Norman's Captive Read online

  "Tell your brother that." Geoffrey bore off two.

  "I will," Roland said.

  ***

  CHAPTER 7

  "You need a physician," Henry said. "Or a confessor."

  "Nothing of the kind," Roland replied. "I'm perfectly sound, in body and mind both. I mean to marry her. Why should that surprise you?"

  "You'll marry for the family," Henry said. "If you're ready to settle, I can think of several heiresses to buy for you. Giving up all claim to the land doesn't free you of obligation to your kin. Keep her as mistress if you like, I won't argue over that. But no marriage."

  "You can't stop me."

  "Of course I can. I have the king's county justice to dinner once a month, and my own chaplain can twist God's words any which way to suit my need. Between us we'll find ways enough." Henry threw a shrewd look across. "Whether you've taken vows or not. It's amazing how degrees of consanguinity crop up whenever an annulment is wanted. She'll be no wife of yours."

  "You wouldn't try consanguinity," Roland argued. "That would make her kin to you."

  Henry grimaced, but then shrugged. "Who's to say good Norman seed can't be spilled on occasion? Your bedding her is proof enough."

  "Church courts wouldn't recognise bastard issue," Roland said, but he felt the ground give under him as he spoke. Legal niceties had never been his strength.

  "They might," Henry said. "For a price. Justice can always be bought, whether God's or the King's. No marriage. Though you may bear her off with my blessing. When do you leave?"

  Roland stared out of the window. He couldn't see much, the squint gave onto the tilting-yard and woods beyond, he caught only a narrow patch of greens and browns. A flash of colour, too, as a mounted knight sped past. Guillaume, for certain -- Roland would know those high hands and that arrogant posture anywhere.

  Which gave him an idea. "Not for a while," he said. "I've thought of settling. Geoffrey, too. We're looking out for a nice piece of land somewhere. England seems a pleasant place."

  "Don't try," Henry said. "You never wanted land. You've said so."

  "Things change." Roland faced his brother squarely, braced his body as for a fight. "I might ask you for a share of the inheritance after all."

  "You're joking." Henry studied him for a long moment, eyes darkening. "Aren't you?"

  "Not a bit of it." In truth, he wasn't sure how far he could carry this. But it would do no harm for Henry to believe every word. "I've asked Guillaume to join me. There isn't a better fighting man alive. He can have charge of my household troops."

  "I'll let you have the Normandy manors," Henry said. "That should suit you, there's always trouble over that way."

  "I like England," Roland said. "I want a manor or two over here. We can be neighbours."

  "Not a chance," Henry spat. "And don't try threatening me. I've got more of the law on my side than you've got on yours. Go to Flanders, and take that draggle with you."

  "Well," Roland said, "if that's your position, I'll take Geoffrey up on his offer after all."

  Henry eyed him with open suspicion. "What offer would that be?"

  "Going shares," Roland said easily. "He's been talking to your wife. Seems there's some land up for grabs nearby." This was a gamble, and a wild one. But he only needed Henry ruffled, not the absolute truth. "We've been together for years, the three of us. Inseparable, you might say. So when Geoffrey told us he was thinking in that direction -- well, we didn't care for it, either Guillaume or myself. But I'm coming around to the idea, and I've brought Guillaume around too. We'll settle if Geoffrey does. Live here and keep an eye on his estate while he's over in Normandy checking on that side of things. And if you won't let me have my share of the inheritance, I'll have to find my own base. Nearby. While I wait for the lawyers to do their work. I hear such cases can take years. Decades, even."

  "Fuck you," Henry snarled.

  "I'm not asking for much," Roland said in a reasonable tone. "Just your written approval of my marriage, with confirmation that there are no issues under church or common law to prevent it. And your good wishes to speed us on our way. All of us."

  Henry kicked a nearby stool. Glared at the squint, where Guillaume flashed past again.

  "I'll have my clerks draw up the document," he said. "You'll agree to make no further claim on the inheritance."

