Page 10 of The Conqueror’s Lady (The Knights of Brittany #2)

G iles’s every nerve jangled as he watched them assemble before him. A glance at the lady did nothing to settle him for Fayth grew even paler as her people gathered there. Giles suspected she worried that he would have them killed, but for now he would say nothing else to her about his plans. All of his people would hear his words at the same time.

Nothing in his life, nothing learned at Sir Gautier’s knee or on the many battlefields, had prepared him for this moment, but he gained strength from knowing that he could do well by these people even as he prospered from them. He knew that Duke William supported him in this endeavour and that the duke would never give up his claim to England and these lands. With that backing and his own plans and desires for success, Giles would make his stand and his claim.

Roger called out his name and every person quieted.

‘In defeating your king and your lord in battle, Duke William has made his claim on this land. By right of battle and with the pope’s blessing, England is his and the lands held by those who fought at Harold’s side are forfeit.’

Loud grumbling went through the crowd and Giles waited for it to pass.

‘In supporting his liege lord, Bertram of Taerford risked his life and lands and, with his defeat and death, his lands and more have been given to me. My liege lord requested only one sign of fealty from me for this bestowal—that I marry the old lord’s daughter. I have done that before you as witnesses.’ He watched as, to a one, they glanced over at Fayth.

‘These lands are mine now, held in trust with the duke who will be crowned King of England,’ he called out loudly. Then, in a lower voice, he said, ‘And she is mine.’

Her gaze met his in that moment and he did not look away. Something heated and alive passed between them then and his body ached for the moment he would claim her and make her his in truth. She would know his possession of her body soon, but he wanted her and those watching to know that, in fact, she was his even now, regardless of the consummation or not of their vows.

‘She is mine,’ he repeated more forcefully. Giles watched as she shivered at his proclamation, revealing that she was affected even now.

‘The men who tried to keep me from my rightful claim are outlaws now, rebels against the lawful ruler of England, and will suffer if captured.’ He walked closer to them and laid his hand on the sword at his side.

‘Make no mistake, I will not allow these men to take what is mine and I will not allow them to harm anything of mine. I know that many are kinsmen or have lived amongst you here in Taerford and I would rather not put them to the sword.’

Giles looked around at the people and then back at Fayth as he now crossed his arms over his chest.

‘But force my hand and I will.’

He waited as they considered his words and warning. Declaring a man to be an outlaw was a death sentence for they could be killed without hesitation or fear of punishment under the law. Anyone helping an outlaw could be exiled themselves and lose everything they possessed. A man’s family could be thrown out of their home and off any lands they owned or rented if outlawed—a death sentence even if not called such. This was the same in Brittany as here and they knew it. He watched as they accepted his warning of the consequences of helping those outlawed by their own behaviour.

He turned to face the villeins gathered together in one part of the hall. ‘I will honour the agreements for land and rents that you had with Lord Bertram until next year.’

Facing those who served the lord and belonged to the manor, he said, ‘I bind you and your service to me, even as you served Lord Bertram. I offer you my protection within the keep or without, as long as you honour your bond to me.’

The last group of men stood together probably out of long practice. Some of Bertram’s men-at-arms had been injured or had stayed behind protecting the keep or the lady and, when faced with his superior force of mounted soldiers and bowsmen, had surrendered to Giles at the onset of fighting.

‘For now, my men will see to the manor’s defences and you need to continue at your labours until the preparations for winter are complete. Then you may train with my men and learn from them.

‘I would ask those who fought for pay to pledge to me now and I will honour those arrangements. Those who had pledged to Lord Bertram may pledge their fealty to his daughter.’

He heard Roger call out in disagreement and felt Brice’s approach from behind. He stayed them with a hand in the air. ‘As I am also pledged to the lady in honour and in marriage, I have no objections to her father’s men pledging their honour to her as well.’

Fayth could not believe his words. By right, as lord, he could have imprisoned the soldiers for not swearing to him. He could have had them executed. Instead, he asked them to pledge to her? Unable to speak and nearly unable to breathe, she watched as every one of those who fought in her father’s name knelt before them and lowered their heads, a sign of respect and obeisance.

The silence in the hall was profound as he held out his hand to her. Accepting it, she rose to stand at his side, not quite knowing what to expect of him in that moment. He drew her closer to him and then walked forward to stand in front of the kneeling men.

‘Do you give your word to honour your pledge of duty to me as your lord?’ he asked. At their pledge, he moved before those of her father’s men who knelt. ‘Do you give your word to me that you will honour your pledge of duty to the lady, Fayth Fitzhenry, daughter of Bertram of Taerford?’

