All of the color drained from Edward’s face, his fat features resembling pallid dough. “Stephan! You cannot mean…!”
“I can and I do. Break the contract or I leave.”
“You are not thinking clearly, lad. My decision was based upon my concern for Summer’s best interests and you had no right…”
“You’ve never given a second thought to Summer’s best interests. You’ve done your best to make sure she had little interest or life or pleasure because you were ashamed of the flawed daughter Edwina died giving birth to. Now do as I say; my patience wears thin.”
“Sir Stephan,” Margot’s voice was cold. “Your attitude toward your father is most disrespectful. He is merely concerned with your sister’s very life and you have no right to berate him for his decision.”
Stephan looked to the slender woman, something of a sneer lingering upon his lips as he studied her intently. “I do not know who you are and I have no interest in speaking with you. Be gone, woman. This is a private family matter.”
“Nay, Lady Margot, please stay,” Edward quickly intercepted Stephan’s harsh orders. Hastily, with a hint of panic, he looked to his son. “Stephan, this is Sir Bose’s mother-in-law. The mother of his dead wife. She has convinced me that de Moray is a murderer and merely after our family wealth. As he killed her daughter, so shall he kill Summer unless we stop him.”
Stephan stared at the woman, digesting his father’s statement. After a moment, the sneer vanished from his lips and a disturbing glimmer came to his bright green eyes.
“So you are the one,” he murmured, almost thoughtfully. “The woman who would destroy Bose for your daughter’s unfortunate death. Odd, Bose never mentioned that you had come to Chaldon for the tourney.”
Margot met his nearly-confrontational expression. “Not particularly when one considers that he virtually ignores me. And as far as my daughter’s untimely death, ’twas an unfortunate occurrence only in that I was foolish enough not to have prevented its happening. I am determined that your sister should not meet the same end.”
“If she conceives, there is a distinct possibility that she will,” Stephan countered softly. God’s Blood, he hated the woman already. “However, she is willing to take the chance. Just as your daughter was willing and you have no right to accuse Bose of murdering her simply because of her failed attempt to bear the man a son.”
Cracks began to appear in Margot’s cool demeanor. “What do you know of it?” she hissed. “Bose forced my daughter into marriage, obtaining her ripe dowry and then pumping his seed into her until she became pregnant. He knew she would die from his over-large child and he was completely without conscience on the matter. He left her to bear the child alone, to die alone. Only when it was over did he return to claim her money and flee London as the thief he is. Do you care so little for your sister that you would see her meet with the same fate?”
Stephan seemed to calm as Margot appeared to agitate. “A woman in childbirth is as a knight in battle; one has little choice but to see the event through and if Death claims your soul, then it is God’s will. Surely you realize that seeking vengeance on Bose will not bring your daughter back.”
The corner of Margot’s lips twitched menacingly. “You foolish, foolish bastard,” she seethed, struggling to control her usually-collected dignity. “You know not of what you speak. I am attempting to help you and you are too ignorant to heed my warning.”
“’Tis not a warning you give but fabrications instead. Bose de Moray is no more responsible for the death of his wife than you are.”
Margot’s face was an odd shade of yellow as she endeavored to rein her hurling emotions. “How fortunate your father is wiser on the matter than his eldest son. Edward agrees with me, as befitting his brilliant intelligence.”
Stephan’s gaze passed between his father and the aged lady, suddenly sensing an additional dimension to their relationship that he had been unable to detect only moments earlier. The tender tone in which Margot addressed his father was infinitely disturbing, far more when he realized Edward, for as pliable and foolish as he could be, was apparently caught within her spell. And Stephan, better than anyone, knew how responsive his father could be to a strong-willed person.
Therefore, his reply was careful and succinct. “My father may be the wiser and more brilliant, as you have so erroneously phrased his character, which brings to bear the very fact that Edward du Bonne does not rule Chaldon and her vassals independently. He has help. My help.”
