Malraux chuckled as he put his foot on the bottom of the scaffold. “I forgot to mention, gentlemen, the virgin is mute.”
For a moment the men stood dumbfounded, then raucous laughter rang out as jests were exchanged about the boon of a woman without a voice.
Adam put a hand on Vincent’s shoulder. “Denis must be aware by now it’s Rosamunda he is hoisting. Once Malraux gets up there—that’s a lot of weight for the scaffold to support. I will stand ready to catch her if she drops. You and the Bretons keep the others at bay. We’ll have to leave Malraux to Denis. At least he has the element of surprise.”
* * *
Denis was perplexed. Paulina was much heavier than he’d anticipated. He tightened his grip on the handle of the winch. His back was breaking and she wasn’t half way up to the platform. He knew the moment she started to struggle. His biceps strained like the devil to keep her moving. “Keep still, mon ange, I am bringing you to me,” he whispered, bracing his legs.
He had heard Malraux’s declaration of his intention to climb the scaffold. It was vital he free Paulina from the pulley before the monster reached the top. As her head came into view, he almost let go of the windlass. It was Rosamunda’s disheveled hair. “Don’t struggle, Rosamunda. It’s me, Denis.”
She glanced up at the platform. His heart broke for the terror in her eyes. Thank God it was not Paulina, but he had no time to ponder where she was. First, he had to save Rosamunda from a dangerous fall. “As soon as you reach the platform, be calm while I unfasten the pulley. Adam is below.”
She took a deep shuddering breath as she grabbed for the edges of the platform. Denis felt the scaffold sway as Malraux climbed nearer, urged on by the drunken sots below. He let go of the windlass handle, jamming the peg into the hole to brake it, then pulled in the rope hand over hand. He unhooked the pulley as Rosamunda scrambled to her feet. She clung to him so tightly he feared they might both pitch forward off the platform. “Easy. We must not give Malraux a hint there is aught amiss.”
He drew his sword. “Get behind the windlass. Pay no heed to the body hidden there.”
She stumbled in the long gown, but did as he bade.
* * *
Malraux paused in his ascent. The mob had gone strangely quiet. He looked down. One man, taller than most, stood alone in the centre of the clearing looking up at Le Manio. Like the rest, he was disguised as a tree. Peasants had no imagination.
Then he noticed three other men standing in a half circle with their backs to the man, two with daggers drawn, and the other with a sword. They were warning off all comers.
What in the name of the saints? Had some wretch connived to get the virgin for himself?
Though they were being held away by three armed men, the rest had their attention fixed on the platform. Something had gone awry.
He peered up, but saw nothing except smoke and the planks under the windlass. Roget would pay dearly if he’d had a part in any plot to let one man have the mute. He drew his dagger, clenching it between his teeth as he continued his ascent. He should have supervised the construction of the platform. Serfs never did a thorough job.
He sneered at the scene that confronted him when he reached the platform, the dagger in his grasp. “Denis de Sancerre! You came! I hoped you would. Perhaps we will toss a dwarf off Le Manio tonight.”
He eyed Denis’ sword, pointing to it with his weapon. “What do you hope to achieve with your pig stick?”
He lunged, anticipating a quick thrust to his enemy’s heart, but the dwarf nimbly avoided his blade. He reached for the handle of the windlass to steady himself, noticing the mute crouched behind it. If he got his hands on her—
But Sancerre attacked. The runt had better sword skills than Malraux had anticipated. He avoided the blow, spun on his heel and thrust his dagger again, momentarily distracted by the loud creaking of the scaffold and the sweat obscuring his vision.
He rubbed his eyes, surprised to see Sancerre at the opposite side of the platform, apparently unhurt. He glanced down to see faces turned up to watch what was happening. What a fool he must look dancing around with a dwarf armed with nothing but a miniature sword. Time to finish this quickly.
