“I want her,” Luc de Sai said. “I suspect her passion is as fiery as her red-gold hair. I will enjoy making her howl with pleasure.”
“How basic your needs are,” the sieur replied coldly.
“The simpler a man’s needs are, the better, my lord. That way he is rarely disappointed,” Luc de Sai responded, surprising his master with his sagacity.
Duke Robert remained in his brother’s kingdom of England until Michaelmas, and everywhere the duke visited, his men caused difficulty and damage. Angered by being denied a war with its spoils, they had become difficult to control. Warned by their thoughtful monarch, England’s citizens buried their valuables, sent their daughters to safety, and bore the abuse. King Henry allowed the Normans a certain latitude, not wanting to damage the fragile peace. He was as relieved as his subjects, however, to see Duke Robert and his forces embark for their brief voyage across the channel that separated their two realms. Then the king dismissed his armies, sending most of them home.
Hugh Fauconier and the Langston men returned on a rainy October morning. Hugh was happy to see his keep, and happier yet that there had been no war, that he could return with all the men who had ridden out with him in early July. Rolf beamed with delight to find Alette, her rounded belly very visible now beneath her skirts, eager to receive him. Leaping eagerly from his horse, he clasped her to him, kissing her soundly.
“Gracious, my lord!” Alette emerged from the embrace rosy with blushes and her great happiness to have him safely home.
Hugh dismounted his stallion, his eyes never leaving those of Belle’s. She stood quietly awaiting him. Her elegance and her dignity both impressed and delighted him. She was every inch the chatelaine.
“Welcome home, my dear lord,” she greeted him. Her look was a passionate one, although her calm demeanor would have fooled anyone not acquainted with Isabelle of Langston.
“I am glad to be home, madame,” he said, stripping off his riding gloves. “Shall we go indoors? I have had enough of the damp this day, and long for the fire.”
“Some wine, too, I have no doubt,” Belle responded. “And the meal is almost ready, my lord. You and the men will be hungry after your many hours in the saddle.” She turned, and with him following, walked into the hall. “Afterward you will want a bath, and my stepfather, too,” Isabelle said. “We are ready for you, my lord.”
“We will eat first, and then I will let Rolf bathe. I want to visit the mews. That young gyrfalcon hatched by my Neige this spring has been promised to Duke Robert. I am to go to Normandy next spring and bring her to him. She is to be trained to hunt cranes.”
“Then the war is over?” Belle asked, taking a goblet of rich, sweet red wine from a servant and handing it to her husband.
“It was settled without any blood being spilt,” Hugh said, and explained the terms of the agreement to his wife.
“I think the king foolish to pardon those lords who rebelled against him,” Belle noted. “They should be punished.”
Hugh chuckled. “Do not fear, ma Belle,” he said, and took a gulp of his wine. “King Henry is no fool. While he has pardoned Robert de Belleme and the others for their treason, they are fools if they think him content with the matter. The king is his father’s son. He does not forget a fault done him. He will find other ways to punish them. The agreement so carefully crafted by the archbishop will not hold forever. The king means to have Normandy, and in the end he will have it. The duke is a fine soldier, but so is King Henry, who has an advantage over his brother because he is far more clever than Duke Robert. Be patient and you will see, chérie.” He swallowed down the rest of his wine and kissed her cheek. “I hope you are well rested, madame.” His look was smoldering.
The meal was served, and the hall rang with boisterous voices, as it had not in several months. Isabelle smiled to see the healthy appetites of her husband and his men. It was good to have them home again. After they had eaten, Alette took her husband to the bathing chamber, but Hugh, true to his word, hurried out to the mews, Isabelle by his side.
“Wait until you see how Couper has grown and how far her training has progressed,” Isabelle said proudly. “Ah, there she is. Lind is weathering her. Good day, my darling little beauty,” Belle cooed. Reaching out, she gently encouraged the merlin onto her fist, murmuring affectionate little words to the young falcon, stroking her tenderly.
Hugh nodded, pleased with his wife’s ability. “Have you taken her on horseback yet, ma Belle?” he asked her.
