Conquering Passion (2 page)

Ram’s father,
Comte
Bernard de Montbryce, came out to the bailey to greet them as Ram eased his weary six foot frame from the saddle. “Ram, good to see you, my boy. It’s been too long. You look fit. Campaigning for the Duke has toughened you up.”

He punched his son in the shoulder, and Ram feigned injury. They clasped hands and embraced, his father pounding him on the back. “Your hair is long. Don’t you shave it when you go into battle?”

Ram laughed, stretching his tired body, combing back his hair with his fingers. “Vaillon shaves it for me when we’re going into combat. I encourage my men to do the same, though they don’t need me to tell them it’s more comfortable under a helmet. But my hair grows fast.”

“I wish I could say the same for myself,” his father lamented, running his hand over the few remaining grey wisps. He laughed and tousled Ram’s hair. “No wonder they call you
Rambaud le Noir
.”

He pointed to the threatening skies. “Let’s go inside.”

Ram winced, throwing irritated glances at his grinning brothers, who had no doubt taken great pleasure at his father’s teasing of him. “I believe the nickname
Rambaud the Black
has more to do with the discipline I expect of my men,” he retorted with irritation.

His father seemed to sense his discomfort. “It’s good to have the three of you home together. I’m proud of all of you. You’re carrying on the noble military tradition of this family, in the service of our Duke. That you’ve stayed alive in these dangerous times is proof of your prowess. Many noble Norman families haven’t been as fortunate.”

Ram had been sixteen when he’d first fought at his father’s side. He remembered fondly the pride in his sire’s eyes as they faced the Angevins together. “We learned from you, Father. You were a great warrior.”

Antoine and Hugh indicated they were of the same mind.

The
Comte
slapped Ram on the back. “Would I could still join you boys. With the dire news from England, I sense you will be going to war again?”

Ram concurred. “Duke William is incensed Harold Godwinson has claimed the Confessor’s throne. You’re right. It will mean war.”

“Then your many abilities will be even more important to the Duke.”

Ram dropped into a chair once they reached the solar and used his legs to drag over a footstool. “William is now our undisputed ruler. During my last visit to the ducal court, every major family had sent a representative. But military prowess won’t be enough. If he becomes King of the English, the Duke will need capable administrators and I want him to see me as more than a warrior.”

Two maidservants entered and served tankards of ale.

Their father waited until the women had left. “As my heir, whatever effort you put into the efficient running of our estates will benefit you. You’ll continue our proud heritage as descendants of the original North Men.”

Ram offered a toast. “To the honour of the Montbryce family.”

“Montbryce!
Fide et Virtute
,” the other men echoed.

The four sat for a while drinking deeply.

Ram licked his lips and belched, thumping his chest. “Good ale. Just what I needed after the long journey.” He turned to his father. “I’ve asked the Duke if I can spend time assisting you with the administration of our estates. Before we go to war, I’ll make sure all is in order.”

Comte
Bernard looked indignant. “You think I’m getting too old for the job, eh?”

Ram exchanged glances with his brothers, shook his head and smiled. “It will be good to leave the military life for a while, and the Duke recognizes you’re an able tutor. He knows we’ve already learned much from you.”

Relaxing in the comfort of the castle where he’d grown up, Ram had to admit his father had aged quickly after the death of his mother. His
maman
had been a quiet woman who always deferred to her husband. He hoped for such a wife, if ever he decided to marry.

His father had carried on talking while Ram had been daydreaming. “Well, there is a matter in which I must involve you.”

Ram waited. His father walked over to the window, took another draught of his ale, then fidgeted with the lace on the cuffs of his tunic.

Finally, he cleared his throat and explained. “The exiled lord of Alensonne, Guillaume de Valtesse, has appealed to us with his complaints his bastard son, Arnulf, has usurped his lands. Valtesse and his daughter, Mabelle, were forced to flee. At first, it seemed a minor problem. You may not recall it? Guillaume de Valtesse was a competent lord, but unpredictable. Now those lands have become strategically more important, and Arnulf is tending more and more to make alliances with our enemies, his Angevin neighbours.”

