The FitzRam family had benefitted immeasurably from the love and legacy left to them. Aidan respected his father’s wish to tell and retell the narrative of his relationship with his father and the Montbryce family. Aidan willingly accepted he was expected to pass on the story to his children.
* * *
The journey to Köln took six days.
From Montbryce they travelled overland without incident to Amiens, through Mons and Maastricht and finally to Köln, where they found a city still in the grip of euphoria over the victory at Andernach. News of Heinrich’s humiliation reached their ears well before they neared the city.
Caedmon recalled a little of the Germanic languages he had picked up during the Crusade, though nigh on twenty years had gone by. They did not know exactly where to find Count Dieter von Wolfenberg, the writer of the letter. To Caedmon’s surprise when he enquired, everyone knew where the hero of Andernach lived.
Aidan displayed his impatience with his inability to understand. “What did they say, Father?”
“They speak of this count as if he’s a hero.”
They found a field near the Rhine suitable for their camp. Caedmon and Aidan left most of their men there, taking a handful of their escort to ride to the home of the count.
“Quite the edifice,” Aidan observed, staring up at the ornate façade.
The evident opulence of the house and the count’s reputation eased Caedmon’s anxiety somewhat, though it increased his confusion. If this count was rich and a hero to his people, why had he not released Blythe? And how had she come to be with him?
Boys appeared to take charge of their horses when they trotted into the courtyard. They dismounted and strode to the door. Caedmon hammered loudly with his clenched fist, mouth drawn in a tight line, hand on the hilt of his sword. “Sir Caedmon FitzRam,” he shouted in English.
A servant opened the door and bade them enter. It was evident they were expected.
Suddenly, Blythe appeared out of nowhere and flung herself into her father’s arms, sobbing loudly.
Aidan enfolded her from behind in a protective circle and rubbed her back.
“Father—Aidan—I—”
It was Aidan who spoke first. “Blythe, my dear sister, I’ve worried about you. I’ve ached with your aches, wept with your sorrows. I’m overjoyed to see you whole. I never doubted you were still alive.”
They embraced for many long minutes in silence, simply holding each other, reconnecting, while Caedmon gazed at them. Relief swept over him, until he became aware of a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in black standing with legs braced at the foot of a staircase. Two servants flanked him. This black-haired devil was the man most likely responsible for his daughter being in Köln. His first instinct was to walk over and pound him into the ground. “You are Dieter von Wolfenberg?” he asked abruptly in English.
The man bowed. “I am he, Sir Caedmon FitzRam. I welcome you and your son to my home. I trust you had a safe journey from England?”
Caedmon noted Dieter’s English was flawless. “We’ve come for my daughter.”
“She’s here, as you see,” Dieter replied, “but I would offer you my hospitality for a few days so Blythe has a chance to prepare for the journey home. You and your son can rest after your—”
Aidan interrupted, his voice full of scorn. “We won’t lodge here. We can camp with our men near the Rhine.”
Blythe put her hand on her brother’s arm. “Aidan, there is no need to stay with your men. I’m elated you’re here. Please accept Dieter’s offer of hospitality so we can spend time together. I have no wish to camp in a tent.”
Jaw clenched, Aidan looked to his father. He too was surprised at the manner in which Blythe spoke of the count. There was no fear in her voice and she had called him Dieter. It was almost as if—
Caedmon addressed the Saxon. “We are obliged to accept your hospitality. We will stay a few days. No doubt we have terms to discuss.”
Dieter glanced quickly at Blythe, his lips tightly drawn. “Gut! My servants have prepared rooms in anticipation of your stay. Anna will show you the way. If you wish to bathe after your long journey, you have only to let them know. When you are refreshed perhaps we could meet in the gallery. Bernhardt will lead you there.”
Caedmon and Aidan nodded and followed the servants. Blythe went with them, arm in arm with Aidan.
