Song of Isabel

by Ida Curtis

  “It’s beautiful here, Chetwynd. How long do you think we’ll stay?”

  “Not long. It depends on how quickly Ingram is able to locate Justin. I doubt they will arrive as early as tomorrow, but they could be here by the next day.” As they watched the pickers pushing away the loaded wagons, Chetwynd thought about what Justin’s arrival might mean for them.

  The sun was low in the sky and the shadows long. When Chetwynd’s chief steward approached them carrying a basket of grapes, Chetwynd introduced him to Isabel. In spite of his advanced years, the steward lowered himself to the ground in a graceful, easy motion.

  When Bosco handed Isabel a perfectly formed bunch of grapes, she smiled her thanks and immediately popped one into her mouth. She found it surprisingly sweet and continued eating grapes, savoring the flavor, as the men talked.

  “If the weather is good, we should finish up tomorrow,” Bosco told Chetwynd. “Gertrude, who is a good weather prophet, thinks we will have a fine day. She is already preparing food for the grape-pressing fete, my lord. You have never been here for a fete, and it’s the highlight of the year. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  “What happens at the fete?” Isabel asked. Both men laughed when they turned to her. Isabel was puzzled until Chetwynd pointed to her mouth and indicated by drawing his finger under his own lips that she had juice on hers.

  As Chetwynd watched her rosy tongue dart around her lips, he had a vision of himself licking away the sticky syrup. There was a slight catch in his voice when he said, “Those grapes seem juicy.”

  The expression in his eyes as he watched her lips made Isabel blush. She turned away to find the steward watching them with interest. “Tell me about the fete, Bosco,” she said to distract herself from the heat that was flooding her body.

  “It’s the last day of the harvest, my lady. When all the picking is done, the farmers gather to press the grapes. They are piled in large vats, and we stomp on them to release the juice we use to make wine. To attract as many people as possible to this task, we end the workday with a feast. The pressing is a messy job. Once the pressing is done, if it’s not too cold, many of the workers jump in the fish pond and then eat and drink their fill.”

  “There’s a pond?” Isabel interrupted before he could continue.

  “Indeed, my lady. It’s just beyond those trees,” Bosco replied, pointing to where the sun had just set.

  Chetwynd and Isabel smiled at each other, both remembering another pond.

  Bosco excused himself. “Tomorrow will be a busy day, my lord. I need to prepare the vats and casks.”

  Neither Isabel nor Chetwynd said anything as they watched Bosco walk away. As the silence between them lengthened, Isabel thought about their flight from Saint Ives. She still had a lot of questions about Chetwynd’s relationship with the queen. “I think we should talk about Queen Judith and what happened,” she said in a subdued voice.

  “You’re right.” Chetwynd knew it was time for him to confide in Isabel. It had to be done before they could think about a future together, and he was more than eager to hear what she felt about that. “But it’s late. I’ll come to your bedchamber tonight.”

  After a late supper, Isabel retired to her room. She paced the floor wondering how long it would be before Chetwynd joined her. He had said he had to check some details with Bosco.

  There was nothing but a bed in her room, and Isabel considered whether she should strip to her shift and lie in it. She decided that might look as though she expected Chetwynd to share her bed, or even worse, wished to seduce him into her bed. Although she would have liked nothing better, she didn’t want him to know that.

  Isabel sat on the bed, staring at the door. After a while she stood up and went to wash her face at the nightstand. Where could he be? she wondered. Perhaps he forgot he promised to talk to her. Or maybe he decided he didn’t want to explain himself.

  But it had only been a short time ago that he’d promised to come. Had he forgotten? He didn’t forget. It was more likely he didn’t want to talk about Queen Judith. Or perhaps she was exaggerating the amount of time that passed.

  Isabel paced for a while longer, then stamped her foot. “This is ridiculous,” she said out loud. “I’m going to bed.”

