His Enemy's Daughter

by TERRI BRISBIN

  She’d managed to sew some gold coins into the hem of her cloak that would be enough to donate to the convent for her entrance there. Certainly in these hard and trying times, there would be a place made for her.

  As though her very thoughts had conjured his interest, Sybilla heard the light, running steps of the boy he used to bring messages. He stopped before her chambers and spoke to the guard, only one now there on duty as the lord had granted her permission to leave her chambers at any time. Then he knocked on the door and opened it.

  ‘Lady,’ he said quietly. Then, ‘I mean good day to you, my lady.’ Clearly he was working on his manners and being instructed by someone on how to do it.

  ‘Raed of Shildon,’ she acknowledged. ‘Good morrow to you as well,’ she replied in a lighter tone than she felt. Why should the boy be taken to task because she was feeling low?

  ‘My lord Soren said to expect a bath to be sent here to your chambers this day.’ He said the words carefully, as though he’d spent hours memorising them. Just so, for he missed the importance of those words to her and to her life.

  Her maids gasped, understanding the meaning of the words delivered by the boy. Then they began to whisper between themselves. Sybilla’s body shuddered from deep within at the realisation that he, Lord Soren, did intend to claim his marital rights…and this very night!

  ‘Lady?’ The boy cleared his throat and then spoke again. ‘Is aught wrong?’

  ‘Nay,’ she said, shaking her head. ’Twould be unseemly for him to return to his lord with a report that included her screaming or fainting at the words he delivered. No matter that she felt like doing both at this moment. ‘Nay,’ she repeated louder to convince both herself and the boy. ‘Is there anything else?’

  He thought about it for a moment and then spoke. She could almost imagine a furrowed brow as he tried to remember any other words he was supposed to deliver to her. ‘Nay, my lady. That was the message.’

  The shuffling feet told her he was leaving. ‘Raed?’

  ‘Aye, my lady.’

  ‘How many years have you?’ If she could have seen him, she could have judged by the milk teeth still remaining in his mouth and his size, but blind she had no clue.

  ‘Almost nine, my lady,’ he said. ‘I was born nearer to winter than summer.’

  She nodded, unable to think of anything else to say. He left without another word to her, pausing at the door, she heard him stop, and then leave. He said nothing to the guard this time and she listened as his steps moved away down the corridor.

  ’Twas strange how she’d never noticed the echo of feet on wood outside her door until now. She’d never noticed most of the sounds of the keep except the crowing of the cocks in the morn or the occasional song of the night birds as the sun set. Now, sound was all she had to tell her of the world moving around her. The activities outside her chamber and her window were the only indication to her that life was moving on with or without her. It took but a moment or two for her maids to begin their assault.

  ‘He sends a bath to you?’ Gytha exclaimed. ‘A bath, lady?’

  ‘His message is clear, lady,’ Aldys said. Always the practical one, she continued, ‘’Twould seem clear he plans to make you a wife in more than name only.’

  What could she say in reply? Sybilla nodded her head in agreement and felt a tremor of both dread and excitement deep in the pit of her belly. All of her conjecture about her future changed with this simple message, one carried by a boy who had no inkling of its significance to her or her life. Any plans to offer him an alternative vanished in that moment and a life completely contrary to the one she’d hoped to present to him in unemotional words and sensible terms opened up before her.

  A wife.

  A wife? Married to a man who had less consideration for her than he did for the men who served him. A man who she knew only by his violence and shouting. A man…who would claim her body with his and claim her life and future.

  Sybilla swallowed against the fear that tightened her throat. Heat billowed in her cheeks at the thought of lying with such a man as the one she’d seen across the field, sitting like the devil’s own on his monstrous steed. She remembered his height and his strength and even, in that moment, how large he’d felt next to her on the bed that strange night.

  ‘Is there aught I can tell you, lady?’ Aldys asked quietly, now close by her side. ‘You were very young when your mother passed and mayhap—’ Sybilla did not give her time to go into any details.