He was showing a great deal of intelligence for one she’d thought so unpractised in the arts of nobility, for many would think it was his unfamiliarity with her language that caused the slight change in the words he chose for their promise to him. Fayth noted it and suspected the clear purpose behind it. She almost smiled at the way he skilfully worded the question, making the men answerable to him in their duties to her.

The men cheered their pledge, calling out her name and she did smile then, in pride and honoured by their promises to her. Lord Giles continued as she thought he would, calling those who had just pledged forward to hear their name and take their hand. When each had been greeted by name, he spoke again, bringing them to quiet.

‘It will be very hard to carry on our duties while there is unrest and turmoil surrounding us, but we must or we will not survive. There will be disputes between Norman and Saxon, there will be disagreements to settle and many difficulties to face, but we can persevere in this.’

At first no one spoke or made a noise and she could see the disappointment on the lord’s face. He believed he had gained support from her people, and so did she, so this silence was disheartening. Then, one of the men, Norman or Saxon she knew not which, called out his name and it spread through the hall. He accepted their gesture for a few moments and then dismissed them back to their work.

She would have left, but he still held her hand, effectively keeping her at his side. Fayth watched Roger and some of the other knights lead the villeins out. The others who worked with the manor walls went back to their duties, just as she should.

‘My lord,’ she said softly, interrupting his words with Brice. ‘I should return to my duties as well.’

Instead of releasing her, he shook his head and escorted her back to the chair next to the table in the front of the hall, dismissing his friend with but a glance. He pulled a stool over and sat before her.

‘Are you well now, lady?’

‘I am…not.’ There was no way to explain what was in her heart to him—that no matter his rights under the law, she felt as though she was betraying her father when she enjoyed his attentions. And the pleasure he’d shown her in their bed only worsened her feelings of betrayal.

‘I think I have distressed you. Last evening, I had sought to ease your fears by showing you how enjoyable it can be between a man and a woman, but the result has been the opposite of what I had hoped. Now, today, I sought to reassure you that there is a future for our people.’

His words did not calm her but instead she could feel a torrent of emotions and words bursting forward. Her hands shook and she clasped them together in her lap. It was all she could control in that moment of recklessness.

‘Ease my fears, my lord? Was that your goal, then?’ she whispered furiously. She stood then and faced him. ‘You all but admitted your part in my father’s death. You still believe that I gave up my honour. Do you think I would come willingly to you when I believe you would imprison me in the blink of an eye if I do not prove to be innocent? Oh, but wait, I have come to you, haven’t I?’

She drew in a breath then, somehow unable to stop now that this dam of self-control had burst within her.

‘I sleep in your bed and even lie beneath your touch and gain pleasure from it. And all the while you make no promises of mercy if I do carry a child now. Would you give it to some convent or villager to raise and then take your pleasure on me, breeding sons of your own?’ Surprise showed on his face at her words. ‘Do you fear raising another man’s bastard or only fear raising a Saxon’s?’

Fayth knew the moment she’d crossed some line with him, for his eyes burned and his face grew hard. He stood up so quickly that he sent the stool flying across the room and against the wall with a crash. Fayth backed away several steps but he crossed the distance with but one of his paces. Brice came between them, whispering to him in their language. So fast were the words that she stood no chance of gaining an understanding of them.

Before Giles could explode, as the fury in his eyes foretold, she stumbled away and ran from the table. Terrified by the expression of absolute rage on his face, she ran out of the keep, across the yard to the stone chapel. Pushing the door open and closing it behind her, she scrambled down the aisle to the front. Knowing there was no place to hide, she made her way to the half wall that separated the altar from the rest of the chapel and sat down in front of it.

Or rather she collapsed against it, for her legs gave out on her then. Sitting there, she did nothing until her heart ceased to pound within her chest and until she could breathe without tightness.

How foolish she’d been! She’d made good steps these last few days in organising the keep, but her doubts last night, being pleasured by this invader and enjoying his touch, had raged full this day until she overstepped herself. Where was her self-control?

Even as he confirmed her place and importance to him and the people, she undermined it. Instead of keeping her doubts to herself, she’d lashed out at him. And other than tempting her to passion, what had been his sins?

She did not diminish his part in the battle between her king and his duke, but, as he said, he fought for his liege as her father had. Fayth shifted on the cold stone floor. It was as men were and would ever be—fighting for honour and lands and power. With so much land to divide up amongst those who followed and fought well with him, the duke would give lands to men who could be good-hearted or cold-hearted in their treatment of their new subjects.

Fayth knew, after watching him proclaim his rights and those of her people, that he was a better lord than most. The promises he’d made today were ones that her father would have made and honoured if he were alive. And with her emotional reaction and inability to accept him for his own actions, she’d ruined any respect growing between them.