  "Put it in writing," Roland said. "We have plenty of witnesses to call on."

  ***

  "I want to marry him," Leofe said.

  "Don't be silly." Alice frowned over an intricate stitch. "It's not possible."

  "Why not?"

  "For a start," Alice said, "you're of no family. Next, you're English. Third, you're poor. He can't choose a woman just because he likes her or wants her. He's got to marry one who'll be a useful connection for his family and himself. Be grateful that he keeps you at all."

  "I am," Leofe said. "But I do have a family." She shivered. "They're just not people I want anywhere near me."

  "That's not what I meant." Alice put the embroidery down on her lap. "Can you bring land, patronage, money, or influence? If not, you contribute nothing to his kin, his heirs, or himself. I dare say among the peasantry you marry as you will. But we do things differently. You'll have to learn that, if you're to remain among us."

  Leofe watched the chilly eyes. "I don't want to think like that."

  Alice shrugged and picked up her embroidery again. "He does. Along with everyone around him. Henry, too." She added thread to thread, made leaves spring to life on the barren linen cloth.

  "Don't you mind?" Leofe asked. "That Henry has a wife, I mean. That she gets to live with him at the castle and -- "

  "No," Alice said. "I prefer my independence. You've no idea how awful it is to be lady of a castle. Everyone watches your every move, ready to gossip over the least little slip. Smile at the steward, and the next thing you know every man's convinced you've slept with him. I hated it."

  "But she's with him," Leofe tried.

  "Only when she must. At meals, and so on. They sleep in the same bed, but that's all they do now -- sleep. She's given him an heir and a spare and a couple of daughters to marry off well, she says that's enough and she won't do more. So they don't." Another shrug. "That's what he tells me, anyway."

  Put like that, Leofe admitted it didn't sound like they had much of a life together.

  "Of course," Alice said, "inheritance doesn't matter so much in Roland's case. He doesn't have anything to leave, except a few horses and some armour -- valuable enough, I dare say, but not land. Nothing he must get issue for. Still, Henry won't let him throw himself away. Regardless of personal feeling. Even if he wanted to marry you, which I doubt, he can't."

  Leofe subsided. She must remember what she was, a poor English peasant girl with no claim on anyone. The object of charity and indulgence, for a man far more powerful than she could ever imagine. She was not his equal in any respect, and never could be.

  Yet she rebelled. It ought not to be like that. People should be free to approach each other with tenderness, with love even, and have no regard to rank or station. Even God's word had some mention of that, the priest had said so once. A rare sermon, long ago, she didn't remember much of it but she recalled that part. Mass in Latin, long strings of familiar sounds, she didn't know what words they formed but she loved the sound of them, the echo between the walls. It was the one place she was safe, the church, no one had ever hit her there. So she loved it, she went every week, and when her father prevented her going the priest had intervened. It was the only time any man had taken the least interest in her welfare, until now. So she went, and listened, and traced the pattern of sounds silently with her own lips, until she knew every part.

  And then, unexpectedly, English speech broke in. A long consideration of some passage from the Bible, some lone string from among those Latin sounds, that to God there was no division between human beings, no men or women, no serfs or nobles. It had stunned her then, such a strange idea,
and yet so beautiful -- and it rang so true, she could feel it now, the echo of it in her heart.

  Not in this world. She realised that much. But in the world beyond, where God's face shone -- there, maybe.

  "You've gone quiet," Alice said. "I'm sorry if I offended you. But these things must be said. Do not ruin your chances with a man of his standing by grasping for more -- especially for things you cannot have."

  Leofe nodded. "I understand. And thank you for your honesty -- and for everything you've done for me since I came here."

  "You're welcome," Alice said. "I'm told it will be accounted to me in Heaven." She offered a mischievous grin. "Might make up for all the mortal sins I commit."

  ***

  Roland's heart stirred as he caught sight of the house. It was that, even more than the deep contentment that sat in his belly, which told him he'd made the right choice.

