by Anita Mills
A shout rose from the yard as a shaggy band of men, goaded by William de Comminges and another of Rivaux’s knights on horseback, walked over the horizon. Guy paused to lean on the heavy mallet he had just used to drive supports into the ground and waited for William.
“I saw smoke in the woods,” William explained from his saddle as he rode up. “Aye—they belong to Rivaux.” Nodding to a stout fellow in rags, he added, “When Belesme burned their huts and Henry did not come to their aid, they took to the forest, he says.” His grizzled face took on a much-tried expression. “I would have you tell him, my lord, that you do not mean to take his hands for poaching.”
Even as he spoke, the man fell to his knees before Guy, begging, “Have mercy, my lord, but I had to eat! Have mercy!”
“Where are the others?”
“None are left save us, my lord.”
His divided eyebrow rising skeptically as he did so, Guy counted but eight men and no women. “Belesme killed everyone else?” he asked.
“You’ll start him sniveling again, my lord,” William cut in. “As he told it to me, there were but few who survived the slaughter when Belesme and his men fell on them. This man claims to have lost his wife, his two daughters, and his son—says Belesme himself spitted the babe.”
“Where are the rest of the women?”
“He says there are none—that none made it to the forest with them.”
Guy, angered that Belesme had managed to murder most of his people, started to strike out at those who’d survived, to ask why they had not fought for the women, and then mastered his temper. They were, after all, unarmed save for picks and staffs, and no match for mounted raiders. Nay, the man he’d punish would be Robert of Belesme. Aloud he addressed William: “Feed them and give them axes—they can cut wood. I’d have this wall finished before I begin to build in stone.” To the man still groveling at his feet, he shook his head. “You had to eat—I’d not begrudge you that.” When he perceived the fellow meant to grasp his leg and kiss his foot, he nearly kicked him away. “Get up,” he ordered curtly. “No man serves me from there.”
“I’d delouse them first,” William muttered. “Lady Catherine would not be pleased to have the place overrun with vermin.”
“See if there is enough lard, then.” Guy picked up the heavy mallet again and turned toward the square tower. Seeing Catherine in the arched doorway, he beckoned her out. The fatigue lines that etched his brow softened as he watched her walk toward him.
She shielded her eyes against the bright sun and looked where William herded his find. “Sweet Mary, but how can they have lived this year and more without anything?”
“The forests protected them and gave them food.” Dropping the mallet, he slipped an arm about her shoulders and walked her toward the end of the partial wall. “But there are no women to help you, Cat.”
“As long as I have Hawise, I can manage. Besides, there are Beda and Hedda.”
“’Tis too much for you—I should have sent you to Belvois until this was done.” He reached to lift one of her hands and examined it. “You were not meant for this.”
“Neither were you, but we are doing it. Nay, I’d not leave you now.”
“Still, I’d not have you do it. Your father would have my head on a pike if he knew.” His flecked eyes stared distantly for a moment as he seemed to see something else. “But it will not always be like this, Cat, I swear to you. You are countess in name now, and one day you will be countess to lands and wealth so vast ’twill take an army of scribes to count what you have.” Collecting himself, he squeezed her shoulders and propelled her toward a large, spreading tree. “Sit you down where ’tis cool and rest.” Taking his undertunic from where he’d tied it at his waist, he spread it out on the ground for her. As soon as she sat on it, he dropped down beside her and picked up a stick. “Let me show you how Rivaux will be,” he told her as he began to draw in the dirt.
Leaning to rest her arm on his sweaty back, she watched as he made two wide concentric ovals broken by four small circles. Then, at one end of the inner one, he made a small square, and in the open space he set a large rectangle. Along the outside of it all, he drew the river and showed the ditch coming off it.
“Here is our outer wall—’twill be stone, and as thick as two men lying across it. The towers are round, as they are harder to bring down with siege machines.” He pointed to the inner circle with the stick. “And here lies the wall of the inner bailey, Cat. I mean to keep the tower we have, but ’twill be inside the wall. And here”—he went back to where he’d drawn the river—“here you see how I mean to fill the ditch.”
