Conquests: Hearts Rule Kingdoms (23 page)

“I cannot find anyone,” he called back to Melville. “But…” Robert looked around at the intact buildings. “I do not understand. Fire has not consumed this place. Something is wrong.”

“They are all gone.” Melville muttered, half to himself, half to Jean. “I should not have left them.”

Jean tried to console him, but did not know how.

“You did not have much of a choice, my lord,” he said. “You had to see the King.”

“Yes, the King,” Melville repeated. “I had to see the King.”

Those words recalled him to himself, and he straightened up.

“What has been will be,” he spoke with a strong voice. “We have conquered this land, and now our King sees fit to conquer it once more.”

His men looked at him silently. None could deny the truth in his words.

Melville spun around to gaze towards the place that he now called home.

“Onwards,” he called. “Onwards, to whatever there is to find.”

The panic that had spread through the room at Henri’s words was violent. Men grabbed swords, and women began to gather the knives that were strewn along the table. It took Avis several attempts to gain their attention in the chaos.

“Please!” She shouted, and she stood once again on the table. Those who had heard her turned to face her, and people started to notice the strong and silent woman standing once more on a table. Eventually, all became quiet.

“We must remain calm,” Avis could hear the tremble in her own voice, and so knew that all could hear it too, but she continued speaking. “Nothing can be gained from panic.”

Climbing elegantly down from the table, she walked slowly across the hall.

“We do not know whether these men are messengers, or warriors. Until then, no one is to hurt them. I will not have innocent blood on my hands.”

Though some looked reluctant, people throughout the room nodded. There had been enough innocent blood spilt. No more.

Avis led the people into the stable yard, where the gate was barred and a harassed look-out called down to her.

“Several men in the distance!”

“Open the gate.”

Everyone gasped at Avis’ words. They had been spoken clearly, but no one obeyed her terrible command.

“My lady!” Edith pushed past people so that she could stand by the side of her mistress. “You cannot mean to go out there! To face them!”

“If that is what it takes,” Avis spoke steadily, belying the fear fluttering against her ribcage, “then that is what it takes. I will have no one else be taken from me, or stand between me and death.”

She turned to the look-out, and repeated her words.

“Open the gate.”

The poor man looked nervously at the crowd behind her, but none challenged her. Her bravery gave them all hope. Swallowing down his reservations, he took down the planks of oak that prevented the gate from being opened, and gingerly pushed it ajar. Avis walked forward, through the open gate, and then turned. She looked at her people – Anglo-Saxon and Norman – and she knew what she must do.

“Bar it behind me.”

“No!”

But Edith was held back by caring hands.

“Let her go,” Bronson said calmly. “She will defend us. She will not be harmed.”

Edith struggled against Bronson’s grip, but she was not strong enough, and none came to her aid. Many had recognised in Avis’ eyes the flash of a fighter. There was none that was brave enough to stop her.

The gate was securely shut, and Avis suppressed the bile that was rising up in her throat. There was no turning back. Once again she was to face the Norman blade. With luck, once again she would escape its cold death.

She squinted into the distance. Avis could see the horsemen that the lookout had espied, but she could not make out exactly how many there were. Bracing herself, and gathering her skirts around her as the breeze played with them, she began to walk forward.

As Melville rode, he could see a lone figure stumbling towards them, skirts gathered around her with trembling arms. One survivor then, he said to himself. Rage entered his heart against the unknown perpetrators of this terrible crime. Increasing the pace of his horse, he sped on towards his home.

But then the woman fell. The breeze caught onto her hair, and long blonde tresses were blown about in the wind.

Avis.

Melville gave out a cry, a cry of relief and the release of pain. Avis heard the noise from the ground and screamed, curling herself into a ball. She knew that she could not escape the attack that approached, but acted instinctively, tucking her legs underneath herself and covering her head with her hands. Her hair flowed about her, preventing her from seeing her attacker. As the hooves stopped mere feet away from her, she shouted in a strong but frightened voice.

“Leave me alone!”

