By Right of Arms

by Robyn Carr

  “You expect me to leave half my troop outside the protection of the wall?”

  “Do what you will with them. We are crowded enough; De la Noye possessed a large troop and many villeins when I arrived. Your men will be allowed to share in our hunting and we can provide some game and provender from this hall, but they will have to make their own camp.” He cocked his head slightly. “If they are attacked from without, I shall lend arms.”

  “How very generous you are.” Ryland smirked.

  “You are free to go, if you prefer,” Hyatt shrugged. “If I were you, I would …”

  Hyatt’s words trailed off slowly as Ryland’s eyes moved toward the stair. Hyatt turned to see where his brother’s attention was drawn and found that Faon stood at the bottom of the stair, looking into the room.

  “Who is this lovely creature, Hyatt?”

  Hyatt grunted dourly. “Mistress Faon, the mother of my son, Derek.”

  Ryland threw back his head and laughed loudly. He approached Faon and took her hand, pressing his lips to its back and bending low in a bow. She gave a brief curtsy. “Mistress, it is indeed a pleasure. I am Ryland, long-estranged brother of Sir Hyatt.” He backed away from Faon and looked at Hyatt, his eyes twinkling in devious delight.

  “Oh, I shall stay, Hyatt, no matter how uncomfortable you try to make me. Such an experience should not be missed. I have heard that your manner of ruling is different from that of other men and now I am curious to see for myself.” He glanced between Aurélie and Faon. The wife blushed lightly and the mistress smiled victoriously. “Indeed, this should prove to be very enlightening.”

  * * *

  Girvin and Guillaume were dressed in animal-skin leggings and soft leather boots, and wore leather vests that covered lightweight linen gowns. Each had a thick belt on which he could carry pouches of grain and dried meat. Bows and quivers were slung over their backs, and their only other weapons were stout hunting knives and axes, but it was not the four-legged animal they hunted.

  After the sun had set the bridge was lowered, but the gate was kept closed so that no one but the tower guard would see who departed. The two had lowered themselves over De la Noye’s wall by a rope; Guillaume led the way through the thickest portion of the north wood and Girvin followed.

  Both men were large, Guillaume being only a little shorter and slighter of build than Girvin, but their boots made no sound on the leaves and grass on which they stepped. They walked silently for several hours until the sun began to rise. They camped by the bright afternoon sun in a heavily concealed copse and ate of a freshly speared, roasted rabbit. As the sun lowered, they began the trek again. The moon was high up when Guillaume stopped. He pointed to a rocky ledge on a hill that could barely be made out in the dark of the night. “The road from Innesse toward De la Noye passes under that ledge. There is a shallow cave that can be reached, but ’tis best done in daylight.”

  “Good,” Girvin said. “We can camp here until dawn.”

  Guillaume moved a bit off the path, kicking around in some shrubs as if making a space within the brush for a concealed pallet. “No fire?” he asked.

  “Not unless you wish to draw raiders,” Girvin returned. The other knight followed suit and stamped down some tall grass and vines, finally dropping from his back and belt the packs and supplies he carried. “You’ve done well, Guillaume. I thought you would know a place.”

  Guillaume unrolled the skins he carried for a pallet and sat down, taking from his pouch a thick slab of dried meat and gnawing on it thoughtfully. “What makes you so sure that we shall see an English troop pass between De la Noye and Innesse?”

  “Hyatt’s brother will betray him. There is no kinship there and Ryland has long been associated with Sir Hollis, who holds the Château Innesse now. It will be either knights of Ryland’s troop, traveling to Innesse to deliver word that Ryland is inside, or troops of Hollis’s, come to view the situation from the wood. Whichever it is, Hyatt must be told.”

  “I do not understand these English ways,” Guillaume said, shaking his head. “Your king sends armies here to conquer us, and now that two knights of the same kingdom have landed and taken possessions in his name, they will fight each other? And Hyatt’s own brother will betray him? For what?”

