Windsong

by Allison Knight

  A long ago episode came to mind. Essylt had sent her maid to fetch something from Rhianna at the family keep. The maid had spent time with Rhianna at his sister’s request and for that Essylt reprimanded the poor girl for days. He had finally intervened and sent the girl back to the family keep to work with Rhianna. Why had he not thought about that before?

  Nay, Milisent was so much different than Essylt. But it was not for him to judge which woman was the better of the two. It was only necessary for him to admit his love for Milisent. Essylt was gone. His life with her was finished years ago, and tomorrow he would meet the man who had ended it.

  He stood and paced around their campsite. Words had to be rehearsed, explanations prepared. Thoughts of Milisent and how he felt about her were best placed aside until after he met with Chelse. Then he would leave this land and hurry back to Knockin and Milisent’s arms.

  FIFTEEN

  By midday, Alwyn stood before the castle he thought never to see again. As soon as they made camp, he sent Chelse a message asking for a meeting concerning Milisent. He and the soldiers made camp close to the castle. If he gained an audience, he wanted his men close enough so he could signal if he needed help. However, he cautioned his men to avoid any action that might be seen as threatening.

  To his disgust he waited two days before there was any indication he would be given permission to the enter the hall. While he waited he had a pair of men circle the structure to discern anything that seemed out of the ordinary. They were also told to look for anything that could be used to gain his soldiers entrance if he needed them.

  Finally, on the afternoon of the third day, a messenger brought word. Chelse would see him in the morn.

  Alwyn bid his men exercise extreme caution while he was meeting with Chelse. Even though the man was Milisent’s brother, Alwyn had little trust in him or his word. Instructions about when to seek help and why were discussed and Alwyn smiled when he learned that Garrett ordered his men to act in the same manner and under the same circumstances. It seemed Garrett was not assured this meeting would proceed as they wanted.

  He entered the castle alone because the message Chelse sent specified he must come alone, no servants or soldiers. They would all be denied entrance. Alwyn grinned. Chelse did not trust him either.

  To his surprise, one of the serving girls met him at the door and said she was to direct him to the solar. He had anticipated a meeting in the great hall. Mayhap, this meeting would go better than he thought.

  He looked around the great hall and at first glance he was impressed with the interior of the castle. However, when he studied the room, it showed the lack of recent care. At one time, he suspected the place had been immaculately kept, but there were indications now that a chatelaine was needed to see to the upkeep. Maintaining the interior had probably been Milisent’s task. Under her hand the place must have gleamed.

  When he entered the solar, two men awaited him. He had never met

  Chelse, but he remembered de Bain from the trip the man made through his village.

  Alwyn ignored the chilling expression on Chelse’s face, bowed to him and ignored de Bain who was clearly furious at the slight.

  “I wish to be private with you, Chelse. What we must discuss should be between only the two of us.”

  Gilbert shook his head. “Nay. De Bain will serve as counsel to me. He stays. I would offer refreshment but I doubt there will be time.”

  Alwyn took a deep breath and fought to control his temper. Chelse was not going to make this task easy. He was grateful his men were outside the castle halls. If there was trouble, at least some of his men could escape and return to Knockin. He frowned at the thought. Chelse would have realized any thought of reprisal would meet with the force of de Shay’s might.

  He decided to continue to ignore de Bain. Mayhap it was as well he heard the words, for it should stop his pursuit of Milisent.

  “I have come with a marriage contract between Milisent and myself. We were wed in April, the week before the beginning of Lent, our marriage blessed by the Abbot Benedick. Your priest has been informed and Milisent has signed the contract indicating I am her chosen spouse.” He paused and waited for a reaction.

  There was nothing from Gilbert, but it was clear de Bain was angry. And they had already learned about the marriage. Alwyn was surprised neither man offered a comment.

  Finally Chelse snarled, “What kind of force did you apply to get her to sign the papers?”