He reached behind the windlass to grab the mute’s arm. She struggled, until he threatened her with the knife. “Let go of the hoist,” he commanded, dragging her back against his body, his free arm clamped around her waist, the dagger at her throat.
She shook her head defiantly.
The dwarf came closer, brandishing his sword, his ugly face twisted in anger. “Let her go.”
Malraux winced as the mute’s elbow connected sharply with his ribs.
The dwarf lunged, slicing open his bicep.
Malraux dropped the dagger and fell heavily against the windlass.
An ominous cracking sound caught everyone’s attention.
Into The Void
Adam rushed to the scaffolding when Malraux grabbed Rosamunda. He narrowed his eyes, peering up. “The planks under the windlass have given way,” he yelled to Vincent and the others.
He backed away hurriedly as the hoisting mechanism teetered, then fell. People screamed and fled, but the windlass suddenly jerked to a halt in mid-fall, crashing against the scaffolding. Pieces of broken planking clattered to earth, not far from where Adam stood, but the windlass dangled precariously, apparently held in place by the rope and pulley.
His heart in his throat, he looked up again.
Rosamunda was clinging to the remains of the platform.
Denis struggled to pull her to safety, but most of the planking was gone.
Malraux had fallen and lay draped across a horizontal pole lower down the scaffolding, his bejeweled hands clamped tight on the wood, one leg inelegantly twisted around it.
The utter silence was broken only by the crackle and hiss of the bonfires and the ominous creaking of the swaying scaffolding.
Women held their hands to their mouths.
Men gaped.
No one breathed.
Trying desperately to devise a way to save his brother and his beloved, Adam cupped his hands to his mouth. “Denis. Keep absolutely still.”
If they fell, he could not catch both.
* * *
Into the silence intruded the thud of hooves. Adam felt it in his feet. Many horses, approaching at speed. He looked to Vincent. “They will topple the tower.”
Everyone turned to gape at the newcomers, a large contingent of armed knights reining their mounts to a halt. Adam immediately recognized Mathieu and Robert, but was not sure who the other diminutive knight was until she dismounted, screaming Denis’ name.
Paulina?
Vincent ran to embrace her, but she never took her eyes off the scene atop the scaffolding. She broke away from her brother and shouted to Robert. “Bring the tent.”
Puzzled, Adam watched his cousin direct his men, but he quickly understood the plan and took hold of an edge of the canvas.
“Carry it over to the rock and stretch it out. You must hold it as tightly as you can,” Paulina commanded.
The last time Adam had seen Paulina she had reminded him of a timid mouse. Now she stood like the Conqueror at Hastings, issuing orders. The Boadicea of Kingston Gorse. He half expected to see Topaz perched on her shoulder.
She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Rosamunda, you must let go. We stand ready to catch you.”
Nothing happened.
“I don’t think she heard me,” Paulina rasped.
Adam tried. “Rosamunda, you will be safe. I promise. Trust me. Let go.”
* * *
Rosamunda looked into Denis’ eyes. Her arms were being wrenched from their sockets and Denis would not have the strength to hold onto her much longer. The scaffolding threatened to collapse at any moment, dragged down by the dangling windlass.
“Trust him,” Denis whispered. “He loves you. He will let no harm befall you.”
“You?” she mouthed.
He smiled.
“Now I see my Paulina is safe, I have no intention of dying on this rickety structure. I will jump after you.”
Trusting her fate to God, she let go and fell backwards into nothingness.
* * *
Lying flat on his belly, Denis peered over the edge in time to see Rosamunda land safely in the canvas held by the men below. A cheer went up from the crowd that minutes before had been thirsting for blood.
Adam lifted her from the folds of the tent and carried her off to safety. Another man took his place at the edge of the canvas.
Paulina peered up at him, her face full of love and anguish, her arms outstretched.
For a moment his courage failed him. His spine and hips were not made like those of other men. What might result in a few bruises for them could cripple him forever.
