England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  But the day came when she indeed became Lady Aubrey. After the enormous mass in the cathedral of St. Helen, the couple and their guests retreated to Guerdley Cross for the three-day celebration that would follow.

  Dusk on the day of the wedding was a brilliant scope of pink and blue hues as the salty sea breeze infiltrated the land. The keep of Guerdley Cross was warm and well lit, and well-wishers wandered in and out, bringing their merriment to the bailey and congregating in loud groups. High on the battlements overhead, William watched the events unfolding, his gaze lingering on the familiar standards of de Neville as they now flew over the keep of Guerdley Cross. The marriage gave Richard the right to announce to all that Guerdley Cross was now part of the Warwick family.

  Avalyn hadn’t seemed overly emotional about anything, William mused silently. He had half-expected tears and hysterics, but instead, she had steeled herself as he’d seen her do so many times. Before she had met Brogan, she had always been in control of her emotions, unusual for a woman. But with the introduction of the big Germanic soldier, she’d finally allowed herself to feel something. Then she was asked to steel herself again. He wondered bleakly if she would ever allow herself to feel anything ever again.

  She had been quite stoic, an odd scene when one considered how excited Aubrey was. Even now, he could imagine her in the great hall, chalice in hand as Charles toasted their marriage. There wouldn’t be much thrill to that, but she would drink to their happiness and pretend like she cared. It made William sick to think that the life had gone out of her.

  “A lovely evening.”

  A soft voice roused him from his thoughts. Startled, William turned to see Avalyn standing next to him, wrapped in a fabulous ivory brocade cloak with gold thread and white rabbit fur. It was an amazing garment that Charles had commissioned especially for the wedding. With her hair piled in an elaborate arrangement atop her head courtesy of Aggie, Avalyn looked stunning. He smiled at her.

  “Lovely indeed, my lady,” he said. “Why aren’t you inside enjoying your debaucherous orgy?”

  She laughed softly, the first smile he’d seen from her all day. “It is too hot in there,” she said. “Besides, everyone is drunk, including Charles.”

  William’s eyebrows lifted. “Even your uncle?”

  She nodded. “Both he and my aunt. In fact, my aunt has had so much wine that her ladies have taken her up to her chamber. If it wasn’t so pathetic, it would be funny.”

  William did indeed soft softly with laughter. His round blue eyes lingered on her a moment before gazing off across the compound again. “An impressive wedding, Lady Aubrey. You should be most proud.”

  Her smile faded, her golden eyes following William’s. “It is what Charles deserved. Even if this marriage is a farce, at least the ceremony looks real enough. The man will keep his dignity.”

  “And you?” William leaned forward on the battlement, his elbows resting against the stone. “Have you kept yours?”

  She shrugged. “I exchanged my happiness for it. I should hope so.”

  William kept silent to that. He didn’t want to bring about memories they were all attempting to forget. He shifted on his big legs. “Your uncle wants to take me back to Warwick,” he said. “Now that you are Lady Aubrey, he feels that my work here is finished.”

  She looked at him, eyes wide. “But… I do not want you to go, William. You are my very best friend. Who will I talk to? Who will know everything about me and advise me?”

  He patted her arm through the heavy brocade. “You have your ladies. And you have your husband.”

  For the first time all day, she began to show signs of cracking. “It is only your presence keeping me sane, William. If you leave, I shall surely crumble. I shall be lost.”

  He didn’t want to leave her, either, but for entirely different reasons. But he remained resolute. “You? Lost? I do not believe it. You’ll be ruling this place within the month. God help Aubrey.”

  “No, William, you cannot leave,” she said. She was growing more agitated. “I need you with me. Especially now that…”

  She abruptly broke off, looking away, looking uncomfortable. He smiled at her. “Especially now that you are married? That reason, more than any other, supports the fact that I should return to Warwick. Aubrey has tolerated me long enough. I doubt his good humor will hold out much longer.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not… that.”

