As Ram predicted, both Antoine and Hugh, and their families, were welcoming. Caedmon was surprised to learn both Hugh and Antoine had married women who were not Normans.
When they reached the Calvados, Ram wanted Caedmon to see the ancestral castle Montbryce at Saint Germain. He too wanted to spend some time there, though he was anxious to get back to Mabelle.
Robert was in residence at the castle and he and Caedmon met again. It was an opportunity to get to know each other. They shared a tumbler or two of the Montbryce apple brandy, and Baudoin told his brother about the events of the crusade and the rescue.
“That’s an incredible story of bravery, Caedmon. I salute you,” Robert said, after hearing about the abandoned fortress.
“Not only that, mon frère, Caedmon saved my life in Firenze.”
Robert never took his eyes off Caedmon as Baudoin told the story. “And how is your shoulder now, mon frère,” he asked.
“It’s healed. If I’d been wearing my metal arm braces, I wouldn’t have been injured, but we’d been to Mass. This is fine apple brandy.”
“We should also salute Baudoin,” Ram said with a smile, sensing Caedmon’s discomfort with the attention. “This has been a life changing experience for you, mon petit, hasn’t it?”
“Merci, Papa,” the shy Baudoin replied.
“It will stand you in good stead when you become the Second Earl of Ellesmere.”
Baudoin and I have become friends on this journey. He’s a quiet man, but one of keen intelligence and fortitude. Our father has seen strengths in him he didn’t see before. I believe he has lived in Robert’s shadow somewhat. Many of the Norman Crusaders who returned with us have chosen to remain at Saint Germain, and the rest are travelling on to England with us. Amadour is staying at Montbryce. It was hard to say goodbye to him.
~~~
“Yuletide is drawing nigh and I want to get home to share the season with Mabelle.”
“And I’m anxious to see how Agneta fares, with the baby. I’ve been away eleven months. I pray the child safely born and my wife hale and healthy.”
“The babe must be about three months old. My first grandchild.”
As they rode away from Ram’s childhood home, Caedmon said, “I understand now your pride in your heritage, my lord Rambaud. Normandie is a beautiful land.”
“Oui, my pride is in the land, but it’s much more than that. I haven’t been able to live in my own country for thirty years. It’s the blood I’m proud of—Montbryce blood—the same blood that flows in your veins, Caedmon. But we each bring two families to our birth. You also carry noble Saxon blood. It’s not the blood of the Woolgars, as you believed, but the blood of your mother’s proud family. You’re the future of your mother’s country, a joining of our two great heritages. You’re aware, of course, that our great Conqueror was bastard born? But did you know that when he was Duke of the Normans, he invariably signed official documents Ego Willelmus Cognomine Bastardus? He made his bastardy his greatest strength. Make it yours, Caedmon, then it can never be used to hurt you.”
Caedmon bristled. “I can accept I’m half Norman, and take pride in it, but I’ll never accept the brutality with which the Conqueror ruled my mother’s country. He’s not a man I would wish to emulate.”
They rode in silence for a while, then Ram said, “I don’t reveal this to anyone other than members of my family, but there have been many times I too have been appalled by the brutality of some of my fellow Normans, William included. If the King had insisted, I would not have been allowed to ransom Mabelle all those years ago. He firmly believed I should not be financing rebels. It would probably have cost my family their lives.
But I knew William, fought with him. I would have given my life for him willingly. He was a great warrior, a man who saved Normandie from anarchy and brought her to greatness. I was proud he called me his friend.”
Caedmon pondered his father’s words as they crossed the water to Dover. He’d thought never to see England again and it moved him because the Earl was right—he represented the future, and there was nothing to be gained dwelling on hatreds. Tomorrow couldn’t be carved from tombstones. Trying to reach the future through the past was futile. He prayed Agneta would accept him back. Together they could carry his England forward.
Ram’s voice broke into his thoughts. “By the way, Caedmon, we need some other way for you to address me, instead of my lord Rambaud.”
“Aye, my lo—Sorry. It’s become a habit.”
