“I believe I will marry her.”
Aramis sighed faintly; Gaetan could hear him. “I see,” he said after a moment. “May I ask you something, Gate?”
“Of course.”
“What about Adéle and your other women? Do you believe Lady Ghislaine would like to be brought into a household where there are other women to share your bed?”
Gaetan shook his head. “I am sure she would not,” he said. “I will send Adéle and the others away. I do not need them any longer.”
“Need them?” he repeated. “You sound as if they were something to be tossed away. You are speaking of the mothers of your children.”
“I realize that.”
“There is also that goldsmith’s daughter who bore you a son years ago. What about her?”
Gaetan thought on the first illegitimate son he’d had, a fine lad named Estienne. Truth be told, he forgot about the child at times because the boy’s mother died the previous year and he’d done his duty to send the boy to squire, but he’d not seen him since. Now, Aramis had him thinking on the son he’d only seen once or twice in his lifetime. Another child from another woman he’d bedded. He was starting to feel the least bit uncomfortable with his behavior for the first time in his life.
“His mother died last year,” he replied after a moment. “She is no concern.”
Even though Aramis knew Gaetan and how the man conducted his personal life, it had never been any concern of his until now. Now, he was coming to wonder if Ghislaine wouldn’t be yet another conquest in the ongoing annals of Warwolfe.
“But Adéle and your other women are quite alive and, I would imagine, quite inconvenient to you now that you are contemplating taking a wife,” he said. “Now you would cast them all aside simply because you feel something for another woman?”
Gaetan sat back, mulling over the question. “Adéle knows that I hold no feelings for her,” he said. “She has been with me many years. She knows my thoughts and she knows that marriage was never a possibility. She is a slave, Aramis, and nothing more. And my sons… I adore my sons but to have legitimate heirs with a woman like Ghislaine would make me the proudest man alive.”
Aramis understood that because he was having the very same feelings. But Gaetan was his liege; it wasn’t as if he could fight the man on this and his disappointment was deep. The noble thing would be for him to back away. Perhaps he could; perhaps he couldn’t. He wasn’t exactly sure what he felt for the lady, either. And in that respect, what he would verbalize would be much the same as Gaetan. Both of them career knights, unused to emotional attachments.
Until Ghislaine entered their world.
“She would produce magnificent sons,” he agreed. “But you do not see her as simply the mother of your heirs, do you? She is much more than that.”
Gaetan nodded slowly, a bobbing of the head that was both thoughtful and hesitant. “It is strange, Aramis,” he said. “I never wanted to marry. You have known me for years and you know I have avoided marriage as if it were poison. I suppose I never met a woman I considered worthy of marriage but in Ghislaine, I see a woman more worthy than I am. Now, I am afraid she will not want me because I am not good enough for her.”
Aramis lifted his eyebrows thoughtfully. “Then you should ask her.”
“What if she denies me?”
“Then I will be there to ask her if she feels I am worthy of her.”
Gaetan looked at him. “You would take her from me?”
“I cannot take that which does not belong to you. But I will give you the first opportunity to marry her. If she refuses you, then you will not begrudge me if I do.”
It was a fair enough bargain. Gaetan didn’t like the thought of Aramis married to Ghislaine but it wasn’t as if he could prevent it. He was quite worthy of her, as well. Aramis would inherit his father’s title, Count of Roeselare, someday. So he would be a most worthy man with titles and wealth. Moreover, Aramis was a man of good character. Perhaps a little rough around the edges, but he was of good character. Gaetan considered him a close friend.
“I appreciate your honesty,” he said. “And I appreciate that you will give me the first opportunity to express my feelings for her. I shall not forget your generosity.”
Aramis lingered by the end of the bed before coming around and laying an enormous hand on Gaetan’s shoulder. “You have been a great and true friend to me, Gate,” he said. “I could not live long enough to repay everything you have done for me. Although I had hoped I was wrong and that your attention towards the lady was nothing more than duty, I understand that you feel something for her. That is a rare thing, my friend. What is affection and love in our world?”
