By Right of Arms (15 page)

“Hyatt, a page says that Faon was alone in the common room before the shrieks of the child were heard.”

“Did the page see the accident?”

“He is one of ours, Hyatt. He sees nothing that he is not bidden to see. But I warn you that Faon …”

Hyatt held up his hand to halt Girvin, more than aware that Girvin had a severe dislike for the audacious mistress. “I have heard enough of blame and accusations. If no one saw it happen, we do not know how it happened. What matters now is that he is tended.”

Girvin looked past him into the weaving room and far to the rear, past the still and silent looms, a group of women were gathered around Aurélie and Derek.

“ ’Tis not what the wench expected you to do,” Girvin snorted. “You fuel the hate. Be wary, Hyatt. You, of all people, should know how treacherous a woman can be, if allowed. And yet you keep two, when both have cause to hate you. That I have failed to teach you is excusable. That you have failed to learn from your own life is unfortunate.” Without waiting for any reply, Girvin turned and left his master alone in the corridor.

* * *

Aurélie felt depleted of emotion by the time her duties were called to the cookrooms and common hall. She moved through her task of overseeing the dinner with an unusually soft voice. When a page failed to carry a tray filled with meats to a table full of English men-at-arms, she carried it herself rather than chastising the youth.

She served, or ordered Hyatt’s table to be served first, then the English knights, then the knights of De la Noye who were now workers, and finally the castlefolk who took their meals in the hall. Her step was slower, but her vision more acute than ever.

When she had returned Derek to his mother’s rooms, Perrine was there to take him. Faon was not in evidence in the chamber. The boy’s leg had been bandaged, and Perrine surprised Aurélie with the news that within Faon’s modest household there was a woman who was skilled in healing. She was old and doddering, but carried many herbs, balms, odd samplings of roots, weeds, and animal parts for her use in creating new cures. Why, Aurélie wondered, had Hyatt brought the boy to her? Aurélie’s own skills with tending the injured or sick were very modest. She had learned a few things from Perrine, and while not afraid to try her best on any malady, she did not experience a great deal of success. It was for that reason that whenever there was a visitor, a troubadour, juggler, aristocrat, monk—anyone from another town—she questioned them about remedies they used.

Why did Faon’s woman fail to share her healing skills with the rest of the castle? Those who knew the arts of tending the sick or hurt were usually a generous lot who held themselves above taking sides, but applied their talents to anyone in need. That was the way of her people … but perhaps not the English.

She waited until she was satisfied that the room was served before taking her place beside Hyatt. She met with Faon’s hostile glare briefly, then turned her eyes to her plate. The food was tasteless to her, the conversations going on all about her sounded distant and garbled. In her mind, as in her heart, there was a faint thudding like a faraway drum, and all else was dark.

A month, she thought vaguely. A month gone, many to come, and I am too confused to make sense of all this.

“Pass the lady wine,” Hyatt commanded.

She did not look up and he impatiently filled her goblet. She took a modest slice of meat, tore off a fistful of soft bread, and lazily swirled the gravy around her bowl.

“What ails you?” Hyatt asked harshly.

“I am tired, milord,” she said, sighing.

“Only tired? What bites at you now?”

She sighed and looked at him. “There is nothing, Hyatt,” she whispered.

Hyatt covered his displeasure by lifting his cup. He ate his fill, drank liberally, but his eyes were drawn to Aurélie more often than he liked. He was deeply troubled by her peculiar slowness, quietness, professed tiredness. Before even questioning her, he had noticed the way her head bent lower than usual, and not in a posture of obedience, but almost sadness. Her eyes seemed focused on a distant point, and she stared unseeing.

Hyatt had seen her beaten, raised up, chastised, praised. He had seen fury rage in her blue eyes, just as he had witnessed their sparkle when she had cleverly foiled Faon. And he had seen her moist, parted lips in the aftermath of passion. What he saw on this night was entirely new. It was a draining of the spirit. He had not counted on anything, her tenacity, her wisdom, her subjugation, her joy; but he had believed there would always be
spirit.
He had learned to recognize it in the men he trained and had seen it in very few women. It was like a candle glowing behind a drape; a light that shone from within that nothing could extinguish.