  Girvin laughed, a low, rumbling sound. “ ’Tis not the way of us English, but the way of certain men. Ryland allied himself with Hollis many years ago, for Hollis is strong and has a large troop traveling with him. In the beginning, Ryland was dissatisfied to see Hyatt live, fearing that the favored son would one day return to Lachland and make amends with the old lord, laying some claim. When that fear diminished with the passage of time, Ryland was moved by jealousy, for Hyatt has become steadily richer in reputation, favor, and, now, possessions. Ryland has his stinking Lachland, which is not worth a quarter of this Aquitaine demesne. Ryland is a lazy and selfish man and cannot endure Hyatt’s success. This has been a long feud, begun many years before Hyatt left Lachland. I do not know how Ryland holds Hollis’s friendship, but it must take a large supply of silver, for Hollis has no principles save greed.”

  Guillaume laughed. “Do you draw me out to do this service for Hyatt by trying to convince me that this has nothing to do with the war between French and English, but some battle between brothers?”

  Girvin tilted a skin of wine to his lips and drank greedily, then passed the skin to Guillaume and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Whether the battle be of countries or brothers, there is one fact. Sir Hollis is well known for leaving a path of death and waste where he conquers, and Hyatt’s reputation has him building into greatness whatever he claims. Soon to come to De la Noye is the offspring of France and England, for Lady Aurélie will give birth and this child will be the heir.”

  “I was told that the boy, Derek, whom my wife tends, would be heir.”

  “Oh, Derek will have an inheritance, for certain. But not De la Noye. There are other lands for him.”

  “English lands?” Guillaume asked. “Does Hyatt leave this domain to go home?”

  “Nay, he will stay in this new possession until Edward calls him to arms elsewhere. And what Hyatt plans for his firstborn he does not share with me. But unless I did not hear him correctly, he means to keep the lordship of De la Noye safe for many generations by passing it on to a legitimate heir. You may be assured,” Girvin said with a smile, “that Derek will not be neglected.”

  Guillaume grunted a sour reply and tore at his meat with his teeth, chewing the dried stuff with difficulty.

  “It does not matter whether your new lord is English or French, Guillaume. What matters is that your mistress and your people live.” Guillaume looked away into the darkness. “Do you reckon with your new leader yet?”

  “Not yet,” Guillaume replied without looking at Girvin.

  “Bah, you follow orders like any loyal vassal. Why do you withhold your oath? You could have your arms returned.”

  Guillaume looked back at Girvin and a chuckle escaped him. He patted the stacked goods beside him; his pouch, quiver, bow, knives, and ax. “I do well enough with these.”

  Girvin leaned closer. “You have these for the sake of Hyatt, Lord of De la Noye.”

  “Nay, for the sake of Aurélie, Lady of the castle.”

  “Humph! You are as much Hyatt’s knight as I.”

  “Nay. Not until you are as much Aurélie’s vassal as Hyatt’s.”

  “It cannot be. I killed her husband.”

  “She will learn the truth to that one day.”

  Girvin’s eyes shot to Guillaume’s in stunned surprise. “What truth?”

  “There are many slurs applied to the former lord. Most of them are only pompous jests, but some of them I think are true. I listen.”

  Girvin eyed Guillaume suspiciously and then he snatched the wineskin from where it rested beside Guillaume. He took a hearty gulp, spilling much of the dark liquid on his shirt. “If you listen to idle gossip and battle tales from drunken knights, you a
re as stupid as a mule.”

  Guillaume laughed loudly and heartily. “Stupid as a mule, eh? And when did you know a mule who refuses to carry his load or walk a narrow ledge to be stupid? Stubborn, perhaps. Determined. But stupid?” He laughed all the more and held out his hand to have the wine returned. Girvin nearly thrust it at him in what appeared to be petulance. “Never mind,” Guillaume replied. “The time will come when both Hyatt and Aurélie will have to reckon with what they have captured and the truth will be revealed then.”

  “Hyatt and Aurélie? Hyatt has captured the castle and the woman, but the lady has captured nothing.”

  “Oh?” Guillaume chuckled. “Has she not?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Aurélie did her part as the lady of the hall and helped Ryland, two squires, and a page to settle into a comfortable chamber in the south wing of the castle. Her rooms, shared with her husband, were in the north wing. Hyatt had made no special request but that she see them housed. However, with the protective instincts of a lioness, she took Ryland far from her mate.