Gaetan looked up at him, appreciating his words, his reaction to the situation. “It is a curse or it is a blessing,” he said. “I have seen it curse men until they were ghosts of their former selves but, in the case of Kristoph and my sister, I have seen the blessings between them. I have always envied that bond but never thought I would know it for myself. Mayhap I shall not. If the lady does not return my feelings, then I will not begrudge you if she finds comfort in you. She could do worse.”
Aramis snorted, patted his shoulder one last time, and left the hut. Gaetan felt a great deal of relief when the man was gone but not for his absence; it was for the understanding between them now, something he knew he had to get out in the open before it festered. He had too much respect for Aramis not to clear the air. Although he wasn’t happy that Aramis had some feelings towards Ghislaine, he knew Aramis was a man of honor. In fact, he felt some pity for the man, expressing feelings for a woman he would probably never have.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t.
Gaetan looked down at Ghislaine, sleeping heavily beside him. She was still holding on to one of his hands that, by this time, was numb. He couldn’t feel his fingers any longer. He studied her face in the weak light, the way her lashes fanned out against her cheek, the tiny little scar she had on her forehead near the hairline, and the rosebud lips that were pale but still quite kissable. Here in the darkness, with no one watching, he did, indeed, kiss them tenderly.
They were as sweet as he had imagined.
But he wasn’t entirely alone; he knew that. He could hear the old man over in the darkness behind him, rummaging about. The old man who had heard the conversation between him and Aramis, although he didn’t much care. It was done. Still holding Ghislaine’s hand, he looked over his shoulder towards the rustlings sounds.
“My men and I have not eaten since this morning,” he said. “Is there a tavern nearby?”
The old man was cleaning off his knives with vinegar. “Aye,” he replied. “Down the road is a place called The King’s Head. They will provide a meal for a price.”
“And a bed?”
“You can sleep there, also.”
Gaetan turned to look at Ghislaine. Gently, he stroked her forehead with his free hand. “I must leave her here, at least for the night,” he said. “I will pay you well for your services and the use of the bed.”
The old man wandered in his direction, peering down at his patient. “She will sleep until tomorrow,” he said. “Go and eat. She will be here when you return.”
Gaetan didn’t want to leave her but the apothecary had a point; she was dead asleep. She wouldn’t know if he’d left to eat, something he and his knights very much needed to do. Reluctantly, he nodded.
“You will watch over her?” he asked.
The old man nodded, turning away to put his knives away. “I will not leave.”
Carefully, Gaetan disengaged his fingers from her grip, pulling the dirty woolen blanket up over her. His gaze lingered on her even as he stood up and stretched the kinks out of his big body.
“Then my men and I will find something to eat,” he said, turning for the door. “I will return shortly.”
The old man simply nodded, busying himself at his table as Gaetan slipped from the hut.
Once outside, Gaetan stretched out his
body again, rubbing at a spot on his back that was sore from having sat hunched over for so long. His men were standing around, weary and waiting.
“Has she awoken?” Téo asked.
Gaetan shook his head. “She sleeps like the dead,” he said. Then, he looked around. “Where are the horses?”
“There is a livery on the other side of the cathedral,” St. Hèver told him. “When you took the lady inside the apothecary, Lance and I took the horses to the livery. They are well tended.”
“And our possessions?”
“I paid the livery keep to watch over them but we took your money purse from your saddlebags. I have it.”
Satisfied at the way of things for the moment, Gaetan pointed down the road. “The apothecary said there is a tavern down the road called The King’s Head where we can find food,” he said. “I could use something to eat now that the apothecary is watching over the lady.”
Everyone agreed on that account. The King’s Head, in fact, was only a few doors down from the apothecary’s hut. So, in short order, the knights found themselves faced with a tavern that was only half-full, which meant there was a good deal of food to go around. Beside a roaring fire pit that sent a heavy layer of smoke into the room, the knights stuffed themselves on boiled pork, carrots, and apples.
