“Is it, perhaps, the Countess Isolde who has caught your eye?”
Brody sighed. His humiliation was complete. He looked at Veris, to see his foolishness reflected back at him by Veris’ anger, or disappointment.
But Veris was smiling. “She is a glorious beauty, that one.”
Brody parted his lips, but could not find the words that would encompass his shock.
Veris laughed and squeezed his shoulder once more. “I am no more invulnerable against the wiles of a woman than you. Did you think I had not noticed her?”
“Noticed, perhaps, but to yearn for her?” Brody’s lips felt strange. His voice was strained. “That would be a most vile betrayal of the one you really love.”
Veris’ smile faded. He gripped Brody’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length. “So that is what has been driving you this evening. Guilt can make a man do the most astounding things….” He shook his head. “You should have spoken sooner and saved yourself this torment.”
“You surely do not condone infidelity?”
Veris drew him over to the bed and made him sit upon it. Then Veris arranged himself so that he was facing Brody. “You agree that we must find our own rules, do you not?”
Brody nodded.
“I have no doubt that you and I will know each other for a very long time. The Lord knows, there are very few men who find the glories of the marriage bed enough to contain them for a mere human lifetime. In our lives, we will both find ourselves distracted by the charms of another. It is only natural.”
Brody frowned. “You are saying that if we want to take another, we should?” It was a horrifying thought.
“A passing fancy? No, I do not. But look at you. You are ill with this obsession. It does not cease. Am I right?”
“Yes.” He said it reluctantly.
“Then why would I punish you further by insisting that your only honorable course is to stay true?”
“There is another way?”
“Woo the woman. Bed her, as many times as it takes to cool your blood.” Veris shrugged.
Brody could barely believe he was hearing the words. “You speak of betrayal.”
“It isn’t betrayal, if I agree with your actions.”
He realized he was still holding his hand in a tight fist and tried to release it, but his fingers would not obey. “I would hate it if you were to ask me for this accommodation.”
“Because you believe that sex leads to love. It does not. You can bed whomever you feel you must, Brody. It will not lessen my regard for you. It will not diminish what you feel for me. In fact, I suspect you will find your feelings strengthened.”
“I do not believe you.” Brody shook his head. “You would feel no anger, not a skerrick of concern, if I seduced the Count’s wife?”
Veris drew in a breath and let it out. “I do not know how I would feel. These are new ideas for me, too. Tumble the lady, then I will report to you how I feel. But in this case, Brody, I think I can spare your quandary.”
Brody waited. Veris often seemed to think far ahead of the conversation but he had learned that if he was patient, Veris would explain himself.
“The Lady Isolde is lovely.” Veris spoke slowly. “I would have no objections to having her, myself.” There was a look in his eyes that meant he was expecting Brody to understand what he was not saying. Sometimes, even Veris could not speak directly about painful or delicate matters.
Brody considered what it was that Veris was unable to say. Then he understood. “Bed her together?” The idea stole his breath.
“You have objections to the idea?” Veris asked.
Honestly above all, Brody reminded himself. “No,” he admitted. “I cannot think of any objections except those of the church, the state, the Count himself and everyone in this castle at this moment.” In fact, his mind leapt to some of the craven imaginings that had flocked in his mind, earlier. Even in his fantasies, he had not considered this possibility, but now that Veris had mentioned it, he could think of nothing else. His heart began to beat.
“Ah…you do like it.” Veris smiled. “The objections of those around us we can deal with. Discretion, of course, is our ally.”
“This, then, should be one of our own rules, shouldn’t it?”
“Secrecy above all, yes. But no other rules, not about what stirs us and ignites passions.”
“Why not? How can we live among humans if we do not?” For this was something that Veris had insisted upon from the beginning, almost from the day Brody had “woken” to find that four days had passed, the siege of Jerusalem was over, the Christian forces had won and a man who called himself Veris had become a part of his life.
Veris had been a valuable aid in the days that followed, for Brody had become a visible man while his mind was not his own. He had apparently found water and food for everyone, with the help of a Fatimid called Alexander and a woman who Veris said was Brody’s wife. That was one of the secrets Veris shared, but not all of it.
“There was a woman you called your wife, whom you introduced to everyone as your lady,” Veris explained. “Now everyone believes she is dead. You must pretend that you are distraught.”
The letter Veris gave him, that was written in his own hand, also insisted upon the pretense, giving the lady a name—Theresa, who Brody and Veris both called Tyra, in public. The writing in the letter was more convincing than Veris’ insistence. Within the letter were hints of consequences that would destroy lives if Brody did not cooperate.
In part, what had convinced Brody to play along with the new life that had been invented for him while he slept was the hint of the future both in what Veris would not say and in what the letter implied. The future—his life somewhere ahead of this current day—seemed to be far richer and more interesting than the one he had left behind. The glimpse of possibilities was tantalizing and Brody knew he would do whatever he must to preserve those possibilities.
Seven years with Veris in his life had further solidified his conviction that the future was worth fighting for. These seven years had been filled with interest and diversity…and happiness.
