Birthright

by Markland, Anna

  They were quickly ushered into the royal presence. Stripped to the waist, Winrod and Dareau Revandel knelt before their sovereign in shackles. Their father cowered at their side, his forehead beaded with sweat.

  Adam scanned the crowded space. His eyes lit on Rosamunda, leaning heavily on the arm of a knight he recognised as Guillaume de Terrence, who seemed reluctant to meet Adam’s gaze. Rosamunda had perhaps turned to another because of his impotency, or on account of his suspicions.

  A shiver of relief and burning jealousy surged through him. He gasped audibly as the blood rushed to his groin. His shaft stood to attention. He was on fire, his heart beating so loudly he was sure every eye would turn to him. He wanted to cry out his jubilation, rush to Rosamunda and impale her on the rushes strewn on the hard-packed ground. Then he would fall to his knees and vow his eternal devotion to Saint Alban.

  No one paid him much mind, their attention riveted on the cowering twins. Only Denis turned his head, his eyes coming to rest on Adam’s groin. He looked up, frowning.

  His knees trembling, Adam managed a smile, then whispered, “You could tether a horse to it.”

  * * *

  Only the knight’s strong arm prevented Rosamunda from swooning when Adam strode into the pavilion. Relief buckled her knees. She wanted to run to his embrace, but doubted it would be deemed appropriate.

  A grimace twisted his handsome face. Perhaps he regretted his suspicions or did he still deem her capable of betraying him? He had left without farewell and might not welcome her into his arms.

  Even her sister had believed her capable of betraying him. It was an unbearable truth that anger had been between them the last time they were together.

  The king’s voice penetrated her confused thoughts. “The longer you hold your tongue, Revandel, the worse it will go for you. Where is your daughter?”

  Alphonse Revandel’s voice shook. He blinked away sweat. “Majesté, Letyce has ever been a wayward chit. I am ignorant of her comings and goings.” He pointed a trembling finger at his sons. “These two have more knowledge of her than I.”

  Rosamunda felt sorry for him. Three children and he had been unable to control any of them. She and her sister had been controlled to the point of incarceration. There had to be a middle ground.

  Henry turned his attention to Winrod Revandel. “You are the older twin?”

  Winrod swallowed. “Yes, Sire. Two minutes.”

  “Then you have exactly two minutes to tell me where your sister has taken Paulina Lallement and who her accomplice is, otherwise your brother will be interrogated.”

  Winrod glanced at Dareau. It took him less than a few seconds to apparently decide he loved his brother more than his sister. “They have taken her to Bretagne.”

  Without warning, Denis de Sancerre burst from the crowd and seized Winrod by the throat. “What mischief is this that my betrothed has been abducted and taken to Bretagne?”

  Hampered by his shackles, Winrod lost his balance and fell backwards. Denis leapt on top of him, his hands still locked on Revandel’s throat.

  A wave of shocked murmurs crested. Two guards pulled Denis off the choking man, holding him fast as he struggled to set upon Revandel once more. Dareau Revandel edged away on his knees.

  “Enough,” the king bellowed.

  Adam strode over to Denis. “Hold, brother. If you kill him we will not uncover the truth.”

  Denis calmed, shrugging out of the grasp of the guards. “I apologise, Majesté. I am distraught at what has happened to my betrothed. She is vulnerable.”

  Henry drummed his fingers on the arms of his massive chair. “Where in Bretagne have they gone?”

  Winrod mumbled something.

  Rosamunda strained to hear.

  Adam frowned.

  The king’s face reddened.

  Denis, closest to Winrod, declared, “They have taken her to Carnac.”

  Henry came to his feet quickly. “Now it becomes clear who the ne’er-do-well is at the bottom of this mischief. Guards, search the grounds for Malraux de Carnac, though I doubt you will find him.”

  He turned to the Revandel twins. “You are a disgrace to your family name. You have aided and abetted a criminal act. In addition you have heaped calumny and rumor upon a member of an illustrious Norman family, the Montbryces.”