  “What, then?”

  She shook her head again, pulling the cloak more tightly about her shoulders. The golden eyes drifted across the festivities below. “Oh, William,” she suddenly sobbed softly.

  He looked at her, concerned. She hadn’t wept all day and he hoped a breakdown wasn’t coming. “No tears, Avalyn,” he said softly. “You are Lady Aubrey now. You have a station and reputation to uphold. You have a beautiful castle and a husband who clearly adores you. There is much to be grateful for.”

  “I am in trouble,” she whispered.

  He peered more closely at her. “What trouble?”

  She didn’t answer for a moment. Then, very slowly, her gaze focused on him once more and he could see how utterly distressed she was. “It’s… it is just that I have no one else to tell. I’m so frightened. I need your help.”

  His brow furrowed though he tried to keep light of the situation. “You’ve never been frightened of anything in your life.”

  “I am frightened of what will happen when Charles finds out.”

  “Finds out what?”

  She swallowed hard; he saw it. “That I’m pregnant.”

  He looked at her for a long, painful moment as the words settled. His first reaction was one of volcanic proportions; everything within him threatened to erupt all over the place. But in a last moment of sanity before the explosion, he saw the look on her face and knew that she could not take his emotional outburst. So he forced himself to take a deep, cleansing breath, banking the fires of fury that were surging. It was a moment before he could speak.

  “Brogan?” It was all he could say.

  She nodded. “No matter what you think of me at this moment, William, know that I always believed I would be his wife, up until those few weeks ago when his presence was discovered here. We loved each other deeply and this child was conceived in love. That is more than any child that Charles and I may have can lay claim to.”

  He couldn’t look at her any longer; he felt like a jilted lover, a betrayed father, a slandered brother. But if he was feeling this way, he could only imagine what Aubrey would feel. The mere thought almost sent him into a panic. When he heard her soft sobs again, he reached out and squeezed her arm.

  “I do not think poorly of you,” he whispered. “My respect for you shall always be of the highest regard. And I know that you loved Brogan very much. I know that you believed you would be his wife.”

  She wept into her hand. “What will I do? Help me, William, for I cannot think clearly at the moment. My thoughts are numb.”

  He couldn’t help it; he pulled her into his arms, holding her close to comfort her. She clung to him.

  “Do not worry, my lady,” he whispered into her elaborate hair. “Stay calm. I will think of something.”

  “You cannot return to Warwick,” she insisted, pulling away and struggling to compose herself. “I need you here.”

  He pursed his lips in agreement. “I would say that you do.” Initial shock fading, his mind was beginning to work. “How… advanced is this pregnancy?”

  She sniffled, wiping the remainder of her tears away. “A few weeks at most. Very early.”

  William’s jaw ticked in thought. “Early enough that Charles might think you conceived on your wedding night?”

  She looked blankly at him. Then her face crumpled again. “I… I have to let him…”

  “Shh,” he shushed her quietly, daring to wipe at her new tears. “He’s your husband, Avalyn. You must let him do his duty. And you must do yours.”

  “But… I do not want him t
o…”

  “You must. You have no choice.”

  She sobbed loud enough that William shushed her again. “Avalyn, calm yourself,” he whispered sternly. “You must not let anyone see how upset you are. It will only give way to questions.”

  She nodded, knowing he was correct, laboring to relax. He patted her arm, looking around them to make sure no one had heard or seen their exchange. The battlements were quiet but for a few distant soldiers and the party-goers down below certainly were not paying them any attention. He took her gently by the elbow.

  “Come along,” he said, leading her towards the stairs. “You will return to your festivities and enjoy the night. And when the time comes to retire, remember that it is necessary. If Aubrey is to think this child is his, you must not delay. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, sickened, yet knowing he was correct. “Oh, William,” she breathed. “Will this misery never end?”

