Hellion

by Bertrice Small

  She said nothing, but, finally sighing, Vivienne nodded her head slightly.

  “Hugh,” Guy said, “ride out with the white flag and make the arrangements for us, as you seem to understand this sort of thing.”

  “Can you say nothing?” Vivienne demanded of her lover.

  “What would you have me say?” his hard voice grated. “You will take a husband, and we will cuckold him. I do not intend to give you up, Vivienne. Perhaps you would like it if both of us had you as your brother and I had Belle?” His laughter was dark, but he knew his answer pleased her childish vanity.

  “You do love me!” Vivienne exulted happily. “Ohh, Hugh, I will do whatever you want me to do as long as we are together.” Her violet eyes shone like jewels.

  Hugh Fauconier, mounted upon a great black warhorse, gave the order that the drawbridge be lowered, and then slowly walked his mount forward, a white silk banner of truce in his hand. He was met by his equal on the other side and brought to the count’s tent. He debated the wisdom of telling Count Alan the truth of his presence at La Citadelle, but he knew the count had little use for either of William the Conqueror’s sons, even though he was married to their sister. And how could he explain Isabelle’s outrageous behavior in all of this? No. It would be better if he simply followed the plan Guy had outlined. He did not want to become embroiled any further in their dispute with the count. Let them be distracted by this bridegroom while he planned an escape.

  Hugh Fauconier bowed low before the Count of Brittany, and, given permission to speak, said, “My lord, the lady of La Citadelle has, in the manner of all women, changed her mind. She will accept a husband at your hand, and pledge her faith to you in all things.”

  “You are not Breton,” the count said.

  “No, my lord, I am not. I am English. My name is Hugh. I remember no other, nor have I any memory of my being before the d’ Bretagnes found me, injured, and brought me here to heal me. I remained to serve them, having nowhere else to go. I owe them my life, and now I would try to help them.”

  “You appear wellborn, and you are well-spoken,” the count remarked slowly.

  “They believe me a knight, for I seem to have knightly skills,” Hugh replied, not wanting the count to think he was being insulted, treating with a mere freedman.

  “What sort of a husband would you suggest I choose for the lady of La Citadelle, Sir Hugh?” the count candidly asked him. “I have never met her, although her family’s reputation for sorcery still lingers, and might frighten some. Still, we Bretons are Celts, but whatever magic was once in this land I believe long gone, else my army should be croaking at this very minute, eh?” He chuckled knowingly.

  Hugh allowed himself a small smile. “The lady is skilled in medicinal potions, my lord, a talent needed by every good chatelaine responsible for her people,” he said. “As for a husband, I should choose a very strong man to husband the lady, for she is strong herself, and has a most fearsome temper. It will take a robust and tenacious knight with a lusty nature to manage the lady Vivienne, I think.”

  “I have just such a man,” the count said with a smile. “I appreciate your candor, Sir Hugh. While loyal to the d’ Bretagnes, you understand the duties of a liegeman as well. If you desire it, there could be a place for you at my court.”

  “I am grateful, my lord count,” Hugh said, “but a man such as myself, with no memory of his past, is better here. Besides, my lady’s brother and I are the only knights this castle has.”

  “Leave the drawbridge down,” the Count of Brittany said. “I will come with a small party of my retainers, and the bridegroom, at the noon hour. Ask your mistress to await us in the Great Hall.”

  Hugh bowed low and backed from the count’s tent, returning to the castle to tell them what had happened. The drawbridge remained down on his orders, for he realized such an action was to be an act of good faith between the d’ Bretagnes and the count.

  “Well?” Vivienne demanded as he rejoined them.

  “Count Alan will enter the castle at high noon and join us in the Great Hall. He will come with a small party of his retainers, and your bridegroom.”

  “I was to have a choice!” Vivienne cried out.

  “You forfeited that right when you first refused him,” Hugh said bluntly. “He has made his own choice, and you have none but to accept it. Now go and prepare yourself to meet this man while I remove my possessions from your apartments. When you want me, Vivi, you will have to come to me from now on, for we can hardly carry on our liaison in your nuptial chambers.”