“But what is this?” she asked, indicating the large rectangle in the inside.
“That?” His face was almost boyish as he turned to her, and the flecks in his eyes were pure gold. “That is your house, Cat. I mean to build a palace for you.”
28
The sun beat down mercilessly through the months of July and August, and still the work did not stop. No sooner had the wooden inner wall been completed than every man Guy could conscript from not only Belvois but also his more distant possessions of Celesin, Ancennes, and Vientot came to till his fields, build wattle-and-daub hutches between the river and his partly constructed stone outer wall, and to work on that wall itself. Now some thirty feet of it stood, an unfinished sentry over Rivaux’s land.
And inside the wooden stockade, Catherine presided over immense changes. Where she’d found little more than a chicken yard, she’d made a neat herb garden, and already the plants grew enough to show promise of seasonings and medicines for the winter. From the tangled roses that climbed the old tower, she and Hawise and the two girls brewed rosewater and made sweet sachets for clothing chests. Not content with these housewifely endeavors, she managed to beg enough labor of William, who now shared the duties of seneschal and captain of the keep, to build a large kitchen, a smokehouse, an alehouse, and a bakery at the base of three sides of the old tower. And while he had grumbled that he courted rebellion from the overweary men, he nonetheless managed to see she had what she needed. He even obtained a woman skilled in ale-making from Ancennes, as well as cooks and bakers from Vientot.
Even the lowest of the peasantry, those who’d come in from the forest, including perhaps another ten or twelve who made their way after William’s original discovery, threw themselves into their lord’s service. It began to look as though the late planting would still yield enough harvest to feed everyone even if it would not also meet Guy’s taxes. By August, every little hut boasted at least a couple of chickens, and most also had either a cow or a pig provided from Belvois stock.
Despite the exhausting dawn-to-dusk labor, Guy considered this the best summer of his life. No matter how tired he was, no matter how impossible his schemes seemed, he had Catherine waiting for him at end of day. At night, they explored each other, discovering more of each other, sharing dreams, and planning a glorious future for the House of Rivaux, one where their sons and daughters would be envied and admired for their power and beauty. For the first time in his twenty-four years, Guy of Rivaux was content.
Laboring to lift a stone into a cart, he strained until his flat belly felt concave as he hoisted it and carried it. The sun beat down, burning his already deeply tanned face and shoulders. Sweat poured, to drip from his chin and run in rivulets to commingle with that on his chest. The curling mat there was almost straight from the steam that rose from his body.
“My lord—riders!” William shouted from the partial wall.
Guy grunted as he eased the stone onto the cart with an effort. Hostile riders were the nightmare that kept him going when his body ached beyond endurance. Wiping his dripping face with his arm, he reached for the broadsword he kept never further than a few paces. His palms were so wet that Doomslayer threatened to slip within his grip.
“How many?” he yelled back.
“Mayhap twenty!” William shaded his eyes to count, and turned around to tell his master,
“Aye, and they carry Normandy’s banner!”
Guy leaned thankfully on his hilt, bracing his bone-weary body with the blade tip in the ground. With so much turmoil and so many petty wars in the wake of the Angevin’s claim to Maine, he feared to be drawn into the conflict ere Rivaux was ready. But he had no quarrel with Henry—not anymore. Aye, in his eagerness to buy Guy’s loyalty, Henry had forgiven Rivaux’s taxes for the first year.
He watched curiously, waiting for the riders to get close enough that they could be seen beyond the glint of the sun on their helms, and then he recognized the leader. For an instant his stomach knotted and then relaxed.