  Alwyn smiled. He couldn’t help it. He could not imagine Milisent being made to do much of anything she didn’t want to do. Both men had to know that. After all she refused de Bain, even with all Gilbert’s threats—and according to Ella there had been many.

  Garrett had agreed with him when he suggested Chelse must have locked her away here at the castle to prevent her meeting acceptable men. Despite the father’s intent, this brother wanted to arrange the marriage he wanted. Had he been honorable, that might have worked, but honor and Gilbert Mortimore Chelse did not know each other.

  “The contract.” He glared at Alwyn and extended his hand.

  “I would examine it as well,” de Bain demanded as he stepped to Gilbert’s side. Alwyn handed the copy to Gilbert. “This is a second copy. The original paper now resides with the abbot. They bear the seal of myself, Milisent, Garrett de Shay of Knockin and Abbot Benedick.”

  Both men read and reread the document.

  Alwyn clenched his fists as he watched the men. De Bain was clearly enraged. For a moment, he wondered if his life’s blood would stain the floor of the solar. Mayhap he would never leave Fenton castle.

  Gilbert finally spoke. “So it would seem she is married…and to a lowly knight.” He gazed at him and for once in his life, Alwyn felt inferior to the man studying his countenance. It was not a comfortable feeling. He was tempted to tell him he was the son of a prince, but decided the less Chelse knew about him the better. Edward knew and the knowledge served the brothers well. Edward accepted them all as noble.

  “Well,” Gilbert began, as if that one word had been dragged out of him, “All appears to be in order. I suppose I have no say in this. I would take the matter to the king if he were in England.”

  Gilbert had to know the king would do nothing to overrule the contract. By this time Alwyn was certain Edward had a copy of Milisent’s father’s will. It stated clearly that only if Alwyn died did the king have a say. What was the man trying to do? Was it to make him fear Gilbert’s position with the king?

  Garrett had assured him he had a great deal more influence and more friends in Edward’s court than Gilbert. Also many of Garrett’s friends had never bothered to make Chelse’s acquaintance for his reputation preceded him. He was not one of the most trusted of Edward’s Barons. Could it be Chelse was trying to discover if Alwyn had traveled to France and presented the contract to Edward?

  A sixth sense told him to make no comment.

  Gilbert took the document out of de Bain’s hand and rolled it up to slid it into the leather case in which it was presented.

  “When will I see my sister? I would know where she is so I may send congratulations.”

  Somehow, Alwyn did not think Gilbert wanted to offer congratulations.

  “She is residing with my sister, at Knockin under the protection of Garrett de Shay until I return.” Alwyn fought a grin. If Gilbert tried to attack Knockin he would have a battle on his hands. Garrett had some of the best trained soldiers in England at his command.

  Gilbert took the information stoically, but de Bain retained his obvious fury and snorted at the information. Now for the dreaded part. Alwyn took a deep breath ready to confess his original intent and how Milisent ended in his care.

  He did not get a chance.

  “Take your contract and get from my home,” Gilbert nearly yelled and stomped toward open door. He stood to one side waiting for Alwyn’s departure. Alwyn was shocked. Nor could he allow himself to be dismissed in this manner. There was a confession to
make and he had Milisent’s estates to address. Until Chelse knew why he took Milisent his task was not finished. One glance at the man’s face told Alwyn this, however, was not the time.

  Alwyn started for the door. “We must meet again for we have much more to discuss. We have need to settle Milisent’s dowry. I have more I must tell you. However, not today.”

  “Aye, I have no desire to speak of more, not until I seek out this Garrett de Shay and determine for myself that Milisent has not been forced or harmed.” He took a deep breath. His next words held no surprise. “I trust you, sir knight, as much as you trust me. So take your men, the ones hiding in my wood and leave. Now.”

  “We will meet again soon.” There was nothing more to be said. Alwyn started for the door. When Gilbert turned away from him, he wondered if he should stay here and seek another audience with Chelse in a day or two, or return to Knockin. He could speak to Milisent’s brother when the man came to assure himself she had come to no harm.