Stephan’s point was clear and Margot could see a considerable adversary in Chaldon’s mighty heir. A man to match both her wit and cunning, and she began to see an apparent flaw to her master scheme to control the du Bonne wealth through the baron’s weak-willed personality. Clearly, Stephan could interfere with such goals. But no matter, she decided quickly; Stephan du Bonne or no, she would not rethink her plans for the moment.
A thin smile creased her lips. “I am sure you believe yourself to contribute to Chaldon’s stability, but even you must concede the fact that Edward alone is the baron and not you. Only he has final say in all matters. And your father has deemed it wise that your sister marry Breck Kerry and not Bose de Moray, a murderer who has apparently swayed your inexperienced and foolish mind.”
Stephan, oddly enough, seemed to be enjoying the woman’s venom. Green orbs riveted to the small, twitching female, he moved to within a few inches of her, gazing down upon her small, taut and oddly-colored face. He could nearly feel the hatred, the bitterness, reaching out to clutch at him and he somehow imagined an invisible struggle between his own soul and her embittered one.
“Do not toy with me, bitch,” he growled. “I can guarantee it shall be your last action upon this earth.”
Margot paled, but she met his gaze unwaveringly. Stephan was positive he read a challenge in the faded blue eyes as he turned away from her, returning his attention to his thoroughly uncertain father. The man was being torn between two strong-willed, powerful factions and truly had no idea as to the consequences or effects of his swayed conclusions.
“Father, I demand you order this woman and Breck Kerry away from Chaldon. They have managed to wreak havoc with your thoughts and mind and I’ll not stand for their presence any longer. Do you understand me?”
Edward nodded faintly, unsteadily. “But… Stephan, Breck has every right to remain as Summer’s betrothed. And the Lady Margot is my… er, guest for a time. Surely there is no harm in their presence while this matter is cleared up?”
“Breck means to have Bose tried for thievery, Stephan,” Morgan’s voice was soft. Although he should not have interfered in Stephan’s verbal battle, he felt the man needed to know the extent of the situation. “He has assembled a company of du Bonne men to ride to Ravendark and return Bose for judgment.”
Stephan looked to Morgan, feeling sickened at the sight of the needlessly battered man. His agony was his fault, of course, for having been too preoccupied helping his sister escape instead of informing his father of his actions before the circumstance began to grow in unattractive directions. While Ian and Lance had rounded up Bose’s men, including Tate, Farl and Adgar, and directed them from Chaldon, Stephan had been busy stealing Bose and Summer from Chaldon’s well-guarded courtyard.
No one had been able to lend concern to Morgan’s whereabouts until Stephan caught word of his arrest on the tournament field. Truthfully, Stephan never believed his father capable of beating a man in anger and continued to have difficulty believing the evidence before him; however, the agitated presence of Breck Kerry made Edward’s apparent willingness in the matter obvious. Breck had somehow convinced the baron that pounding the truth from Bose’s closest friend was the only answer and, true to form, Edward agreed. As long as someone else made the decision, his father was willing to comply.
“I forbid a company of du Bonne soldiers to take Bose prisoner,” Stephan was speaking to his father. “I shall disarm every man myself if I have to. Not one of my troops sha
ll….”
“Then I shall send my men,” Breck replied, his confident manner evident. “You have no power over my soldiers, Stephan. They’ll return Bose for trial and you will have absolutely no say in the matter.”
Stephan looked to Breck, knowing his words to be true. After a moment, he shook his head slowly. “What in the hell has Bose ever done to you that you would attempt to destroy him in such a manner? Have him tried for thievery when you know very well that he and my sister were betrothed before you somehow convinced my father to break his word? God’s Blood, man, what form of demon are you?”
Breck’s expression was amazingly steady. “I am very fond of the woman and have no desire to see her come to harm. Marriage to de Moray can only result in her death, as you have heard most convincingly from Lady Margot’s argument. What form of idiot are you that you refuse to believe the evidence?”
Stephan rolled his eyes in exasperation, not particularly surprised when Lance leapt to his defense.