  ‘I am prepared for what I must do, Aldys,’ she said. ‘Better this night than the first one when shock and terror ruled my mind.’ Whether or not that was the truth, Sybilla spoke those words, trying to convince both her maids and herself of it. ‘I think the chamber should be cleaned out before this night,’ she said, giving the two women something to think of other than her. ‘Will you see to it, Aldys?’

  At first she thought they would be insulted that she questioned the neatness of her room, but instead they seized upon the task as she’d hoped they would. Only a passing comment, whispered low yet still heard, gave her pause about the coming night. Gytha, thinking her words would not be heard, allowed her concerns to be voiced and Sybilla trembled upon hearing them.

  ‘The blindness might be a godsend,’ Gytha whispered to Aldys. ‘At least the lady will not have to look upon his face when he beds her.’

  Try as she might, those words sunk into her soul and Sybilla added herself to the litany of prayers spoken in the next hours.

  Raed liked the lady. Back at Shildon, there was no lady present, only the lord, and he was a tyrant. At least that’s what his mother and father had whispered when they thought him asleep or not listening. But he had listened and learned about his parents’ fears of the one who ruled over them on old lord Eoforwic’s estate in the north.

  Now, returning to his duties outside, he worried that he’d not carried the message as well as he’d wanted to. The words, repeated over and over until he could recite them back, had caused her face to pale and her hands to shake. His stomach ached, remembering the sight of it. And of the fear in the gazes of the other women who served her.

  Running down the stairs and then pausing to make sure no one had seen him do that, Raed thought back on Lord Soren’s command and realised his error. Still, it puzzled him why the lady would be so afeared of a bath.

  He made his way back out to the yard, where the prisoners worked to rebuild the wall surrounding the keep. It was smaller than the one at Shildon, but larger than many here in England, according to Larenz, who’d come across the sea with the invader king’s army. Larenz watched out for him now and gave him his tasks each day. Raed was pleased that he would some day be squire to Lord Soren, if he learned his duties, and mayhap even a knight when grown.

  ‘What’s the matter, boy?’ Larenz asked as he approached.

  At first Raed hesitated to admit his mistake, but Larenz always seemed patient with him, like his father had been. And even though Lord Soren had threatened to beat him, he’d not yet done so. Instead, a warm place to sleep and enough food to fill his belly was his each day. Larenz told him that everyone made mistakes and, so long as you learned a lesson from it, ’twere fine. When he got closer to the man, Larenz grabbed his hair and rubbed his head almost like Raed did to the miller’s hound when he was allowed to play with the dog.

  ‘Is all well?’ Larenz and the others spoke a different tongue, but most managed to say their English words clear enough to be understood. Only a few of Lord Soren’s men did not, but he’d ordered them to learn quickly.

  ‘I took the message to the lady as Lord Soren commanded.’

  ‘And?’ Larenz asked. ‘What happened? Did she refuse him the use of her chambers?’

  ‘Nay,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Why would she? He is lord here and all belongs to him.’ It seemed clear to Raed, so why would the lady not have realised it?

  Larenz laughed aloud, shaking his head at Raed. ‘Boy, you know not the way of thin
gs between men and women. Ladies sometimes believe themselves to be in charge.’ Larenz knelt down on one knee, bringing himself down so that Raed could meet his eyes. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  Raed’s hands sweated then and he worried more about what he’d forgotten to tell the lady. What would Lord Soren do for this failure at his duties?

  ‘I told the lady Lord Soren would be sending a bath to her chambers this evening.’ Raed swallowed and tried to be calm. ‘I forgot to tell Lady Sybilla that it was for him.’

  Larenz laughed louder then, gaining attention from others nearby. Raed wanted to believe his laughter signalled no need to fear about his error.

  ‘Should I go back to the lady? Should I tell Lord Soren of this?’

  He would bear the beating as punishment for his mistake and he would learn from it, as Larenz had said he must. Larenz stood then and mussed his hair again, grabbing the back of his cloak and guiding him along at his side.

  ‘Nay, boy. A bigger mistake would be to get between the lord and his lady. Let them sort this all out themselves.’

