Lady of Fire (28 page)

"What a pretty way to say it—can I not just say the same thing?"

"Aye, if you want, but you'll probably have to practice it. I know I have for a long time."

She looked up in surprise and found him grinning down at her. "Aye, you may have known for only weeks that we could wed—I have known for years."

She laid her head back against his shoulder and felt easier than she had since Belesme came to Fontainebleau. "And just how long have you wanted to wed with me?" she asked.

"A long time. I suppose I first thought of it when William came to Nantes and there was talk of your being given to Henry. It was insane, but I kept thinking: Not Henry—me! And I was all of fifteen at the time!"

"Roger, my father will disown me—I can bring you nothing."

" 'Tis all right—I have enough for both of us, Lea. I am certain I can keep the Condes now." His arms tightened around her. "And you wed no bastard, Eleanor." When she looked up in surprise, he smiled broadly and nodded. "Aye—my mother and father were wed in church—the same place where we will give our vows. I am not a bastard—not Gilbert's nor Earl Richard's by-blow. Richard de Brione is my father in fact and in law."

"Sweet Mary! 'Tis wonderful, Roger!" Her face flushed with pleasure for him. "But how…?"

"A long story that I'll tell you later."

" 'Tis not right that I bring you nothing then."

"Oh, so you would wed a bastard, Lea, and cavil at taking the heir to an earldom."

"And you know that is not it!"

"Ah, now you are more like my Lea. I wondered how long it would be before this weak, frightened creature gave way to your real self," he teased. "Truly, though, I doubt Gilbert has the power to disinherit his firstborn entirely. But if he does, I have enough for both of us—unless, of course, you give me so many children that I must needs conquer new lands to provide for them all."

Outside, the bells began to ring midday. Roger reluctantly loosed his hold on her and gave her a playful push toward the door. "My belly is empty and my legs are bare, love. If you would see me break my fast at all before tonight, I have to get dressed and shaved."

If dinner at noon had caused a stir with Roger sitting at the high table, supper surpassed it for drama. Eleanor entered the hall on Earl Richard's arm and Roger followed them all the way to the dais. A murmur passed through the assembled guests, retainers, and men-at-arms when Roger again sat there. And before Richard de Brione gave the signal for the cook's parade, he stood to make his announcement.

"Good friends, vassals, men of Harlowe, I make known to you Roger de Brione, my son, who is lately arrived from Normandy." He seemed almost overcome by emotion as he continued, "Through a cruel trick, knowledge of his existence was denied me until yesterday, but I mean to make up for those years we were apart. I ask your welcome, I ask your loyalty to my son," he told the stunned audience. "Aye—he is my heir. His mother and I were contracted before the Wake's rebellion, and he was conceived ere I left to fight for my king. But because his mother was Saxon, daughter to Aeldrid, my mother had her taken away." He stopped to wipe his eyes briefly before going on. "Now, as soon as may be practical, I leave for France to see my wife. I have hopes of persuading her to return here with me. Until then, I ask you to join me in celebrating the return of my son and in witnessing his marriage to the Demoiselle of Nantes." He reached down to clasp Eleanor's hand and drew her up beside him. "Aye—who could not be proud of a daughter such as this one? May she give you a future earl of my blood." Eleanor flushed beside him, but he seemed not to notice. "They pledge to each other before Mass tomorrow and ask Father Alain's blessing then." Richard then gestured Roger to rise and placed Eleanor's hand in his. "I give you your third earl, God willing, and his lady."

At first, everyone was too stunned to do anything but stare. Finally Brian de Scoville, Harlowe's seneschal, and Ralph d'Escrivet, the steward, rose and began to clap loudly. The others followed suit and the hall seemed alive with approbation. It might be a shock, most reasoned, but an earldom with an heir was more secure in Rufus' England than one whose succession was at the king's mercy. A traveler who knew of Roger FitzGilbert hastened to tell all who would listen of Roger's remarkable abilities as a soldier. Those around listened and tried to take pride in the fact that the heir had something to recommend him.

"Roger de Brione—it sounds strange to my ears," Eleanor whispered as she took her seat again.

"Aye—to mine too, but I like the sound of it," Roger whispered back. His hand sought hers in her lap. "A new name, a new land, a new wife—how could I ask for more?"