When the platters and bowls were emptied, Aurélie supervised the cleaning of the tables and floors. She loosed the hounds to pick up the scraps and sent the boys for dry wood, though a blazing hearth was unnecessary. Dying torches were replaced with new ones and pitchers were filled for one last cup of ale. The sun went out like a doused flame and darkness subdued the activity in the room. She took a place beside Guillaume on a bench and asked him if he was well, if he had any needs. Her voice was painfully soft.

Before Guillaume could answer, Hyatt stood before them. Many of the knights, squires, and pages had begun to leave the hall to seek out either late night chores or bed.

“Guillaume, your seneschal, has worked with me for many days,” Hyatt said to his wife. “His talents far surpass simple warring skills.”

Aurélie looked up at him. “A seneschal has more to do than hold the wall, my lord. During times of battle, Sir Guillaume fights well, but when there is no siege, he has managed the castle and selected the archers and guards. Every chore in De la Noye must be understood by a castellan.”

Hyatt pulled a stool from nearby to sit with them. “You work well, even now,” Hyatt said to the older knight. “Though I think I know the reason. Like your mistress, you work for De la Noye and not for me. How long has it been since you have resided in the seneschal’s house?”

“Since your coming, my lord,” Guillaume replied.

“Where do you sleep?”

“In the rooms behind the stable.”

“And your wife?”

“She is ordered to Mistress Faon.”

“Where does she sleep?”

Guillaume shrugged, confused by the questioning. “On a pallet on the floor in her anteroom, to be close when called.”

“Perhaps you would like your home again,” Hyatt offered.

Guillaume stiffened slightly and even Aurélie tensed. She worried that it was too much to ask Guillaume to defend De la Noye on Hyatt’s behalf. “My lord, I should like a room with my woman, but I cannot pledge fealty to Edward of England.”

“Did I ask it of you? You should hear me out, Guillaume, before you decide I am a fool. Can you pledge fealty to Lady Aurélie?”

“I did that many years past, and hold the oath as sacred.”

“So be it. On the morrow I must take a troop northwest toward Limoges to judge the progress and mayhap lend aid to Edward’s armies. I shall leave Sir Girvin to protect the hall, but I do not wish to overtax him with Aurélie’s protection. Yet this you have attempted for a dozen years and, most times, done well. If I give you personal arms, will you guard her?”

“Hyatt, I am safe in my own …”

“Will you?” Hyatt asked Guillaume, cutting her off.

“Yea, Sir Hyatt. That is my wish even if you do not ask it of me.”

“Good. Know these things; should you decide to escape, go far and fast, for I have good horses and can find you. Aurélie might be brought home, but it would be over for you and Perrine. If you allow another near her, if another man touches her in my absence, ’tis treason and wives are killed for the crime. And finally, if you plot against my rule of the castle while I am away, I will take De la Noye again, and I will take her with much more violence than before. Do you understand?”

“ ’Tis only Lady Aurélie I would serve and protect, Sir Hyatt. I do not have the means to fight you … or pledge to you. But I can pledge to the lady herself.”

Hyatt chuckled lightly, checking eyes with Aurélie. She held confusion in hers. “Guillaume, I swear it is the first time I have been relieved to hear someone assure me they will not pledge to me. Forsooth, I could not trust your oath to me, but I think you will do right by her. And ’tis best for her that things proceed as they are.” He stood from his stool. “The planting does not require me, the horses to be pastured for mating are selected, and apart from hunting parties that Sir Girvin will command, I am freed to go about my duties for Edward. Be it a week or a month, serve the lady’s needs and upon my return, you shall have your house and Perrine.” He held out a hand to Aurélie. “Come. I am not at ease when you whisper with your old castellan.”

She went with him to the stair, allowing herself the luxury of looking over her shoulder to give a quick smile to Guillaume.

Until learning that he would leave De la Noye, it had not occurred to her to question him. Once in their chamber, she studied him as he removed his clothing and carefully placed it away.

“Why do you reward Guillaume?”

“Reward him? You misunderstood. I gave him a weighty chore.”

“But you will give him the seneschal’s home, and Perrine.”

“ ’Tis his home,” Hyatt shrugged. “I have displaced as few as possible.”

“The seneschal’s is the richest single home in the keep. What of Girvin?”

