was about to kill the man she loved.
The duke patted her hand. “Do not worry. I shall not kill him, but I don’t know what to do with him. It would solve much if he could marry you.”
Rosamunde was shocked, she had not realised that her father knew that she still loved Richard, but she shook her head and tried to hide the tears that had come into her eyes. “I know I cannot, I have given my word to marry Sir Ralf.”
“That fool!” The duke jumped to his feet impatiently and started to pace around the small space that was Rosamunde’s bedroom. “I knew as soon as I saw him that we had both made a mistake. You could never respect a man like him and he would not respect you. He greeted me with his mistress by his side. He couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to have good manners. He thought it was enough that he is the third son of a duke and wealthy, but it is not, not for you. I had already stopped the negotiations and was ready to return when Guy’s messenger arrived. I would rather have you in the convent that married to a man like that.”
He paused to look at the spot where Richard had offered his life. He sat beside her again and looked at her intently.
“From what I hear, marriage to the Frenchman would be like being in a convent. I assume he has found his way back into your good graces.”
“You would give your permission for me to marry Richard?” Rosamunde was hesitant. She did not u
nderstand why her father spoke of convents, but knew that she wanted the convent if she could not have Richard. Having escaped from Ralf and knowing that Richard loved her, she doubted she could marry someone else, even out of love and obedience to her father.
“No, I’m not giving you permission to marry him. Whatever he told you, it would be a sin.” The duke was angry and exasperated.
Now Rosamunde understood. Someone had told the duke about Richard’s divorce.
“Please go and talk to him,” she said. “If that is the only thing that would prevent you giving your permission.”
“You know the man’s secret.” Rosamunde thought her father blushed.
“I know the truth and why he allowed the lie to be told.”
“Rosamunde,” the duke was stern. “I would just as soon kill him as not.” He waved aside her protests. “He has shown you as little respect as Ralf. I do not ask you what he did, but you are constant and he must have done something to turn your love to hate overnight.”
Rosamunde could not deny it, for it was true, although the duke could not know any of the details.
“Father, he has saved my life and my virtue.” The duke bit his lip, as if he wanted to say more. The duke stood up and paced around the small space. Finally, he came to a decision, apparently a painful one. He sat beside her and took her hand again. The expression on his face was so full of love that she felt tears prick her eyes again. “Rosamunde, the time for plain speaking has come. You say he saved your virtue, but is it not the case that he took it and that is why you agreed to marry Ralf?”
Rosamunde considered her answer carefully. “Father, I am a virgin.”
The duke pondered. “I see that you speak the truth, but not all of it.” He held up a hand as she made to speak. “How else could you know that what is said of his virility is a lie?”
Rosamunde blushed, recalling what she had seen in the moonlight in Richard’s cell. “Because he told me.”
The duke pursed his lips, then smiled at her innocence. “He lied.”
“Why? If you had agreed to our marriage and he had proven impotent, I could have divorced him. He would have gained nothing and been disgraced again. Please, father, if you are minded to let me marry him, you have only to go and ask him what you wish. He will give you whatever proof you need.”
“You are sure you would have him? He is a crippled Frenchman with nothing. Your dowry is small. I can give you no more.”
Rosamunde smiled. “I would have him. He is not so crippled anymore and he will serve you well. The dowry will be enough until he has the opportunity for prize money.”
“Very well. I suppose I must devise some means of testing his virility. Do you wish to say goodbye to him if he fails?” The duke was walking towards the entrance to Rosamunde’s pavilion.
“He will not fail. But, father?” The duke turned back towards her. “Please make it clear that you do not ask out of idle curiosity. Let him know that he can have what he wants.”
When Richard came into Rosamunde’s chamber he was alone.
“My lord, you look serious. Has my father accepted your offer of your life after all?” She made light of her fear. Her father had made no definite promise that she could marry Richard and there might still be some doubt in the duke’s mind as to Richard’s virility. Even were there not, Richard might have made a bad impression on him. He had been keeping out of the duke’s way since he had asked for Rosamunde’s hand, so the duke did not really know him as a man, although he doubtless had an opinion of him as a fighter, having seen him in the courtyard with the other men.
“No, my love, he accepted my second offer. I am to be your servant as long as I live.” Rosamunde’s breath caught in her throat. Her father had changed her mind and would marry her to Ralf after all. Richard frowned at the expression on her face and stood still. Then he shrugged and continued towards her.
He sat beside her and took her hand. “If you will have me.” He looked questioningly into her eyes. His body was tense, although his hand was gentle. Now she understood. This was the touch of a lover, not a servant.
“I will have you.” He smiled briefly and let go the breath he had been holding, before he pulled her into his arms. She could not speak. She was short of breath and her sobs were using what little she had.