He wanted to call Rambaud father, but was still mindful that this man was one of the most powerful men in England and Normandie. “How would you like me to address you?”
“Father would be fine,” Ram said with a smile. “Or mon père if you feel like practicing your French.”
They exchanged a smile as they took up their positions with Baudoin to help bring the boat ashore.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
To Lady Ascha Woolgar at Shelfhoc Hall,
I am pleased to send you the good news that your daughter-by-marriage, Agneta, has been safely delivered. I believe it is important for you to come to Ellesmere. You will be welcomed here.
Mabelle, Countess of Ellesmere.
Mabelle had a mischievous smile on her face. “What’s your opinion, Agneta? I don’t want her to learn of the twins until she arrives.”
Agneta eyed her curiously and read the letter again. “You would welcome her here? She’s the woman your betrothed bedded.”
“She’s no threat to me, Agneta, nor to any of us. She must be devastated about Caedmon and no doubt longs to meet you and her grandchildren. What a surprise the two of them will be.”
The letter was dispatched and a reply received three days later.
To the Countess of Ellesmere,
I am indebted to you for the good news of my Agneta. At your suggestion, I will travel to Ellesmere. I thank you, Countess, for your kind consideration. I wish to express my regret that I never disclosed Caedmon’s existence to the Earl, and for the shock it must have been to you and your family to learn of it. I humbly beg your forgiveness. No malice was ever intended. I pray for the safe return of your husband and son, and thank God for the delivery of a healthy child who might take Caedmon’s place, if my son can’t be found.
In penitence and the hope of forgiveness,
Lady Ascha Woolgar
And so it was that Lady Ascha Woolgar came to Ellesmere Castle a sennight later. She was ushered into the Great Hall where the Countess greeted her. She prostrated herself before Mabelle. “My Lady Countess, forgive me my sin. Forgive my wantonness that has caused this terrible grief.”
“Please rise, Lady Ascha. None of us here bear you any malice. I’m sure the aftermath of Hastings must have been a nightmare for you. You must be anxious to see your daughter-by-marriage, and meet your grandchildren.”
Ascha rose slowly and straightened her skirts. Then Mabelle’s words seemed to penetrate. “Grandchildren?”
“Oui, there are two of them, a boy and a girl.”
Ascha looked stunned. “My father, Sir Gawain Bronson, was a twin, but his sister died at birth.”
Mabelle smiled at the news. “The girl Agneta birthed is tiny, but I believe she’s a survivor.”
“And what news of the Earl, and your son, and Caedmon?” Ascha asked tentatively.
“We have no news yet. But we must keep faith. Agneta is anxious for you to meet the children.”
As they entered Agneta’s chamber, she rose from the chair where she’d been resting. Ascha embraced her and Agneta took her by the hand and guided her to the cradles where the infants lay sleeping contentedly. Ascha could no longer hold back her tears, and wept with joy at the sight of her grandchildren, and with sadness for her missing son, who wasn’t there to rejoice in his children and who might never return.
~~~
The Winter Solstice came and went and preparations were under way at Ellesmere for the Yuletide celebrations. The three noblewomen didn’t have
their hearts in the process, but went about doing the customary things automatically. They were interrupted by the appearance of a breathless page who came running into the Hall, where Mabelle was supervising the hanging of cedar boughs. Agneta had her son on her hip and Ascha held her granddaughter.
“My Lady Countess,” the boy gasped, bowing.
“What is it, Edmond?” asked Mabelle.
“Riders, my lady, a large group of riders—sighted three miles out. It’s the Earl and Lord Baudoin, and from all reports a Byzantine knight accompanies them.”
Mabelle felt relief wash over her. She wondered if she could run three miles.
“I can’t go out to meet them. If Caedmon isn’t with them—I—” Agneta stammered.
Ascha said, “My lady Countess, by your leave, I’ll go with Agneta and the children to her chamber. It’s not seemly for me to greet the Earl with you. Go to welcome him home. If there’s bad news about Caedmon, you can send word to us. We’ll grieve together.”
