He said deliberately, “I have said Gisela can be headstrong, my lord. Naturally I believe she has every quality finest in womanhood—she is my beloved daughter—but I have to face the fact that she could prove—difficult.”
De Treville laughed. “That is the way she described Sigurd to me, just now. I assured her I would manage the lad.”
Sir Walter’s eyebrows flew upwards and de Treville shook his head very gently.
“Have no fears, Sir Walter, it is not my way to be cruel to women nor unduly so with my servants. I would deal well with the Demoiselle Gisela and I believe she would make me an excellent wife. Her Saxon blood and standing in the shire makes her eminently suitable. With her at my side, I am confident I could achieve the ready co-operation of my neighbours that, perhaps, my Norman heritage may render open to reserve.
“I am the third son of Sir Gilles de Treville. Our manor is close to Caen. I came to serve in the Earl of Leicester’s household as squire when I was but fourteen and have lived in England serving the King since then.”
His dark eyes brightened somewhat. “I have no mistress established here at Allestone and, since my mother is some distance away, there would be no other woman here to challenge the Demoiselle’s rule. My seneschal’s wife, the Lady Rohese, is a very gentle lady and would prove helpful and friendly. She would be delighted to have the company of another female within the bower.
“Gisela would have a totally free hand, which I believe would be important to her. I recognise in her a nature as formidable as that of the Empress Matilda, and I have, on occasion, met that lady.” His dark eyes twinkled and Sir Walter could not hold back an answering smile.
“On the matter of dower…”
“I am sure we could come to some sensible arrangement, Sir Walter. My needs are not great on that score.”
Walter of Brinkhurst gave a little sigh. “My lord, will you allow me time to consider?”
“Of course. Naturally you will wish to speak with the Demoiselle Gisela.” He put one hand gently upon the older man’s arm. “I know you are reluctant to give her in marriage, but Allestone is very close. You will see her often and—in these hard times, you will need a man who can hold her safe. Think well on what I have said and send me word soon.”
Sir Walter said doubtfully, “Though Gisela lacks a mother, Aldith taught her well all the housewifely skills but,” he hesitated, “she is so very young…”
“Not so young that she will not learn quickly.”
“No.”
He turned in his chair as Gisela also turned and caught his eye. Both she and Aldith were looking happier but, as if she read in his expression the gravity of the matter in discussion, her vivid blue eyes clouded over somewhat and one fair brow arched upwards as if in interrogation.
He said heavily, “If you will excuse us, my lord, we should be riding back to Brinkhurst. I promise I will think very hard on what you have said.”
“I know you will.” De Treville rose and held out his hand to the other, who grasped it.
“Thank you again for your forbearance in the matter of the boy.”
De Treville bowed his head.
Gisela came hesitantly to her father’s side and curtsied as he took his leave of his host.
As they rode home together she was aware of his absorption in his own thoughts. She ceased her chatter about Allestone and rode silently beside him.
Over supper he seemed just as quiet and, at last, she ventured to challenge him.
“Father, what is it? I saw you were talking intently to the Baron. Had he some information about the course of the war which has troubled you or are you still worried about Sigurd?”
“No, Sigurd will be safe enough at Allestone. Sooner or later the lad would have come to grief without discipline and I had no real authority over him.” Sir Walter tackled a chicken leg bone with unusual ferocity and Gisela watched him doubtfully.
“Then did he take you to task over my behaviour? I know you think I was unwise to challenge him there in open court.”
He put down the leg and looked at her deliberately. “On the contrary. He appears to have admired your spirit in outfacing him. He asked for your hand in marriage.”
Colour drained from her face and she sat unmoving, her eyes growing larger and larger before his gaze. He waited for her to speak but she continued to sit rigidly still. Then, at last, she said very quietly, “And what did you say to him?”
“I told him I needed time to consider.”
She drew in her breath in a little hiss.
“But you cannot be thinking of saying yes!”
Again he regarded her directly. “Why not? It is a fair match. You would be mistress of Allestone. Many maidens in the shire would give their eyeteeth for such a future.”
“I am not one of them,” she said, again speaking so calmly and softly that he leaned towards her to both hear and catch her expression. Still she appeared deadly pale.
He said almost jovially, but in a tone patently false, “You have never considered such an honour I know, but…”
“Honour?” The single word was suddenly shrill with outrage. “You cannot believe I would welcome such a match?”
He turned from her, embarrassed, and once more gave his attention to his food.
“Child, I cannot afford to simply dismiss this offer. All fathers have a duty to provide for their daughters fittingly and I cannot deny that your welfare and protection would be assured at Allestone.”
She shivered as she had done when they had ridden below the gatehouse arch this morning. “The place is a prison. I cannot face the prospect of being immured behind those defensive walls.”
“That is just it, Gisela. They are defensive. I have to consider, first and foremost, your safety. You heard Kenrick talk the other day of the attack on that manor near Oakham. It seems the shire reeve is powerless to curb that man’s excesses. Baron Alain de Treville has both the ability to do so and the King’s warrant.”
“Father, are you afraid of the Baron de Treville?”
He met her unflinching gaze steadily. “I would not wish to offend him.”
