“Thank you, my lord earl.”
He smiled. “Please, if we are to be related, you must call me Ram.”
“Has Hugh told you? About Renouf? About our so-called marriage?”
“Oui, he has told me. Don’t blame him for breaking his oath. I made it clear I would do nothing to help either of you if he didn’t tell me the complete story.”
She took a deep breath. “I understand, but the curia—I’ll be shamed if the court hears of it.”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that, but you must keep faith. I’ll return if there is news. Don’t despair. I have to leave. Antoine is being married.”
She frowned. “Married?”
“Oui, at the Abbaye, so Hugh can attend. The king has given his consent, which is a good sign.”
“Who is his bride?”
Ram hesitated. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you another time. Enough to say this marriage may help your cause.”
Antoine stood waiting for his bride to arrive. Despite the circumstances, it felt good to know both his brothers were there to stand with him. Ram had been instrumental in obtaining the king’s permission for the marriage to take place, and for it to happen in the magnificent abbey church William had built.
Antoine suspected it had not been easy to persuade the king to allow him to marry an Angevin prisoner. Ram must have done some smooth talking. Now there would be no danger of Sybilla being executed.
Hugh had been allowed to shed the monk’s robe he was obliged to wear as a detainee and stood beside Antoine in clothing befitting his rank and station.
All was in readiness. Little Denis slept peacefully in Oda’s arms. Seated next to her was an unmarried peasant girl brought as a wet nurse from the Abbaye aux Dames after she had lost her child at birth.
He and Hugh were richly attired. A more majestic location for a wedding would be impossible to find. They had the king’s blessing.
Yet Antoine felt uneasy. His heart ached. If only Sybilla had agreed to this union because she loved him and not because she believed it was the only way to protect herself and her son.
He had found a woman he truly loved, just as Ram had found Mabelle, and Hugh his Devona. Would Sybilla forgive him for slaying her beloved husband? When she came into view on Ram’s arm, he resolved to spend his life convincing her of his love.
When they were apart he tried to dismiss his attraction to her as merely physical, but as soon as he saw her he knew differently. This woman was in his blood. His need for her went beyond the physical, although his shaft was behaving predictably as he watched her walk slowly toward him.
They would be unable to consummate their marriage for a while yet, though Sybilla had undergone the churching ritual earlier in the day. He would not bed her until she indicated she was ready—and willing.
When they reached Antoine’s side, he held out his hand and Ram placed Sybilla’s on top of it. Her hair and face were covered by a long gauzy veil, but the red highlights shone through. His bride looked at him directly and her mismatched eyes flashed. He hoped she saw the love he bore her shining in his eyes.
Her hand was warm and moist. Although her elegant bearing bespoke confident assurance, he sensed she was nervous. For a brief moment her fingers squeezed his hand and heat rushed through his body. He smiled at her, hoping he didn’t look like the lovesick fool he felt. How often he had teased Ram about his feelings for Mabelle, but how hard it was to bear the prospect of unrequited love.
They faced the priest and the ritual began.
Sybilla’s agitated heart calmed after she glimpsed Denis sleeping peacefully in Oda’s arms. Thanks to the man she was about to marry, her son had prospects for the future.
When her hand was placed into Antoine’s, his warmth flooded through her. Her whole body flushed whenever she was near him, and the heat pooled in her most intimate female places. At first she had thought she was ill, but knew now she had fallen hopelessly in love. She would have to guard her heart. He was marrying her in the hope of saving the brother who stood at his side.
Yet, when she looked into his eyes, did she see love in those green depths? As a girl she had dreamed of being married to a handsome knight who was madly in love with her, and she with him. Could such a dream come true? It seemed unlikely after her experience with Denis de Sancerre.
However, looking at Antoine and his brothers, all so alike in appearance, she had to admit the Montbryces were a handsome and noble family, a far cry from the Sancerres and her own family, the Taloches.