“Bank your tongue, pock-faced whoreskin!” he cried. When Ian attempted to restrain him, the youngest brother broke free and moved toward the red-haired knight with menace. “God’s Toes, I should have killed you last year when you broke Stephan’s wrist. Indeed I wanted to, but Stephan forbade both Ian and I from delivering retaliation. I wish to God I hadn’t listened to him, for we most certainly would not be having this conversation right now.”
Breck was quite cool. “You would have murdered an innocent man, Lance. What happened to Stephan was a misfortunate accident.”
“Rubbish!” Not surprisingly, ever-calm Ian had all he could take from the bold-faced liar. “Breck, you are without a doubt the most unscrupulous bastard on the circuit and Stephan’s broken wrist was certainly no accident. One more word from your twisted mouth and I shall kill you myself.”
Stephan held up a silencing hand before the argument grew out of control. “Enough, all of you,” he snapped in a genuine show of irritation. Looking to his father, he could see that Edward was quickly succumbing to a deeper degree of confusion and uncertainty as the chaos of the room spread. Struggling to maintain his calm, he met his father’s wavering eye. “Call an end to this foolishness, father. Allow Summer and Bose their peace.”
Edward sighed, torn between the lies and truths presented before him. In faith, he simply did not know what to believe anymore and his indecision was evident. Clearly, he should believe his son, for the man had long been his source of wisdom and stability. But Lady Margot’s words of humiliation in the eyes of his family and vassals alike had struck a chord deep within his heart. If Bose killed Summer, then all of Dorset would laugh at the foolish baron too blind to see beyond the man’s dark facade. More than Stephan’s declaration that Bose was an innocent, Edward could not seem to take the risk that once again, his son was correct.
“Great Gods,” he sighed after a lengthy hesitation, running a fat hand through his oily hair. “What Bose did was wrong, Stephan. He stole Summer.”
“He stole what you had rightfully given him before the introduction of this foolishness. Moreover, he did not truly steal her; I handed her over.”
Edward shook his head slowly. “It was not your right.”
Stephan paused a moment; nay, it had not been his right to deliver Summer into Bose’s waiting arms. But he had done so nonetheless and possessed absolutely no regrets in the action.
“You are correct in your statement,” his tone was considerably softer. “It was not my right. But it was the right thing to do.”
Edward scratched his head as a soldier entered the room, muttering something to Breck. Breck replied softly, sending the man off again. His steady gaze met with Stephan’s equally hard expression.
“I have ordered your men disbanded, du Bonne,” he replied. “My men will be assembling within the hour and we shall ride for Ravendark Castle.”
There was nothing Stephan could do. Bose’s detour to Salisbury to marry Summer would allow Breck’s men to reach Ravendark first, and when Bose and Summer arrived at the fortress after their union they would be riding straight into the waiting arms of Breck Kerry. His mind began to work furiously, searching for a response to Breck’s action.
“Father, I request permission to assemble a company of men and ride to Bose’s aid,” he said without a hint of desperation, turning to face his father once again. “After all, Bose is entitled to our support as Summer’s new husband. It is our duty to aid him however possible.”
Before Edward could reply, Margot answered for him. “And risk a conflict with the Lord of Crestwood? You are speaking of unrest, Sir Stephan, something that could scar your life and the lives of your children. To be at war with another house and hold is a serious matter and you must consider the long-term repercussions of your intention to interfere.”
“She is correct, Stephan,” Edward’s voice was barely audible. As if he was embarrassed for agreeing with someone other than his son. “I cannot risk the peace of Chaldon in such a fashion. Summer will marry Breck and Bose shall be tried for thievery.”
Stephan stared at the man, realization dawning that, for the first time in his life, Edward had rejected Stephan’s advice. A sickening feeling gripped at him, something he was unable to easily shirk. As if, for the first time in his life, Stephan realized his father to be beyond his control and counsel. As if, for the first time, Edward seemed to be possessed by something as unrecognizable as it was frightening: the control of an outside influence.