“So I am to be sacrificed so that you can keep the favour of this King’s man?”
“That could be the size of it, daughter,” Sir Walter admitted. “What have you against him? He is young and personable. He did not appear to me to be excessively harsh. You could do worse.”
“I could do better. What of Kenrick, whom I have known and loved since childhood?”
He was visibly flustered. “Kenrick of Arcote has spoken to you of love?”
“No, he has not,” she replied quietly. “That would have been dishonourable without asking your permission to court me first and Kenrick would not behave so.”
“Kenrick is a fine, upstanding young man, Gisela, but he is not for you.” The statement was made bluntly and she winced at the finality of his tone.
“What if I were to say I loved Kenrick?”
“Frankly I would not believe you. You know nothing as yet of love. Your mother did not love me when we met, nor I her, but we grew to love one another. My father chose her for me and I obeyed him as was right and proper. I have spoiled you, Gisela, for you to so defy my wishes in this.”
“Why do you object to Kenrick?”
He turned to bluster, not finding it easy to put into words his doubts about such a mating.
“He is simply not the man for you. He is kind and honourable, I am the first to admit that, but he is weak-willed, easily swayed, too much under the influence of that mother of his. I do not believe you would be happy or fulfilled in such a marriage.”
“But you think I would be, wed to this man you hardly know.”
“I believe I have the measure of Alain de Treville.”
“And,” she said bitterly, “the fact that he is a powerful baron and in the King’s favour does not weigh with you in the slightest. Will you not have to beggar yourself to provide a suitable dower for me? That is usual in such
alliances, isn’t it?”
“We did not discuss a possible marriage contract.”
“I will not do it,” she protested stubbornly.
“Gisela, do not be foolish. I have seldom opposed your wishes. In that I was, perhaps, unwise, but this is a serious business. I will not be defied. I have not yet made up my mind but I tell you plainly, every instinct impels me to accept this proposal. I shall inform you of my final decision tomorrow. You can retire to your chamber if you have finished your meal.”
He was dismissing her as if she were an unruly page or servant. She was trembling with distress and fury. Never had he showed his anger so plainly. She could find no words to answer him so she stood and curtsied formally, an action rare with her to this man she knew only as a loving and generous father, then she walked in dignified fashion from the hall.
She felt her limbs still trembling as she climbed the stair to her chamber where she found Aldith sorting gowns in her clothing chest. Aldith had fallen easily into work as her personal attendant from the moment she had come to Brinkhurst on the afternoon of Sigurd’s arrest. Now she slept on a truckle bed within her mistress’s chamber and to Gisela, it seemed her beloved nurse had returned to her as if she had never left to live with Rolf and Sigurd in the little cottage in the assart.
Aldith saw at once that something was terribly wrong. She did not make the mistake of enquiring, knowing that if the matter concerned Sigurd she would have been informed at once and sensing Gisela was not yet ready to tell her what was distressing her so badly.
Gisela walked to the little casement, its shutters not yet drawn to, despite the cold outside, for Aldith knew that her mistress liked the still-scented air from the herb garden to freshen the little room behind her mother’s bower, which was warmed from below by the hearth fire and could become stuffy.
Gisela stared bleakly over the darkened garden. She said without turning, “Aldith, I want you to find a reliable servant to take a message for me to Sir Kenrick of Arcote at first light tomorrow.” Her voice shook slightly. “Kenrick does not read well so it must be verbal. I want him to meet me at noon tomorrow in the clearing in the wood near the stream. He knows the place. We have ridden there often together.”
Aldith frowned. She was aware, without being told, that this message must not be repeated to others, or reach the master’s ears.
“Mistress, you do not intend to ride out tomorrow without escort? That would be very dangerous.”
“I must, Aldith.” The words were whispered.
She turned from the window and Aldith hastened across to draw to and fasten the shutters. The room was illuminated now only by a single candle on a chest by the bed but, by its light, she saw how white her young mistress was, especially round the mouth.
Gisela had sunk down upon the wolf-pelt coverlet of the bed and was stroking its fur absently.
“What is it, child?” Aldith questioned gently, reverting to her former familiar attitude when Gisela had been her loved charge. “You would not disobey your father without cause. It is not your way.”
“He intends to wed me to Baron Alain de Treville.”
Aldith’s lips rounded in an “o” of astonishment but she uttered no sound.
Gisela said woodenly, “I love Kenrick of Arcote. I—I somehow never questioned the fact that, in time, we should wed.”
Aldith chose her words with care. “It is within the right of your father to choose for you.”
“I know that, but it never occurred to me that he would gainsay me in this, my deepest desire.”
Aldith hesitated, then pressed on, “Few girls expect to marry the man of their own choosing. The Baron is the wealthiest man in the shire. It is natural your father should consider this the finest match for you.”
“I do not wish to be mistress of Allestone.” The words were ground out through gritted teeth. “This man is an arrogant stranger. Look how he treated Sigurd.”
“He granted him his life when it was in his power to hang him,” Aldith reminded her softly. “I shall pray for him to the end of my days for that mercy.”
“But if he had not thrown you both from your cottage, the attack would never have happened.”
