Montbryce Next Generation 01 - Dark Irish Knight (16 page)

Rhoni almost stormed into her parents’ bedchamber, but sanity returned and she knocked impatiently at the door.

When there was no reply, she rapped again.
“Papa!
Maman! C’est moi
, Rhoni.”

The door opened abruptly. She lifted her candle, swallowing hard at the sight of her father, dressed only in his bed robe. The shadows cast by the candle demonised the fury on his face. “This had better be important, young lady,” he growled.

Her mother emerged from the darkness, her hair dishevelled, adjusting her bed robe to cover one naked shoulder. “Of course it must be important, Ram. Why else would our daughter come knocking at our door in the middle of the night? Come in, Rhoni.”

Rhoni hesitated, suddenly feeling foolish. She and her siblings were aware their parents were ardent lovers, but none of them had ever entered the parental bedchamber at night. Her mother seemed to sense her hesitancy and put her arm around Rhoni’s waist. Her papa took the candle and used its flame to light a larger one sitting atop the cold hearth.

Rhoni sat in the chair her father indicated. The plan had come to mind clearly in her own chamber, but now it seemed muddled as she tried to explain it to her impatient father.

“The mercenaries—”

Her eyes flitted from one parent to the other.

Ram de Montbryce raked a hand through his hair. “
Oui
, go on.”

“The Earl of Chester—”

Her papa arched one brow. “Careful now, girl. You meddle in things that do not concern you.”

Rhoni clenched her fists in her lap, glaring at him. “How can it not concern me? Ronan’s fate hangs in the balance. I will do everything I can to aid him.”

Her father took a deep breath. “Rhoni, Chester is a monster. I had to carefully tiptoe around to get him to see it would be in his interests to withdraw his mercenaries from Ronan’s estate. I believe that is what he has done, but I cannot be certain.”

“Then we must make sure. And we must convince the Earl to put his mercenaries at Ronan’s disposal. He will have no chance if he stands alone.”

Her father stared at her open-mouthed. “Rhoni—”

He looked up into the rafters, digging his fingertips into his scalp, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. “You ask a great deal, child.”

Mabelle put a hand on her husband’s arm. “She does not ask for herself.”

Rhoni leapt to her feet. “Of course I do,
maman
. I love Ronan. I see now he refused to marry me under your conditions because he loves me. He may not admit it yet, but I intend to let him see at every opportunity how much I love him. The two of you have told us repeatedly you wish you had not wasted many years denying that you loved each other. I don’t intend to make that mistake. If it means grovelling to the Earl of Chester to save the man I love, I am willing to do that.”

Her father glared at her. “No Montbryce will ever grovel before the likes of Hugh d’Avranches. The secret in dealing with him is to convince him your plan is to his advantage.”

Rhoni threw her arms around her father’s neck. “We will go to him, convince him to help Ronan.”

Her papa untangled her arms. “Not
we
. Baudoin and I will go.”

Rhoni pouted. “Why are women excluded from these matters?”

Her
maman
put an arm around her shoulder. “If you go, the Earl will see immediately the importance of success to us. Your face will betray your emotions.”

Rhoni looked at her father intently. “Then I will stay out of his sight. You can claim I wanted to see his magnificent castle again.”

Ram de Montbryce heaved a heavy sigh. “Very well. We will leave on the morrow.”

Four Montbryces rode into the bailey of Chester Castle with their escort. Mabelle had succeeded in convincing Ram that Rhoni’s presence would be more believable if both Montbryce women went. Rhoni suspected her mother’s true motive was to keep an eye on her.

They had sent riders ahead so the Earl was prepared for their arrival. Protocol demanded they not arrive unannounced, though nobility would have obliged the Earl to extend his hospitality if they did.

Ram de Montbryce deemed it best to observe protocol. “Let him stew for a while on why we are coming.”

While Rhoni had not eschewed comfortable riding attire completely, her outfit was more modest, consisting of a long split skirt which still allowed her to ride astride. “Ever your daughter,” her father had remarked to her mother.

Strips of leather had been artfully sewn into the inside of each leg for protection of her thighs and
derrière
.

She remembered the last time she and her mother had ridden into Chester. Little had she known her life was about to change forever. She had embarked on that journey a frivolous girl. Meeting Ronan had changed her into a woman, one willing to court danger for the man she loved.

While her father appeared calm as he acknowledged Chester’s greeting, she knew every word was carefully thought out beforehand. Her heart fluttered in her breast. It was imperative that she too not give away anything through a careless word or gesture. Let Chester believe her still the ninny-head. It was as well her mother had accompanied them. She too was politically savvy.

Servants brought a chair for the Earl. He sat down heavily as he greeted them. “I am delighted and honoured to have almost the whole Montbryce family visit me, but I cannot help but wonder what brings you here on such short notice?”