They left and Mabelle hurried to don a warm cloak so she could greet Ram in the chilly courtyard. His horse had barely come to a halt before he vaulted from the saddle and she ran to press her body against his. He enfolded her in his cloak. She felt his need as she sobbed against him.
“Mabelle,” he whispered into her ear, nibbling on her lobe, “Yet again, I’ve only to set my eyes upon you and my body betrays my need.”
“Maman,” Baudoin shouted as he strode towards her, joining his parents in their embrace.
“Baudoin, my darling Baudoin,” she whispered.
There’s something different about him. He seems more mature, more self-assured.
“I’ve missed you both. But what about Caedmon? You didn’t find him?”
Ram released her, put his arm around her shoulders and turned her to face the other knight, still mounted on his horse—waiting—unsure. It was a moment before she recognized this man in the foreign uniform as Caedmon. She laughed out loud and kissed her husband, relieved for him that his son had been found, the perils of the long journey not in vain. She smiled too at the surprise the young man was about to receive.
Caedmon dismounted and came to stand before her. “My lady Countess, I hope the words come out of my mouth the way I’ve rehearsed them a hundredfold in preparation for this moment. I beg your forgiveness for the grief my folly has caused you and your family.” He went down on one knee, took her hand and kissed it.
“Caedmon,” she replied. “Please do not kneel to me. You’re part of this family. The Montbryces would go to the ends of the earth to protect one of their own.”
Ram laughed. “In fact that’s what we did. Let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.”
Once inside the hall, Caedmon turned to Mabelle and blurted out, “What of Agneta—and the child?”
Mabelle decided to prolong the young man’s agony for a few minutes. His face betrayed his need. She knew that look. “A moment, Caedmon.”
She summoned a servant and whispered, “Ask Lady Ascha to join us and tell her to bring only the baby girl.”
A few minutes later, Ascha came into the room carrying Caedmon’s baby daughter. She stumbled when she saw Caedmon and he rushed to embrace her. “Mother, you’re here? And this child?”
Ascha glanced nervously at Ram, who nodded to her. She returned her smile to her son and said, “Caedmon, this is your daughter.”
Nervously he took the babe and cradled her to his breast, kissing her forehead and taking her tiny fingers into his big hands. His heart beat erratically as he looked upon a squirming miniature of his beloved wife. He was afraid to voice his emotions, afraid of the answer he might receive in response to his next question. “Agneta?”
“She’s in her chamber. I’ll take you to her.”
Ram eagerly took the infant from her father, gazing with awe at his beautiful granddaughter. “Leave the child with me, Caedmon. Go to your wife. What are you looking pleased about, Mabelle?”
Ascha led her son to Agneta’s chamber, but wouldn’t enter with him. She sobbed as she embraced him then pushed him to the door. He entered, closed the door behind him, turned slowly and saw his wife, standing in the middle of the room, waiting.
If he’d rehearsed his speech to Mabelle a hundred times, the words he wanted to speak now had gone through his mind a thousand times. He and his wife stood looking at each other and his thoughts fled. All he could think of was how much he loved her, how much he’d missed her.
“Agneta—my Agneta. I’ve longed for this moment, and now I’m afraid.”
Suddenly his father’s words came to mind and the simple truth tumbled out.
“Agneta, I love you more than I can ever tell you. I accept you can’t love me—will probably never forgive me for—”
“Caedmon,” she gasped, rushing across the room to embrace him. “Caedmon, all I care about is that you’ve come back to me. My love for you overwhelms me. I thought I would go mad if you didn’t return. I’ve ached for you.”
“You love me?” he asked incredulously.
She kissed his face, his hands, and then his face again. “I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you, on the moor at Alnwick.”
He pressed her body tightly to his, burying his face at her neck. “And I’ve loved you since I first saw you in the infirmary. What a fool I’ve been. I’ve wasted much of our lives because of my pride and hatred. I failed you, Agneta. I wasn’t here when you brought our beautiful daughter into the world.”