But the hands that grabbed her were not coarse, violent ones, but caring and strong hands. She heard a voice. A voice that she knew.

“Avis.”

Taking her hands away from her eyes, she turned towards the speaker. She knew that voice. But it could not be.

“Avis, look at me,” Melville spoke in a whisper. “It is I. Melville. I have come back.”

Avis was stunned, and could not take it in.

“Back?”

“Yes.”

“But you went away.”

“I was always coming back.”

Avis threw her arms around Melville, who took her into his embrace. She nuzzled into his neck, his reassuring scent mingled with sweat slowing her heart and giving strength to her legs. The feel of her, her intensity and her delicacy almost caused Melville to groan aloud. He had missed her more than he had realised, and he shuddered to think what may have occurred if William’s actions had not been as unexpected as they were.

Melville refused to let go of Avis for several minutes, by which time the other riders had reached them. They saw the couple’s embrace, and tried to look uninterestedly around them, but it took a loud cough and throat clearing from Jean to bring them to their senses.

Melville eventually released his wife, who smiled at him shyly.

“You can tell me where you have been later. Before then, you are in sore need of a bath!”

Melville joined in her laughter.

“I dare say you are right – we have not rested since we left you.”

Avis’ smile faltered.

“And where did you go?”

Melville did not have the energy to explain in full, standing here in front of his own gate, but he knew that she needed to hear the good news of their safety – even if she was the only one left to hear it.

“William has assured as protection,” he said hastily. “We are no longer in any danger.”

Gratitude flowed throughout Avis’ body, giving her the greatest relief that she had felt since that awful day when Jean had brought them the terrifying news.

“Truly, we are safe?”

“We have nothing to fear.”

Now a full smile could grow upon Avis’ lips, and it gladdened Melville’s heart. It was an amazing thing, to cause someone that he cared for so deeply to be so happy. But then his own smile fell.

“I just wish there were more of you to tell,” he said sadly. “You were right. We should have stayed to protect everyone.”

Avis looked puzzled, and once again her nose had scrunched into a state of confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“We passed the village on our way here,” Melville told her, lifting her to her feet. “I wish that I did not have to be the one to bring you the news. It has been taken. But surely you knew that. They must have taken the house also. How did you survive?”

Avis did not reply, but called out in a loud voice.

“Open!”

Melville looked confused at her wild cry, but suddenly the huge gate began to creak open. He opened his mouth in shock as people poured out from its mouth: Anglo-Saxon and Norman alike.

As the men that had travelled with him loudly greeted their friends, Avis looked bashfully up at Melville.

“I hope you don’t mind. But I kept them safe,” she told him. “I kept them all safe.”

Melville drew her once again to his side, and placed a slight kiss upon her now muddy golden hair.

“You continue to surprise me, you know.”

She smiled cheekily. “I know.”

Raising her voice, she called out to the crowd thronging around them.

“My lord Melville has news for us all.”

Avis turned to face him, and looked innocently expectant. Melville chuckled, and his feelings for her grew even more. He mounted his horse so that all could see him, and spoke in a loud, clear voice.

“I have been to see the King! He is grateful for our service, and so has extended his peace and protection over us. We need have no fear of his army. He will not harm us. We are safe.”

There was a stunned silence after this pronouncement. No one could take in the news that they had nothing to fear, nothing to arm themselves against. And then a cheer was heard – Avis had thrown her arms up in the air, and shouted with a smile on her face with total abandon. Those around her giggled, and before long shouts and cheers joined hers, and echoed around the valley.

Melville spoke over the hubbub.

“And now everybody inside! We must bar the gates once again, in case of bandits returning from the North. There are going to be many desperate people in the coming days.”

All obeyed him, chattering with each other excitedly, the men that had travelled with Melville relaying their tale to a rapt audience.

As Avis turned to go, her husband snatched her by her waist.

“And where do you think you are going?” He breathed into her ear.

Avis shivered with anticipation.

