Hellion

by Bertrice Small

  “You speak as if you know,” Simon de Beaumont said.

  Guy laughed uproariously. “Of course I know. Who do you think was my sister’s first lover? I was!”

  The count’s knight grew pale with shock. “Such a thing is forbidden,” he said.

  “Forbidden?” Guy laughed again. “Nothing is forbidden to the d’ Bretagnes, brother Simon. Absolutely nothing at all!”

  “Ohh, Guy,” Vivienne chided her brother. “Must you tell all our secrets?” Then she giggled. “Well, perhaps not all!”

  “Lady,” Simon de Beaumont said sternly, “you will behave like a good Christian wife from now on, or I shall be forced to instruct you in the ways of propriety.”

  Vivienne laughed. “Do you want me to be more like Belle, Simon, my lord husband? Belle is very docile. At my brother’s request she lay with both him and Sir Hugh for their pleasure. Shall we allow Sir Hugh to lie with us one night after we have gotten to know one another better?” she purred into his ear. Then her little tongue flicked about her lips.

  Simon de Beaumont was shocked, and not certain he believed her at all, but her tone was very exciting. She was utterly exciting. He could feel his desire for her rising, and, standing, he pulled her up. “Take me to your chamber, Vivienne,” he said. “I am of a mind to be better acquainted with you. Be warned, lady. I am a tireless lover.”

  “So am I.” Vivienne laughed again, and led him away.

  Guy stood up. “Let us follow their lead,” he said, drawing Belle from the hall after him.

  Hugh sat alone. In a sense, he was relieved to be quit of them all. Tonight he would sleep alone for the first time in months. Standing, he left the hall and joined his falconers in their hay barn.

  “Have you been able to approach the Langston men?” he asked them. “What did they say to you?”

  “They will not leave unless the lady Isabelle goes, too,” Alain said. “Damn fools! As if we would leave the lady behind.”

  “She suggested it,” Hugh told them, “but I have told her that when we go, we all go together, my lads.”

  “But how, my lord? And when?” Lind asked him.

  Hugh shook his head. “I feel like a dunce,” he admitted to them. “I do not yet know. I have wracked my brain, and yet I cannot think of a way. I debated telling Count Alan our tale, but I feared he would do nothing. I will come in the morning when ma Belle comes to visit Couper. We will talk then, and perhaps she will have some suggestion of sorts.” He left them and returned to his new apartment in the castle to sleep.

  When the dawn came, Hugh went to the mews and found Belle there.

  “I know a way from the castle without going through the barbican and across the drawbridge,” she told him excitedly. “I learned of it yesterday, but then I could find no moment in which to tell you, with all the ado about Vivienne’s wedding.”

  “What is the way?” he asked her excitedly.

  “Guy is to show me today. There are stairs from the deepest cellars down through the rock to the beach below. We must learn the tides for they sometimes flood the caves, and if we were caught, we could all drown,” Isabelle told him. “Hugh! Hugh! At last we have a chance!”

  “Aye,” he agreed with her, and then said, “We will also have to learn how far the beaches extend up the coast toward Normandy, and if they are passable. We must find a way to get our horses away, and Couper.”

  “Perhaps the Langston men could leave through the gates, taking the horses with them for exercise. I can bring Couper on my gauntlet. No! Let Lind and Alain bring her. They will take the birds into the fields to exercise them. No one will question them about it. That is what we will do!” Then she thought, and said, “But where shall we go, my lord? To Duke Robert’s court at Rouen? Certainly he would help us return to England. I know of no other way, do you?”

  Hugh shook his head. “We can but pray he is on good terms with King Henry, ma Belle. If the brothers are at war, we shall be caught in the middle once again. For two people whose only desire is for a quiet life …” He chuckled, and she laughed with him.

  Chapter 17

  The impossible had happened. In the space of a single night Vivienne d’ Bretagne had fallen out of love with Hugh Fauconier and madly in love with Simon de Beaumont, her husband. She could scarcely believe it herself as she gushingly told her brother.

  “He is wonderful, Guy! He is everything I always wanted in a man. A tireless lover! And unafraid of us, brother. He beat mer,” she finished in a whisper.