“Twice, just this week,” Belle replied, caressing the excitable bird, who, hearing an unfamiliar voice, had grown skittish. “Easy, my beauty,” she purred. “This is your master, and you must be used to his voice as well as mine and Lind’s.”
The merlin looked directly at Belle, her gaze arrogant, and then she began to preen her feathers vigorously as if to indicate her lack of interest in them both.
Isabelle laughed as she set the young falcon back upon her stone perch. “Lind says that next week we are going to teach her to hunt by means of the lure, my lord.” She scratched the bird on the back of its neck before turning away.
“The first serious step,” Hugh replied. Then looking about, he spotted the young gyrfalcon that had been promised to Duke Robert. Seeing her, he called to the falconer, Alain, who was responsible for the large hawks. “We have a royal master for Blanca,” he told Alain. “She must be taught to hunt cranes before we bring her to Normandy next spring. The king has given her as a gift to Duke Robert.”
“She is worthy of royalty,” Alain said. “I’ll begin her training in the marshes myself, my lord. She’ll be ready.”
“How can you teach her to hunt cranes specifically?” Belle asked him as they walked toward the keep.
“Her lure will be made from a pair of crane’s wings,” he said. “Would you like to see some of her training, ma Belle?”
Belle nodded vigorously. “Aye!”
He pulled her hard against him in the shadow of the porch. One arm was tight about her waist. His other hand sought and found a breast, which he fondled vigorously. His lips murmured hotly against her ear. “I want to fuck you, wife. Until I saw you as we rode into the bailey, I did not realize how much I missed you, Isabelle.” Finding her nipple, he pinched it gently several times.
Her heart leapt madly in her chest. Her legs were suddenly weak. She feared they would not hold her. “My lord! What if someone should come and find us thus?” She could feel his hardness against her.
“They will say the lord of Langston Keep lusts after his fair young wife,” he answered her, his lips tickling her neck just beneath her ear. “Do not demur, madame, or I shall take you here right where we stand, and the devil take the consequences.”
“You would not dare,” she gasped, partly shocked, partly fascinated to see if he really would carry out his outrageous threat.
Hugh laughed wickedly, pushing his wife back against the stone wall of the porch, his mouth finding hers in a scorching kiss. Despite the ardent nature of his lips, Belle was aware that he was fumbling with his clothing. Suddenly, and without even breaking off their kiss, he slid his hand swiftly up beneath her skirts to cup her buttocks and lift her up. She tore her face from his, gasping with surprise as he entered her, iron-hard and eager.
“Ohhhhh! Ahhhhhh! Huuugh!” She wrapped her legs about him, panting with pleasure. “Yes! Yes! Yessss! Oh, Holy Mother, I’ve missed you, my love!” She kissed his face frantically, her own lust well-engaged. She didn’t give a tinker’s damn if someone saw them. She wanted him!
At first he pushed into her with slow, deliberate strokes of his manhood, half his early pleasure gained from the little moans issuing forth from her. Then, as his passion mounted, he moved with harder, faster strokes, making her sob as he pleasured her, making her shudder as they reached their heaven together in a sizzling burst of longing satisfied. Only then did he lower her down, slowly, holding her close against him. “Hellion,” he groaned low, “you try my patience.�
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Isabelle laughed weakly. “My lord, I should not have believed such a thing possible. I will not tempt you again to such rashness … but it was wonderful!” Beyond the porch she could see the rain pouring down in silvery-gray sheets, and she realized why they had not been discovered by anyone. She nestled against his chest.
Hugh smoothed the red-gold head that lay against his tunic. He hadn’t realized until just a few moments ago that she had the power to drive him to utter rashness. He was well and truly caught by the bonds of love; but it was not, he decided, such a bad thing. He kissed the top of her head. “No woman has ever excited me so, ma Belle. No one but you. I do not think I like being parted from you, chérie.”
“I am glad of it, my lord,” she told him, “for I missed you as well.” Then she looked up at him with a smile. “Should we not go in now, my lord? I am certain that my mother has thoroughly bathed my stepfather by now. They will be engaged in far sweeter pursuits at this moment, I am certain.”