Brian FitzHenry rode into their midst and lifted his helmet from his thoroughly soaked head. He looked around until his eyes settled on Guy in disbelief. “Jesu! God’s blood, my lord—I’d scarce know you!” Then, taking in the famed broadsword, he felt the need to amend. “That is, I’d not expected to see you—”
“Building my own wall?” Guy asked, grinning. “Aye—I bid you welcome to Rivaux. Come down and I’ll give you the kiss of peace while we each stink too much to notice the other.”
Brian hesitated, surprised at Rivaux’s easy greeting. After that day on the Condes’ practice field, he’d not expected ever to be able to make his peace with the man. Nodding finally, he slid from his saddle to face one he’d long considered an enemy.
Guy wiped his hands on his braichs and walked to grasp Brian by both shoulders, kissing him lightly on his wet face. Stepping back, he gestured to the men around him. “See to the setting of those stones and then rest for water.” Draping a sweaty arm around Brian, he guided him toward the keep itself. “That you are not a greedy neighbor come to pull down my house makes you most welcome,” he told the younger man. “Aye—and Cat will be happy to see you. How left you the Condes?”
“I left it the day you did.” Brian looked down to where Normandy’s leopard was embroidered on a badge on his shoulder. “But Aislinn tells me that Earl Roger means to return to Normandy ere the snow falls.”
“You saw Aislinn?”
“Aye, I stopped at Mayenne on my way here.” Brian’s brow furrowed for a moment and then cleared. “She’s not well, but I’d not tell Cat.”
“That surprises me. I’d expected him to be ill rather than her.”
“He is. He can scarce stand unaided now, and the old man cares not, since Linn is with child. It is as though Geoffrey has no value left to him, and the babe is everything.” He stopped walking abruptly and looked up at Guy. “I fear for her—I do. The babe does not sit well with her in the heat, and Count Hugh will blame her if she loses it. I tried to persuade him to let me take her back to her mother until the babe comes, but he would not hear of it.”
“Brian!”
“You will have to hold your nose, Cat,” Brian warned her as he opened his arms to her. “Jesu, but are prettier than ever—I swear it,” he murmured as she hugged him. “Linn bids me give you her love.”
“You’ve seen Linn?”
“Aye.”
“Sweet Mary—how does she fare?”
Brian’s eyes met Guy’s over Catherine’s shoulder briefly in warning. “Linn is always Linn, Cat—she is well.”
“And Geoffrey?”
“He’ll be dead within the year.”
“Aye,” she sighed, stepping back. “She feared as much.” Her eyes traveled over him, taking in the badge he wore. “You serve your father now—I am glad for you.”
“I went to Rouen and told him I would do whatever he willed except fight Belesme for him.” Lifting a small stone in the yard with the toe of his boot, he looked away. “He crossed through the Vexin a fortnight ago and threatens Evreux—my father thinks he means to fight his way to Belesme itself. ’Tis why I am here—I am come to warn you. The last time, he came this way and burned Rivaux.”
Catherine and Guy exchanged glances of consternation, each thinking of the still-unfinished wall. “I have not the men to spare to send you to the Condes, Cat,” Guy decided. “You will have to go to Nantes.”
“Nantes! Nay, I will not! My place is here, with you!”
He shook his head. “Nay, I’d dare not fight with you here.”
“You’d dare not fight with less than half a wall either! I’ll not go!”
“Ah, Cat, ’tis to be expected of you, is it not?” His flecked eyes warmed as they studied her and his mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Full half the time you tell me where you will not go.”
“Guy, listen to me! I’d not go to Gilbert! You think me safe there? Nay, but I’d not be—my grandsire is coward born—I’d be safer tethered outside these walls like a goat than at Nantes!”
“Nantes has high walls, Cat,” Brian cut in. “’Tis not likely that Belesme would take the time to lay siege there.”
“You stay out of this!” She whirled on him fiercely, demanding, “What can you know of it? If Belesme so much as came to his walls, my grandsire would throw open his gates in fear!”
“Cat…Cat…” Guy caught her and held her trembling against him. “If he is such a coward, opening his gates is the last thing he’d do.”
“I’d not be sent away!”