“Do not cry,” he said, stroking her hair. “It will not be so terrible. I will try to be a good husband to you.”
She raised her face to him. “I want no other.”
Now Richard smiled fully, although there was little time for her to appreciate it as he bent his head to hers and kissed her. Emboldened by her declaration, he possessed her mouth and crushed her against him. For her part, she could not be close enough to him and she put her arms round his neck and twined her fingers into his hair. She half expected the familiarity that had distressed her in his cell. Since they were now to be man and wife he might feel that such things would now be permitted between them, but his hands held her head and her shoulder and his caresses were no more intimate than they had been during the first kiss they had shared mounted on Guy’s horse. Now she gave herself up to him and the kiss became deeper and even more intense, before he finally pulled away from her. She could not hold back the sigh that escaped her lips for the loss of him.
“I take advantage of you, because you are ill, but that will be the last time before we are married, although I may have to lock myself back in that cell.” He did not smile and Rosamunde knew that he did not jest. He had learned that bitter lesson.
“I will be guided by you, my lord,” said Rosamunde, demurely, pleased at Richard’s acknowledgment of her virtue. For herself, she decided to give herself up to what she had wanted to do since she had seen him in the courtyard as they had started the journey north and reached up to caress his scarred cheek. He flinched at her touch.
“It causes you pain?” Surely such an old scar could not hurt that much.
“No, but I am so disfigured it must displease you. I will grow my beard back as quickly as possible.”
“But then I will not be able to do this,” and she kissed his scars. It seemed that Richard was not as strong as he had thought, for at this slightest of provocations, his lips found hers once more. His kiss was as gentle as hers had been. When he released her, she laid her head against his chest. It seemed the safest thing to do.
“You do not mind my scars?” He sounded uncertain, as if he did not believe her.
“No. Now I know who you are.” She reached up to his cheek again and began to stroke his scars gently with her thumb.
“Louise said they made me ugly and it was for her that I grew the beard.”
“You are not ugly and I would not have you hide behind the beard again.”
“Very well. I shall continue in the English fashion.”
They sat together in silence for a while, content to stay in one another’s arms. It was some time before they were disturbed and Richard moved discreetly to the stool beside Rosamunde’s bed.
Two days later Rosamunde was able to leave her bed and walk around the camp on her father’s arm. The duke had decided that Richard and Rosamunde would be married as soon as they returned to the castle. Rosamunde, unmarried, was causing far too much trouble. Once she was married there would no longer be any suitors, welcome or unwelcome. Rosamunde was happy. She did not want Richard to have to control his passion for too long. It was not that she doubted his ability to do so, but the knowledge that he wanted her fuelled her own desire for him. And it was obvious that he wanted her. He had hidden his desire before, but now that he was accepted by everyone as her husband, he seemed not to feel the need to hide it any more. Her own desire was new and she did not know how to control it; she had had no practice at such things.
Richard was always close to her, as he had been before, but now she was aware of him, as she not been before. Outwardly there was nothing different in his demeanour towards her. He was polite and deferential to her as he always had been. He smiled a
s little as he always had in public and did not hesitate to give his opinion whether invited or not. But his few smiles were always directed at Rosamunde and when he offered an opinion he watched to see the effect it had on her.
True to his word, he did not attempt to kiss or even touch her, but Rosamunde found that she craved his touch and she saw that it was an effort for him, as it was for her to avoid it.
“…And then we will find somewhere for you to live.”
“I’m sorry, father, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“No, I’m sorry.” He patted her hand. “I have asked too much of you on your first day out of bed.”
“I am as eager as you to return home. I could ride in one of the carts if I cannot sit a horse.”
“Are you certain? They are not comfortable.” Rosamunde did not doubt the carts were not comfortable. There was a reason why most of the women she knew preferred to travel even long distances on horseback. But she felt she could bear the discomfort so that she could marry Richard sooner.
“I shall be able to ride in a few days.”
The duke smiled. There could be no doubt in his mind as to the reason why Rosamunde was so keen to return home. “Then we will leave the day after tomorrow. If you find it too uncomfortable we will stop until you are well enough.”
But Rosamunde had made up her mind that nothing would stop their journey home once it was begun.
Rosamunde very soon regretted offering to ride in a cart. Before they set off the next day, she and Margaret had done everything they could to make it comfortable for her, but the cart jolted along the highway and she felt as if all her bones must break before they reached the castle. Richard rode beside the cart to keep her company, but she thought that he got a poor bargain from it. She could not hide her discomfort from him, but he could do nothing to make her more comfortable. She thought it might be better if he rode with her and held her, but knew it would be too scandalous. He kept up a good stream of chatter, but the pain made it hard for her to respond normally and she saw her pain reflected on his face.