  Of course, he hadn't asked her. Ought to do. But she'd be better off as a wife than a mistress. Recognised, even if with distaste, by such family as he possessed. Protected by their rank and standing, even if he were to be killed. Secure, if he got heirs on her, because they'd claim such fortune as he could gain in his lifetime, and be sure of support from the law. He'd settled a small sum on her, too: enough that she could eke out a modest living without him. It had taken all the horses, cloth, and equipment he'd won at the last tourney -- he owned little but himself now, his horse and gear. Nothing to spare. But it was worth it.

  And now he was scared. Abruptly, as before a battle. He recognised that fear, it descended on him every time he faced the line of opponents. An old companion, one that had stood his friend many times. Fear made him alert, made him ready for danger, lent strength to his arm. It was good to be afraid.

  He'd come alone this time. Henry had chosen to take Geoffrey out hunting, presumably to get assurances that the offer had definitely been brought to ground. Roland didn't mind that, he'd spent an hour with Geoffrey and Guillaume preparing their plan of battle, they'd snickered over it together. He could rely on those men, for all they sparred among themselves, they knew and trusted him as he did them. And they'd ride away tomorrow, or perhaps the day after that, Guillaume's shoulder was almost healed and he itched to move on. To the next fight, and the next, because it was what they did. It was the life they had chosen, and none of them wanted a change.

  Except this one, that Leofe would be with them.

  He worried a little about that, too. How it might affect their friendship, their camaraderie. But there was only one way to find out. And in a choice between bringing her, no matter what the risk, and leaving her behind -- there was no choice.

  He dismounted, spoke a brief word of thanks to the bewildered groom, confirmed that he'd come alone. Entirely unattended, it was foolish and he knew it, plenty of English men would leap at the chance to get even with a solitary Norman lord. But he wanted to meet Leofe on his own. Unprotected, as she was, without armed men at his back. He felt naked without them, unsure of himself, it made him admire her courage. She'd stood alone and unaided, the entire time he'd known her, and reached out to protect her sister too.

  But she wouldn't be alone after this. She'd have him to count on, and Geoffrey and Guillaume too, because for all their faults they were his brothers in arms. They lived together, fought together, what fell to one fell to all. It was how it had been since they were boys, that bond of friendship wouldn't break now.

  He entered the house, startled the women from their sewing, took a blushing Leofe by the hand. She really was beautiful, he thought, he'd never noticed that before, but now the strong bones and earnest gaze captured him. A fighter at heart, though she didn't know it. She'd never had the chance to find out. But she'd fought her way from slavery to freedom, step by faltering step. And if she'd leaned on him to do so, well, that was his choice and he'd made it. The moment he first saw her she'd caught him, and he'd caught and held her too. And now...

  Now, damn it, he needed an interpreter. Because he didn't know these words in English, and he'd never taught them to her in French. Alice must be there to listen and translate, Cecile and Ymma might as well remain to witness what he said. And what Leofe said, because no matter how often he reassured himself, a small frightened voice within him insisted that she would refuse. That she would draw back, seek for a path of escape. Because, he thought with a cold lash of fear, she might not want to be tied to him for life.

  But he had to ask. And he was leaving. And while he could take her with him and do as he pleased with her, what he wanted was her willing consent. Her joy, even, if he could secure it. So he must ask, and hear her answer, and be content. But both question and answer must be clearly understood.

  "Alice," he said. "Translate for me." He drew both Leofe's hands into his own, raised her up to stand before him, looked deep into her eyes.

  Lovely eyes, clear and open, and at last -- he realised with a pang of awe and delight -- entirely without fear.

  "I mean to marry you," he said. As the words tumbled out, the fear fell away. He felt as he did in the moment of battle, when everything was clear and simple and true. "I ask for your consent. You may choose freely. I will take you anywhere you wish to go, leave you anywhere you wish to be. But what I want is to keep you with me, for good, and know that you are mine. So. Will you be my wife?"

  "You're not serious," Alice said.

  "Just translate." Roland didn't even glance aside. He just held onto Leofe's hands and gaze, as if through them he could suffuse her with the certainty he felt.