“Shhhh—’tis late summer already,” he reasoned, “and Robert does not raid after the snow falls. ’Twill not be for long, Cat, and I’d have you safe.”
“But Rivaux—”
“I’ll stay here—I’ve got twenty mounted knights,” Brian offered. “And ’tis not likely that Belesme will stop anywhere where he can expect a fight. He is not what he once was—he has no lands left in Normandy to succor him.”
“If he is not what he once was, then why did you not wish to fight against him for your father?” she sniffed, trying to hold back tears.
“I would not deliberately stand in his way, Cat,” he said. “I still fear him, but mayhap Rivaux need not. Robert of Belesme would not spend a thought as to whether to face me, but I’d think he’d not want to try Guy if he could avoid doing so.”
“Sweet Mary, but I think you both mad!”
“You can rage, you can hiss and spit, Cat, but you’ll not change my mind,” Guy told her. If Belesme is at Evreux and is repulsed there, the Devil may turn on me. Nay, you’ll go to Nantes this day.”
“This day! This day? Nay—I will not!”
“Aye—you will. I’ll send for you when the wall is finished or the snow falls, whichever should come about first,” he promised.
Turning to Brian, she appealed for support. “Brian…”
“Nay, Cat, I’d not stand between you and your husband.” His brown eyes were serious, but his voice held a hint of self-deprecation. “I told you I would stay here, did I not? And when have you ever known me to risk my bones foolishly? If I stay, you must surely know that I do not think Belesme will come this way again. Besides, for all he knows, he took all there was to be had the last time.”
“Jesu! Why was I woman born?” she demanded in exasperation. “If I were a man, you’d not sent me away.”
“You were woman born for me, Cat, and I’d keep you safe,” Guy answered. “Come, let us find Hawise.”
“Wait!” Her mind racing, she licked dry lips and stalled for the time to change his mind. “’Tis midday already…and I’d take clothes with me…please…” She sucked in her breath and made her appeal. “Please—I’d go on the morrow.”
He couldn’t send her without at least some of her things, and he would have to see an escort armed and readied. “Aye,” he decided, glad for one more night with her. “Aye, you’ll go on the morrow.”
“Brian, where is Guy?” Catherine demanded as she met him in the main hall.
“Bathing.” His brown eyes took in her purple gown appreciatively and he nodded. “I see you are wearing your best finery in hopes of changing his mind.”
Ignoring the latter remark, she focused on the first. “Bathing? But he’s not upstairs.”
“Nay.” He grinned. “To keep you from washing me, he took me to what passes for
the bathhouse here, Cat, and I finished first. Not that I was inclined to linger—having coarse fellows pour buckets of cold water over me whilst I soap my body is not what I call a bath.”
“Why did you not offer to take me to the Condes?” she asked suddenly.
“’Tis too far.”
“Or Nantes even?”
“I value my skin.”
“Then why did you offer to stay here?”
“Because I saw how little of the outer wall is done.” Noting the skeptical lift of her dark eyebrow, he sighed. “Aye, and I’d redeem myself for what happened at the Condes.”
“Why?”
“God’s blood, Cat!” he exploded finally. “Can you do naught but question me? If the truth be known, I suppose ’tis because I would be like him. I made a fool of myself over the quintains, and I’d not have you or Aislinn or him think me unwilling to make amends. Is that meet in your eyes? I am not much the warrior, Cat, but I can set my men to helping finish your wall.”
“You think Belesme will come here, do you not? You can tell me, Brian.”
“I would if I knew, but Count Robert does not tell me what he plans,” he snapped with asperity. “Leave me be. If you would know what I know not, ask your husband. I’ll warrant he does not know either, but at least he has the means to silence you.”
“Jesu, but you were not used to be so sharp-tempered, Brian.”
“That was when I had wine in my cup and a woman in my bed. But you and Linn would have me different, and now you like not what you see. In truth, I know not what either of you would have of me.”