All the while, however, they felt as if someone was missing and, more than once, made a comment about the lady warrior besting Aramis that night in Westerham. It was a favorite story to tell. It seemed as though Ghislaine was more a part of them than she’d ever hoped to be and it was a sad thing she wasn’t here to see it. Gaetan kept thinking how much she would have enjoyed the meal and the fact that de Moray burped out a tune after having too much ale, nearly rupturing eardrums. Nothing was heard from the Lord of Flatulence this night, but the Lord of Belch was in fine form.
Even Gaetan was able to laugh at it. He felt relieved and hopeful, praying that morning would find Ghislaine much better. A praying man, he found himself giving thanks to God several times during the night and finding a sense of peace because of it. He couldn’t believe that God would have brought Ghislaine to him only to take her away when he realized his feelings for her. As the night went on, he was becoming more and more convinced that everything was going to be all right.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Where am I?
That was Ghislaine’s first thought when she opened her eyes into a dark and unfamiliar room. It smelled odd, too, something between rot and death and smoke. It was a frightening smell, one that immediately had her on-edge.
Fear filled her veins. Ghislaine genuinely had no idea where she was. She tried to look around without moving her head but she saw no one at all. Then she tried to think back to her last coherent memory and she remembered being in a wooded area, beside a creek, with Gaetan, but little else.
The fear began to take over. Why can’t I remember anything? She knew there was more; clearly, more had happened. Then it came to her… there was something else… sickness… a fever! Aye, she remembered that she had a fever. Instinctively, she put a hand to her cheeks to feel if they were still hot. They were warm, but not overly. Certainly not as hot as she had remembered. Perhaps the fever had gone away.
But what was she doing here?
Timidly, she lifted her head, looking around what seemed to be a tiny hut that was cluttered with tables, broken chairs, and a myriad of things she couldn’t identify. There was untidiness everywhere, piles in the corners from what she could see, as well as covering the floor. Having no idea where she was, or why, she was starting to feel some panic.
Where were Gaetan and the other knights? Tears filled her eyes when she realized they had left her behind when they’d gone on to intercept Alary. Gaetan had promised her that he wouldn’t leave her, but he’d obviously broken that promise. Ghislaine couldn’t see any other reason for his absence.
Perhaps he had only lied to her so she wouldn’t suspect what he was planning to do. No one wanted to travel with an ill companion, someone who would drag down the entire party. Gaetan and his knights had a mission to accomplish and when Ghislaine told him how close they were to Tenebris, she had rendered herself no longer necessary. Perhaps if she hadn’t been ill, she could have continued with them, but they’d left her off somewhere and gone on without her.
Angry as well as frightened, she wiped at the tears. She wasn’t going to stay behind, not in the least. She’d come this far and risked her life for those ungrateful knights, and she was going to see this through, too. It was her right just as much as it was theirs.
Cautiously, she sat up a little more but shooting pains raced through her right thigh and she gasped, her hand flying to the leg as if to still the pain. It hurt so much worse than it had before and she was confused by the level of pain but she wasn’t stopped by it. As she gasped again, trying to move to the edge of the bed, Camulos’ head came up and big brown eyes looked at her anxiously.
Ghislaine sighed heavily when she saw the dog. There was great irony in the realization that Gaetan had left the beast with her. What was it he had said? You may have to take him when you return home. Evidently, he’d left the dog behind.
He didn’t want to take the dog, just as he hadn’t wanted to take her.
That understanding fed her determination. Now, she was more angry than she was frightened. She intended to catch up to Gaetan and tell him exactly what she thought of a man who broke his promise. She’d helped him, risked her life for him, and when she no longer was of use, he took the first opportunity to leave her behind like rubbish.
He wasn’t going to get away with it.