  Guy watched them, amused. It was a most difficult situation for his proud sister. For the first time in her life she would have to behave like other women. At least temporarily; he chuckled to himself softly.

  “I know what you are thinking,” she snarled darkly at him.

  “Then you know why I laugh,” he said.

  “I hate you all!” Vivienne cried passionately.

  Now Guy laughed aloud. “Come, Vivi,” he said, “you must only behave yourself for a short while. Count Alan will come and stay the day. Your bridegroom will be some stolid, dull, and absolutely loyal knight who will take one look at you, only to be lost in his admiration for you and his lust to get between your legs. You will wrap the poor devil about your dainty finger. The count will depart, content that his man will hold La Citadelle for him, and life will return as we know it. Nothing will be changed except Sir Whoever will be with us.” He put a protective arm about Isabelle. “When the child is born, we will poison this husband, inform the count you have an heir, and alas, have been widowed, but that we will continue to hold this castle for him. It is unlikely he will send a replacement husband for you as long as he is content we are no danger to him.”

  “We are no danger to him now,” Vivienne protested, “yet here he is outside our gates demanding I marry some stranger.”

  “We are probably the only family of note in all of Brittany who has not sworn fealty to him, Vivi,” her brother said. “Remember, the count is bordered by Normandy, and there is Poitou and Aquitaine to his south. He must be certain of his own lands. He believes that if we are not with him, then surely we are against him.”

  “Men are ridiculous!” Vivienne d’ Bretagne said, and stormed from the Great Hall.

  “She will do what she must no matter her ire,” Guy said. “She is not so sweetly obedient as you, Belle. Open your mouth now, chérie, and eat this bit of cheese. We want a strong child.” He popped the morsel into her open mouth and then kissed it. Then he lifted her into his lap where he stroked her breasts absently. “I am sorry, Hugh, that you are to lose my sister’s company for a time. I would not like to lose Belle for any reason.”

  “If my lust overcomes me,” Hugh said dryly, “there are a number of willing servant girls to keep me amused.” Then, rising, he left the hall. It was impossible to remain there, watching as Guy d’ Bretagne fondled his wife so possessively. Seeing Isabelle lay her head back against Guy’s shoulder in that sweetly adoring manner galled him. Still, Hugh knew that, like him, she but played a part. He knew that she trusted him to find a way for them to escape La Citadelle. But how? For the first time in his life he was at a loss for a plan of action. He did not know what to do, and Belle, his falconers, and the rest of the Langston men were all counting upon him to come up with a way to get them home.

  In the hall, Belle snuggled into her lover’s lap, murmuring with pleasure as he caressed her. Her condition had freed her from the torture of the little phallus. For some reason, Guy’s hands relaxed her now when before they had only irritated or aroused her. “Let us walk by the sea, my lord,” she said. “I have a fancy for it even though the path be steep and rough. I am not big yet, and still very limber, as you can attest.”

  “If you want to go to the sea you may,” he said indulgently. “We do not have to climb down the cliff. We can reach the beach from within the castle itself, my precious.” His big hand smoothed her hair.

  Isabelle looked up
into his face, surprised. “We can?”

  “Aye,” he told her. “There is a staircase that goes from the cellars directly down through the cliff to the beach. Our ancestors built it. We cannot go today because of Count Alan, but when he has gone, I shall show you, and you may walk the beach whenever you so desire, provided you let someone know when you go.”

  Isabelle could scarcely contain her excitement. They had, at last, a means of escape! She could barely wait to tell Hugh. She kissed Guy’s mouth sweetly. “Thank you, my lord,” she said gaily. “I do so love the beach!”

  “You must watch the tides, my precious,” he warned her. “When the moon is full they can rise quickly, and fill the caves beneath the castle. You do not want to get caught on the beach then.”