  But she didn’t blow out the candle and lay listening to the noises of the manor. In the distance, she heard a loud male laugh, then later some footsteps outside her door. She was disappointed when the steps didn’t stop. Just when she was losing the battle to keep her eyes open, she heard a soft knock.

  “Come in,” she said, her impatience clear by her tone.

  Chetwynd stood in the doorway. “Sorry to be so long. I haven’t been to Aquis in a while, and I felt I had to help Bosco get ready for the pickers. Would you rather talk tomorrow?”

  Isabel sat up and spoke quickly. “No. Come in, Chetwynd.”

  She watched him look around for a place to sit, then decide to sit on the edge of her bed. Isabel lay back to put a little space between them. “I was afraid you’d decided not to talk this evening,” she said, then bluntly added, “I want you to tell me more about you and Queen Judith.”

  Chetwynd nodded. “One of the reasons I was reluctant to talk to you about it sooner is that the story does not reflect well upon me.”

  He’d already delayed long enough, so he took a deep breath and plunged in. “When I first came to court, I had a small army and experienced some success in battle. King Louis was pleased with my service and granted me Aquis to help me support a larger army. I was feeling quite proud of my progress.

  “I had been estranged from my father at an early age, so it was very important that I make my own living. Even if I hadn’t been estranged, I stood to inherit little property as I have two older brothers.

  “Before that time, I had been involved with a few women, but nothing serious. I had it in my mind that I didn’t want to marry, so the women I sought out were widows. When Judith took notice of me, I was flattered. She is admired by many men, as you probably know.”

  Isabel turned her head away at his words, and he stopped speaking. Chetwynd leaned over her and took her face in his hands to force her to look at him. “I don’t have to tell you about how she operates, Isabel. You met her. She is skilled at making people feel special and using them for her own ends. For a while she made me feel special, but I never loved her. I haven’t loved any woman.”

  “Except Theresa,” she replied in a soft voice.

  Chetwynd drew back in surprise. “Theresa? How do you know about Theresa?” Then he answered his own question. “Gilda told you, I suppose.”

  He stared into space, thinking of his disastrous love for Theresa. “I was very young and thought I loved her. But I didn’t know the real Theresa. When I found out that she had betrayed me, I swore never to marry.”

  His eyes met Isabel’s again. “I had just learned about her marriage to my father the summer I first saw you. I believe now that if I hadn’t been so disillusioned by that experience, I might have stayed in Narbonne and convinced your father that you should marry me.”

  Isabel’s mouth fell open. “You’re teasing me.”

  “No, I’m not. I didn’t stay with you, but I never forgot you, Isabel.”

  Emboldened by his words, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. He gathered her into his arms and laughed in her ear. She thought it was a lovely sound.

  “It’s true, you know. You were so brave, fighting off those men. Then after you’d been hit, you looked up and called me an angel. There was hair and blood in your eyes. I doubt you could really see me.”

  “I saw your beautiful, shining gold hair. I heard your voice and felt your gentle touch.”

  Chetwynd kissed her on the scar above her eye and was quiet for a minute. When he spoke, his voice was husky with emotion. “Emma’s mother told me you were betrothed. Early this year when Justin told me you hadn’t wed, I was surprised and eager to see you again.”

  “That wasn’t
the impression you gave me when we met.”

  “No. The circumstance of my first sight of you was a terrible blow to my memory. I wasn’t prepared for how you had matured, and I believed you had a lover. I was disillusioned and angry. Although I know I had no right to be.”

  “You know I never had a lover, and we’re married now, my lord,” she whispered into his neck.

  “And do you wish to be my wife?” he asked.

  When she nodded, his lips found hers. It was the sweetest kiss he had given her, beginning slowly and deepening until she felt lost in it. He was lying with her and she stretched her body against his, hungry to feel the length of him even though they were separated by a blanket and clothing.

  When he released her mouth, she clung tighter to make up for the loss of his mouth against hers.

  “Isabel?”

  She didn’t want to talk anymore, and she tried to kiss him again, but he was holding her face away from him.

