Hellion

by Bertrice Small

  “Is Hugh dead?” Isabelle asked her with a sinking heart.

  “Nay! The sorceress came to Manneville after Hugh arrived here with Richard last year. She immediately desired him, and somehow managed to rob him of his memory and his will, using her magic. She took him back with her to her own lands, and his men, too. Richard plans to send Luc de Sai to England when he is at court with the duke, thus providing himself with an alibi. Luc is to kill your son and force you into marriage. Your lands will then be Richard’s, for Luc de Sai is his man, or so my husband believes,” Blanche de Manneville concluded.

  “Where is Hugh imprisoned, and who is this sorceress?” Isabelle persisted. “I will find him and get him safely back to England.”

  “It is hopeless,” Blanche replied. “Her name is Vivienne d’ Bretagne, and she is very powerful. Even the church turns a blind eye out of their fear of her. Your husband is lost to you, Isabelle. Go home, and be on your guard for Luc de Sai. Protect your child!”

  “Where is this sorceress’s lair, Blanche?” Isabelle demanded in a hard, fierce voice. “Tell me!”

  “What of your child?” Blanche pleaded.

  “He is well-guarded, and under the king’s protection.” Isabelle altered the truth only slightly to ease Blanche’s worry, and to gain her own way. She had to know where Hugh was! “Tell me!”

  “Vivienne d’ Bretagne’s castle is located on the coast, near Lamballe. Ohh, you must beware of her, Isabelle. She sees, they say, into a person’s very heart, and mind, and soul. They say she is the devil’s daughter.”

  “You have seen her,” Isabelle said. “Tell me what she looks like, Blanche. Is she beautiful?”

  Blanche nodded. “She is very, very fair. Her hair is like midnight, and she has eyes the color of violets. It is difficult to understand how one so beautiful could be so wicked, but she is.”

  “You will not tell Richard that I was here, will you?” Belle asked her sister-in-law.

  Blanche de Manneville shook her head. “Nay,” she said in her quiet voice. “I think that what my husband has done, and plans to do, is very wrong. I cannot fight him openly, you understand. I have neither the courage nor the means; but by telling you what you need to know, perhaps he can be foiled. I do not understand how you plan to gain the advantage of this sorceress, but I will pray to God and His Blessed Mother to watch over you and keep you safe, sister. If it were me, I should go home to England and to my child.”

  “Do you love my brother?” Belle asked her sister-in-law.

  “Nay!” The answer was quick, and then Blanche flushed guiltily. “I am ashamed to say I do not, nor do I respect him, though he does not know it, or understand how I feel. My sole use to him is as a breeder.”

  “If I were married to Richard, I should feel the same way,” Belle said to Blanche. “I would gladly leave him in the sorceress’s hands; but I am not wed to Richard de Manneville. I am Hugh Fauconier’s wife, and Hugh Fauconier is the kindest, most noble of men. I love him, and I will not rest until he is free!”

  “Then if you are that determined,” Blance said, “I will tell you the way to go, Isabelle of Langston.”

  * * *

  Lind and Belle departed Manneville before dawn on the following morning. They had collected several coppers and a small piece of silver from the Sieur de Manneville, who was feeling unusually generous at the thought of how well his birds now performed and how they would certainly help bring him into the duke’s favor. It was mid-September now, and while the sun remained warm above them in a luminescent sky, the morning air had an underlying chill to it. They guided their horses through the misty dawn. Their journey, Blanche had told them, would take two days.

  “Be certain to get to the castle, which is called La Citadelle, before sunset. At sunset the drawbridge is raised, the gates barred, and a pack of wild dogs loosed upon the land. Any living thing found by these beasts is torn to bits,” Blanche warned them.

  Consequently, they rode hard the first day in order to be certain to reach La Citadelle on the following day before dark. Although they expected Vivienne d’ Bretagne had her own falconers, they had decided to offer their services to her anyway, as a means of entering the castle grounds to seek for Hugh and the Langston men.