  "Have you spoken to Henry?"

  "Yes."

  "I think I should speak to him, too."

  "Translate," Roland said, and laid the hint of menace in his tone. It worked, Alice began a long deliberate run of English words. He caught enough to be sure she wasn't misrepresenting what he'd said.

  Leofe stared at him, eyes widening into pools. Then she began to cry.

  "Yes," she said, and he'd mastered English enough on the first day they met to be sure of that one word. But she added it in French as well, and laughed through the tears as he swept her up in his arms and kissed her.

  "You're crazy," Alice said. "Henry will not be pleased."

  "Henry's approval can be bought," Roland said. "As can most things. Now you'll have to excuse us." He settled Leofe into his arms and carried her out of the room, up the stairs, past the chessmen that waited with blank faces. Laid her down on the bed, paused for a moment to look at her and rejoice. Let her pull him down over her, so that they lay close together, joyful and at ease in each other's arms.

  "I am so happy," Leofe whispered.

  Roland kissed her, gently at first and then deeply, tasted her mouth while desire rose within his body. She was his now, or soon would be, and no earthly power could take her from him. His by her own free choice. She trusted him, and he meant to be worthy of that trust.

  "Good," he whispered against her lips, and shivered as her hands quested under his shirt. "Because I am happy, too."

  ***

  CHAPTER 8

  "You came off well there," Guillame said. "Nice horse." He eyed the sturdy legs with appreciation.

  Everywhere around them, men settled bets and injuries, swore revenge or laughed over good fortune. The grass lay churned and bloodstained, dry soil scattered and tufts stamped down. One bout of heavy rain would turn it all into mud. But the sun shone summer bright from a clear sky, and a shore wind blew lively across the fields.

  "I like the saddle myself." Geoffrey ran his hand over the gilt. "The cloth, too. Should fetch you a decent price if you decide to sell." He smirked a little – his own pouch bulged. Even Guillaume was in good temper, though he carried his arm with care.

  "Another successful meet for the lads." Roland wiped blood from his grin. He ached all over, he tottered where he stood, and he was covered with dirt and blood. But he was the richer for his fighting. And after this, Flanders waited.

  "Still want to get that de Vion fiend," Guillaume growl
ed as his enemy rode past with a cheerful salute.

  "Don't grudge him," Roland said. "You traded blows enough for honour. Not his fault if you're evenly matched."

  He raised his eyes to the spectator stands, row on row of admiring faces, picked out one figure among the rest. She wore a deep brilliant red, his own colour, and even at this distance her smile dazzled him.

  Roland thrust his fist towards the sky, saw the movement echoed, laughed aloud. She'd proved his equal in every way, Leofe had. And he loved her for it.

  ***

  About the Author:

  Maria Ling lives on the edge of a moor in Yorkshire, England, surrounded by ruined abbeys and haunted caves. Visit her Smashwords author page for more stories.

  ***

  Also by this author:

  Knight for a Husband

  by Maria Ling

  "Come, lady Rowes," Hugh said. "Give yourself and your son into my care."

  So much for that hope. "I can't," she said. But her eyes strayed to the corpses on the ground. So quick it had been, one moment alive and the next one dead. She'd expected screams and suffering. The sudden change shocked her. And the thought that Will -- her fingers clenched on him again. He writhed in her grip.

  "Last chance," Hugh said. He looked stern now, a tall slouching man clad in leather, with a grim set of his jaw. "I mean what I say. You and the boy I will have, by force if necessary. Come now, come willingly, and I give you my word that you won't be harmed."

  "I don't believe you." Mary raised her chin. She would end this now, so quick it might be. "The only reason you'd want us is to use us against my lord."

  "Of course," Hugh said. "But there are ways and ways. Besides, it may not prove necessary. I think we've won the day. But you will come into my care, and I will serve you up to the king, and he'll be glad of that, I think. A pretty woman to dangle at one of his loyal men, along with title and lands."