But he’d be damned if he would die in a heap of broken wood. He slowly unbuckled his sword belt, then came to his feet carefully. But the scaffolding swayed alarmingly. He looked down. Malraux had managed to stand and was shifting his weight deliberately between two upright poles. He screamed at Denis. “I’ll not die alone, dwarf.”
It was now or never.
As the plank beneath his feet disappeared, Denis spread his arms wide and flung himself out into the void.
* * *
Paulina worried that catching Denis would not be the same as catching Rosamunda. As the scaffold fell apart, she shouted urgently to the men holding the tent. “Hold the canvas higher, but when he hits, let it sag a little with his weight.”
As poles and planks clattered to earth, she prayed she would get the opportunity to tell Denis the things she should have confessed long ago.
He hit with a sickening thud. The men lowered the canvas to the ground. Denis lay in the centre, his eyes closed, arms thrust out at his sides.
“Denis,” she screamed, stumbling into the canvas. She fell to her knees at his side and threw her arms around his neck, kissing his full lips, his stubbled chin, his high forehead. “Please don’t die, Denis. I love you,” she sobbed.
Denis opened one eye. “You love me?”
She pulled back, rubbing the back of her hand over her eyes. “You’re alive.” She swatted his shoulder. “You made me believe you were dead.”
He smiled mischievously. “I was enjoying the kisses and hugs. I thought for a moment I had landed in heaven.”
He rolled to sit up, but she threw herself at him again, smothering him with kisses. He laced his fingers into her hair, forcing her to prolong the kiss. He coaxed her mouth open with his tongue and desire spiralled through her belly as he deepened the kiss. She felt his male part harden against her and brazenly pressed her mons to it. They broke apart panting for breath, his eyes wide.
“I have longed to kiss you,” Denis growled.
She felt her face redden. “I don’t know how to kiss.”
Denis chuckled. “Yes, you do.”
“Do you intend to lie there all night, or can I have my tent back?”
Denis scrambled to his feet, helping Paulina to rise. “Robert, cousin. I apologise. I owe you my life and here I am dallying with a maiden when I should be falling to my knees in gratitude.”
The two men embraced. Robert laughed. “It’s Paulina to whom you owe your thanks. She insisted we make the trek to Carnac, convinced your life was in danger. It was a courageous thing she did, escaping from Malraux.”
Denis arched his brows as he looked at Paulina.
“And on horseback, believe it or not,” she crowed.
* * *
Rosamunda savored Adam’s warmth as he cuddled her to his chest. He had already used his dagger to slice off the offensive harness and covered her with Vincent’s cloak. She had no memory of being garbed in the hideous white gown. The last thing she remembered was being picked up from the shore by Malraux.
She looked up at Adam and smiled as they watched Denis and Paulina stride off the canvas hand in hand and speak to Robert.
He kissed each corner of her mouth delicately, then nibbled her bottom lip. “I thought I had lost you,” he rasped. “After the boat capsized, I believed you had drowned.”
She put her forefinger on his lips. “Current strong,” she mouthed. “Swept away.”
He tightened his hold. “I will never allow you to be exposed to such dangers again.”
She shrugged. “Life is dangerous.”
Then she pointed to a solitary figure standing with the horses.
“My brother, Mathieu,” he explained.
She frowned, hearing the sadness behind his words.
He inhaled deeply. “It’s a long story. When we believed I was incapable of siring children, he insisted I forfeit my right to inherit Belisle.”
She had never asked Adam about his family, or his inheritance. What mattered was they be together. But she heard the bitterness in his voice. “Now?” she asked.
Mathieu glanced at them occasionally, averting his eyes quickly when he noticed them watching.
He stood and set her on her feet. “We will have to settle it. Now is as good a time as any. Stay here.”
Reconciliation
Robert de Montbryce was not the oldest living member of the family. His oncle Antoine had that honor. But as Comte-in-waiting, Robert was the acknowledged head of the clan in Normandie, since his father lived in England.