Her fingers tightened around his. It was the end of one portion of her life also. The man beside her offered her a new beginning far from Belesme, far from Gilbert, far from Fontainebleau. Her brother, the FitzGilbert, lived no more; her husband, Roger de Brione, would build her a future free from fear. She would wed with him and try to give him an heir of his body.

Eleanor spent much of her wedding day being bathed, having her hair washed and dried and scented with honeysuckle. She wore a simple gown of her favorite purple samite with Roger's bride gifts of girdle and golden circlet. In her hands she carried a pearl-and-gold chaplet for her prayers.

A maid answered a tap at the door and admitted the earl after a brief conference. He stepped in and surveyed Eleanor appreciatively before handing her a parchment that bore his seal. She looked up in surprise before turning her attention to the document. Richard de Brione watched her flush with pleasure as she read.

"I don't understand …" she began when she'd finished reading.

" Tis plain enough." He smiled. "You were worried to come to your husband with nothing, Eleanor, so I have dowered you myself."

"But—"

"Hush, child. Before you and Roger came to Harlowe, I had naught but land and wealth. Now I have an heir of my body." He leaned forward to plant a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Now I have a son and a daughter, Eleanor." He moved away to stare down from the window to the peaceful lake that lapped the castle's very foundation. "God willing, I hope to regain my wife after so many years. I pray she can be persuaded to return with me." He straightened his shoulders as though he lifted a weight off them. "Aye, once you and Roger are pledged, I leave for London to present proof of my own marriage and to ask Rufus' recognition of my heir. That done, I am for Abbeville to see Glynis."

"I pray she comes also, my lord," Eleanor told him, "for I loved her dearly as a child and I love her still. Will you tell her that for me, please?"

"I will." There were a dozen questions Richard wanted to ask the girl before him, but could not bring himself to put them into words. She seemed to sense his hesitation. "My lord, do not ask her of Gilbert—she hated him and she hated her life at Nantes. Had she the means to have seen Roger cared for, she would have left long before she did. It was hard for her to be known as my father's leman all those years." When he made no reply, she defended Glynis further. "Aye, and she left as soon as the Conqueror provided for Roger, my lord."

"I do not doubt it, Demoiselle, and I would not reproach her for that which she could not help. If there is any blame, 'tis on me and my family." A smile played at the corners of his mouth much like Roger's. "And if I am ever in need of a champion, Eleanor, I pray you will speak for me as loyally as you have for my wife and son."

The fourth bells rang. Eleanor gave a nervous start and clutched her chaplet tightly. " 'Tis nearly time, and I am not ready!"

"Nay, child go as you are. I promise he'll be pleased by the sight of you. Rannulf reports him as short-tempered as a bear in a pit from the wait." He straightened the circlet on her brow in a fatherly gesture and offered, "I'll walk you there."

"I would be honored, my lord."

A tiring woman thrust a small breviary into her hands. "Demoiselle, you must go." With a quick twist of the skirt of her gown to straighten it, the woman pushed her toward the door. "May God smile on you, my lady."

Clouds had parted to admit the sun's brightness after a morning of intermittent rain. The world seemed to have bathed and freshened itself during a respite from summer's heat. Richard took Eleanor's hand and laid it in the crook of his elbow as they came out into the open stone-paved walk. "Even the heavens smile on you, Eleanor, for this day to tell you 'tis right what you do."

"I pray it is."

He could sense her tension mounting and sought to ease it. "Tell me, child, how it is that the world calls you Eleanor and my son names you Lea?" he asked casually as he stopped to open a gate.

"When I was born, he could not pronounce Eleanor, my lord, and Glynis is said to have sounded it out slowly for him as El-le-a-nor. He still could not say it, but he marked the middle sounds and to him I have been Lea ever since. I like it."

"Aye, he told me you two shared much as children."

"He and Glynis were all I had, my lord," she answered simply, "and when he left to join William's train and she went away, I thought I should die of the loneliness." She gave a deep sigh of remembrance. "And then I went to Fontainebleau."

He patted the hand that rested on his. "Those times are over, Eleanor. Now you will have a husband to stand for you and to keep you. You are fortunate that you get one who knows and loves you. Too many of our class marry as strangers and get acquainted in the marriage bed."