Ram did not hesitate. “My son and I have a matter of importance to discuss with you, and my wife and daughter are so enamored of your castle they insisted on accompanying us.”

The Earl frowned, but recovered quickly. “Good! Good! It is a beautiful edifice is it not? We Normans certainly build worthy castles.”

“Indeed!” Mabelle gushed.

The Earl grunted to his feet and offered Mabelle his hand. “May I escort you,
Milady
Comtesse
?”

The Earl of Chester tapped a forefinger against his bottom lip, his double chin supported by his thumb. “Lord Ronan, you say? Ah! Of course! Now I recall. The one-eyed giant.”

“The same,” Ram conceded, playing along with the act.

Chester yawned. “Still at Ellesmere is he?”

Ram accepted a tankard of ale from a maidservant, and took a long swallow before replying. “
Non
, he has gone back to Ireland.”

Chester lurched forward in his chair, gripping the arms. “Already? But I thought—that is, have you provided him soldiers?”

Ram took another swig, stretching his long legs and propping his feet on a footstool provided by a servant, one ankle crossed nonchalantly over the other. “
Non
.”

Chester relaxed and drank from his tankard.

Ram bided his time, then, “I gave him money to hire mercenaries.”

Hugh d’Avranches choked on his ale. He coughed and spluttered.

You’re losing your touch, old friend.

Once his breath returned, the Earl wheezed, “Why? What is he to you?”

Ram affected a look of amazement. “I told you. I owed him a debt. He saved my daughter’s life, and probably that of her Captain. He also rid us of the Saxon brigands, something Warwick seemed incapable of. In that regard you are also in his debt. They would have continued their northerly trek had Ronan not dispatched them. He lopped off the head of one of them, I understand, with one swing of his sword. You saw the sword, I believe?”

Chester’s hand went to his throat. “
Oui—
impressive.”

They sat in silence a while longer, sipping their ale, before Chester ventured, “What is his plan?”

“To retake his lands and wreak his vengeance.”

Chester scowled. “I meant, how does he intend to carry out this attack?”

Ram shrugged. “He will hire mercenaries. However, it would assist him greatly if the mercenaries you have summoned back from Ireland were to change allegiance and fight for him.”

D’Avranches furrowed his brow. “You don’t miss much, do you Montbryce?”

Ram examined his fingernails. “I try to keep informed.”

Chester guzzled a long draught of ale, then wiped his sleeve across his mouth. “But why should I instruct my men to fight for him? What’s in it for me? And indeed for you?”

“Ronan MacLachlainn is not a man to have as an enemy, and might in time prove a useful ally. Sooner or later, Ireland will fall to a Norman invasion.”

Chester rasped the back of his knuckles against his chin. “There is more though, isn’t there, old friend?”

Ram counted silently to ten. “How is your young wife, these days,
old friend
?”

The Earl’s eyes widened. “Ermentrude? She is well. She prefers to stay in Normandie.”

Again Ram waited before he spoke. “And your boy, Richard. How old is he now?”

Chester clenched his jaw, his face red. “Three years.”

Ram raked his gaze over the Earl’s obese body. The man was at least five years his senior, but looked one hundred. “Ermentrude must worry a great deal.”

The Earl shifted his considerable weight several times. “Get to the point.”

“When you leave this earthly realm, Hugh, who will protect your infant son from those who would steal your earldom away?”

D’Avranches took a deep breath, seemingly intending to get up from his chair, but it caught in his throat and he coughed and wheezed. “I have named a Steward who will rule for him—until his majority.”

Ram kept his voice calm. “I am confident this Steward would be mightily relieved to learn he has the support of the Earl of Ellesmere.”

Chester thumped his palm repeatedly with his fisted hand, his sly eyes fixed on Ram. “How can I be sure the Earl of Ellesmere won’t be one of those coveting my lands?”

Ram leaned forward, his palms flat on his thighs. “Because I give you my word. I am not a greedy man, Hugh. You know this of me, and my sons. We are content with what we have, though a piece of Ireland might not go amiss.”

Chester guffawed. “Content! You Montbryces control more land in England and Normandie than anyone else of my acquaintance!”

Ram smiled. “You are probably right, but we have won it with valour, sacrifice and hard work, not cunning and murder.”

Chester averted his gaze and harrumphed. “It may be too late. As you rightly stated, I have recalled Bossuet and his men.”

Ram came to his feet. “Give me a signed and sealed document instructing Bossuet that Ronan MacLachlainn is his new commander. I assume he knows who MacLachlainn is?”

The corners of Chester’s mouth edged down further. He hesitated only a moment, then with a wave of the hand sent a pageboy off to seek out the scrivener.