  He looked at her as they reached the stairwell. The moon was reflecting off of her lovely features and he felt a good deal of misery of his own.

  “It will,” he muttered. “But until then, you must be brave. I know you can do this.”

  She swallowed hard, wiping what moisture remained on her face. She fixed him in the eye, her gaze moving over his round, strong face. A soft hand came up to gently touch his cheek.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything you have done, I thank you. Surely no better friend in this world has ever existed.”

  He simply nodded, letting her take the stairwell alone. Even after she was gone, he continued to stand there, feeling empty and weak.

  *

  Charles was very drunk when they finally retired to the marriage bed that night. The whistles and calls reverberated to the roof as the baron and his new wife ascended the stairs to the third floor of the keep. Charles was very jovial, waving to the crowd and shouting back to the well-wishers, while Avalyn smiled wanly and was properly subdued, as a virginal bride should be. In truth, she was horrified. She was afraid to open her mouth lest she vomit.

  Richard de Neville watched the couple from his chair of honor on the dais, lifting his chalice to his niece when their eyes made contact. He was rather pleased with himself: once again, a master plan was coming to fruition. There was nothing in this land that did not obey his wishes, especially not his niece. He knew that she would eventually surrender to his directive. He was pleased to see it was sooner rather than later. When the couple disappeared into the upper levels, he turned back to his wine. Aye, he was very pleased with the final result.

  The landing outside of the master’s chamber had been lined with rushes and fragrant sprigs. Fat tapers on big iron stands lit the landing, which led into the massive chamber. There were candles everywhere, some scented with Pine. The entire room was warm and fragrant. As Charles spoke with one of his servants, Avalyn entered the chamber and removed her heavy cloak. The garment was oppressive in the heat of the room. She glanced over at the roaring fireplace, a massive blaze spitting smoke and sparks into the air. Without looking at her new husband, she went to the large oak table near the windows and poured herself a measure of wine. She drank the entire cup in three big swallows; she found that she needed something to fortify her. It was going to be difficult enough to get through this night.

  When she heard the door shut softly and the bolt thrown, she closed her eyes briefly, tightly, squaring her shoulders and remembering what William had told her: you must do your duty. As much as she liked Charles, and for as much as she respected his kindness, the fact remained that she was repulsed by him physically. There was no romantic feeling in her heart, not even the smallest seed. Even if Brogan had never existed, she would not have found Charles an appealing man. And now she was expected to lay with him. She felt bile rise in her throat at the thought.

  “Please make yourself comfortable, my lady,” Charles said, removing his heavy tunic with some difficulty. It was a massive thing studded with semi-precious stones and his drunken fingers couldn’t manage it very well. “Would you like to sit by the fire?”

  She shook her head, moving away from the table as he moved towards it. He took the other chalice of wine and drank deeply, wiping his pale sweaty lips when he was finished. He eyed Avalyn, his gaze lingering on her shapely back.

  “My mother was pregnant when she married,” he said for no apparent reason. “She bore my brother six months later. She wasn’t fooling anyone.”

  Avalyn looked at him sharply, her eyes wide. He put up his hands in a sloppy gesture. “I am sorry, my lady,” he said quickly. “I did not mean to offend. It was simply something that someone reminded me of downstairs. My grandfather was evidently furious, though I would not know that personally, of course.”

  Avalyn could see that he was very, very drunk. He was rambling. He was also very pale and sweaty. In spite of her revulsion of the man, she nonetheless attempted to take the attitude of a concerned wife.

  “Charles, you’re drunk,” she said. “Sit down before you fall down. We’ll sit and talk a while.”

  He staggered his way to the chair she was indicating and sat heavily. The chair creaked and popped dangerously. Avalyn sat in another chair opposite him and they looked at each other. Charles couldn’t seem to sit upright; he kept listing to starboard.

  “I never thought we would see this day,” he said after a moment. “So much has happened. It seems like a dream.”