  “He what?” Guy d’ Bretagne was outraged. Surely he had not heard aright. While he enjoyed gently chastising a woman, it was always done with love, never brutality. Vivienne’s fair skin bore bruises, he now noted. Guy d’ Bretagne had never marked a woman’s skin like that. Never!

  “I was very naughty.” Vivienne giggled inanely.

  “Have you lost all your wits?” her brother said furiously. “You are Vivienne d’ Bretagne, not some silly female of lesser blood. This man is not even your equal, or he would have his own lands. How dare he lay hands on you in violence?”

  “I liked it,” Vivienne said softly. “Do you not comprehend, brother? This man is stronger than I. All my life I have been the great Vivienne d’ Bretagne, of a race of sorcerers, and dangerous to behold. Every lover I took feared me. Perhaps not Hugh, for without a memory Hugh knew not what fear was, but I will tell you something I have never dared to utter aloud, although I knew it in my heart. Hugh has loved before. Whoever she is, even without the memory of her, he yet loves her. He never ever gave himself to me fully, although he has certainly never been disloyal. I loved him, but I dared not to give myself to him completely for fear that his memory would suddenly come upon him and he would then despise me.

  “It is not that way with Simon. He does not love me yet, but he will, brother. I love him as I have never loved any man. He will have me completely! My body, my mind, yea, even my very soul; or he will kill me. He has said it. I am his gladly!”

  Guy d’ Bretagne was horrified. “Vivi,” he said in his gentlest voice. “You are behaving like a silly child. People like us do not dare to love as you describe it. It weakens us.” He took her hand in his. “Petite soeur, enjoy your lusty stallion, but do not love him with such deep and undying passion. It will be the death of you.”

  “And you, brother,” she replied in equally soft tones. “Do you not love your pretty Belle that way? Do not lie to me. I have seen the way you look at her.”

  “Yes,” he admitted, “I do love her, Vivi, but I should never allow her to have the upper hand over me as you are allowing your new husband to have over you. I am always in control of our passion.”

  “I am weary of being in control. I am tired of being feared,” Vivienne said. “I want to be like other women, Guy.”

  “You will never be like other women,” he told her angrily, “and when you wish otherwise, you shame our heritage! We are d’ Bretagne! We descend from a great race. You, my sister, are like the finest mare ever bred, but you have taken for your mate a common rutting boar of the forest. I hope you do not live to regret it!”

  “You must send Hugh away,” Vivienne said, ignoring her sibling’s anger.

  “Nay,” Guy responded, “I will not do it. You will tell him of your feelings for your husband. Then, sister, you will offer him the choice of remaining as a knight for the castle, or leaving. I pray he will stay, Vivi, for I believe we will need him in the days to come else your husband fill La Citadelle with his kind.”

  “Will you at least remain with me when I tell Hugh?” Vivienne asked her brother. “If he grows angry, I know you can stem his ire.”

  “I will stay. Where is Simon now?”

  “He sleeps,” she said, blushing. “I will return to him shortly.”

  Guy snorted with disbelief. For one thing, he had never in his entire life seen Vivi blush like a maiden. It was all very disconcerting, and not just a little distasteful.

  Hugh came in from the mews in the company of
Belle, but both of the d’ Bretagnes were too distracted to make note of it.

  “Come and break your fast, Hugh,” Guy invited him. “Vivi has news of a somewhat startling nature.” He filled the goblets set at their places with newly pressed cider, and tore a large chunk off the fresh loaf which he pushed down the board to the other man. “Sit in my lap, Belle, and I will feed you while my sister speaks.”

  Isabelle dutifully settled herself in his comfortable embrace, opening her mouth like a baby bird for the bread and brie he offered. She had become quite used to eating this way.

  “Hugh,” Vivienne said low, “you must not tell Simon that you have been my lover. You must not even allude to it. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

  “If you wish it, lady, I am yours to command,” Hugh answered, wondering what this was all about. Usually Vivi was bold about her lovers. Now, suddenly, she was stammering like a maiden. Fascinating.

  In her quiet, dramatic voice, Vivienne d’ Bretagne gave the reason behind her request. She concluded her remarkable explanation by saying, “You may remain at La Citadelle as a knight of the castle, or you are free to go with your men, but never again will there be anything between us, Hugh. You do comprehend me, don’t you?”