Rhoni scurried to greet her father. “What news?”

Mabelle came to her feet in one of Chester Castle’s opulent chambers and looked at her husband anxiously. “She has driven me and Baudoin mad with her pacing. Put us out of our misery.”

Ram reached into his doublet and produced a furled parchment. Rhoni seized it. “What is this?”

Ram caught his daughter by the wrist and retrieved the parchment from her grasp. “Calm down, Rhoni. All will be revealed. I must sit. My knees—”

Rhoni followed him to the hearth, a spark of hope flickering in her breast. Her father seemed pleased with what he had accomplished.

He sat down and tapped the document against his thigh. “Chester has signed over command of his mercenaries in Ireland to one Lord Ronan MacLachlainn.”

Blood rushed to Rhoni’s head, making her dizzy with relief. She wanted to laugh, to cry. She fell to her knees at her father’s feet and lay her head on his lap, sniffling back her tears. “Papa,
merci
. I cannot imagine how you accomplished such a thing.”

Mabelle put her hand on Ram’s shoulder. “Neither can I.”

Ram shrugged. “I pointed out what was in it for him.”

Rhoni frowned. “I don’t understand, but you have given Ronan a chance to regain what is rightfully his.”

Ram stroked his daughter’s hair. “There is only one problem.”

Rhoni’s head jerked up. “Problem?”

Ram again tapped the parchment against his thigh. “Chester has already sent word to recall his men from Ireland. Time is of the essence if we are to get this message to them.”

Rhoni struggled to get off her knees. Baudoin took a step forward. Both spoke at once. “I will take the message.”

Mabelle bristled. “You will do no such thing, Hylda Rhonwen.”

Ram put a hand over his wife’s, still on his shoulder. “Chester has provided a small longboat. I propose Baudoin go to Ireland with Chester’s captain and crew and a few Ellesmere men.”

Rhoni put her hands on her hips. “I insist I go with Baudoin. Ronan needs me.”

Baudoin and her parents gaped at her. Her father spoke first. “You may be right, Rhoni, but there will be danger, and Ronan will not be happy if you are exposed to it.”

Rhoni took hold of her mother’s hands. “When Papa went to England with the Conqueror, did you not long with all your heart to go with him, despite the danger?”

Ram de Montbryce coughed and her mother blushed as she looked at her husband and murmured, “
Oui
.”

Everyone in the room was aware of what had befallen Ram in England when Mabelle was left behind in Normandie.

“But it was impossible. I would never have been allowed to go.”

Rhoni tried her luck with her brother. “Let me accompany you, Baudoin. Please. I won’t be a liability. I can ride as well as any man, and I haven’t inherited Papa’s tendency to
mal de mer
.”

Her father groaned. “Don’t remind me. The idea of boarding a boat again makes me ill.”

Baudoin turned to his father. “I will protect her if she comes with me.”

Rhoni’s heart soared. Surely her Papa would relent. “If you do not allow me to go to Ireland, I fear I might never see Ronan again.”

Ram de Montbryce tapped his fingers on his thighs, then stole a glance at his wife. She nodded. He handed the parchment to Rhoni. “Very well. The longboat leaves at dawn on the morrow.”

She took the document and clutched it to her breast with trembling hands. “
Merci
, Papa,
Maman
.”

Baudoin stood behind his sister, his hands on her shoulders, legs braced to the movement of the longboat as it pulled away from the dock. Rhoni clutched the wood of the top rail with one hand, the other raised in salute to her parents.

Ram and Mabelle de Montbryce sat motionless atop their mounts on the shore. Rhoni knew her mother was crying. Her father raised one hand in a gesture of farewell, Fortissima’s reins in his other hand.

They had faded from view when Rhoni lowered her hand to gather her cloak against the chill of the wind. Her tears blinded her. Would she ever see them again?

Baudoin turned her to face him. “You will see them again, Rhoni. I won’t let anything happen to my little sister.”

She leaned into him. “We do not even know if Ronan has reached Ireland. You are risking your life for him, and I love you for it, dear brother.”

“I’m doing it for you both.”

As they approached the Irish Sea, the waters became rougher. The captain advised they seek shelter under the canvas erected for them. They were soon glad of it when the rain started.

A brisk wind filled the square sail, but the oarsmen kept rowing. Speed was essential. Rhoni had not slept well and soon the grunts of the rowers, the rhythmic splash of the oars, the tom-tom of the oar master’s drum, the pelting of the rain on the canvas: all conspired to lull her into a fitful sleep.

She dreamed of Ireland, of the lush fields Ronan had described to her. Would she love his land as much as he did? She heard again the strains of the song he had sung for her. She swam with seals.