“Not with your mother so far gone with child,” he said. “Rolf knows he must contain his desire for now. We have spoken on it.”
Isabelle laughed. “How little you men know of women,” she said. “My mother says there are ways for a husband and wife to gain their pleasure even when a woman is full with her babe.”
“There are?” He was surprised, intrigued.
She nodded. “So my mother says. Soon she will have to transmit her information to me, my lord, I think.”
He set her back from him, eyes wide with delight. “You are with child, ma Belle?”
“I believe so, my lord,” she said calmly. “My mother concurs, and she should certainly know better than I.”
“How can you be certain?” His face was alight with happiness.
“I have had no woman’s flow since before you went away to war, my lord. And you will notice a change already in my breasts when we are together later. If it is a son, I would be happy if he was your image, but oh, I hope our daughters will not have your face! We have not the means to dower plain girls!”
“When?” His voice was strangled.
“In early spring, I think,” she replied.
“You cannot ride,” he declared, and opening the door to the keep, drew her inside into the warmth of the hall.
“Hugh,” she said, exasperated, “if I thought you were going to be such a fool about this, I should not have told you yet. How am I to train Couper if I cannot go out with her? She is mine, not yours, or Lind’s. Ask my mother. I am in no danger for another month or two.”
“I will not have my son endangered on a whim,” Hugh said in pompous tones such as she had never before heard him use.
“Your son, my lord? And what of your wife, or do you suddenly just consider me in terms of my ability to breed for you?” Belle demanded scathingly. “A creature to be as easily replaced as any breeding stock?”
“I did not mean that, and you well know it, madame,” he said. “Do not try to twist the matter about as you are wont to do when you cannot obtain your own way.” He glared at her.
Belle glared back, not in the least intimidated. “This is my child, too,” she said angrily. “I would not endanger it, my lord, I am not that selfish; but ride I will for at least another month so I may train my merlin. Couper will be confused should we suddenly cease her training. There can be no harm in it if I do not gallop. I shall but walk my mare, and stand while waiting for the falcon to return with the lure, Hugh. I will not really hunt. You may even come with me when I take Couper out so you may be reassured that I take no chances.”
“I do not know,” he said. “I must speak with your mother.”
Belle smiled sweetly. “Thank you, my lord,” she answered him, knowing that she had won her point. “Come,” she said, holding out her hand to him. “You will want your bath now, Hugh.”
Hugh Fauconier shook his head at her. “If I had known you were with child, Belle, I should not have been so rough with you earlier.”
She laughed, and the sound was decidedly seductive. “I am not some delicate little flower, Hugh,” was her response. “I rather liked that bit of naughtiness. I am only glad the rain prevented anyone from catching us at our passion.” Then she laughed again, and this time the sound was most assuredly wicked.
The next day, they rode together with Lind to begin Couper’s first serious training session. Lind had fastened a thin length of line, called the creance, to the end of the bird’s leash. When they reached the open field where they were to work with the falcon, Hugh helped his wife from her mount, and Lind transferred Couper to her mistress’s gloved fist. Belle removed the bird’s hood, all the while whistling the familiar notes to which she had accustomed the falcon over these last few months. A piece of meat, tied to the lure, was handed to her, and repeating the snatch of song Belle fed a bit of the meat to Couper, her slim fingers wrapped tightly about the creature’s jesses.
Lind now took the meat and began to move away from the bird, yet keeping the lure with its meat bait clearly in her vision. Finally he stopped and placed it on the ground. Isabelle released Couper, the creance unwinding in her hand as the bird flew the short distance between her mistress and the meat. Lind reached out to take the meat, whistling the falcon’s call notes to encourage her onward. Finally he stopped and set the meat before Couper. When she fell upon it, he took her up, lure and all, pulling the jesses tight, and returned her to Isabelle. The game was repeated several times, until finally Hugh called a stop to it.
“She is going to be an excellent hunter, ma Belle,” he said, in praise of the merlin. “She never once hesitated in going after the lure today, and it’s only her first time.”
“What will happen next?” Isabelle asked her husband as she drew the dark leather hood back over Couper’s bright, sharp eyes, before handing her off to Lind to transport.