A large part of Veris’ charm was his insistence upon two things. The first was that they both go on pretending to be human and live by human rules, laws and customs whenever they were observed. The second was that when they were not observed, they would live by whatever rules suited them, no matter how different they were from human ones.
Most of their own private customs were yet to be worked out. So Brody did not understand why Veris was not instituting a new practice now, when they had reached such new territory.
“Relationships between humans are too complex. We cannot arbitrarily dictate how any future affair should go,” Veris said. “You already feel threatened at the thought of me wanting someone else, even if it is a quick tumble purely to cool my ardor.”
“I didn’t understand,” Brody replied swiftly. “I believe I am starting to understand now.”
Veris raised a brow. “You would not be concerned now if I told you I wished to bed Lady Catherine?”
“Do you?” Brody asked curiously, for Lady Catherine Gray was an older matron, with a sharp tongue that her husband did not bother to check.
“Not in any lifetime I live,” Veris said fervently. “But Lady Isolde is a different matter.”
Brody drew in a slow breath, calming himself. “Yes,” he agreed. “That is a different matter.”
“It is fortunate we both want her. It will make this first occasion simpler for us.”
“Then you foresee more occasions in the future?” Brody was startled.
“I do not intend to hunt them, but I expect there will be more. Fevers of the body neither of us can ignore. Passing interests and play things. There will be more.”
It was another hint of a complex, provocative future. Veris’ tone made it seem like he was speaking from a place of knowledge.
“Very well,” Brody said slowly. “We both want the Lady Isolde. We can sh
are her at the same time, if she consents. That seems to be a sensible arrangement.”
“Then you had best devise a plan for wooing her, before you die from the lack of her,” Veris said.
“I?” Brody frowned. “We will not do this together?”
Veris curled his fingers around the front of Brody’s robe. He was smiling. “You are the lord, in this day and time. I am the lowly knight. She would no more consider me a bed partner than she would her husband’s cowherd. You will have to convince her that two of us will be better than one.” He drew him closer.
Brody reached for the ties on Veris’ braies and tugged them loose. “There is no evidence that she will consider me with any more eagerness than she might consider the cowherd. She barely looked up from her meat.” He let Veris pull him close enough to touch his lips to Veris’.
Veris laughed. “Then you are truly distracted by her. I could smell her arousal from across the room. She is eager, Brody. You just have to clear the path for her and she will tumble into your lap.” He pressed his mouth against Brody’s lips, then spoke with his lips brushing Brody’s. “God knows why she wants you. It is beyond my ken.”
Brody pushed at his shoulders until Veris was lying upon the covers. “I will have to remind you.” He pulled Veris’ braies down his hips, until his cock was free. He gripped the solid shaft and Veris drew in a deep breath in reaction.
“Please, remind me,” Veris said, his voice thick with building pleasure.
* * * * *
“It has been three whole days!” Brody protested. He strode the length of the room one more time, passing the small hexagonal table where his page had set out food and wine. He could not calm himself enough to deal with the food in a way that would misdirect the humans who served him and make them think he had eaten. He left it untouched.
“These things take time.” Veris spoke calmly, even though Brody’s protest was not the first he had uttered. Veris was sprawled in the big chair by the fire, his hand hanging over the arm of the chair in an indolent posture that made Brody seethe with even greater impatience. The intolerable wait for a response did not seem to bother Veris at all. “As the wife of a count,” Veris added, “her movements are restricted. Consider how long it took to pass her the note in the first place.”
Five days had lapsed before Brody was able to communicate in a more direct fashion with Isolde. Most of those days Brody spent gathering information about the lady’s daily movements and customs.
Veris bribed Brody’s page with a small purse of coins—a fortune for a lad as young as he—and Brody explained what he wanted.
Roderick grinned once he understood his assignment. “‘tis me honor, milord.”
Brody considered Roderick’s delight with some surprise. “You understand, lad, that discretion is the utmost need in this?”
“Not to worry,” Roderick replied, tucking the purse into his belt. “No one ever notices the likes of me. Not ‘igh borns such as yerself.”
Brody sent him on his way with a word of thanks, then spent two more days watching Isolde from across the hall and glimpsing her between dancers and musicians. The Count did not dance, so the lady did not, either. She sat in her place with properly downcast eyes and if Veris had not assured him she felt differently, Brody would have assumed she was moved by nothing in this world.
His impatience climbed higher with each passing day. “If the King announces a settlement has been reached,” he pointed out to Veris, “then the retinue will be dismissed and she will be lost to us.”
After three weeks of chafing for the King to conclude his negotiations, Brody now lived in fear that he would settle.
Veris remained calm and unmoved. He would slip into Brody’s room each night, take him to bed and soothe him as only Veris could. For a few pleasurable minutes Brody happily forgot the Lady Isolde and did his best to demonstrate how much he appreciated what Veris was doing with him and for him.
At dawn on the fifth day, when Roderick was setting up the washbowl for Brody to use, the boy cleared his throat, catching Brody’s attention. “The Lady Isolde, milord…?”