“Milady?” The priest’s whisper broke into her reverie. She was apparently supposed to be saying something. “Are you willing, milady?”
Antoine squeezed her hand. He must have spoken his vow already. She had been in a daydream, imagining the possibilities.
“I—am willing.”
She knew Antoine was looking at her when her body heated. She swayed, clutching his hand more tightly as she turned to him. His face betrayed his concern. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded, suddenly feeling more confident about the future. Perhaps they could have a successful marriage. They were certainly drawn to each other physically, of that she had no doubt, and he genuinely cared for Denis. Her heart lifted and when she looked back at her new husband she hoped her smile confirmed her love.
Before she knew it, Antoine was lifting her veil and gathering her into his arms for the traditional kiss. They had not kissed since the first time, a fortnight before. She closed her eyes. This time his kiss was chaste, and she felt inexplicably disappointed there had been no tongue thrust into her mouth.
The monks provided a modest celebratory meal. Though the portions were small, the quality of the food and wine was excellent. Ram and Hugh’s hearty congratulations seemed genuine. Antoine was more than solicitous of her and made sure Oda and Denis and the wet nurse were all comfortable and well taken care of.
Inevitably though, Devona and Hugh’s predicament overshadowed the occasion. After a while the three brothers withdrew for a private conference. Their shoulders were tense when they reappeared, faces grim.
Antoine came to sit beside her once more.
“What is it?” she asked.
His warm thigh pressed against hers. At one time she had been relieved her condition would preclude intimacy on her wedding night, but now she longed for Antoine to bed her.
Her new husband grimaced. “I’m sorry. This is your wedding day, and you are a beautiful bride. There should be no sadness on a day like this.”
Sybilla could not recall anyone telling her she was beautiful before. She put her hand over his in reassurance. “I understand. Tell me.”
He exhaled and ran his hand through his hair. “There is still no word from Jubert. Hugh feels better now he knows Devona is no longer in the cells, but he’s distraught at what she has suffered. However, the bad news is that François de Giroux is one of the barons who will sit on the curia.”
“Giroux?”
“There is a long standing hatred between the Montbryces and the Giroux family, caused by a heinous act perpetrated long ago by Mabelle’s father. François won’t be favorably disposed to us.”
Sybilla closed her fingers over his hand, but could think of nothing to say. Her upbringing had been to trust none of these Norman nobles anyway. She was powerless in this enemy camp, only tolerated because she was now Antoine’s wife.
He took her hands in his. “We are asking much of you to testify against Renouf, but—”
Sybilla put her finger to his lips. “I know how much you love your brother. I’m your wife and I will obey your wish for me to testify. You won’t have married me in vain.”
He tensed. Anger flashed in his eyes as he stood abruptly. “That’s not the reason I married you, Sybilla. Come, I will deliver you safely to the Abbaye aux Dames. It’s not far. The nuns have prepared a chamber for you and the babe.”
She went with him, wishing she could spend the night with her husband. She didn’t care
at that moment why he had married her. She simply longed for him to hold her against his strong body.
He saw them safely inside the convent and then left to return to the Abbaye aux Hommes where the three brothers planned to continue their discussions about the upcoming trial.
Once Sybilla was assured Denis was fed and put back to sleep she left him in Oda’s care and sought out the abbess.
“Congratulations on your marriage, milady Montbryce.” The woman’s tone left no doubt about her feelings for Angevins.
Sybilla bowed slightly, thinking she liked the sound of her new name. “Merci, ma mère. I’d like to speak to Lady Devona.”
The nun’s face remained expressionless. “She’s an adulteress who has been confined.”
Sybilla resisted the urge to respond with sarcasm. “I don’t intend to try to free her. I merely wish to pray with her.”
The nun arched her brows and made a deprecating sound, but she removed a key from her pocket. “Follow me.”
She led the way through the cloisters into a different part of the convent and unlocked a small door, shoving Sybilla inside. The key turned again when the door was slammed shut behind her.