  As they rode on the second day, they were struck by how desolate the countryside was about them. There were no villages or farmsteads. Just miles and miles of empty green and rocky landscape. The salt tang of the sea filled the air as they came closer to their destination.

  In midafternoon they saw it: a great, grim, gray fortress, its four towers thrusting forth into the golden afternoon. La Citadelle was surrounded by a wide, deep moat on three sides. On the fourth side it clung to the cliffs, almost seeming to be one with them. Below it the seas roared endlessly, as they had for centuries before and would for centuries after. The two riders stopped for a moment to observe the fortress,

  “If he’s there, lady, we’ll never get him out,” Lind said, his fears returning tenfold. There was an air of wickedness about the place. The thought of crossing over that drawbridge was frightening.

  “I cannot ask Duke Robert for his help if I am not certain whether Hugh is there or not,” Belle said with logic. “As soon as we have proof, we shall leave, I promise you, Lind.”

  “We are no longer in Normandy, lady. This is Brittany,” Lind replied, and his horse, sensing his nervousness, shifted restlessly.

  “Duke Robert will speak to the Count of Brittany,” Isabelle said firmly. “Come along now. The sun is beginning to get lower. We don’t want to get caught outside when they loose the dogs.”

  Together they crossed the drawbridge. On the other side they were stopped by a burly guard. “State your business,” he said.

  “We are falconers,” Lind replied, “come to offer our services to the lady, Vivienne d’ Bretagne. We were at Manneville, and they said she might have use for us.” Lind bobbed his head respectfully.

  “You may pass,” the guard said. “Stable your horses, and see the household steward in the Great Hall. He will know if you are needed. If not, you’ll be safe the night here. We don’t welcome strangers, but the laws of hospitality hold even here.”

  “We were warned not to arrive after sunset,” Lind said, and the guard laughed.

  “Aye,” he said. “Our doggies would have made a nice meal of you two and the little bird.” He laughed all the harder when Isabelle drew Couper closer to her, as if to protect the falcon.

  The stables were clean, as was the bailey and the castle when they entered it. Yet there was something in the air that bade them be cautious. They found the steward, and to their surprise he was pleased to see them.

  “My lady has only recently desired hunting birds, and intended to send to England for some falconers. You two are English, are you not?” the steward asked. He was a tall, spare man, but his face was not unkind.

  “We are, sir,” Lind replied. “I am Lind, and this is my younger brother, Lang. We are freedmen, and have been trained as falconers.”

  “What brought you here?” the steward inquired.

  “We have been adventuring,” Lind answered, “for we have not yet taken wives. We decided to see a bit of the world, and so we travel about, offering our services to those who can use them. We were at Manneville last, and were recommended here by the sieur’s lady.”

  “The position here would be permanent,” the steward said. “I want no vagabonds, you understand. The terms would be fair, and you would be housed, fed, and clothed. I would expect you to serve my lady for a year, at which time it would be decided if you suited us.”

  Lind pretended to think a moment, and then he said, “I agree for both Lang and myself, sir. This is a fine establishment, and traveling about the world is not really all that they say it is.”

  “Good,” said the household steward, and then he asked, “You are competent at what you do, are you not? We already have one falconer, a gruff fellow, but an excellent man. He will not tolerate poor p
erformance.”

  “We have been trained by a falconer who once belonged to the great house of Merlin-sone,” Lind said. “We are more than competent.”

  “Good!” the steward answered. “I shall take you to Alain, and tomorrow he will test your skills. If they are all you say they are, then you will become part of this castle’s company.”

  Their eyes had made instant contact at the mention of Alain’s name, but now they bowed to the steward, who decided they had pretty manners and would do nicely, provided their skills were everything they claimed they were. They followed him from the Great Hall, back out into the bailey, across the courtyard to a fine stone mews.

  “We’re just beginning to collect birds,” the steward explained. “Alain, are you there? Come forth!”

  The door to the mews opened, and there was Alain. Isabelle almost cried aloud with joy as he stepped out into the fading light.