  Ice splintered in Rosamunda’s veins. She looked at Adam, standing proudly by his brother’s side—a magnificent man about to be shamed publicly. The king may have the best of intentions, but this would make matters worse.

  Henry carried on, the corners of his mouth edging up. “You have insinuated Adam de Montbryce is less than a man, but it seems to me he is perfectly capable of performing the functions of a lusty male.”

  All eyes turned to Adam. Rosamunda’s mouth went dry as she stared at the bulge in his leggings that the short doublet did nothing to conceal.

  Desire coiled in her belly, sweeping her off her feet as she swooned.

  Pandemonium broke out.

  * * *

  Denis was unsure what to do first: rush to embrace his brother; help Guillaume de Terrence with Rosamunda; slice off Winrod Revandel’s head with his sword, then plunge it into Dareau’s heart; or fall to his knees weeping.

  He did nothing. His heart had broken into a thousand pieces. Malraux de Carnac had carted off Paulina. The malicious Breton had naught good planned for her. There would be no ransom demand.

  He’d always been a decisive man, but now he stood rooted to the spot, unable to act.

  His Majesty demanded calm be restored. He consigned the Revandels to the Tower, thus removing them from the danger of certain death at Denis’ hand.

  Adam strode quickly to take Rosamunda from Guillaume’s arms. Scowling at the knight, he carried her out of the pavilion to the cheers of onlookers.

  The only thing left was to weep. But weeping would not help Paulina. Suddenly, he remembered Matilda’s ring. He extricated it from a pouch at his waist and bent the knee before Henry, holding out the ring. “Sire, we have completed your mission. Now, I beg leave to pursue Malraux de Carnac.”

  Henry inhaled deeply, accepting the ring, which he clasped tightly in his hand. “I give leave, though I fear he has a head start.”

  A loud cough sounded behind Denis. Henry looked beyond him. “What is it Terrence?”

  Guillaume de Terrence came to kneel beside Denis. “Sire, this catastrophe is my fault. Had I been more vigilant—”

  Denis needed to blame someone. He glared at de Terrence.

  “Milord de Sancerre, allow me to accompany you on your quest to save demoiselle Lallement.”

  Denis wanted to kill the man, but a knight without honor might as well be dead. Guillaume sought to regain his. “I welcome your offer. We depart on the morrow at dawn.”

  The Wedding Is Off

  Paulina’s acquaintance with gentlemen was limited, but it did not take long to ascertain that Malraux de Carnac was no gentleman. She recognized the woman as Rosamunda’s nemesis, Letyce Revandel.

  Malraux fawned over Letyce during the sea crossing, pawing at her inappropriately even as she retched over the side. Antoine de Montbryce’s tendency to mal de mer had been an integral part of the heroic story of the Montbryces. She chuckled inwardly that Letyce had been thus afflicted, though she wished they had kept her blindfolded rather than witness it.

  They had unbound her hands. Short of jumping into the waves, there was no escape.

  Her predicament angered her. It was her own fault. She had behaved like a child, throwing a tantrum with Rosamunda, accusing her of betraying Adam, as if her sister would do such a thing. Whatever his secret was, Rosamunda would never divulge it.

  By heedlessly following Topaz, Paulina had walked straight into the trap set for her. She had no doubt Carnac had chosen her deliberately because she was a dwarf. Fear of what he planned sat like a weight in her belly, but at least he seemed to have no carnal interest in her. If he touched her inappropriately she might retch on hi
s boots.

  Tears threatened when she thought of Denis. She longed for his touch, yet had remained aloof, afraid to admit her feelings. But she determined not to cry. She would not give Carnac and the Revandel woman the satisfaction. She was a Lallement, of proud Norman stock.

  “Ouistreham,” came the shout.

  As the village loomed out of the fog, she recalled Rosamunda’s longing for a glimpse of the land of their forefathers. She resolved to remember every detail so she could relate it to her sister when next they met. She prayed her abductors would not deem the blindfold necessary once they started out on their trek across Normandie.

  * * *

  Rosamunda awoke in her pavilion, but she was not lying on her pallet. She snuggled into the warm chest of the man who held her on his lap.