  He didn’t mean it as a reprimand, but Avalyn felt as if it was. Not wanting to linger on the painful past, she spoke of the future. “Do you have any great plans for our keep, my lord? Any great expansions or hopes?”

  He blinked, struggling to focus his drunken thoughts as he wiped again at his sweaty lip. It was then that Avalyn noticed his lips were an odd shade of pinkish-blue. “I would like to increase my breeding stock,” he said. “There is a lot of money in selling good horses.”

  “An admirable goal.”

  He nodded eagerly, shifting in his seat and nearly falling off the chair. “Right now, I have stables enough to house twenty five horses. I should like to increase that to one hundred.”

  “Indeed?” Avalyn pretended to be interested. “You must decide where to put all of those stables. Perhaps they will have to be built outside the wall, like a big arena.”

  “You must like horses, my lady. You ride that big bay colt.”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “Then perhaps you will help me with this endeavor?”

  “I should be delighted.”

  Charles smiled at her, his purplish lips quivering. He was shifting around quite a bit, nervously and drunkenly, rubbing his left hand a good deal. But Avalyn didn’t notice too much; she was more concerned with what the evening would bring. She wondered if it would be better to get it over with rather than try to delay the inevitable.

  “I… I am glad we are finally married,” she said. “You have been a kind and generous soul.”

  He was looking at her with his big brown eyes, like two spots of mud within his fat pasty face. “I have told you since the beginning that I would endeavor to make a fine husband. Though there were a few times when I thought you would slip away, I had always hoped I would break through to you. Perhaps I finally have.”

  She lowered her gaze, looking at her hands. “I understand that I am fortunate.”

  He sat forward in his chair, obvious to the groaning of the wood and leather. “’Tis I who am the fortunate one, my lady. Did you like the gifts I gave you?”

  She smiled weakly at him, fingering the jewelry around her neck. “They were magnificent, all of them; the cloak, the rings, the necklaces. Just lovely.”

  “Good,” he sat back, pleased with himself. “I like giving you gifts. I shall give you a gift every day for the rest of our marriage.”

  She laughed softly. “If we are married fifty years that could get to be an expensive habit.”

  He shrugged nonchalantly, pleased he could make her laugh. The conversation died for
the moment and he went back to rubbing his left hand furiously. It was then that Avalyn noticed what he was doing.

  She gestured towards his hand. “Is something wrong, my lord?”

  He didn’t know what she meant until he looked down and saw that he was indeed massaging his hand. He extended the digits, turning his hand over as if to gain a better look at it.

  “Nay,” he finally said, rising from the chair and weaving about. “I must have hurt it somehow. It is sore.”

  She nodded in understanding, noticing that he was looking at the bed. He caught her expression and the pleasant mood that had he tried hard to establish was fading. Charles resumed unconsciously rubbing his hand as he faced her.

  “If you do not want to,” his voice was quiet. “I will not force you. I would be happy just to talk to you.”

  It would have been so easy to accept his offer. Lord knows, she wanted to. She was incredibly close to agreeing. But in the last moment she restrained herself, knowing what must be done. There was no use in delaying it, especially if Charles was to think the child was his. Tears threatened, those of fright and revulsion and sorrow, but she fought them.

  “We are married, my lord,” her voice was small, tight. “It is your right. It is expected.”

  “But we do not…”

  “I appreciate your kindness. But we must.”

  Suddenly, he seemed more reluctant than she did. He yanked the mantle off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground in a sloppy action. Sitting heavily on the bed, he almost fell off but caught his balance. He just sat there a moment, staring at the floor. Avalyn watched him, growing increasingly curious about his behavior; when the man should clearly be eager to assume his husbandly duties, Charles seemed very reluctant.

  “Is… is something wrong, my lord?” she asked hesitantly.

  He shook his head. Then he nodded. The hand-rubbing grew more furious as he refused to meet her gaze. “I… I should have told you this before, but I could not…”