“He is happier with the horses. Girvin prefers to ride and would not stay behind now, but that I insist. And Guillaume knows each nook of this place.”

“Perhaps you should have wed him, Hyatt.”

Hyatt threw back his head and laughed heartily. “A worthy notion, woman, but I think he would not bring me as much pleasure in the dark of night.” He looked at her squarely, but she did not even smile. “You, however, have proven lively sport … when you forget yourself.”

His hand ventured near and she turned away from him, taking a few steps to put distance between them and then, facing him again. “Sir Hyatt, did you bring your son to me for tending, or was it another trick you play?”

“Trick? The boy was badly hurt … and, I think, maliciously.”

“You thought I did it?”

“I did not accuse you.”

“But you brought him directly to me, when there is a woman in Mistress Faon’s service who is more skilled than I. Was it to see if I would show my guilt upon spying the injury? Did you expect me to fall before you in shame? Hyatt … do you think I could do such a thing … to a baby?”

Hyatt did not answer, but kept his gaze level with hers.

“Hyatt, do you love Mistress Faon?” she asked brazenly.

“Nay,” he replied easily, void of emotion.

“Do you love me?”

“Nay.”

“Why do you keep her here?”

He raised a brow. “Do you know the answer,
chérie?”

“Aye.” She lifted her chin. “You set us apart, placing yourself in the middle, and you wait to see who will win.” She shook her head. “You will be disappointed. I shall not enter the fight, Sir Hyatt.”

He took two steps toward her. He touched her cheek with a finger. “You misjudge me again. If Faon thinks to fight for me, it is a useless battle. And I do not wish for you to pierce your own heart with love for me. I shall not pity you, but watch it bleed. In time you will understand my ways. I am capable of truth and honor, and my word is as good as hard silver, but I do not love women. It is beyond me.” He cocked his head. “But I have found,
chérie,
that oath and honor are more valuable than love. Be grateful that I grant you these.”

“You do not even pretend to trust me.”

“ ’Twould do you a grave disservice to offer you trust and thus place my life in your hands. It would make me weak, and I am not certain you know how to handle that kind of power. Nay, I do not trust you. Neither am I so suspicious that I must keep you chained to be sure of you.”

“A man who lives without love and trust is weak, Hyatt. Not the other way around.”

“My ways serve me well enough.”

“Truly? And what about your son?”

His face darkened as if a cloud passed between him and the sun, but it was night and only two candles lit their room.

“A son is worthy of all these things: love, trust, honor, oath, and silver. A son does not pass a fickle moment when love is lost, as with a woman. A son takes his father’s name, heart, arm, and hews of these things a life. Yea, Aurélie, I love my son. And I suppose I will love more sons. Even yours.”

Aurélie winced slightly at the slur, but the words confused her. “Hyatt,” she said softly, “if there is love between a father and son, why is it not possible for a man to love a woman? Especially the woman who would bear children to your name? Why, then, do you call yourself bastard, when Lord Lavergne tells of your true family?”

His eyes were as dark as a starless night. “I have found many loyalties possible between men, until women twist their hearts with jealous fingers. There is great loyalty possible between father and son unless stabbed and torn by a woman’s treachery. I shall not fall prey to such, for I shall not place my promises to my son in any woman’s hands—not yours or Faon’s. In my experience, it is the woman who cannot remain true, and in her wrath, separates even fathers and sons.”

He turned his back on her and went to sit before the fire, occupying a stool and staring into the flames. He did not acknowledge her as she put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You have either known too many women, sir knight, or too few.”

Hyatt rode with forty men and left sixty behind. They traveled with purposeful slowness along the best roads to judge the lie of the land and to keep approaching armies in sight. The worst of the fighting was north of Limoges and in Aquitaine the English now had a strong foothold. Still, Hyatt’s army passed through little sects of houses that were dusted with the aftermath of a ruthless army’s passage.

He halted his troop before a group of six partially standing houses and a burned barn. A dozen ragged peasants hid fearfully behind the rubble. Hyatt could see no evidence of farming tools, stock, weapons, or even cookery pots. “Come out and name yourselves. We mean you no harm; there is nothing here and I have no desire to kill defenseless serfs.”