Antoine leaned forward. “I believe I’ve heard something of them in my travels. A
jongleur
in Caen performs a
ballade
that tells the tale of Valtesse blinding another nobleman. That can’t be true?”

Their father corrected him. “Nigh on six years ago, there was an acrimonious dispute over, what else, land. Valtesse is an irascible fellow—he lost his temper and lashed out. As well as blinding Charles de Giroux, he cut off the unfortunate devil’s ears. I’ve heard it drove Giroux to madness.”

Hugh held out his empty tankard. “I’ve never heard this tale. What about Arnulf?”

Their father refilled their tankards. “If only it were a tale. Seeing an opportunity to advance his own wealth, Arnulf sided with Giroux. They challenged Valtesse to come out and fight, but without the support of his own son, his courage failed him. He surrendered and was exiled, taking his daughter with him, at Arnulf’s insistence.”

“He and the girl have wandered ever since?” Hugh asked.

“
Oui
, the only life his daughter has known is that of an outcast, regarded with scorn, and probably mistrust, as the landless daughter of a vicious murderer and mutilator.”

“Murderer?”

“There are suspicions Guillaume de Valtesse killed his wife. She was strangled.”

Ram scratched his head. Why had his father turned the conversation to the girl? “This woman—what’s her name, Mabelle?—is either as evil as her father, or she has intelligence and has learned how to survive, despite his madness.”

His father seemed intent on continuing the story. “There’s no doubt she’s lived a hard life. I believe coin has been a problem, and they’ve been forced to depend on the code of hospitality. Imagine a young woman, born into nobility but unable to take her rightful place. She’s never had the opportunity to be who she was born to be. The only way to regain her position would be—marriage.”

Ram didn’t like the speculative look in his father’s eyes. “Who would marry a landless refugee with no dowry, and what does this have to do with us?” he asked carefully, putting down his tankard.

His father shrugged his shoulders. “I may not like the horrid man, but he is my vassal, and he is the rightful lord of the lands in question. We can’t have impertinent sons usurping their fathers’ titles, can we?” He winked at Ram.

“
Non
, I suppose we can’t,” Ram said with a chuckle. Like him, his father was probably offering up a silent prayer of thanks for the unspoken bond of trust that would ensure nothing of the sort ever happened to the Montbryces. In such uncertain times, family treachery could put everything at risk.

His father’s voice broke into his musing. “Besides
,
it’s time for you to take a wife.”

Ram felt his hackles rise. The ale suddenly had a bitter aftertaste. He rose, stiffened his shoulders and faced his father squarely, folding his arms. His brothers shifted nervously in their seats. This wasn’t the first time his father had insinuated he should be getting married, but he’d never done it so blatantly.

“First of all,” Ram said as calmly as he could, “I have plenty of time for such matters. In any case, our Duke will try to oust Harold and there will be war. This isn’t the right time to be marrying. And what does this have to do with the Valtesse problem?”

His father took up an equally challenging stance. “You are five and twenty—past time to be married. You should be siring children while you’re in your best years. Besides, I’m getting old and would like to see my grandchildren. Mabelle de Valtesse has grown to be a woman.”

Ram was close to losing his temper, which he would rather avoid. He had managed thus far to deflect his father’s attempts to get him to marry. He liked his bachelor life. “Why would I want to marry an urchin who has spent her life wandering, and who has no inheritance, titles or dowry? She wouldn’t make a suitable
Comtesse.
”

“One day she may have those things. Come, Valtesse expects us in his chamber.”

“Now? But—”

“
Oui
, now.”

Ram wanted to object. He’d just arrived home, but once his father made up his mind, it was useless to argue. Though he had no desire to meet this dubious nobleman, he didn’t want to disobey his father.

“Let’s get it over with then,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes at the grinning Antoine.