  Raed smiled and tried to accept Larenz’s words, but something was wrong between Lord Soren and Lady Sybilla. If they were married, as his parents had been, should they not share their chambers? For as long as they’d been in Alston, Lord Soren sought his rest outside or in that small room near the kitchen and ate with his men or alone. The lady, injured grievously, remained in her room. Neither one seemed happy and neither spoke much to the other.

  How strange these nobles were—married yet not. Not like the rest of the people whom married meant living together and working together.

  Raed thought that maybe her fear was like his had been—based on the horrible way Lord Soren looked. He’d admit that his looks took some time to get accustomed to. It had taken Raed days and days, but now the scars that covered one side of Lord Soren’s face did not bother him much at all.

  Had the lady seen Lord Soren before she was blinded? Or mayhap the others had spoken ill of him to her? She did not seem the silly, easily frightened type to him, but he was only a boy and she the lady of a great family here in the north. Even he knew that.

  ‘Raed, seek out the stable master and see to Lord Soren’s mount,’ Larenz ordered.

  His mistake could not have been too bad or Larenz would never send him to his favourite place in all of Alston. Surely not? Raed loved working with the horses and taking care of Lord Soren’s mighty beast of a horse was something he would never tire of.

  ‘You are certain?’ he asked just one time to make sure his error was not a grave one.

  ‘Aye, boy, go now,’ Larenz said and Raed followed his orders, not even looking back when Larenz let out another burst of loud laughter as he ran off.

  Larenz could not contain it and he laughed again as the English boy ran off. He was a good sort, doing whatever was asked of him, trying to please Soren and find a new life here at Alston. Not even the worst Soren offered scared the boy off, much to his credit, since many men better, older and wiser than him had trembled time and time again. But this boy stood his ground and ’twas plain to see that Soren liked that.

  Larenz liked him, too, for he had a strong spirit and a good heart in spite of losing everything and everyone he’d had when Oremund destroyed the village of Shildon rather than letting it fall into Norman hands. Watching the boy run to the stables, such as they were, Larenz was reminded of Soren at the same age. Older by almost a score of years, Larenz had guided some of Soren’s training, too, and then served with him in William of Normandy’s quest for the throne of England.

  He saw Soren walking off with Stephen and Guermont and was, for a moment, tempted to inform him of the boy’s gaffe, but decided against it. They’d all watched as Soren and the lady avoided each other—Soren did it a-purpose, the lady for other reasons—but it needed to be brought to a halt. Unless they made their peace, Alston would remain a place of battle—Saxons against the Normans and Bretons, men against women, common folk against their rulers. All hinged on the relationship between Soren and Sybilla, even if those two did not know or realise it.

  Mayhap this misstep, done with no ill intentions by the boy, would be just the thing to bring the two together? Clearly, they had much in common and much they could learn from each other—if they were together.

  Oh, there would be problems, but how better to solve them than together and, if there were two more kindred souls who needed to be together, he’d never seen them. Laughing once more, he strode off to his own duties, determined to keep his tongue firmly planted inside his mouth and to let the two sort this thing out between them.

  God have mercy on all of them if they failed.

  Chapter Nine

  Sybilla could not help the sigh that escaped as she sank into the steaming water. She’d bathed from a basin since the battle and had not washed her hair thoroughly because of the wound, but now she surrendered to the heat and the feeling of washing away all the grime and sweat of this week. Several extra buckets sat along the wall to be used if needed and she considered sitting here until the water went cold. But this day she did not have the time to waste sitting here, avoiding what was to come.

  She shivered in spite of the heat of the water and the chamber, for a fire blazing in the hearth warmed the room. She listened to Gytha and Aldys walking around the tub, Aldys in charge of washing her and Gytha preparing the bed. The linens had been laundered and the bed made fresh for this night. Everything was ready for his arrival, as she would be shortly.

  Sinking back into the water, she waited and listened for any sign of his approach. Since the meal was just ending in the hall below, Sybilla thought she would still have time, more time, to accustom herself to the idea of what would happen between them this night. So, when he came, without the usual heavy footsteps or yelling, it surprised both her and her maids.