  Adam.

  She struggled to sit up, but he held her fast. “Forgive me, Rosa, for my suspicions. I should have immediately thought of Letyce Revandel, and not of you.”

  She looked away, longing to kiss him, but still angry.

  He gently turned her chin to his gaze.

  She pouted, then mouthed the nagging question. “Letyce?”

  He shrugged. “The woman constantly pressed her body to mine. I suppose she is used to men becoming aroused. I didn’t.”

  Sitting on his lap, Rosamunda felt his arousal now, hard and insistent beneath her. She flexed the muscles of her derrière, grinning mischievously. “What is that?”

  Adam groaned into her hair, tightening his hold. “A miracle,” he whispered. “I prayed to Saint Alban. He apparently paid heed to my heartfelt wish to give you children.”

  Children!

  He chuckled. “Oui, I won’t simply have to dream hopelessly about our bodies joining. I can look forward to the day it happens.”

  Gooseflesh marched across her skin. But he had hurt her. She pointed to him, then to herself. “No trust.”

  He inhaled deeply, then exhaled. His full lower lip pouted slightly as the air left his lungs. Her heart skipped a beat. “I was a fool, Rosa. Forgive me. I was too blinded by my masculine pride.”

  She brushed her thumb over the lip that held her gaze. “Still marry?”

  He grinned. “More than ever, and I am no longer content to wait until Normandie. We might spend months trying to obtain Curthose’s permission. We will wed before I go off with Denis to retrieve your sister.”

  She struggled to her feet, indignation an arrow in her heart. “Go with you.”

  He shook his head. “Non, it will be dangerous.”

  She thumped her breast with the flat of her hand. “My sister. I will go with Vincent and Lucien. No wedding.”

  * * *

  Messengers were dispatched to Kingston Gorse advising Vincent and Lucien of their sister’s abduction and instructing them to be on the Portsmouth road at dawn if they wished to assist in her rescue.

  Denis paced the narrow confines of the pavilion. There would be no possibility of sleep with him this night. Adam moved from his pavilion to Rosamunda’s and curled up with her on the pallet.

  He stroked her hair as she sobbed, marveling that, despite everything, the scent of rosemary still clung to her. “Let me lie with you, Rosa. We will comfort each other. I will be a gentleman, much as I want to make you my wife in every way.”

  It was ironic. He had longed for his male potency to return, yet now it had, he was content to simply lie with her. The ache of longing he felt with her soft derrière pressed against him was sweet torture. He could wait.

  Long Night At Sea

  Denis, Guillaume and Adam argued back and forth from the moment word came during the early morning hours that Winrod Revandel had confessed Carnac and Letyce’s plan to take ship from Portsmouth to Ouistreham.

  “We should follow the same route,” Adam insisted. “They evidently plan to travel west through Normandie to Bretagne, and thence to Carnac on the coast.”

  Guillaume considered it a sound plan.

  Denis disagreed vehemently. “We will never catch up. We need to take a different route, to arrive sooner. We must seek out a ship bound for Bretagne, not Normandie.”

  The argument continued throughout the ride to East Preston, despite the darkness. Rosamunda grew tired of it, but they ignored her huffs of displeasure and didn’t even notice her pouting. She wished she had a voice to scream her annoyance.

  At East Preston, Adam took her to the pigeon cote and explained what he planned. “I’m sending birds to Robert at Montbryce, Oncle Hugh at Domfort, Ronan at Alensonne and, lastly, to my father at Belisle, explaining the urgency and requesting contingents of spare men at arms be dispatched to Carnac with all possible haste.”

  Rosamunda watched him carefully attach the messages to the pigeons. As he was about to release the one bound for Belisle, she touched his arm, pointing to herself.

  He shook his head. “Non, Rosa, I did not mention you, nor my miracle. Best to cross that bridge when Mathieu and I are standing at either end of it.”

  Steward Cormant organized provisions for the journey. They set off and the argument continued.

  Rosamunda was heartily glad to see Vincent and Lucien waiting for them when they reached the Portsmouth road. She dismounted quickly to share a tearful embrace with her brothers.