It took a few moments to become accustomed to the darkness. A single candle struggled to cast light into the gloom. She gradually became aware of two women huddled together on a small pallet, one older, the other young.
Devona came to her feet slowly. “You are Antoine’s new wife.”
Sybilla nodded, feeling an urge to put her arms round this beleaguered young Saxon woman who had suffered much at the hands of cruel men, a kindred spirit. She took hold of trembling hands. “Oui, I’m Sybilla.”
Devona squeezed her hands. “I’m so happy for you, and Antoine. I’m sorry I was not allowed to attend the ceremony. Your husband has risked a great deal for me and Hugh. Ram has been telling me about you during his visits. I thank you for agreeing to help us. I know it means danger for you.”
Sybilla shrugged. “I’m protected as Antoine’s wife. That’s why he wed me, to ensure I would testify, that I’d be vouchsafed. I’m considered almost worthy to be a Norman now.”
Devona eyed her curiously and shook her head. “From what I know of Antoine, he would not marry a woman, unless—”
Sybilla’s heart raced. “Unless?”
“Do you love Antoine?”
Sybilla saw little point in lying. “With all my heart.”
Devona smiled and embraced her. “He is a man in a thousand. Treasure what you have found in him. He must have deep feelings for you to offer for your hand. Much as he loves Hugh, he wouldn’t betray a woman to save his brother. He’s a man of honor. He’s a Montbryce.”
The older woman nodded, wiping away a tear.
“You are Lady Wilona?”
Devona’s mother nodded again and struggled to her feet, choking with a deep rasping cough. Her wrinkled face looked incongruous squeezed into the coif and wimple.
“I’m relieved you’re not alone here.”
Devona smiled. “I’m never alone. Hugh is with me always.”
A rap at the door indicated their interview must be terminated. The women embraced. Sybilla tapped back, the door was opened and she stepped out into the cold air of the corridor. A nun escorted her to her own chamber in silence.
Sybilla picked up her sleeping son and cradled him to her breast, weeping silent tears. Hope and dread warred within her.
Hugh chided Antoine. “You should be with your bride tonight.”
There was barely enough room for the three brothers in Hugh’s cell. They sat on wooden stools, their legs bent, knees touching. They nursed the last of the ale brought from the festivities, aware they would not be offered more.
Antoine shrugged. “It’s but a brief time since the birth of her son. I have to wait, to be patient.”
Ram made a deprecating noise. “Sybilla needs more from you than just a bedding. You love the woman, but I’d wager you haven’t confessed that to her. Reminds me of another idiot I know. Why is it so hard for a man to tell a woman he loves her?”
Antoine’s mouth fell open. “You still haven’t told Mabelle?”
Ram looked sheepish. “She knows I love her.”
Hugh snorted. “Here we are, the brave and courageous Montbryce brothers, yet we are cowards when it comes to professing our love for a woman.”
Antoine took a swig of his ale, then wiped his hand across his mouth. “When you know the woman doesn’t love you in return—”
Hugh guffawed. “What are you talking about? Watching you and Sybilla today, I’d venture to say your wife burns for you.”
Antoine looked at him in surprise, his heart thudding. Ram was nodding. “What makes you say that?”
Hugh snorted. “By all that’s holy! Here you are, the great expert on women, and yet you can’t see love when it hits you in the face. You mocked Ram at Hastings and you are guilty of the same idiocy you accused him of.”
Ram laughed. “Feels good not to be on the receiving end this time.”
Hugh bristled. “You’re just as bad, Ram. Why haven’t you told Mabelle you love her?”
Ram looked at his feet. “Perhaps she doesn’t love me?”
Hugh jumped up and the flimsy stool fell backwards. “You are both the biggest idiots. Of course Mabelle loves you. It’s written all over her lovely face whenever she looks at you.”
Antoine righted the stool, thinking about what his brothers had said. Then another thought struck him. “But Sybilla loved her husband. I killed him.”