  ‘Lord Soren!’ Aldys said sharply as she dropped the bucket with which she was rinsing Sybilla’s hair. Her voice moved around the tub, taking what could only be considered a defensive stance between the door and the tub in the corner. ‘Gytha!’ she said. The scurrying of feet meant Gytha joined Aldys between her and her lord and husband.

  ‘Lady Sybilla is not yet done, my lord,’ Aldys explained.

  The door slammed and Sybilla felt it rattle the tub. Her natural inclination was to stand, but instead, she sank lower beneath the water and the sides of the tub.

  ‘Done?’ he asked, not stopping at the door. His voice grew closer and she sank lower. ‘Done what?’

  ‘Her bath, Lord Soren. The one you ordered for her,’ Aldys said slowly as though speaking to a babe.

  ‘I ordered no bath for her, woman. The bath was for me.’

  Sybilla did not know whether to be relieved or insulted in that moment. Was this a reprieve from him claiming his marital rights, then? No one moved, she certainly not, and the silence continued on for what seemed like for ever.

  She heard him approach and heard the swift intake of his breath. Surely the shadows of the chamber’s corner and the water did nothing to hide her flesh from his view. His shallow breathing spoke of arousal. Sybilla found her own breathing just as shallow at the realisation that he saw her nakedness.

  ‘Finish your bath, lady,’ he said in a husky voice. ‘I will call for more hot water and return for mine.’

  ‘Here?’ she asked. ‘You want to bathe here?’

  At first she was confused and then understanding struck her—he wished for privacy and this was the only private chamber in the keep. But if she thought he would explain, she was wrong.

  ‘I will return later.’

  And with that simple declaration, he was gone, walking swiftly to the door and closing it with the same strong slam that he’d done when first he’d entered her chambers. She let a moment or two pass by and then she moved, shifting in the tub and grabbing hold of the sides.

  ‘Aldys, help me get out,’ she said, already twisting her hair to rid it of most of the water. ‘Gytha, a dry
ing cloth. Pray thee move quickly, I wish not to be caught unclothed again.’

  ‘The bath was for him?’ Aldys asked as she guided Sybilla from the tub. ‘The boy never mentioned that.’

  ‘I do not fault young Raed for this misunderstanding. He must live in constant fear of being beaten and punished for every little misstep or error,’ Gytha whispered. ‘I hear the new lord threatens him daily.’

  Sybilla allowed their help and tried to ignore their chatter. They’d all assumed something that now seemed quite different than what Lord Soren’s message had been. Did he mean only to use her chambers to bathe, then? Had this not been about consummating their marriage after all? Did he after all plan to set her aside?

  Her women moved efficiently and quietly and soon she was seated in front of the hearth, letting her hair dry in its heat. Aldys was careful with the strokes of the brush, avoiding the place where her scalp was torn and easing it gently through the tangles until it moved smoothly down its length. Sybilla found it soothing to her frayed nerves and the slow strokes relaxed the tension in her body. With her eyes closed, she could almost ignore the world around her and fall asleep.

  The knock, softer than she could have imagined him capable of, woke her from her lethargy. She gathered the bedrobe closer around her and nodded to whichever of the women would notice. Aldys opened the door and allowed him entrance.

  Soren had never felt out of place in a woman’s bedchamber in his life until this moment. He’d been in many, from the most common to the noble-born, and knew his place in each—lover, confidante, companion in passion—until he crossed over the entranceway to Sybilla’s room. Her maids watched him, scrutinising every step he took and every expression he made as he walked in, and closed the door behind him.

  Though he would never have admitted it, he did not want to share this intimate vision of his…wife with the other men who stood guard in the corridor. And though he wanted to continue to blame her for all the sins of her father, the sight of her naked in that tub had undone all his resolve to remain aloof and unaffected by her. He’d made that oath to himself when he’d felt pity for her creeping into his heart, but he’d had no idea that the emotion he would have to battle with would be lust.