  “Listen to me, my love. I’m going to ask Justin for permission to be your husband. When we have Justin’s blessing, I’ll make you my wife.”

  “No,” she whispered in an urgent tone. “I’m already your wife. Why do we have to wait?”

  “I want to do this right, Isabel. I’ve made too many mistakes in my life.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes, Chetwynd,” she reasoned.

  He chuckled, then groaned when she teased his neck with her tongue. “Sweet lord in heaven. You aren’t making this easy for me.” He pulled away from her. “I respect Justin and want his approval for this marriage. It’s important. He doesn’t think well of me right now, and I need to win back his friendship and respect. It’ll only be a little longer.”

  Isabel didn’t want to waste any more time, but she could see it was important to him. “Could you call me your love again?”

  “Yes, my love. Now I have to get out of your bed before I lose my resolve.”

  When he stood up, Isabel realized he hadn’t answered all her questions. “Just one more thing, Chetwynd. That first night at Narbonne. Why did you tell me you had an attachment if you were not in love with the queen?”

  Chetwynd knelt by the bed, afraid to test his resolve by being too close. “There were two reasons. I didn’t think you wanted a real marriage. At that time I thought you had a lover, remember?

  “Also, I was involved with the queen, even if I no longer shared her bed. I was determined to be free of that connection before I told you about it. Of course it was foolhardy of me not to realize you would hear of it. I’m truly sorry I wasn’t more honest with you, Isabel.”

  “And do you think you’re free of the connection now?”

  “Yes. Even if Judith wished nothing more than to separate us, the fact that she tried to do that has freed me of any responsibility I felt toward her. She knows you are my wife.”

  Isabel nodded, and Chetwynd leaned toward her again to whisper, “I pledge all my loyalty to you, my love.”

  When he saw the tears leaking from her eyes and rolling down toward her pillow, he hugged her to him without another word. It was a while before he could release her; then he put his finger up to her lips to silence her and moved away from the bed.

  Still too filled with happiness at his pledge to complain about being left alone, Isabel watched him go. She lay awake for a long time, thinking about his words. All the years she’d spent waiting for her champion to return, he had also remembered her.

  It was only much later, in rethinking the exchange, that Isabel considered Justin. Her brother could be very stubborn when he thought he had reason. Isabel wondered what Chetwynd would do if Justin, who knew of Chetwynd’s involvement with the queen, refused to sanction their marriage. It was a thought that robbed her of her contented mood.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, THE LONG TABLES in the great hall were filled with men and women consuming a hearty breakfast to prepare them for the day’s work. The weather was fair, as Gertrude had predicted, and the mood of the workers was jolly. They chatted excitedly about the evening fete and shared stories of past harvest celebrations.

  Isabel and Chetwynd, lord and lady of the manor, sat at the head table. When Isabel arrived in the hall, Chetwynd stood to greet her and announced his marriage to those assembled. The announcement was met with robust cheers and rowdy remarks that brought color to Isabel’s cheeks.

  Although at first almost everyone sent curious glances in their direction, they were soon forgotten in anticipation of the harvest. Isabel enjoyed her position beside Chetwynd as she watched the crowd devouring some of the food that Gertrude and Irma, with her help, had prepared the previous day.

  Being at the head of a household was something new to Isabel, a role she had never sought at Narbonne. The welcome extended by Gertrude and Bosco made her feel immediately at home. As she looked around, she enjoyed the atmosphere of the hall with its high ceiling and scarred wooden tables. The morning sun filtered in through windows set high on the eastern wall. It warmed the dark areas with light. Although not as elegant as her father’s great hall, she preferred its comfort to refinement.

  Chetwynd watched his wife as she took the measure of the hall and its inhabitants. When her face settled into a contented smile, he asked, “Do you like what you see, my lady?”

  “Oh yes, my lord. It’s a comfortable place. And you’re fortunate in your chief steward. Both Bosco and Gertrude enjoy the respect of your tenants. I can tell by the easy atmosphere.”