  She stood in the frame of the door and watched as Ryland entered and leisurely surveyed his quarters. She was struck by the likeness Hyatt bore to his brother, yet some subtle differences, perhaps more of character than features, stood out in her mind as only a wife might notice them.

  Ryland’s fingers were longer, thinner, and his hands moved in smooth, graceful lines, while Hyatt’s hands and arms seemed to move with power and determination. Ryland’s advantage was in his height, but his frame was not as well muscled as Hyatt’s. And something Aurélie sensed about Ryland left her shivering, but she did not know if her own instincts were reacting to a man who should not be trusted or if she had acquired this feeling of dread and doom because of Hyatt’s warning and ominously foreboding mood. Whichever it was, she decided at once that Ryland was evil.

  Hyatt did not ride the perimeters of De la Noye, hunt, work in the stables, or partake of any of his customary duties. He indulged himself in a brief practice of arms with some of his men the day after Ryland arrived, but that was the extent of his usual activity. To an untrained eye he might appear busy at all times, either walking through the baileys, along the wall to the various parapets, or sitting in the main hall for meals or polishing and honing the weapons he carried. But Aurélie and most of his men cast furtive glances his way, for his constant presence among them was unusual and suspicious. Hyatt’s custom had been to trust his men to guard his possession, and he went about his duties with confidence that they would keep safe his house. Now it seemed as if he refused to leave the castle complex, nor did he dally too far from the main hall. And he was broodingly silent.

  “It is either that Hyatt watches Ryland, ready for his brother to make some move against him, or that Hyatt plots Ryland’s death,” a knight whispered under his breath to a comrade as Aurélie passed them.

  “Were it I, I would have killed the knave twenty years ago. ’Tis certain that Ryland plotted the argument between Lord Laidley and Hyatt. Mayhap Ryland got the woman, Faustina, with child, for it was well known that the old man could not.”

  Aurélie did not intend to eavesdrop in order to gather information about the conflict between the brothers. Yet after overhearing that exchange between Hyatt’s knights, she sharpened her ears. It was not difficult to learn, since Ryland’s appearance had prompted much talk. There were several snatches of conversations that she had, over a period of a few days, pieced into a story that would fit her husband’s circumstance. She soon understood that Hyatt had endured a terrible shock as a child, and an even worse one as a youth just embarking on his manhood.

  “After he buried his first wife, Lord Laidley was near death from grief and his estate fell to ruin, but he was still rich and influential. ’Tis a pity he did not die of his broken heart before Faustina came to claim him. Faustina meant to have wealth and power … and indeed she did, for a time. But before she fell, she destroyed a loyal boy who should have risen to glory in his father’s house.”

  “Do not pity Hyatt. The time to pity him has long since passed. When he was a small lad of ten or twelve years and the Lady Laidley died, then he was much alone and bereft. Still, I think that was better than the evil day that Faustina accused him of tampering with her, and Lord Laidley beat him and turned him out for the wolves to feast upon. But he showed them, did he not?”

  “It is said that Hyatt welcomed Faustina …” the knight continued.

  “Anything to relieve the old man of his melancholia would have been welcomed. ’Twas Ryland, fighting in Wales, who found the young widow, daughter of a wealthy chieftain, and brought her to Lachland. But did you know Hyatt’s mother? It is said that Lady Laidley was like the sunshine and Faustina more resembled the cavernous black of a devil’s tomb. Wicked, she was. How did Lord Laidley not know that she lied?”

  “The story goes that Hyatt was but five and ten …”

  “Nay, older. Six and ten, perhaps. But his age at the time of the feud is unimportant. The crushing blow was that Hyatt was the favored son, the light in his father’s eye. There was such a bond there that such a betrayal is inconceivable.”

  “But not shy of good fortune … the poor boy, beaten, turned away, stripped of his colors and name, thrashing through the wood without blade, quiver, or bow … and whom did he stumble upon but Girvin. He was not a knight then, but the Master Huntsman of Lachland Hall. He followed the boy out of Laidley’s house. Together, they have managed to gather more than Lord Laidley could have bequeathed Hyatt.”