Ask Her
Dieter let out a long, slow breath. The confrontation had gone more smoothly than he could have hoped. He watched Blythe go off with her family, happier than he had ever seen her. When he heard the demand for entry, he knew the belligerent visitor could only be Blythe’s father. He was not afraid of the man’s justifiable anger, but this arrival filled him with dread. It signaled Blythe’s approaching departure.
Dieter entered the hallway in time to see Blythe run into her father’s arms. Watching the tearful reunion confirmed she had been raised in a loving home, and he again felt terrible remorse for having abducted her. He had brought this family nothing but anguish and still could not forgive himself for bringing her to Köln. He suddenly felt bereft, an outsider.
He saw the fury on Sir Caedmon’s face when the man noticed him. He expected and understood it, and braced his shoulders as the Englishman strode over to where he stood. Though no longer a young man, this grey-haired knight was obviously still a force to be reckoned with.
Dieter wished he could put such a smile on Blythe’s face. If only she cared for him. He longed to be enfolded in her embrace, so he could bury his face in her lovely breasts, make her cry out with joy as he—
He shook his head and leaned heavily on the banister. What had become of the cool and collected Dieter who eschewed marriage? It had to stop. She would be leaving soon. She did not love him and that was that. He had important things to accomplish for his duke. Heinrich hadn’t yet been sent packing from Saxony. He pulled himself together and hurried to the kitchens to make sure all was in order for the evening meal.
* * *
Caedmon, Aidan and Blythe clung to each other in the larger of the two adjoining chambers prepared for the men.
“I was sewing when I heard your voice, Papa. I couldn’t believe it. I hoped you would come.”
Caedmon arched a brow. His daughter hated sewing.
Aidan put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Has he harmed you, Blythe?”
She shook her head. “No, Aidan, he’s a noble man. He would never harm me.”
Caedmon did not understand. “Is he not the person who abducted you?”
Blythe averted her eyes. “Yes, he is, but I was not the intended hostage really. It was part of an unsuccessful plot to kidnap Matilda.”
Aidan snorted. “Why didn’t he let you go when the plot failed?”
Blythe moved away, fidgeting with the lace of her sleeves. “I don’t know. At first, I thought he planned to sell me into slavery, but I know now he would never do such a thing. So, I surmised he would ransom me to my family, and here you are.”
Caedmon scratched his scalp, not sure what all this meant. “He hasn’t asked for a ransom.”
His daughter was obviously surprised by this news. “He hasn’t? I don’t understand.”
He put his arm around her shoulders. “Neither do I, daughter. Mayhap, after I speak with him, things will be clearer. I learned a long time ago not to jump to hasty conclusions. What’s all this talk in the streets about him being a hero?”
Blythe smiled broadly. “He is a hero, Father.”
As she described Dieter’s pivotal role in the victory of Köln over the emperor, Caedmon noticed how glowingly she described the exploits of a man she should hate for what he had inflicted on her. “You seem quite impressed with his bravery.”
She blushed and looked away. “Well, he’s a brave man. I can’t deny that.”
Aidan was furious. “Brave men don’t kidnap innocent girls.”
Blythe frowned, seemingly at a loss to know how to respond. Then she
changed the subject. “Why not summon a bath for each of you to wash off the dust of your travels, and I’ll meet you later? I’m so happy you’re here. I’ve missed everyone at home. How are Edwin and Ragna? Is she still a hellion? Is mother well?”
Caedmon did not press her. He answered her questions, then bade her leave so he and Aidan could bathe.
“What are you thinking, Father?” Aidan asked after she had left. “Are we going to kill him for what he has done?”
“If we kill him, I’m thinking the person most likely to be distraught about the deed would be your sister.”
* * *
After bathing, his father asked Aidan to find Blythe and distract her with a walk in the garden, expressing a desire to confront the count alone. Strolling arm in arm with his twin in the chilly winter air, Aidan was curious about how she had survived her ordeal.
She smiled. “At first, it was an ordeal, I agree. But Dieter is a charming and gentle man. He has tried to make me comfortable. He really is a hero, and in truth I’m the one who has made it an ordeal for him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ve behaved rudely towards him. I’ve tried to make myself ugly, unattractive to him.”