  “Here, Alain, I’ve brought you two young falconers come to the gates this day seeking a place. Take them out tomorrow, and if they are worthy of your own skill, we shall take them on. The taller is Lind, and the other, Lang.”

  “Why, Sir Steward,” Lind said before Alain might speak, “this is the very man who taught both my brother Lang and me our skills. He was once a falconer in the house of Merlin-sone. Do you remember us, Alain of Worcester? Lind, and his brother Lang, of the New Forest.”

  Alain made an appearance of peering at the two, and then he smiled, saying to the steward, “I did indeed train these two lads myself, Master Jean.” He turned back to Lind. “What brings you here, my friend?”

  “We were looking for the right place, my brother and I,” Lind said meaningfully. “I hope we have found it.”

  “You have indeed!” Alain said enthusiastically. “You will enjoy being in service to this house, my friends.”

  Master Jean beamed, pleased. “I shall leave these two with you, Alain. Bring them to the Great Hall for food, and find them a place to bed down. She will be most pleased by this turn of events, not that I don’t believe she didn’t cast one of her spells and arrange it herself. He has been restless of late, as we both know.” With a nod to the trio, he then hurried off.

  Alain shepherded them into the mews, where Couper was given her own perch. While Belle fed her bird they spoke in low, hushed voices.

  “How did you find us?” Alain demanded.

  Lind explained their adventures, and when he had finished, Isabelle said, “Are the Langston men safe, Alain?”

  “My lady?” Alain was astounded. How could this dark-haired boy be Isabelle of Langston? And yet there was no mistaking her voice, or the merlin, Couper. Recovering his equilibrium, Alain said, “Aye, the men are safe, and in her service now.”

  “Can they be trusted, Alain? I do not think they would recognize me in my current state, but what if one did?”

  “They want to go home, lady. We all do. If you can help us to get home to England, we will do whatever you desire of us,” Alain said.

  “Where is my lord Hugh?” Isabelle said.

  Alain flushed. “She has bewitched him, my lady. I do not know what she did to him, but he does not remember his life before her. He is her lover, lady, and does whatever she bids him do.”

  “I must do what I can to help my husband regain his memory,” Belle said quietly.

  “Lady, perhaps it would be best if you returned home,” Alain advised. “We are trapped here by our love for lord Hugh, and the fact that she will not let us go lest we tell my lord’s family where he is; but you, my lady, you and Lind can yet escape La Citadelle on the morrow. I have but to tell Master Jean you are not as skillful as I had thought you to be.”

  “No!” Belle’s voice was sharp. “Let me try to penetrate my husband’s memory. If I cannot after a reasonable time, then I shall seek help from Duke Robert in this matter. Vivienne d’ Bretagne cannot continue to hold Hugh captive, depriving his family, and his son.”

  “You may not want the man he has become,” Alain said low. “He is not the Hugh Fauconier any of us know. He is a totally different man, my lady. He is hard, and sometimes cruel.”

  “He is my husband, and I love him,” Belle rejoined quietly.

  Alain shook his head. She didn’t understand. Well, let her see for herself, and then they would decide. She was his mistress. He had to obey her. He sighed, and then said, “I will show you where you can sleep. Lind and I must, of necessity, bed with you, you understand.”

  Belle laughed softly. “I understand,” she said. She wondered if Alain thought she feared for her virtue. She followed the falconer into a hay barn.

  “We sleep up in the loft,” he told her.

  “Who else shares this place?” she asked him.

  “They allow unimportant travelers to shelter here, but most of the time it has just been me,” Alain said.

  “Where do the Langston men bed?” Isabelle asked.

  “In the barracks with the other men-at-arms,” he answered.

  “I think it best,” she told him, “that no one know who I am, even the Langston men. When I see the lay of the land, then I will decide the matter. For now, only you and Lind will bear my secret.”

  “Agreed, my lady!” Alain said. “That way you’ll be able to escape this place should it become necessary.”

  “The fewer who know, the fewer who can tell,” Isabelle said wisely.