  “ ’Tis a simple matter to understand his hatred of the fairer sex, after Faustina, the bitch.”

  “And Faon … equal in her devilry. I would not have kept the wench, child or not, for Hyatt knew she tricked him from the first. But I think the boy must surely be Hyatt’s; his looks are strong.”

  “Mistress Whore … why does she stay? Hyatt has not used her since that time the child was sired … and will not again, I am certain. She does not value the child, yet she will not release him to Hyatt’s care and be on her way.”

  “Nay, she will stay until she is an old woman. And mark me, she will pretend for all her days that Hyatt eases himself on her. Forsooth, she thinks all of us believe it so.”

  “Hyatt has never denied it …”

  “Hyatt does not speak of personal matters to anyone, but ’tis most obvious that he looks the other way when Faon tarries with certain knights who would try to best him by using his whore. Do you know so little of your leader after so many years? Hyatt watches and waits. He does not care what she does, nor with whom, but he judges the men who will guard his back in battle by their actions off the field. He learns much about the loyalty of one of his own by watching his behavior around Faon. Yea, that is perhaps why he allows her to stay; she brings the quick betrayal from his men. ’Twas said that even Thormond …”

  “I have seen Faon cast a lusty look at Ryland. Mayhap an alliance will form there.”

  “ ’Twould be like Faon to find a knight of any color to bed and she does not care whether ’tis friend or enemy of the man who provides for her. She is not wise. She is a bitch in heat. Her time is short.”

  “Short enough? I doubt it.”

  Ryland had been in residence for four days. Aurélie had heard more than enough. There were few words passed between Hyatt and Ryland, but her husband watched his brother scrupulously, and not a word that left Ryland’s lips was ignored. She could see by the expression on Hyatt’s face, the slight turning of his head or a pulsing in his temples, that he was alert.

  She entered her bedchamber after the evening meal and found Hyatt seated before a flaming hearth, sweat beaded on his brow and staining his linen shirt. He pounded and polished his broadsword, a chore better done at the smith’s fire, for he had made the room sizzle with unnecessary heat.

  He glanced her way briefly, then looked back to his work.

  She sensed his need to remain close to where his brother lingered, yet it was obvious he had a
strong desire to keep his hands busy. Hyatt abhorred idleness. If much more of time like this passed, Hyatt might be driven to mending for want of tasks.

  Aurélie said nothing about the hot, steamy room. She went to the far corner and removed her gown, placing it carefully away. She unbraided her hair and separated the plaits with her fingers, pulling the long tresses over her shoulder. Barefoot, clad in only her shift, she went to stand behind Hyatt, placing a hand on his shoulder. She leaned close to his back, her middle pressed against his straining shoulders, and lowered her lips to the top of his head. He did not turn to her in this unusual display of affection, but his movements of the oiled cloth against his steel blade did slow. “Hyatt, do you remember her? Your mother?”

  She felt the stiffness in his spine, but it was a brief reaction. “Aye,” he said. “She brought Lachland to my father through marriage. Why do you ask?”

  She placed her other hand on his other shoulder, softly kneading his tense muscles. “It is said that she was good and kind, and very devoted to her family.”

  He leaned his head back against her breasts. “I suppose she was. She died when I was little more than a child.”

  “And then came an evil woman into your father’s household.”

  Hyatt gently closed his eyes, though Aurélie did not see. “You have listened well. You surely have the story now.”

  “You urged me to come to you for confirmation of the facts,” she reminded him.

  He sighed heavily. “It was a hasty remark on my part,” he said with some chagrin. “ ’Tis not a matter I can easily discuss with anyone. Leave it to say that I have had no family for many years … since I was a young man. Perhaps it has really been since the death of my mother, though it was later when I left Lachland.”

  “Had your mother lived, you would not have come to France. The woman would have had no chance to betray you and your father would not have died without you near.”

  Hyatt groaned at the thought. “The blame is not entirely Faustina’s. She lied, but Lord Laidley chose her word over mine. ’Tis a sad day when a man will choose a woman’s lie over the truth of his own flesh and blood.”