“Why not? He abducted you.”
She turned to face him. “Aidan, you’re my twin. I know it’s no use trying to hide anything from you, but you mustn’t tell Father—I was afraid to fall in love with Dieter.”
“By the saints, Blythe,” he retorted angrily. “How could you fall in love with a man who abducted you and kept you against your will for months?”
“I don’t know, but I think I do love him. I didn’t want to because he’s not the kind of man who could ever fall in love, and would probably laugh in my face if I told him I loved him.”
Aidan rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. “I’ll never understand women. Has he defiled you?”
He winced when she thumped him hard in the shoulder. “No, he hasn’t! You haven’t listened to anything I’ve said.”
* * *
From the upstairs window Dieter watched the exchange between brother and sister. He saw how comfortable they were with one another, despite the fact they were male and female, and he marveled at the notion of twins. But they were not in agreement about something, and he wondered what it was. Blythe punched her brother’s shoulder and hurried into the house.
However, he did not have time to ponder further. He hastened his pace to the gallery for what he anticipated would be a difficult interview requested by Sir Caedmon.
The knight awaited him, legs braced, arms folded across his chest. Dieter noted he had left his sword in his chamber. That boded well, yet he felt like a naughty boy about to be punished. “Please, sit down, Sir Caedmon.”
“I’ll remain standing.”
For the first time, Dieter noticed something of a Scottish brogue in the knight’s speech. Blythe had shared some of her father’s story, and he was awed that here stood a man who had endured the ill-fated People’s Crusade and returned home a hero. “May I offer you some refreshment?”
Sir Caedmon shifted his weight and moved closer to Dieter. “Let’s not waste time with niceties. You know I want to kill you.”
“Yes, I’m aware you feel that way. I would probably feel the same if I was you.”
Anger blazed in the Englishman’s eyes. “You’ve dishonored my daughter.”
Dieter was outraged. “Sir Caedmon, I give you my word I have not.”
The Englishman stepped closer, fists clenched. “But you’ve compromised her by keeping her here too long. No woman who has spent so much time alone with a man will be accepted back into society in England. Why did you keep her when you failed to take Matilda? Of what use was she to you?”
Dieter could not look into the man’s eyes. “I confess I wish I knew the answer to those questions. I’ve asked them myself many times. I simply couldn’t relinquish her. I had to hold on to her.”
“But you’ve ruined her chances for marriage,” Sir Caedmon shouted.
Incensed by the notion of Blythe with any other man, Dieter yelled back. “I would gladly marry her myself if she didn’t hate me so much.” The vehemence of his own words astounded him.
“What?” the Englishman roared, shock contorting his face.
Unexpectedly, relief washed over Dieter. Having finally admitted the truth of his feelings for Blythe, he filled his lungs to calm his racing heart. “I love your daughter, Sir Caedmon. I realize now I’ve loved her from the first moment I looked into her eyes. You may not be aware we first met in Liège. However, she hates me for what I’ve done to her.”
Sir Caedmon snickered. “I know only too well what gazing into hazel eyes can do to a man. She doesn’t hate you, Count Dieter.”
He glanced up sharply. “What do you mean? How can she not hate me?”
“A woman who hates a man doesn’t look at him the way Blythe looks at you. She doesn’t speak of him in the way Blythe speaks about you. I haven’t seen a woman so much in love with a man since my own sweet Agneta fell head over heels for me.”
Dieter’s heart swelled on hearing Caedmon’s words, but he seemed to have something stuck in his throat. When his voice returned, it sounded like someone else’s. “You believe she’s in love with me?”
“Ask her.”
Truth Revealed
Caedmon was sitting alone in a spacious and opulently decorated salon, his feet up on a footstool when Aidan found him.
“I’ve just had a very strange conversation with Blythe. We have a problem. I’ll never understand women. Have you spoken with the count?”