  He was dumbfounded. A day ago she had been professing her absolute, undying love for him; outraged and ranting over Count Alan’s decision to supply her with an unknown husband. Now, suddenly, all she had shared with him was quite unimportant to her in light of her new grand passion. Hugh was relieved more than anything else, but he was also slightly offended. For the briefest moment his eyes met Belle’s. Then he swallowed hard. With the merriment he saw dancing in those green-gold eyes, it was all he could do to maintain his own composure.

  “Can you say nothing to me?” Vivienne demanded. She had expected protest; a declaration of love, not silence.

  “Lady, I am astounded by your words,” he began.

  “You will not tell Simon?” There was desperation in her voice.

  Hugh shook his head. “You nursed me back to good health, and I am grateful. I have no desire to fight over you with that great beast you have wed, Vivi. In time when this new passion of yours wanes, and it will, you will want me back in your bed, chérie.”

  “Will you stay, or will you go?” she asked testily.

  How much easier for her if I were out of sight, Hugh thought, but he could not leave La Citadelle until he could find a way to take his wife with him. The wife they did not even know he had. He laughed harshly. “You would like me to go now, I know, but I will remain in your service for now. I have no other place where I might go.”

  “Aye!” Guy said enthusiastically. “That pleases me well enough!”

  Vivienne looked decidedly uncomfortable at this, so Hugh decided to give her something else to concentrate upon.

  “I did not want to tell you, for I know how you feared such a thing,” Hugh said contritely, “but several days ago I regained my memory. I have confirmed my identity with my men-at-arms, who dared not aid me in my quest to regain my past for fear of you, lady.”

  “I knew it!” Vivienne said triumphantly, sounding surprisingly relieved.

  “I am Hugh Fauconier, a simple knight from Worcester. I am a younger son, and was traveling about with my men seeking a place. The Sieur de Manneville promised me one, but when we could not agree upon terms, he threw me into his dungeons, where you found me.”

  “You have no wife?” she asked.

  “Nay, lady, but a sweetheart back in England who by now may have married another,” Hugh said ingenuously. “Perhaps one day I shall go home and find another girl, but for now I have nothing to offer one.”

  Vivienne felt the relief pouring through her. The return of his memory was greatly to her advantage. He would not now betray her. So she said, “I am grateful to have you in my service, Sir Hugh Fauconier.” She smiled at them all, and gathering up some food, said, “Now I must return to my husband. He will be waking, and want to break his fast.” She hurried off.

  “She has lost her wits completely,” Guy said angrily as his sister departed the Great Hall. “She is like a maid with her first man. I am relieved you are staying, Hugh. I may need your help to protect what belongs to the d’ Bretagnes from this bully the count has inflicted upon us. It is as if my sister were bewitched.” Suddenly his eyes glittered. “That has to be it. The sorceress has been ensorcelled!”

  “Nay,” Belle said softly, “but she does believe she is really in love, my lord. Do not deny her her happiness.”

  “I never before did,” Guy said, “but Simon de Beaumont is like a dangerous boar in the underbrush. I do not like him, nor do I trust him. He is the count’s man first, and my sister’s husband second.”

  “A man’s sworn fealty must be to his liege lord first,” Hugh said reasonably, “and then to his wife. Let us see how this man behaves with Vivi.”

  Guy nodded glumly. There was nothing he could really do for the moment. If Simon de Beaumont was the man he believed, then he would betray himself eventually, and they could act.

  Isabelle sought to distract Guy d’ Bretagne from his mood. Leaning over, she nibbled delicately upon his ear. “I can but imagine what your sister and her bridegroom are now doing, my lord Guy. Can you?” She blew softly into his ear. “Shall we occupy our time in the same manner? Hugh can see to the more mundane details of La Citadelle, can he not? Ahhh, how these garments chafe me!”

  Guy d’ Bretagne stood up, cradling his mistress in his arms. Then, without another word, he walked from the hall, leaving his companion behind.