  Guillaume de Terrence also dismounted and knelt before Rosamunda’s brothers. “Forgive me, mes seigneurs. Had I been more vigilant, your sister would not now be in the hands of Malraux de Carnac.”

  Vincent lunged, but Denis stopped him. “We have no time to waste on recriminations and accusations. We are all at fault for not protecting Paulina, none more so than I. She is to be my wife. I should have taken greater care. Mount up and let’s be gone.”

  Vincent and Lucien gaped at each other. A spark of hope kindled in Rosamunda’s breast. Denis truly loved her sister. He spoke as if he believed she would be rescued. She prayed as she remounted Lux, then rolled her eyes as the argument about their route was taken up again, this time with two more male opinions loudly expressed.

  * * *

  In the event, no boat was available to take them to Ouistreham, but a Breton captain from Rosko agreed to transport them and their horses on his return trip home. He apparently did not share the opinion of many that a dwarf was bad luck. The vessel seemed sound enough and his crew curious but honest.

  Denis’ mood lightened. As far as he was concerned, going by way of Ouistreham would have sounded Paulina’s death knell. The Breton informed him Rosko was only two and a half days ride from Carnac. This would buy them time overland, though the sea voyage would be longer, and probably rougher.

  On their first day at sea, the sailing was reasonably smooth. Denis determined to find out as much as possible about Carnac from the captain. Why had they taken Paulina there? Traveling such a great distance with a hostage was fraught with difficulties. Why had they undertaken such a scheme?

  The seaman spoke mainly Breton, but they managed to communicate. What Denis learned chilled his blood, and he hurried to impart his news to Adam, passing Guillaume en route.

  The knight averted his eyes as they passed each other on deck.

  Denis located his brother wrapped in blankets, under the canvas shelter, his body shielding a sleeping Rosamunda from the wind. A pang of despair jolted Denis. Would he ever hold Paulina in his arms, or were they already too late?

  Adam moved over to make room. “What does he say?”

  Rosamunda woke as Denis wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. “He knows Carnac well, the place and the lord. He has naught good to say about Malraux de Carnac. He is the sort of Seigneur who rules by fear.

  “Carnac itself is distinguished by hundreds of standing stones. No one knows how they got there, or why they were placed in the formations they were. One legend tells of Merlin turning a Roman legion to stone.

  “Most of the stones are small, no taller than me, apparently, and cover a wide area.”

  Rosamunda frowned. “Why take her there?”

  A
nasty suspicion had risen in Denis’ mind. “There is one stone much taller than the rest. Standing twenty feet high, it’s shaped—forgive me, Rosamunda—like a man’s shaft. They call it Le Manio.”

  Rosamunda blushed, averting her eyes.

  Adam looked at him intently. “You have a suspicion about this stone, am I right?”

  If Denis gave voice to the horror he imagined, it would make it seem possible. But he had no choice. He shouted over the wind. “Every year, on All Hallows’ Eve, Malraux chooses a virgin from the village. She is hauled to the top of Le Manio, then tossed to the ground.

  “Local youths try to catch her, and whoever does can have her. It usually takes more than one to break her fall. There is much drinking and carousing beforehand. At the very least there is the danger of injury, to the men and the girl. Some have died.”

  Rosamunda clasped her hands over her mouth, burying her face in the blanket.

  Adam tightened his embrace. “You believe he intends to toss Paulina off the stone?”

  Denis raked his hair back. “Such a fall will kill her. She is too small. And who will want to catch her?”

  * * *

  Rosamunda dozed fitfully during the long night at sea, her sleep disturbed by fits of sobbing. Adam cradled her to his body, giving what little comfort he could. He thanked God that, though the circumstances were far from ideal, the woman he loved was at his side. They were together.

  In Denis’ place he would have become a screaming lunatic, imagining the horror they believed was planned at Carnac. His brother had comforted him in his distress, but now there were no words. In any case, Denis had refused to listen to admonitions about the advisability of sleep and instead paced the decks, muttering loudly.