Caedmon indicated the chair next to him. “Yes. There is no ransom demand. Tell me about this conversation you refer to.”
Aidan sat. “I promised Blythe I wouldn’t. We’ve always kept each other’s secrets.”
Caedmon waited a moment or two. “Did it concern the count?”
Aidan came to his feet and paced. “Yes—she is—she thinks she is—”
“She thinks she loves him.”
Aidan spun around to face his father. “How did you know?”
Caedmon stood and playfully hooked his arm around Aidan’s neck. “Ah, my son, I’m much older and wiser than you.”
Aidan struggled to free himself from his father’s hold. “But aren’t you furious? How can she love him? He’s a Saxon.”
Caedmon released his son, his face sober. “Careful, Aidan, don’t forget we have Saxon blood in our veins, albeit from different parts of Saxony originally. And never forget the lessons I’ve tried to teach you about intolerance and hatred.”
Aidan gave his sire a sheepish look. “I’m sorry. It’s simply that I can’t understand.”
“Aidan, love is often a difficult emotion to fathom. Who would imagine, for example, that a count from Saxony, living in Köln would fall in love with our Blythe?”
“He loves her?” Aidan asked incredulously. “By the saints! I swear I’m never going to fall in love. It’s too complicated. What are we going to do now?”
“Nothing, except enjoy the count’s hospitality. Come, dinner awaits in the dining hall. It occurs to me that you and I need to have a long conversation.”
“About what?”
Caedmon chuckled and tousled his son’s hair. “About women, Aidan Branton FitzRam. As my heir, you’re expected to marry and have children.”
Aidan threw his shoulders back and straightened his hair. “I have years before I need to think about marriage.”
Caedmon nudged Aidan towards the dining hall. “That’s true, but trust me when I tell you that living with a woman is much more satisfying and joyful if you share love and passion.”
Aidan sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. “Father, you and Mother have told us this many times.”
Caedmon suddenly realized he did not know if his son was still a virgin. “Yes, Aidan, but you and I have never had a discussion about how to satisfy a woman.”
Aidan looked puzzled. “What do
you mean ‘satisfy’?”
Aidan’s deep blush suggested there was likely a great deal of knowledge he would need to pass on. Agneta had made sure their daughters were prepared for marriage, and he regretted now he had not been more direct with his sons. “I mean in the bedchamber, Aidan. Don’t worry. We’ll talk—it’s a long journey home. I’m an expert in these matters. Ask your mother.”
* * *
Dieter offered Caedmon the seat at the other end of the oblong dining table from where he sat, and the twins dined facing each other on the sides. Blythe was relieved that her father’s anger seemed to have cooled, and the conversation was almost civil.
“I’m curious, Sir Caedmon,” Dieter said, “you’re an English knight. Blythe tells me you’re part Norman, part Saxon, and yet you speak with an accent reminiscent of Scotland.”
“You’re right, Count von Wolfenberg, my mother fled to Scotland after the Conquest. I was born there, but returned to live in England when I married my wife.”
“Your mother was the Saxon then?”
Caedmon paused only a moment. “Yes, her name was Lady Ascha Bronson. My father was the late Ram de Montbryce, the first Earl of Ellesmere. He fought with William the Conqueror at the Battle of Hastings.”
“And that’s the reason you bear the name FitzRam, and not Montbryce?”
Blythe feared her father would get annoyed at these personal questions, but Dieter seemed genuinely interested and her father unflustered. What was going on?
“Yes, I have two half brothers—Baudoin, the current Earl of Ellesmere and Robert, the Comte de Montbryce in Normandie, and a half sister, Rhoni, Lady MacLachlainn.”
They ate in companionable silence for a while before Dieter spoke again. “I’ve heard things are still unsettled in Normandie?”
The two men chatted amicably about politics. Dieter told the story of Andernach and shared his strong opinions about the need to banish Heinrich from Saxony. He even mentioned meeting Blythe in Liège when he and Lothair were feigning loyalty to the empire.
The Black Knight’s Captive Page 9