  Mayhap when Chelse realized she picked Alwyn as a husband of her own accord Alwyn could explain his actions. Besides, agreeing on the dowry and meeting the terms of her father’s will might best be carried out with Garrett in attendance.

  The decision to stay for another attempt was taken from him when at least six soldiers followed him out of the castle, armed with lances, swords and spears. He wondered if it was meant to see him on his way or to haul he and his men to the dungeon. Nay, Chelse now knew for certain de Shay was aware of the marriage and would also have knowledge of this meeting. His life would not be forfeit on Fenton soil.

  The tallest of the men, still not as tall as he, stepped forward. In a gruff tone, he announced, “We are to escort you from this land, your men as well.”

  That answered one question. But Alwyn was curious. “Who gave such an order?”

  “Our lord, Baron Chelse. He wants you and your soldiers gone from here now. We are to see to it.”

  Alwyn shrugged. He would return to Knockin and await Gilbert’s arrival to see to his sister. At that time, with Garrett in attendance, they would talk about her dowry and why Alwyn had spirited Milisent away from her brother in the first place.

  ~ * ~

  Milisent paced the courtyard. The servants who passed her kept their distance. Alwyn had been gone much longer than any here had thought he would be. Had her brother refused to see him? Or had some tragedy befallen him? She could not credit the first and her heart would not allow her to entertain the second.

  Gilbert would demand she marry de Bain if anything happened to Alwyn. Garrett had been hesitant to tell her otherwise when they had discussed the amount of time Alwyn had been gone.

  “Milisent,” Rhianna called from the doorway. “You have been

  pacing for over an hour. You must stop this worry, and come, there is someone I want you to meet.”

  Milisent smoothed her veil and the front of her gown then turned toward the steps leading into the hall. Rhianna stood, a tall young man at her side. He had the look of the Brynn Ffrydd’s. Another brother?

  His hair was much lighter but it held the same curls that covered Rhianna’s head. The eyes were a different color, but the faces were the same shape. Even their facial expressions were similar. Only the lad was much taller and dressed as a squire.

  “I want to make known to you the youngest member of our family. This is Arthur; he has come from his foster to meet his brother’s bride.”

  He gave her a bow, and Milisent acknowledged his gesture with a bow of her own. “It is my pleasure. But I fear Alwyn is not in residence.”

  “Garrett explained the situation.”

  Milisent marveled at the husky, ringing tones of this young man. Did all of the ab Brynn Ffrydd clan possess such rich vocal tones? Alwyn’s voice was the same, full, rich, with a great deal of volume when he wanted. It would be the same for this Arthur. Even Rhianna, a songstress if there was ever one, had a glorious voice, full, rich, and with enough strength to reach every corner of the great hall.

  What Milisent would not give to hear Alwyn’s voice at this moment, but Arthur had not brought her husband to her, for he had traveled with only a small escort.

  Over a lingering meal, they all discussed the length of time Alwyn was taking and Milisent seemed to be the only one fearful.

  “These things take time, m’Lady. What I know of Chelse says he will not give in to any of my brother’s demands for a time. Do not be afraid.” But Arthur’s words did not console her. In her heart she knew Alwyn was in trouble, yet his own family would not listen to her.

  Arthur stayed at Knockin for only a few days before he traveled back to the home of the knight to whom he was sworn. With Edward in France, those loyal to their king were training their men. Arthur was involved in that training and Garrett was no exception. Each morn he gathered his men in the bailey for a series of mock battles.

  “Milisent, if no word comes by the end of the month, I will send some men to discover what has caused the delay,” Garrett told her the morning after Arthur left. She nodded and hurried from the bailey where she had gone to entreat Garrett to do something about the length of time Alwyn was taking. At the time, Garrett had been engaged in a mock battle with one of his men and was bared from the waist up. In the late June sun his skin glistened with sweat from the efforts of the fight.