  Hugh watched them go, understanding the tact Isabelle had taken with Guy, but jealous nonetheless. There was no escaping the fact she was Guy’s mistress, and Hugh hated it. When he had himself possessed Vivienne, it had not seemed so bad. Now, however, everything was different, and he was the odd man out. Had he been foolish not to leave La Citadelle when Vivienne gave him the chance? But how could he have taken Isabelle with him? Had she disappeared, they would have quickly realized where she had gone. There had to be a way to spirit her from the castle so they might return home to England.

  Perhaps he could persuade Simon de Beaumont to take Vivienne to Count Alan’s court. Then Hugh shook his head. He had not a doubt Simon de Beaumont would enjoy showing off his beautiful wife, and the mastery he held over her, but they were not the problem. Guy was the problem. They would not want to take him with them, and Guy would not want to leave Isabelle. His obsessive passion for her was obvious. Hugh silently struggled to find the answer.

  Simon de Beaumont had brought with him news of the world around them when he came to La Citadelle. He sat at the high board in the evening, playing the lord of the manor while Guy d’ Bretagne silently seethed with anger. Guy had named him well: the Boar. He was fully as tall as Hugh, but very stocky, and strongly built. His dark eyes were small and porcine. They glittered like jets, darting here and there, rarely still as he took in everything about him. Little got past him, although subtlety escaped him entirely.

  “The Conqueror’s aging whelps are at odds again,” he told them, his meaty fist wrapped about his goblet. “Count Alan is wise. He sits back and watches, but does not involve himself.”

  “How can he?” Hugh said. “He is married to their sister, and cannot favor one over the other unless it is to his absolute advantage.”

  “Aye!” Simon said, banging his goblet down upon the high board, “and it is not to his advantage to become involved, although both of them have importuned him to join them.” He swallowed a large draught of wine.

  “What has happened, my lord Simon, to cause the brothers to quarrel once again?” Belle asked quietly. They needed all the information they could obtain, as they would have to cross Normandy to reach England.

  “ ’Tis those wretched Montgomeries again,” Simon said. “Duke Robert has welcomed Robert de Belleme with open arms into his court. And this after King Henry sent him from England for his rebellions. The English k
ing was mightily offended by his brother’s actions.”

  “Aye,” Belle said. “I can certainly understand why he would be.”

  “Did Henry act merely because his brother has become reconciled to Robert de Belleme? Certainly there must be more,” Hugh said.

  “Aye,” Simon answered knowledgeably. “De Belleme has been plundering the Norman lands of those men loyal to the English king. The duke either could not, or would not, contain him. Then Duke Robert accepted de Belleme’s presence with much cordiality into his court. Naturally Henry Beauclerc was offended.” Simon reached for a joint of venison, and, biting into it, began chewing vigorously. He grinned, pleased, as Vivienne personally refilled his silver cup with dark red wine, giving her an approving wink.

  “Did the English send an army?” Hugh wondered.

  “A small one,” Simon answered. “Those Normans! Such a people! You cannot trust them at all, but then you native English know that. The duke’s most important nobles took the English knights in and fully cooperated with them. Not that it made any difference. Then some other high Norman noble, one William of Mortain, left England, and conspired against the king with the duke. The king has seized Mortain’s lands in retaliation. Pfaugh! Normans! At least in Brittany a man knows plain and simple who his enemies are.” He took another swallow of his wine. “In Brittany a man’s enemies never change. If you make an enemy, you are enemies until one of you is dead. It’s much easier that way.”

  Hugh couldn’t help but grin. “Aye,” he agreed. Then he said, “I suppose Normandy is yet a dangerous road to travel. ’Tis good we’re far from it all here at La Citadelle, eh?”

  Simon de Beaumont nodded his agreement. “I’ve had enough of battles to last me a lifetime,” he said. “I was with Count Alan in the Holy Land. I’m ready to be settled and have a family.”

  He was rough-spoken, Hugh thought to himself, but basically not a bad fellow, despite Guy d’ Bretagne’s dislike of him. Simon de Beaumont was a blunt, forthright man, loyal to his liege lord. How many like him did he know? Hugh wondered. He would make the most of the opportunity given him, and hold La Citadelle for his master. As I would hold Langston for Henry if I could but get home, Hugh thought to himself.