One reason the Montbryces had survived and prospered when many noble families had fallen by the wayside of Norman politics was their loyalty to each other under the strong leadership of Robert’s father, Ram.
It grieved him that there was conflict between Mathieu and Adam de Montbryce. A house divided never prospered. He hoped there was a solution to whatever problem lay between them. He wondered what his father would do in the circumstances.
Mathieu had received the message pleading for help and joined Robert’s contingent as they had ridden south.
Robert did not know why Antoine had elected to make Mathieu his heir instead of Adam, but sensed it had something to do with Adam’s illness and subsequent deafness. Mathieu had refused to discuss it en route.
As Adam approached his brother, Robert deemed it wise to mediate whatever discussion might ensue. The determined glare on both men’s faces did not bode well. The brothers had not embraced when Mathieu had first arrived, and it did not appear likely they would do so now.
Robert thanked the saints for the close relationship of trust he and Baudoin shared, but then only two years separated them. Adam was closer to Denis.
The three men came together in the middle of the clearing, now surprisingly empty. If the collapse of the scaffold had not convinced most of the revelers to scarper, the sudden arrival of a contingent of armed men had done the trick. Only a few remained, scavenging through the ruins of the scaffold from which the windlass still hung precariously.
Adam offered his hand. “I have not properly thanked you.”
Robert gripped his hand and patted him on the back. “As I told Denis, you have Paulina to thank for urging us here. And I did not come alone. Mathieu was already on his way when we met on the road.”
The brothers glared at each other, jaws clenched. Adam was first to proffer a hand. “Merci, mon frère. It’s good to see you again.”
Mathieu accepted the handshake. “You look a great deal better than when we parted, even with tree branches in your hair and muck on your face.”
Adam rolled his eyes, fumbling in his hair to remove the remaining twigs. “I forgot.”
Robert tried unsuccessfully to choke back laughter.
Adam smiled, but then became serious. “Actually, Mathieu, I am better. I am betrothed to a woman who loves me, and who wants to bear my children.”
It was only momentary, but Robert thought Mathieu looked stunned as he glanced briefly at Adam’s groin. What was going on?
The brothers stared at each other for long moments, neither moving a muscle. Robert grew nervous when Adam held out his hand. “Lend me your sword. Mine is concealed in the woods.”
Mathieu did not flinch as Robert reluctantly handed over his weapon.
Adam dug the point of the sword into the earth, resting his hand atop the hilt.
Mathieu hesitated only a moment before going down on one knee.
Adam turned to Robert. “I would ask you to bear witness to my brother’s oath of allegiance to me as rightful heir of Belisle Castle.”
Robert looked from one to the other, wishing he knew exactly what was going on. He asked Mathieu, “Do you, Mathieu de Montbryce, swear allegiance to Adam de Montbryce, as the rightful heir of Belisle Castle?”
“I so swear.”
Adam helped his brother rise, and gathered him into his embrace.
Mathieu sobbed into his shoulder. “Forgive me.”
* * *
Denis’ body ached in places he had never known could ache, but his heart was full as he watched his half-brothers embrace. Adam had regained what was his by right. The rift with Mathieu had been repaired. He too would need to rebuild his friendship with his youngest brother.
He kissed Paulina’s cheek. “I am a wreck. How can you be in love with a man who stinks of sweat and smoke?”
She smiled. “At least you don’t look like a tree.”
He laughed, pressing her to his body. “I am in love with you, Paulina, since the moment we met.”
“It was the same for me,” she confessed. “I was too afraid to admit it.”
He went down on one knee. “The last time I asked you to wed with me, I did it flippantly, though I was sincere. Now I want to ask you properly, as befits a beautiful and desirable woman. Will you wed with me, Paulina Lallement?”
She cupped his face in her hands and opened her mouth.
Birthright Page 21