Aldith sighed. It was not for her to challenge the decisions of the great ones.
“What do you think Kenrick can do about this?” she said at last diffidently.
“I don’t know,” Gisela said desperately. “Surely he can plead with Father…”
“Suppose it is not in his mind to—offer marriage,” Aldith ventured, “since he has not declared himself? It is my opinion that Sir Kenrick will be guided by his mother in this.”
Gisela stared at her dully. “I am sure he loves me,” she said desperately. “I could be happy at Arcote.” She seized her maid’s hand. “You will do this for me, find me a messenger and help me to get out of the house?”
Aldith nodded slowly. She was kneeling close by her mistress’s side. She rose heavily. Everything appeared to be happening suddenly to disrupt the even tenor of their lives. She felt cold to her bones. Surely this was a natural sense of foreboding for the problems facing them and not the acute approach of old age!
Chapter Three
Gisela rode fast for the little clearing in the wood once she had managed to get free from the village. She had not found it as difficult as she had feared; her father had risen early and ridden out on the desmesne, obviating the need to lie to him about her destination and purpose for the ride. Since the latest attack on the manor near Oakham, he had been more and more adamant that she be escorted and it was essential that she should ride alone this morning.
In the end, it had been the head groom she had had to convince that she needed no one to accompany her, giving as her excuse that she was going no further than the church in the village. Aldith had stood by the manor gate, clearly alarmed. Had Sigurd been available, he could have run by his mistress’s saddle bow and afforded her some protection.
Aldith’s heart misgave her as Gisela put spurs to her palfrey and rode out of sight. Not only was her mistress at risk, but the necessity to urge Kenrick to declare himself also worried Aldith. Suppose her mistress was to be disappointed in the man and humiliated by a refusal to help her? Gisela was so sure that Kenrick was a suitor. If she were wrong, she would be brokenhearted.
Aldith had sent off Gisela’s message as promised. Since there was no time for a reply she could only hope Kenrick would be at the trysting place as Gisela had requested. She sighed and went wearily back into the manor house. She had slept badly, still worried about Sigurd and concerned for her mistress.
Gisela knew she was early when she reached the clearing. She had been too impatient to wait before leaving Brinkhurst. She walked her palfrey to a large flat stone she had previously used as a mounting block and managed to dismount unaided, then secured her palfrey’s reins on a low branch of overhanging alder and moved unhurriedly to the stream.
She had encountered no one in the wood. The villagers had been working at the final autumn tasks within their own cottages. There were still rushes to be dipped, apples stored and inspected and the final sealing done on salted pig-meat barrels.
She frowned as she tapped her riding whip against her booted foot. If Kenrick had been from home when her message arrived, this last desperate measure to avoid what she considered an enforced marriage could well be doomed for, somehow, she knew her father would give his decision later today. He would not keep Baron Alain de Treville waiting and last night he had been so definitely in favour of the match. Only Kenrick could give her hope of rescue from this sorry fate by declaring himself today, as she prayed he would consent to do.
She heard sounds of movement on the track and turned instantly to find Kenrick’s sorrel hack entering the clearing. She waited by the stream, her heartbeat quickening, as he sprang down and almost ran towards her. He took both her hands in his and squeezed them tightly.
“Gisela, oh, my dear, I came the moment I received your message. I
was out when the man came but he waited, praise God, and found me as I rode through the gate. There is no trouble at Brinkhurst? But, surely not, your father would have sent word.”
His greeting was so ardent. She scanned his face anxiously; she could not have been mistaken about his feelings for her.
She went straight to the point. “I thought you should know at once. My father proposes to wed me to Alain de Treville.”
Shock registered instantly on Kenrick’s good-humoured countenance. For a moment he looked almost haggard. His gloved fingers tightened upon hers and he pulled her a little closer to him.
“He has given his word?”
“Not yet. I think it will be soon. De Treville asked for me yesterday, at the manor court. Did you hear about Sigurd?”
Kenrick nodded. “Yes. I am sorry for the boy, but I suppose it was the best we could hope for him, under the circumstances.” He drew her away from the clearing some way so that they would not be seen so easily by any passerby on the track. “Tell me, Gisela, you are not in favour of this match? He would make you my lady…”
“Of course I am not. Father was angered with me last night more than he has been for years now. I was vehemently against it. I told him I would not be coerced. I cannot imagine why the Baron should want such a marriage. We have been at odds from the first time we met and he does not strike me as a man who would accept a rebellious wife lightly. Surely he could make a more advantageous marriage at the King’s court?
“I am at a loss to understand it. The proposal has come out of the blue.” Her eyes appealed to him and she hesitated, then plunged on. “I—I had hoped that—” she swallowed hard “—Kenrick, I must humiliate myself by asking if you have any feelings for me…”
“Of course I have,” he said forcibly. “I would have declared myself months ago had not my mother been so against it.”
“You have spoken with her about it?”
“Aye.” He looked away momentarily. “We have quarrelled. I rode out early this morning to clear my head of wine fumes. We had a fierce engagement only last night when I informed her of my intentions regarding you and I drank more than I should.”
The Baron's Bride Page 5