Biting off groans of pain, she pushed her right leg over the side of the bed. The thigh was heavily bandaged and her trousers on that leg were in tatters, but it didn’t matter. She was going to leave this place and track down Gaetan de Wolfe and his thankless men. She was going to show them that they couldn’t treat a Saxon that way. Treat her that way.
A woman who clearly adored him.
Perhaps, most of what Ghislaine was feeling was hurt and disappointment. A man she was coming to have feelings for had lied to her. He’d made her feel what she thought she’d never feel again and then he’d run off like a coward. Was that the extent of Norman bravery? Only on the battlefield and not of the heart?
She was going to catch up to him and tell him what she thought of him.
Both feet came to rest on the uneven dirt floor and she struggled to regain her balance. She was in so much pain that sweat was beading on her forehead, but she fought it. She was determined to leave and nothing was going to stop her. But as she pondered that thought, she caught sight of a body hunched over one of the tables.
Startled, she froze, watching the figure in the darkness for a few moments only to realize that whoever it must have been sound asleep. The figure hadn’t moved in spite of the noise she’d made. Terrified that it was someone Gaetan had paid to keep her confined, she knew she had to run before they captured her and tied her onto the bed. She had to run from that dark smelly place and never look back.
Carefully, she rose to her feet but it wasn’t easy; the pain in her right thigh was beyond measure. It didn’t work particularly well, either, so it was very difficult not to make noise as she hobbled towards the door. Once, the body sprawled on the table shifted and made a noise, like snoring, and she froze, waiting to see if he awoke. Fortunately, the figure didn’t move again, so she continued straight out the door and into the dark night beyond.
Camulos was right behind her, pushing past her as she headed out into the dark street. She didn’t even know where she was; her mind was still cloudy, but she didn’t realize it. To her, she was thinking perfectly clearly but the truth was that she wasn’t thinking straight at all.
She was… somewhere. Some town, somewhere, and she had to find Gaetan and his ungrateful knights. Was she in Worcester? She could see an abbey to her right, looming big and dark against the night sky, but she didn’t recognize it.
She was almost in a dreamlike state where things were familiar but not exactly as she remembered. Nothing made any sense at the moment.
There was a road beside the church, however, heading out of the town and across a river. Perhaps it was Worcester, after all. Worcester had a bridge across the Severn, a well-traveled bridge. If she took the road out of town, then she would be able to find safety in the trees or in a field before looking to the night sky to find her bearings. She didn’t want to stop in the town, fearful that there were more people Gaetan had paid to keep her there. She couldn’t trust anyone, not even the priests.
There were some clouds, however, and the sky had shifted because of the lateness of the hour, which caused Ghislaine some concern. If she couldn’t use the night to guide her way, then surely she would find her bearings when the sun came up. She would recognize the landscape or perhaps even ask someone if she didn’t.
Dragging her bad leg and being followed by the big dog, she made her way out of town as quickly as she could, clinging to the buildings, staying in the shadows, fearful she’d be caught. Camulos remained right by her side but she couldn’t pay any attention to the dog. She was too concerned with making a break for freedom and ignoring the pain from her throbbing leg. It was slow going, made worse by the fact that she had to duck into the shadows on more than one occasion because there was someone in the street. She didn’t even have her dagger with her, stripped by de Wolfe, no doubt.
She was defenseless.
With the nightbirds singing to their mates as the only sound in the dark, she made her way around the side of the cathedral where she could hear the gentle trickle of the river. She could also smell the dampness. There was a rock wall and she clung to it, making her way up a path that ran between the wall and the river, trying to walk with that painful leg and having no idea where she was really going, only that she was going to find Gaetan.
But pain and exhaustion soon overwhelmed her. Ghislaine came to the point where she really didn’t have any thoughts in her head other than the searing pain in her leg. Just one more step, she told herself. Just one more step…. She began to live for that one more step, limping severely because it hurt so badly to walk. But she would push through it. She had to make it to freedom!
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 24