She fell silent. She had many questions that she could not ask about what would happen. When she'd overheard some of the maids discussing her after her bath, saying such things as, "The little Demoiselle is too small for such a one as that" and "I'll warrant she bleeds much," she'd sought out Roger frantically. His attempts at soothing had been of little benefit when he'd told her, "All women bleed a little then, Lea, but only the once." She'd wanted to ask more, but his body servants had arrived to prepare him, and she had no further opportunity. She felt pitifully ignorant of what was expected of her. Now she realized with a start that they'd stopped walking and Richard de Brione watched her curiously.

"Is something the matter, Demoiselle?" he asked gently.

"Nay." She reddened in embarrassment at her thoughts. " 'Tis only that I wish I had some lady to speak with before… before…"

"Aye, and I regret the lack. What troubles you?"

She looked up wide-eyed and then back to the bright green grass. He seemed kind and fatherly and concerned for her well-being. With a gulp, she managed to ask, "What happens if I am too small?"

Fighting an urge to smile at her innocence, Richard appeared to consider the matter seriously. "I've never heard of that happening, Eleanor, and I am sure your husband will use you gently. Where did you hear such a thing?"

"From the maids."

"Well, you are not as small as all that, I can tell you. In fact, you are much bigger—aye, a foot or more taller—than William's Mathilda. You say you remember the Conqueror—well, he was not a small man, was he?"

"Nay, he was only a little shorter than Roger."

"Then there is your answer."

"Thank you, my lord."

"You are most welcome, Demoiselle. Is there anything else you would know before we go on?"

"Aye, but I could not ask such questions."

"Then I suggest you seek out Roger alone when we are done and ask what you would of him. I'll warrant he can answer for you."

They managed the rest of the walk in harmony. Richard was enchanted with his son's choice of a wife. The girl had beauty and intelligence, to be sure, but she also had a candor that would serve her well. Her ignorance of sexual matters was born of a sheltered existence and could be remedied, but her innate honesty about her lack of information brought him the realization his son wed no ordinary beauty.

A slow smile broke across her face, prompting him to stop again. "What amuses you now?"

"I was thinking that the Conqueror and his lady must have made an odd-looking pair with him so big and her so little."

"Aye—she had to stand on a stool to get into bed, and everything had to be made small for her—stools, tables, everything. Her bower must have been a strange place for him." The bells tolled again. "But we tarry too long, Eleanor. If we do not hurry, Mass will have already begun."

When they reached the church, Roger and his witnesses were already there. He had come early to pray and give thanks—it was fitting to do so, since God allowed him the two closest desires of his heart in Eleanor of Nantes and his own legitimacy. Now it would be up to him to make what he could of God's gifts.

Even as he took her hand at the church door, he was unprepared for the love, the pride in her, the exhilaration he felt. A hush fell over the assemblage as all strained to hear the priest's greeting and the couple's vows to each other. Father Alain stood before them in the doorway and asked their purpose; then Roger responded they came to pledge themselves in marriage. After asking if any there knew of any impediment to the marriage, the priest waited for any to protest. When none spoke up, he nodded to Roger.

Taking a deep breath, Roger clasped Eleanor's hand even more tightly and spoke clearly: "I, Roger de Brione, of my free will, take thee, Eleanor of Nantes, to wive, to have, to hold, to love in joy and adversity unto the ends of our lives. I so swear."

His hand was warm and strong over hers and his blue eyes, though serious, gave warmth and reassurance. For a brief moment she looked up at him before facing the priest. Softly, almost inaudibly, she began her own promise to him, and her voice gained in intensity as she spoke: "I, Eleanor of Nantes, of my free will, take thee, Roger de Brione, for my husband, to have and to honor, to love and to keep, so long as we may live. I so swear. Father, I ask God's blessing."

There on the stone threshold, they knelt while Harlowe's chaplain laid his hands over them and called on God to grant them joy of each other and children of their bodies. Rising, they followed him in to Mass.

"Half an hour—I can try to give you half an hour before they want their sport," Roger leaned over and whispered to Eleanor while the traveling acrobats tumbled to after-supper music. He could feel her tense at his side and hastened to add, "Try to be in bed before we get there, Lea, even if you have to get up and do your hair after the door is barred. 'Twill be easier that way."