“I won’t attend, Father, if that’s acceptable?” Hugh offered. “I haven’t finished my ale.”

“Fine. No need for you to be there, but Antoine, you should come.”

Antoine’s grin disappeared as they followed their father to the chamber allotted to Valtesse. Introductions were made. Valtesse’s arrogant posture and angry face added mistrust to Ram’s annoyance. And where was his daughter?

Bernard de Montbryce explained that his sons would undertake to travel to Alensonne to negotiate with Arnulf. Ram arched his brows and looked at Antoine, who seemed equally perplexed and confused. Wary of what he’d learned about the wandering nobleman, he approached the matter carefully. “Tell me,
milord
, your son—”

Guillaume glared at him. “Arnulf is a fat, lazy bastard. He stole my lands from me, and from Mabelle, my rightful heir. He took the part of the Giroux family to further his own ends and must be ousted. He has no right to the lands he occupies.”

“Is Alensonne fortified?” Antoine asked.

Guillaume’s eyes bulged and he paced. “All my castles are fortified. Arnulf forced us to wander as far away as Anjou. We had to flee from there because of Angevin animosity towards Normans—”

“But—”

“Because of Arnulf and the
Seigneur
de Giroux, we’ve been denied our rightful lands and have wandered from Caen to Fecamp, from Arques to Avranches. What kind of life is that for my daughter? At times, she’s had to assist the cooks in the kitchens. My only daughter, a servant. It’s intolerable.”

“My father has suggested—”

Valtesse made no effort to listen to Ram and carried on, his mouth now twisted into an ugly sneer. “My daughter and I have been forced to sleep on pallets in musty unused chambers, if we were lucky enough.”

He stopped, threw his hands in the air, arms outstretched, and raised his eyes, gazing at the ceiling beams. Ram opened his mouth to speak again, but Valtesse resumed his pacing and his rant. “Other times the stale rushes on dirt floors have been our resting place. The lord of Alensonne, Belisle and Domfort, sleeping with servants and serfs. God has abandoned us.”

Good thing the Bishop, wasn’t present to hear this heretical rant about God’s mistreatment. He glanced at his father, who shrugged his shoulders. Antoine stifled a laugh. Ram felt sorry for the people of Alensonne if this raging fanatic did regain his lands. He felt a momentary pang of pity for the young girl who’d been forced to wander around Normandie with her irascible parent. But she was probably as angry and twisted as her father.

As they left the meeting, Antoine and their father started towards the Great Hall, but Ram went in a different direction.

“Aren’t you supping in the Hall, Ram?” their father asked.

“
Non
, I have an appointment elsewhere.”

His father shook his head and walked away.

Antoine wagged his finger at his brother. “Ah, the provocative Joleyne,” he teased.

Ram put his forefinger to his lips and looked in the direction their father had gone. “Lower your voice.”

Antoine snorted. “You think Father doesn’t know? Besides, Mabelle de Valtesse will likely be in the Hall. Don’t you want to see her?”

“Antoine, nothing will come of the idea of my marrying her. She’s not suitable. Why should I forego the tryst I’ve looked forward to for days, to meet an uneducated urchin?”

Antoine frowned. “Joleyne isn’t
suitable
either. She’s a peasant, a woman to bear bastards, not heirs.”

Ram’s jaw clenched. “I’m aware of that, and I’ve no intention of fathering bastards with my mistress. I love you, brother, but I don’t meddle in your
many
liaisons with women. I’ll be dining privately with Joleyne. By the morrow, Father will have forgotten about Guillaume de Valtesse. I bid you goodnight.”

***

Ram was proven wrong on the morrow when
Comte
Bernard remained insistent. Ram and Antoine were dispatched to Alensonne to force a solution to the problem of the contested lands.

The weather had deteriorated considerably. The brigade of Montbryce knights made slow progress along the road, harnesses jangling. Though he rode proudly at the head of the well-armed column, Ram peered through the rain with a sour gaze at the muddy track before them.