Hugh picked up his stool and held it over Antoine’s head. “I feel like hammering some sense into you with this.”
Antoine flinched. “What have I said now?”
Hugh rolled his eyes, lowered the stool and sat down. “How old is Sybilla?”
Antoine shrugged. “A score, give or take—”
“And Denis de Sancerre?”
“Maybe three score.” Reality punched him in the belly. “An old man.”
“Exactement!” Hugh gloated and Ram laughed.
Antoine scratched his head. “But she wept—she whispered in his ear—she—”
“What did you expect? That she rush to tell you she didn’t love her husband as he lay dead at your feet? Sybilla is a proud woman, conscious of her honor above all. She’s a woman who has been brought up to hate Normans. Her own feelings must confuse her, but can you honestly see a young woman like Sybilla falling in love with an old man? More likely her father sold her to Sancerre.”
Lost in private thoughts, the three were silent for long minutes before Ram spoke. “I cannot imagine, in the worst circumstances, setting fire to my own castle knowing it would doom Mabelle to die a ghastly death. A man who would do that is not a man in love with his wife.”
Hugh winked at Antoine and elbowed Ram. “You know what this means, don’t you, brother?”
“Non, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
Hugh chuckled. “It means Sybilla has never known the touch of a man who loves her.”
Antoine hardened at the notion.
“Oui, mon frère. I can see you are imagining it. Do you think she longs to be touched with love—” Hugh’s voice cracked, choked with emotion, “—as my Devona did.”
Another silence followed and Antoine sensed all three were envisioning making love to the women they adored.
“I miss Mabelle,” Ram said out loud, confirming he was longing to be with his wife and their newborn son. “And my boy.”
Antoine’s heart raced. “The Saxons have a good word for times like these, eh Hugh?”
Hugh grinned and nodded and they shouted as loudly as they could, “Godemite!”
A fit of laughter took hold.
Ram chided. “You two! You’re like a pair of—”
Then he too burst out laughing. “We’ll be getting thrown out of a monastery next.”
Hugh sobered and said with mock seriousness, “It’s the curse of the Montbryces.”
“What is?” Antoine asked.
“To be that most unusual of things—noblemen in love with their wives.”
The Trial
Two days later, King William’s curia regis began its proceedings, dealing initially with trivial matters: disagreements over land and title, debts owed, grievances aired.
However, all in attendance were aware of the greater matter to come—the trial of a member of the Montbryce family for kidnapping and adultery. By the third day the air was charged with the expectancy of a guilty verdict and a burning or two.
Ram insisted successfully that Hugh be allowed to dress in his own clothes, rather than a monk’s habit. But his insistence could not prevail in Devona’s case and she was brought before the court in the novice’s robes, expected to be penitent.
It was the first time Hugh had seen his beloved for weeks, and the bile rose in his throat when he saw how pale and drawn she was. The injustice was galling. A beautiful woman abused by a Norman beast and condemned because of her wish to escape him.
His fury intensified when Renouf de Maubadon strutted into the hall and shot him a disparaging glare, then sneered at Devona before sitting in the seat reserved for the plaintiff.
Unexpectedly, an excited murmur spread through the assembly. Men-at-arms bearing the Duke of Normandie’s device streamed into the chamber. The Bishop of Caen, who had presided over the initial proceedings, abruptly vacated his seat.
Everyone came quickly to their feet as King William strode into the chamber.
Devona gasped and swayed.
Even Ram, who was to speak on Hugh’s behalf, looked surprised.
William sat down heavily and motioned everyone to be seated. It occurred to Hugh the king had gained even more weight, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Antoine enter with Sybilla. He exhaled and gave Devona a reassuring nod. One thing was going right. They had the means to prove Renouf a traitor. He smirked when the brute’s eye twitched upon espying Sybilla.
“Call the court to order, my lord Bishop.” William’s voice was flat and gave away nothing.
Defiance (The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition Book 2) Page 18