  “We’d best go to the hall for the evening meal now,” Alain told them. “There’s no one at La Citadelle but her, her brother, and Lord Hugh. The rest is servants, or soldiers, and they’re a rough lot. Keep clear of them. I generally sit with the huntsmen. There are two of them, and they’re good men. I must warn you that you’ll see things in her hall you won’t see anywhere else. Show no fear, or you could regret it. Fear is counted as a great weakness here.”

  The hall was a large stone rectangle of a room. There were no windows in it, only two enormous fireplaces, one on either side. Lining the room, however, were arched alcoves where windows might have been. In two of these alcoves Isabelle saw naked men chained up.

  “Why are they there?” she whispered to Alain. The men were both obviously exhausted, and their bodies were striped with lash marks.

  “They’re being punished for some infraction,” Alain said. “It is permitted that any man may beat them while they hang there. Usually it’s the soldiers. The drunker they get, the cruder they get. She will not allow them to be killed, though. She passes her sentence, a day, two, perhaps three. They are kept alive until they are released, and then they are expected to return to their duties immediately.”

  Alain led them to a small trestle that had been set to one side of the room. He introduced them to the two men seated there, the huntsmen, Paul and Simon. “Lang is yet a boy,” he explained, “and mightily awed by all he has seen here so far. He speaks little.”

  “A lad who listens, learns,” Simon, the elder huntsman said, “eh, boy?” He poked Isabelle with a friendly finger.

  “Aye, master,” she replied, bobbing her head.

  “Good manners,” Simon pronounced, and then ignored her.

  The food Was excellent, even here at their table below the salt. There was variety: fish, game, and fowl. The bread was warm and crusty. There was both sweet thick butter and a tangy Brie cheese. There was even a bowl of braised lettuces, and another of crisp apples. Their cups were kept filled with wine by a buxom serving wench who chucked Lang beneath his chin and then laughed heartily at the blush she coaxed onto his cheeks.

  “If you’ve never swived a lassie, that Jeanne-Marie is a good one for a lad to practice his skills upon,” Simon said with a rich chuckle. “There’s not a man in the castle who hasn’t enjoyed her favors.”

  “I’ve a lass in England I’m true to,” Isabelle said in her Lang voice. “We swore an oath, we did.”

  “He’s a fine lad,” Simon said. “I wonder that this is a good place for him.”

  “When a man needs a position, he cannot be choosy,”
Lind said, and the others nodded, agreeing.

  Isabelle let her eyes wander to the high board where Vivienne d’ Bretagne, the mistress of La Citadelle, was even now taking her place. With her were two men. One was a very tall man who was obviously her brother, for he looked just like her. He was, Belle thought, the handsomest man she had ever seen. He sat on his sister’s right. To her left, however, was another man. It was Hugh Fauconier, although Belle almost didn’t recognize him for he had greatly changed.

  His short, dark blond hair was now long, and drawn back into a horsetail. His once serious expression was now severe, and the look in his blue eyes was predatory. He did not smile. His whole look was hard. He was Hugh Fauconier, and yet he was not. What had happened to him? He was bewitched by the beautiful woman who sat by his side, they said. She was exquisite. Isabelle forced her eyes away from the high board lest they feel her interest. She must not draw attention to herself.

  “You see now,” Alain whispered to her.

  Isabelle nodded, and then she said, “Love between a husband and a wife, Alain, is the strongest magic of all. I truly believe it.” But she had lost her appetite suddenly.

  Master Jean, the household steward, came to the trestle and said, “Lind and Lang, come with me. She wants to get a look at you. Alain, you come, too. I’ll need your good word else she be difficult.”

  Belle brushed the crumbs from her forest-green cote and followed the steward with the others. They stood before the high board waiting for the mistress of La Citadelle to acknowledge them. Belle could feel eyes upon her. She did not look up. She was afraid of what she might see if she did. Instead she struggled valiantly to keep her eyes upon her feet. They stood, and they waited. She could hear Vivienne d’ Bretagne’s smoky laughter, and the deeper undertones of her companions.