  She thought of the times she had seen Alwyn in a like state and how his body, gleaming with his task, had sent her heart racing, her hands damp, her whole body warm to the point of discomfort as hot blood poured through her veins. Of a certain, Garrett in like condition did nothing to her to cause her ought but a touch of embarrassment.

  Now, just the thought of her husband had her heart beating loud enough to make her hurry away, lest someone notice the sound.

  ~ * ~

  Miles away, Alwyn crawled out from under the thin blanket and glared at the stone walls surrounding him. What little light that came from the tiny window high above indicated another night had passed. With diligence, he picked up the small piece of stone and strode to the far wall to make yet another mark. The start of another day. He counted the scrapes he had made for each morn he rose, starting with the day his imprisoned existence began. A total of seven and twenty days. He sighed and began the exercise he devised the day he awoke trapped in this chamber.

  There was one door to his prison, which was barred from the outside. At the bottom was an opening through which his bowl of gruel was shoved each afternoon along with a jug of water. The only salvation to his plight, if there was one, was the small hole where he could relieve himself. He suspected it led to the moat. Thankfully, the odor was not overpowering as soldiers imprisoned were wont to explain.

  But this chamber was cool and below ground. Strange, for it was a small room, but there were none of the torture devices known to hang from the walls of a dungeon.

  Before he began his course of exercises to keep himself alert, his mind clear, he cursed himself yet again. He should have known Chelse would try to keep him from Milisent.

  He thought back to his trip away from Fenton Castle. He and his men had traveled for almost a day after their guard left them at the edge of Chelse’s land. They had not stopped for the night when they were set upon by a band of miscreants. At the time he suspected they were in the employ of either de Bain or Chelse but that would have to be determined when he was free. And he did not doubt that at some point he would be free.

  Nor did he know how many of his men suffered serious wounds or were killed because he had been the true victim of the raid. Before any real fighting began, one of the curs had managed to knock him senseless. A group of at least twenty of the enemy advanced without warning and the one who struck him down came from behind. He heard the shouts from his men just as the flat side of the blade connected with his head. When he awoke, which could have been several days later, his head felt as if it had been struck with one of the massive trees in the king’s forest. Days passed before he could lift it without a bit of
pain.

  He still puzzled over the fact the soldiers had not killed him outright. They had their chance. Chelse obviously did not want his marriage to Milisent to stand and planned to end it with his death. Yet he still lived.

  The Baron had to know his own brothers and Garrett de Shay would

  look for him. Did he and de Bain think his family was not aware of his journey to Fenton castle? Did Chelse and his friend plan to hold him until his disappearance would no longer cause questions? He almost laughed at the notion. Chelse would be held responsible if only by his brothers. He needed to get some kind of word to them to tell them where he was.

  He scratched his head. Did he know where he was? He suspected he was somewhere on Fenton’s grounds, but he could only guess. Mayhap Chelse had secreted him away to another estate. Well it mattered little for his kin would find him if he did not die first. And Chelse would bear the blame if he were found dead.

  After his exercises, he sat waiting for his bowl of gruel. From the amount of light now coming from the tiny window above him, the morning was well advanced. One thing about this room puzzled him from the moment he had gained his senses. Once in a while he heard a soft chanting above, and he could hear movements, the voices of the servants who worked on this property. In fact, in this room the sounds intensified and repeated like the echoes in a Welsh canyon.

  His thoughts turned as they did every day to his beautiful wife waiting for him at Knockin. Garrett would never let her marry de Bain, no matter what her brother demanded, not until his death was a proven fact. And that was something he refused to believe would happen.

  A banging in the room next to his tiny cell startled him. His jailer always came and went with little sound. If it were not for the wooden bowl grating on the stone floor as it was pushed through the door and the appearance of the water jug that followed, he could have believed he was totally alone. But the sounds coming from outside his tiny room alarmed him. He grew tense. What had Chelse planned for him now?