“Give me control of the men or I walk from Chaldon,” Stephan’s voice was equally tight. “And I take Ian and Lance with me.”
Edward visibly cringed, a healthy sweat peppering his brow. “Nay, Stephan, you must not! You cannot leave me!”
“Give me control or I leave.”
“But Stephan..!”
“Do it!”
Edward began to quiver. Hands to his head, he caught a glimpse of Margot’s stern face from one side, Breck’s from the other. With Stephan’s demanding presence directly before him, the strain was too much to bear as he felt his mind and emotions torn in a thousand different directions. He crumpled with emotion and stress.
“I cannot… I cannot allow a murderer to….”
Stephan turned and walked from the room. Ian and Lance followed.
Chapter Sixteen
“By the power given me by the Holy Church and his most Holy Excellency the Pope, I do hereby declare you to be husband and wife. Go in peace.”
Summer, sniffling miserably with the terrible chill contracted within the dank bowels of Chaldon’s vault, sneezed into the soft linen rag Bose had secured for her from a sympathetic priest. And that very same priest, Dag de Moray, closed the book of Mass and Ceremonies and laughed softly when she sneezed again as Bose attempted to kiss her.
“Were I you, cousin, I would refrain from any contact with your new wife until she overcomes this illness,” he teased gently. He had done little else but taunt and humiliate Bose in a good-natured sort of manner since the very moment of his younger cousin’s arrival. “God only knows your sneezing will bring down the very walls should you contract her ailment.”
Bose kissed Summer regardless of his cousin’s jibes, disengaging himself just before she sneezed yet again. Smoothing her mussed hair, he smiled tenderly at his new wife.
“My poor love,” he crooned softly. “A bit of sustenance and sleep will make you feel better.”
Summer nodded faintly, sniffling and wiping her red-tinged nose. “Oh, B-Bose,” she breathed through her mouth. “I have n-never felt so completely awful. I would forget the evening meal altogether and go directly to bed.”
While Bose tried to convince her that eating would be in her best interest, Dag removed the scarlet mantle of office and handed it to a hovering neophyte. Nearly as large as his massive cousin and possessing the same onyx-black orbs, he eyed the newly-wed couple with a good deal of confusion.
Confusion with the fact that a cousin he hadn’t seen in four years suddenly appea
red on his doorstep, demanding to wed an extremely beautiful woman with a running nose. Hardly a word of greeting and even less conversation, Dag agreed to marry the couple without the usual counseling or money-exchange simply because it seemed so important to Bose. In fact, the couple had arrived less than an hour before and, already, they were man and wife.
It was obvious, however, that marriage agreed with them. Bose’s brusque manner had calmed considerably and the lady, ill and weary, seemed to be in somewhat better spirits as well. Aye, Dag was confused. But he was also happy for the sake of his cousin. The last he saw the man, he was on his knees beside his dead wife’s crypt, praying for God to take his own miserable life.
Therefore, his last impression of Bose hadn’t been entirely pleasant. But the reappearance of his cousin after four long years with a beautiful woman in tow had managed to somewhat erase the sorrow and concern previously held. Even now, as Bose gently wiped his new wife’s nose and kissed her forehead tenderly, Dag could not ever remember witnessing a man more in love.
And his curiosity was obvious, increasing by leaps and bounds as the situation multiplied. Straightening his robes, he moved from the dais to confront the newly-joined couple.
“Congratulations on your new wife, Bose,” he said, meeting Summer’s watery-eyed gaze. “And to you, my lady. God give you the strength to deal with my obstinate, moody cousin.”
Summer smiled, a lovely gesture in spite of her red nose and pale face. Dag returned her smile, increasingly eager to press Bose for the details of the entire circumstance. Indeed, who was the lady? Where did she come from? And, more importantly, where was her family and were they in fact aware of the marriage? All questions that would have to wait for now, Dag knew. But he was also determined not to be put off forever.
Medieval Romantic Legends Page 26