They walked together across the field, their horses following behind with the falconer.
“We will play this game with the meated lure for several more days,” Hugh said. “If she continues to respond as well as she did today, then we shall begin to whirl the lure in the air as you give her her call notes. If she is as intelligent as I believe her to be, Couper will quickly learn to leap from your fist and go after the lure in the air. Once she does that, the creance can be removed. Your merlin will then be able to fly free and hunt.
“We will use a rabbit skin, stuffed with meat, as bait. Lind will drag it about in front of the bird. We will teach her to swoop and pounce upon her victim by jerking her up tightly before she can gain her objective. The next part of her training will involve the dogs. They will drive a live rabbit or small game bird from its cover for Couper to hunt. Once she has killed her quarry, its heart will be removed and fed to her as a reward for her good behavior.”
“Should I not be the one to drag the bait about the field?” Belle asked him.
“Aye,” he answered her honestly, “but as Lind will increase his speed on horseback to give your merlin a good workout, and you have said you will not ride at breakneck speed, it is Lind who must complete this part of Couper’s training. He will use your call notes, Belle, and if you wish, you may feed the heart to your bird to reinforce the bond between you both.”
“I do indeed,” she told him. “I am not squeamish like some.”
Over the next few weeks the three of them worked together to train the merlin. Hugh also worked with the young gyrfalcon promised to Duke Robert. Her training was very much like the merlin’s, up to a point. Once the gyrfalcon had become adept at hunting rabbits and smaller birds, she was acquainted with her real quarry. A live crane was staked out in a meadow, eyes sealed, beak tied so it could not fight back, its sharp claws filed blunt. Meat was tied to the hapless crane’s back. Then the gyrfalcon was shown her prey. Blanca, intelligent, immediately knew her duty, and killed the crane the first time. Its heart was fed to her, and both Hugh and Alain knew the big bird would become a magnificent huntress.
Blanca was
taught to recognize the call of the crane. Alain removed the larynx from her first kill, slit it, and blew into it, thereby producing the proper sound. He did this each time she was successful in her hunt. The gyrfalcon was now fed along with the greyhounds who would hunt with her, in order to foster comradeship between the creatures. The dogs were trained to help the gyrfalcon capture her prey.
Finally, the harvest in the field and the orchards was gathered, the granaries filled, and the weather grew cold. The days grew shorter and shorter. Hugh announced an end to Belle’s sessions with Couper, but she did not complain, for in truth the little merlin was now well trained to hunt. Martinmas was celebrated with roast goose. The feast of the Nativity came, and on that very day, Alette de Briard gave birth to her first son, baptized Christian by Father Bernard on the feast of St. Stephen.
It was an easy birth, much to Alette’s surprise, for she had suffered greatly when Isabelle had been born; but her son slid quickly from her body with barely a few hours’ labor. Cradling him in the crook of her arm the proud mother declared, “I can already see he is like his father.”
Rolf beamed with pride, fascinated by this tiny human with his halo of golden hair. His son. He had a son. He felt the tears welling up in his eyes, and when Hugh put his arm about his friend, Rolf looked up unashamed, saying, “May you be as fortunate, my lord.”
“God willing,” Hugh Fauconier said, looking to his wife, who smiled and nodded in agreement with them both.
Chapter 9
“Look at me,” Isabelle of Langston wailed. “I look like a fat old sow! My gowns do not fit any longer, and I can hardly walk. My hair is positively lank! When will this child be born? When?”
Hugh pulled his wife back into their bed, his hand caressing her very distended belly. “The babe will be born when it is time for him to be born, chérie. Do not distress yourself.”
Belle glared at him. “Do not distress myself? How kind of you, my lord. How noble! I am full to overflowing with your son, and you tell me not to distress myself? I can barely waddle about the hall to complete my duties. I cannot sleep for the child’s constant kicking. He is a horrid little beast! If men bore this burden, Hugh Fauconier, you would not speak so lightly of not distressing myself! How would you like to be swollen up like some overripe fruit ready to burst?” She pulled angrily away from him, close to weeping.
Hellion Page 17