Brody dropped the sleeping robe and stepped over to the bowl, hiding how his heart leapt. The boy could not hear it, after all. “Yes?”
As Brody dipped his hands into the bowl and washed his face, Roderick gave him details about Isolde’s normal day, her movements about the castle and most importantly, the companions she had around her at all times, including her husband.
The timetable underscored the few moments in the lady’s day when she was less well-chaperoned than usual, including shortly before the evening meal when she spent a few minutes in the chapel, praying. Only one lady waited upon her at that time.
There was a very long corridor between the castle main and the chapel, for the chapel had been added as an afterthought. The walls and roof were added to the walk some years later, when the lord grew tired of hurrying through inclement weather for his devotions.
Roderick shared this piece of history, along with the observation that the Lady Isolde used the walk every day.
Brody paid Roderick with another coin. “Silence, lad,” he warned him.
Roderick hurried away, happy.
That evening before the meal was announced, Brody made his way down to the covered walk and found a place more or less half-way along its length where he could linger without raising brows. There was a statue of the Lady Mary there, sitting in a rounded alcove. Someone had tucked roses around the foot of it. Brody could pretend to study the statue if anyone came along. But no one did. The walk was one of the loneliest locations in the castle, especially this close to the evening meal. Roderick had done an excellent job finding the most remote path the Countess traversed. Brody would pay him a bonus after this was all done.
There was a whisper of sound from the chapel end of the walk and he straightened, turning to face the statue. His heart thudded and the sealed note in his hand seemed to grow heavier.
Even when he finally saw movement from the corner of his eye, he did not look around. For the sake of the woman accompanying Isolde, he wanted to give the impression that this was a most coincidental meeting.
Only after he had stepped back for a last long view of the figure, did he glance at the two women gliding down the corridor.
Isolde was wearing green. She favored velvet and the rich fabric suited her.
His heart was beating beyond his control now. Brody stepped to one side of the corridor to give them room to pass. “Good evening, Countess.”
“It is, my lord,” Isolde murmured. “Thank you.”
Her maid was on the other side of Isolde and would see nothing. Brody pushed the note into Isolde’s hand.
This was a critical moment. If she stopped, or looked down, or questioned him on why he had pressed a letter upon her, then he would know that Veris was wrong, that she held no attraction for him at all. Then he would be forced to forget this madness in whatever way he could.
Her fingers curled around the edges of the parchment, her chin remained up and her gaze stayed firmly ahead. Brody turned to watch her continue down the walk. She had already slipped the note into a pocket, for her hand was empty. It was as if the letter had never existed.
The Lady Isolde was not unaccustomed to receiving illicit communications, then.
Brody allowed himself a small smile. There was no one here to see him appreciate his victory. With a lighter heart, he hurried to reach the hall before the king arrived.
That had been three days ago and it was as if he had never acted at all. Isolde appeared at her husband’s side and her gaze never once lifted from her embroidery or her meal, while Brody simmered on the other side of the hall.
“She is mocking me!” he declared to Veris in the privacy of his chamber.
“I don’t believe so,” Veris said quietly. “Patience, Brody. It will work, or it will not. There is nothing else you can do to affect the outcome now. It is all up to the Countess.”
That evening, Brody strode into the hall for supper just barely before the King. Veris was behind him, as was proper, and rammed into him as Brody came to a halt just inside the doors. “My apologies, my lord,” Veris said, as he settled Brody back on his feet. He looked over Brody’s shoulder and frowned.
“They’ve gone!” Brody whispered.
The stools the Count and Isolde had been sitting upon for each meal were empty. There was not even a cup or trenchers in front of the two places.
“I’ll find out what happened,” Veris murmured back. He patted Brody’s upper arm. “It doesn’t have to mean what you think.”
Brody nodded and moved stiffly to his customary seat, where Roderick stood ready to serve him. He didn’t wonder how Veris knew what he had been thinking. It was plain that the Count had left the castle at the urgings of his wife, who wanted to place herself as far away from Brody as possible. Regnitz had risked the wrath of the King by leaving without his blessing. Brody’s note had not been welcomed at all.
Veris made his way back to where Brody waited with the silver goblet squeezed between his fingers as he picked through the unimpressive meal, moving morsels about the trencher and occasionally pretending to eat one. Veris leaned over Brody’s shoulder and spoke so softly no humans could possibly overhear. “The Count begged the King for permission to leave. His wife is ill and he wanted to take her home.”
Brody nodded his thanks and Veris settled on the chair beside him. “It may even be true,” he added. There was a thoughtful air about him as he pushed his trencher toward Roderick.
It took all Brody’s patience to sit through the meal after that. Clearly, Isolde was virtuous and true to her husband. Would the Count call him out? Would he report Brody’s importuning to the King and destroy the esteem the King currently held him in? What would be the consequences of this madness?
Finally, the King stood and left for his private chambers, effectively dismissing them for the night and Brody let out a deep sigh of relief and hurried back to his room, with Veris a pace behind him.
“My lord Norwich.” The soft call came from the cold shadows of the badly lit corridor they were in.
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