At that moment, a faint wail came from the corner of the chamber. Caedmon cocked his head, confused as to the source of the sound. He loosened his grip on Agneta. She took his hand and led him to the cradle where his son was making his demands known.
“Your son wants to be fed,” she said, picking up the baby. Caedmon was dumbfounded, and it took him a moment to understand.
“Twins?” he murmured with bemusement. “You birthed twins? My grandfather was a twin.”
Agneta nodded and undid the child’s wrappings to proudly show him his son’s maleness.
“My son,” he breathed, touching the baby’s head and stroking his wife’s hair. “The two birds.”
“What?” Agneta asked.
He told her about the dream as she prepared to feed her son. He watched his child happily suckle on his wife’s heavy breast, and was overcome with emotion and had to blow his nose.
“Your daughter is probably getting hungry too, if you want to go get her and bring her to me,” Agneta suggested with a smile.
He didn’t want to take his eyes off the scene he’d been watching with rapt attention and walked into the door as left. He hurried back to the main hall, where the infant had indeed started to fuss. Ram handed the child to him, beaming as he told Caedmon, “I’ve always been good with babies, but I can’t satisfy her needs at the moment. And I hear I’ve yet to meet her brother.”
Caedmon strode back, holding the child carefully, afraid to drop this speck of life he held in his hands.
“Agneta, no man was ever more blessed than I. You’ve given me a priceless gift, two of them, and I thank you for it.”
“They are our gift to each other, Caedmon,” she replied, blushing. “I can’t take my eyes off this magnificent bronzed warrior in the strange uniform—in case I discover he’s not actually here.”
Caedmon shifted the baby to another position in an effort to stop the wailing. “I’m here, Agneta. And I’ll never leave you again. What did you name them?”
“We had to choose without your help, for their baptism. I hope you approve of my choices.”
“I’ll love whatever you chose.”
“Our son is Aidan Branton, after my brothers, and our daughter is Blythe Lacey, a Saxon name and a Norman name.”
“Blythe is getting hungry,” he said loudly, over the squirming infant’s screams. He placed her carefully at Agneta’s other breast, brushing his hand lovingly over the milk-swollen globe and experiencing an immediate erection.
“A
nd so am I. Do you have enough milk for both?” he asked shyly.
“They have a wet nurse, but I wanted us to share this first time together,” she whispered, smiling at his discomfort.
“Thank you,” he said huskily, ashamed because he felt jealous of his own children.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“You’re still a beautiful woman, Ascha.”
Ascha had been sitting alone in the gallery, lost in her thoughts. She hadn’t heard Ram enter.
“My lord Rambaud! It’s not—” She slipped from the chair and sank to her knees, bowing her head. She clenched her fists, trying to quell the feelings raging in her breast.
“Don’t worry, Ascha. Mabelle knows we’re speaking with each other. Do not kneel before me. It’s I who should grovel at your feet.”
She looked up at him and could see by the stiffness of his shoulders, and the expression on his face, that he too struggled with intense emotions. He was as handsome as she remembered. The silver in his hair made him more attractive.
He seemed unsure. “I would assist you to rise, but it’s as well if we don’t touch. I don’t want to offend.”
“Your touch would not offend me, my lord.”
She offered her hand, hoping desperately she would feel nothing when their fingers touched. It was a forlorn hope, but she determined not to let her reaction show as he helped her to rise.
He let go of her hand quickly. “I thank you, Ascha—for Caedmon. He’s a fine man.”
“He’s like his father,” she whispered.
“I wish you’d told me, but I understand why you couldn’t. You’re a woman of remarkable courage to have survived the journey to Scotland, and to have prospered there, alone with a young child. You never married?”
She shook her head. “There was never anyone I wished to marry. I survived on my memories and on my love for Caedmon. You and your Countess are generous to recognize him as you have. You won’t be sorry.”
“I know. We’re immensely proud of him. Caedmon Brice, eh? Clever.”
Ascha reddened and smiled. “Yes, it was my secret.”
A Man of Value Page 19