  At the noon hour Duke Alan and a small party of men crossed over the drawbridge into the bailey of the castle. Entering the Great Hall, they found Vivienne d’ Bretagne awaiting them. She was arrayed in her favorite hues of purple, her skirts dark, her tunic lavender brocatelle embroidered with silver and gold threads, small pearls, and crystals. Her dark hair floated like a cloud about her shoulders, contained by a silver and gold circlet studded with amethysts and moonstones. She was very beautiful, and very regal, the color high in her pale cheeks.

  Next to her stood her brother, whom the duke could identify because Guy d’ Bretagne looked so much like his sister. On the other side of the lady of La Citadelle stood Sir Hugh, and next to Guy was an equally lovely woman garbed in a dark green skirt and a tunic of spring-green, embroidered in sparkling golden crystals. Her red-gold hair was neatly braided in two long plaits and contained by a polished copper circlet with an oval malachite center.

  Count Alan bowed to Vivienne d’ Bretagne, holding out his hand to her. “Come, lady,” he said, “and meet the man I have chosen to be your husband and your protector.”

  Vivienne stepped daintily from the high board and came forward, nodding in acknowledgment of the count’s greeting. “My lord,” was all she said, her eyes surreptitiously sweeping over the count’s companions. There were six, one a priest. Then, before she could hazard any kind of a guess, the count was speaking to her, and she turned her beautiful violet eyes upon him, listening.

  “Your beauty, lady, is legendary, and having now seen you for myself, I can but go forth to tell the world the legend does not do you enough justice,” he began gallantly. “However, a lady of your obvious delicacy needs a husband to protect and cherish her. La Citadelle is a great responsibility for so gentle a creature as yourself.”

  “My lord count,” Vivienne said boldly, “while I am happy to pledge you my loyalty, although such a formal pledge has never been required of the d’ Bretagne family for we have never either betrayed the counts of Brittany or, for that matter, involved ourselves with them, I am not pleased that you would take it upon yourself to choose me a husband. The women of this family are unorthodox in the matter of selecting mates, it is true, but we have survived nicely over the centuries.”

  “Times have changed, lady,” the count said. “The power your family once wielded has waned. It is necessary for me to secure La Citadelle for Brittany. I’m certain that your brother understands. Sir Hugh assured me that he did when he came to offer your friendship this morning. I regret I can give you no choice but to do my bidding.”

  “Then let my brother Guy hold La Citadelle for you,” Vivienne suggested to the count.

  “This family has always descended through the female line,” the count said smoothly. “I do not wish to change that, lady. You know how superstitious our people are. Such a radical change would distress them. Nay. You will marry the man of my choice before the hour has ended, and he will hold La Citadelle for me. It is my wish.” He beckoned to his companions, saying, “Simon de Beaumont, come forth.”

  From among the five knights a large man stepped forward. He was as tall as Hugh, but much stockier. His hair was as black as Vivienne’s, his eyes dark. He had a short, well-barbered beard that darkened his jaw and encircled his fleshy mouth. “My lord,” he said.

  “This then, lady, is the knight I have chosen for you to wed. Father Paul will perform the sacrament now.”

  “My lord!” Vivienne was outraged. “Am I not to be allowed to get to know this stranger you have decided is to be my husband?”

  Isabelle’s eyes met Hugh’s for a brief second in a moment of déjà vu. She actually felt sorry for Vivienne d’ Bretagne. Simon de Beaumont did not look like either a patient or a kind man. His eyes were even now boldly assessing the woman who would shortly be his wife; they lingered on Vivienne’s full bosom, and he licked his lips.

  “There is no better way to know a man than to become his wife,” the count said. “There is nothing unusual in a bride and groom meeting for the first time on their wedding day. Come, Father Paul, let us proceed. I have already wasted enough time here at La Citadelle.”

  “And if I once again change my mind, and refuse you, my lord?” Vivienne demanded in a final attempt to retain control of her destiny.

  “I will kill you and your brother where you stand, lady. Given your reputations, I could hardly be faulted,” Count Alan said, and, taking Vivienne’s tiny hand, he placed it in that of Simon de Beaumont.

  Vivienne made to snatch her hand away, but her intended clasped it tightly, growling, “Come, lady, do not be foolish.”