“Where everyone else is going, my lord,” she replied in a whisper. “We owe them our presence at the feast. There will be a celebration.”

“I would rather have you to myself.”

“Well then,” Avis escaped from his clutches and smiled wickedly at him as she walked away. “You should not have left.”

Melville laughed, and followed her into the Great Hall.

Orders were being shouted out in broken Norman and Anglo-Saxon across the hall as people from both peoples joined together to create the feast of all feasts. Tables were scattered with gold coins, and the musicians stuck feathers in their hair as they played, children dancing before them. Avis and Melville took their places at the head of the top table.

Throughout the long meal, Melville tried to take Avis’ hand in his, but she playfully always kept her hand just out of reach.

“Avis,” Melville muttered longingly.

“Melville,” she stated plainly, smiling, clearly enjoying how easily she could tease him. This was something that she had missed, and had never before supposed that she would miss.

“Avis,” he repeated, but was interrupted by a loud voice. It was Jean, who repeated each of sentences twice; first in Norman, and then in Anglo-Saxon. Melville raised his eyebrows in surprise. He had not known that Jean had taken the time to learn the native language, and he saw that Robert’s look darkened. He chuckled to himself. Rivalry already then!

“Friends!” Jean said in a clear voice, quietening the musicians and the people around him. “We celebrate not our own deeds, but the bravery of our lord Melville. He travelled far and in dangerous lands to secure for us all our safety. Without him and his loyal men,” bowing to Robert and the other men, who nodded graciously, “we would not be able to feast so happily. Melville is our lord, and he protects us. Let us honour him.”

Cheers rang out, and Robert gave a rueful smile to Jean, who returned it. Melville smiled appreciatively at the friendship that was being made between his men. It was well to see such things in his household.

He rose, smiling at the respect that he was accorded from all sides. Putting his hands up for silence, he spoke.

“I will be honest,” Melville said with a smile, “I was not entirely sure whether I would return from my journey to the court of King William. All I knew was that I was ready to give my own life in return for the safety of my people. You, all of you. You are worth more to me than jewels and gold, because you are my family.”

Another set of cheers filled the hall, and Melville looked around at them all with a grin on his face.

“But,” he continued, “I must say I am both shocked and pleased to see the work that the lady Avis has done in my absence.”

This pronouncement caused many heads to nod, but Avis gave out a gasp.

“There is not a single person in this room who I think could have predicted just how my lady could have acted.”

As Melville spoke, a blush covered Avis’ cheek. She pulled at his clothes.

“That’s quite enough,” she hissed, embarrassed at such public a display of praise, but her husband ignored her, his smile widening.

“Avis did not sit at home, waiting patiently for me to solve the problem – and that speaks highly of her character!” Men around the room laughed, and women looked proud. “She acted not out of fear alone, but of love and kindness for the people that she has claimed for her own.”

Avis could not bear to hear such phrases from Melville’s own lips. It was too much, too wonderful and yet too dreadful at the same moment.

“And so raise your goblets and tankards, friends,” finished Melville. “Raise them to the wonderful lady Avis. Long may she live, and long may she live with us!”

Hands throughout the hall were raised, brimming with ale and wine and thankfulness to the woman that had been their protector, even when she herself had been afraid. Melville smiled down at the mortified woman beside him, and sat down.

“Did you not like my speech?” He teased.

“Melville!” Avis remonstrated. “There are countless others here who have done more than I! Where are their thanks? Where are their rewards?”

“Hush,” Melville said carelessly, piling his plate with food as if he had not eaten for an entire year. “They shall receive their rewards when I have power of mind enough to do so.”

Avis smiled, in spite of herself, watching this tall solid man consume his food like a starving child. She had her Melville back, after a time when she thought that she would never even see him again.

Without considering her actions, she placed her hand tenderly upon his knee. Melville almost cried out, the reaction to her touch was so strong. He had never known the touch of any other person to have this devastating effect on him. As much as he wanted to lift her bodily and carry her out of the room, he had to control himself. He carefully lifted her hand away from himself and placed it on the table.