  Her words made Chetwynd realize he had taken the couple’s competence for granted. “You’re right, of course. They both took to you right away. You seem comfortable in the role of lady of the manor.”

  “I do like it here. I’m still eager to visit Aachen, but it’s comforting to know we can return to Aquis.”

  Chetwynd’s eyes looked away for a minute, and Isabel realized she had assumed too much. His next words brought her back to earth. “There are still some matters to settle, Isabel.” After a pause he added, “But I’m happy that Aquis pleases you.”

  Isabel nodded, wondering if he was afraid to raise his own hopes too high, perhaps because he feared Justin’s objection to their match. Unwilling to dwell on that possibility, she changed the subject. “How can I help with the harvest, Chetwynd?”

  “Would you like to try your hand at picking grapes? It’s such a beautiful day, I suspect you’ll enjoy being outside, at least this morning. In the afternoon, Gertrude would be happy to have your help in the kitchen, I’m sure.”

  Pleased by his suggestion, Isabel smiled in reply. Justin wasn’t due to arrive until tomorrow, and she planned to make the most of the day. She wanted to forget the fact that the future of her marriage depended upon her brother’s approval. Justin loved her, but she couldn’t predict how his displeasure at Chetwynd’s past actions would color his perspective. It bothered her that Chetwynd set such store upon obtaining Justin’s permission.

  In the valley, Isabel watched the women cutting the full and fragrant cones of grapes from the vines. Irma had taken on the responsibility of introducing her to the craft. There had been no vineyards at Narbonne, so everything was new to Isabel. But she liked the smell of the grapes and the feel of the warm sun on her back. After watching Irma for a few minutes, she was eager to try her hand at harvesting the delicate orbs.

  The first bunch she tried cutting turned into a mangled crush that stained her hands. She held out her hands for Irma to see, laughing at her first clumsy attempt. When she heard a few women nearby join in her laughter, she realized she was being watched. She determined to do better.

  “Support each bunch gently, my lady, until you’ve cut the stalk completely. The grapes are very ripe. Don’t try and pull them away until the cut is made.”

  Isabel nodded. On her next try, she held out the perfect, fat cone of grapes and declared with satisfaction, “That’s better.” When a cheer went up from the other women, Isabel’s face eased into a satisfied grin.

  Soon Isab
el was cutting quickly and steadily. She knew she had been accepted when the women turned their attention from her to gossip about romances that had blossomed during the harvest. There was talk of the evening fete and jokes about the possibilities for what they referred to as adventures. It was clear the fete was much anticipated because of its opportunity to behave with more freedom than usual.

  In spite of the gossip and teasing, the women worked quickly. When their baskets were full of grapes, one of the men would come along to carry the baskets to a wagon. Once he disappeared, the man was commented upon, and suggestions were made about his virility. Isabel found some of the remarks surprisingly bawdy. The women remarked on everything from the likelihood of the man’s endurance to speculation about the size of his private member. She could not help but think how much her friend Emma would have enjoyed the camaraderie.

  The chatter was endless, and Isabel wondered how the women could talk so much and cut grapes at the same time. She found she had to concentrate on the task. But her ears perked up when they started to tease one of the younger women.

  “You aren’t going to get anywhere with Ewan, Matty. Perhaps you should look elsewhere.”

  “But I fancy Ewan,” Matty complained.

  “Of course you do. He’s comely, I’ll say that. But he steers clear of innocent maids.”

  “If he’s afraid of marriage, maybe I should make it clear where my interest lies.”

  “It’s not that, Matty. The man’s afraid of a woman’s first time. You know, hurting a woman. It’s an endearing trait, but in your case not a useful one.”

  A few women laughingly suggested alternative men for Matty’s first time, but one voice quietly defended Ewan. “I think it’s because his member is so big. I’d give it another try if I was you, Matty. It might be worth the trouble.”