  The priest performed the ceremony as quickly as he dared. He was not comfortable in this Great Hall of the d’ Bretagnes. It was surely a cursed place. He doubted the word of God had ever been heard here, nor would be again. When he had finished, he hastily made a sign of the cross over the newly married couple and nodded to the count.

  “Now,” said the Count of Brittany jovially, as if this were a happy occasion, “have your servants bring wine, lady, and we shall drink a toast to you and your new husband, and afterward you and your brother will both swear your fealty to me.”

  When they all had goblets in their hands, the count, raising his, said, “Long life, and many children!”

  Simon de Beaumont grinned, showing surprisingly white teeth against his tanned skin. “We’ll do our best to give your lordship a generation of loyal sons and daughters for Brittany.” His arm was clasped possessively about Vivienne’s tiny waist, but he was finally forced to release his firm hold on his new bride that she and her brother might pledge their loyalty to the count.

  “Before I go,” Count Alan said, “will you tell me who this other lady is who has been with us?”

  “The lady is my wife,” Guy d’ Bretagne said.

  “She is lovely,” the count remarked. Then, turning back to Simon, he said, “You have your instructions, de Beaumont. Keep La Citadelle secure for me.” The count and his small party departed the castle.

  “I will watch from the ramparts,” Hugh said, “and bring you my report, lady.” He bowed, and was quickly gone from the hall.

  “Your people must learn that I am now lord here,” Simon de Beaumont said sternly.

  “You are my sister’s husband, de Beaumont,” Guy told him, “but La Citadelle belongs to Vivi. You may plan its defenses for your master, but your wife is mistress here. Without her goodwill, no one will heed your orders. Count Alan is gone now.”

  “You would defy Brittany’s ruler?” de Beaumont blustered.

  “There is no challenge here,” Guy said. “You do not understand. Allow me to enlighten you, but come let us be comfortable while I speak.” He returned to the high board, seating himself and taking Belle into his lap, where he began feeding her morsels of bread and cheese. “Here at La Citadelle we live beneath the benign rule of a matriarchy. This castle has been inherited by its eldest daughter for so long that no one can quite remember when or where the tradition came from, de Beaumont. These women sometimes take husbands, and other times not; but no matter, they remain first and foremost mistress of La Citadelle. Their husbands and lovers are nothing more than pleasant conveniences. Oh, by the way, do you know that my sister ha
s been taking lovers since she was fourteen? I hope you are a good cocksman, Brother Simon. Vivienne has a voracious appetite for passion. You do understand now, don’t you? We will not prevent you in any way from doing your duty to Count Alan, but you must not interfere in the way of life that we enjoy here at La Citadelle.”

  Simon de Beaumont was outraged, but, looking around him at the band of ruffians inhabiting the hall, he knew he had little chance of survival should he object. They probably wanted him to object so they could kill him. What kind of a den of evil had his master sent him into? His new male relation smiled at him wolfishly, and he was angry. He would not allow this man or his sister to intimidate him.

  “Why do you feed your lady?” he asked Guy, changing the subject.

  “Belle is allowed to eat and drink only at my pleasure,” Guy d’ Bretagne said. “She is a very obedient little wife.” He caressed her breasts beneath her elegant tunic. “I bathe her, too, do I not, my precious? She is very delicious, are you not, Belle?”

  “If you say so, my lord,” Isabelle replied, her tone amused.

  Guy laughed. “You see, Brother Simon. She is a treasure!”

  Hugh reentered the hall. “The count’s army has gone over the hill,” he said. “I have sent riders after them to make certain they are really gone, and this is not some ruse.” He sat down on the other side of Vivienne, reaching out to take up the wine pitcher. Pouring himself a healthy dollop, Hugh drank the potent liquid down.

  The meal was brought in, and they ate in relative silence. Afterward Guy said wickedly, “I think, sister, that it is time you took your bridegroom to your bed. He looks as if he may prove a sturdy mount.” He turned to Simon. “You will be careful not to crush her beneath your great weight, will you not? You will be delighted at how delicately made she is, and none has fairer skin.”