She sat there for a long time, pondering what she’d done and her feelings about her place in this Norman’s, nay Breton’s, keep, when the door that led to the priest’s small room opened and Father Henry entered. Fayth would have stood then if she could have, but her legs would not move. The priest bowed at the altar, spent a few moments in prayer and then turned to her.

‘Are you well, child?’ he asked, holding his hand out to her.

‘Nay, Father, I am heartsick and unwell, I fear,’ she answered, waving off his hand. He was not a strong man and she feared that they would both end up on the cold stone floor if she took it.

‘I miss your father as well, Fayth.’ He smiled at her and she feared breaking out into tears again at the warmth and concern there. ‘You are a strong person, my dear. You will survive this ordeal.’

‘I try to be a daughter my father would be proud of,’ she explained. ‘But…’ She paused, unable to say the rest.

‘It was easier to be your father’s daughter when he was here to advise and guide you? When it meant following his rules and obeying his commands?’

‘Yes, that is it, Father. Now there is no one to counsel me on matters big or small. I have no one now,’ she whispered.

Father Henry reached for her again and this time he would brook no refusal. He steadied her as she stood and straightened her gowns and veil. ‘He would listen to your questions and give you good counsel, lady.’

Had grief made his thoughts addled? she wondered. Surely, Father Henry did not think her father could speak to her now. ‘He, Father? Who do you mean?’

‘He,’ Father said with a nod towards the back of the chapel. ‘Lord Giles came to me and asked me to see to your welfare.’ She did not look behind to see him. ‘He said he had frightened you badly with his anger and did not wish for you to be fearful of him.’

‘He told you that?’ she asked in a whispered voice, still not looking back.

‘Yes, my dear. I think he is a good man, lady. I see much of your father at that age in him. I think you could trust him.’

‘You do?’ Fayth was shocked by Father Henry’s confidence in this new lord.

‘Yes. He may make mistakes in his struggles here, but he is willing to correct them. Not like many Normans, eh? And you are his lawful wife now. Your place is beside him, whether your father chose him or some other did so in his stead.’

A kind way of saying what had happened, but it was the truth, however phrased. Still her larger question was one she could not speak of with Father Henry. Or could she?

‘Father, but do I betray those lost by being his wife?’ She would never speak of the fleshly passion between them to this priest, but she needed his counsel.

‘Lady, you spoke the words joining yourself to him in this very chapel. For whatever reasons, you consented to this marriage and are now his wife.’ He pulled her closer and lowered his voice then. ‘And if there is some pleasure gained when carrying out the duties of wife with your lord husband, I am sure the Good Lord does not frown on such. And neither will I,’ he assured her.

Tears filled her eyes as she heard the words he spoke and she reached up to wipe them away.

‘So, child, will you speak to him or should I send him away?’ Father Henry stood straighter then and nodded once more towards the back of the chapel.

Unless she decided to seek refuge in the chapel for the rest of her days, Fayth knew she must face her husband and come to some understanding if there was to be peace between them. That he would go to the priest and ask him to intercede was remarkable and, again, something she suspected most of the other Norman noblemen would not waste their time doing when force in any measure would accomplish things even faster. It had been reports of just such atrocities that had made her consent to marriage with Edmund.

‘I will speak to him, Father,’ she said quietly.

‘Good, child. Let me escort you to him.’

Father Henry held out his arm and Fayth placed her hand there, using a small bit of his strength to steady herself as she walked to Giles.

‘My lord,’ Father began, ‘would you like to use the chapel for your discussion? The presence of God can be most helpful in such situations.’ Before Lord Giles could answer, Father Henry walked off and pulled two chairs to the centre of the chapel. Setting them up to face each other, he nodded and smiled.

‘My lord,’ he said, pointing to one chair. ‘My lady,’ he said, helping her to sit on the other one.

Her stomach churned again as she sat and waited for him to speak. But it was Father Henry who interrupted first.

‘I could stay with you, if you’d like, my lord?’

She did smile then, for she knew, as Lord Giles and Father Henry did, that the priest was not asking him, but her, if she wished his presence.

‘Lady?’ Giles asked her softly. ‘Would you wish Father Henry to stay?’ He added an inflection to the priest’s name that made it sound more French than English.

‘Nay, my lord. I am certain he has other tasks to see to and would not detain him here.’

Father Henry bowed to them and then made his way to the altar where he spent a few moments in prayer before leaving. When she dared to look at her husband, she saw not the raging man but the one to whom she’d grown accustomed. When Father Henry had left, she heard Giles take a deep breath in and let it out loudly.

‘So, lady, would you like to know the truth about the man you have to husband?’