Page 15 of The Conqueror’s Lady (The Knights of Brittany #2)

G iles woke to find Fayth sitting against the wall staring at him. Her face was pale, but it was the fear in her gaze that drew his attention. Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he leaned up on his elbows and tried to figure out what had happened.

‘I need to use the chamber pot, my lord,’ she said.

Well, that would be one thing he had not considered. He usually left the room as soon as he rose, leaving her to her ablutions in private. This was the first morning since sharing a bed that he had not.

‘You should have woken me,’ he replied as the other reason she needed privacy occurred to him.

Her courses were still upon her.

Grabbing up his clothes and weapons, he opened the door and called for Emma. ‘She will see to your needs, Fayth.’

These female bodily functions were a mystery to him and one he would rather avoid. Though most women he knew dealt with it matter-of-factly, they were not born and raised as noblewomen and how ladies dealt with the whole matter was something he really did not wish to think on.

But think on it Giles did, even as he stopped in the smaller chamber and pulled his braies, shirt and tunic on, tied his stockings up and then his boots. Buckling on his belt and scabbard, he realised that Fayth did not play the high and mighty lady-of-the-manor here. Her role as steward was a temporary thing, and then she would go back to doing whatever ladies did. He slid his sword into its leather carrier and his dagger into his boot.

What did ladies do?

Thinking back to his time fostering with his Lord Gautier, he remembered his wife sewing and embroidering, seeing to the state of the keep and those who lived in it, and praying. Lady Constance prayed much. And so did the ladies who attended her. But most importantly, they saw to their lord’s comfort.

He reached the hall and took his place at table, waiting on the light fare they ate in the morn. His men and those who served him entered, ate at the other tables and left to their duties. Giles waited to see if she would come down to eat before seeking out Roger and Brice with orders.

Finally she entered and he watched her every move as she walked from the stairway and made her way along the hall to the front. A soft smile here, a word there, to anyone who met her gaze or offered a greeting. Then he realised what was missing—Fayth had no companions other than her servants. Any other noblewoman he knew of or had seen always had a gaggle of other women around them or were in a gaggle of women around another woman.

Fayth was alone.

At the time of his arrival, he had isolated her on purpose for her safety and his peace of mind. While she had recuperated from her injury and while he had been still not certain of her motives or actions, it had been easier to keep her in her chambers. Once married, he had been unhappy with the thought of her wandering around the manor unescorted and unobserved. When he had assigned Brice to aid her, he had given her need for companionship no thought for he knew that Brice would protect her.

He had never looked to her comfort or care.

Until now.

He stood as she drew close and assisted her to a chair, holding onto the hand he claimed as he aided her in sitting. Once more he wished that he could see more of her, for her Saxon dress prevented him from seeing enough to know if she was still pale or not.

‘Where are your ladies?’ he asked without prelude. ‘Did none live with you to share your company or foster with your parents?’

‘Good day, my lord,’ she said quietly, but nonetheless he felt the rebuke over his haste. But she did not remove her hand from his, so he took that as a good sign.

‘Good day, Lady Fayth,’ he said. ‘Are you well?’

‘I have no ladies, my lord,’ she said, ignoring the question about her health. Just as well since there was nothing more he could ask or say on the matter.

‘When your father was lord here, did no one serve as companion to you?’ Finally releasing her hand, he picked up an apple and cut it in two, offering her a piece. She shook her head, accepting only a cup of ale from the serving woman.

‘Two of my cousins stayed here, my lord. One returned to her parents’ home to be married and the other was called home before the king went north.’

‘So you have been here alone since that time?’ She nodded. ‘And your mother? When did she die?’

‘Two years ago, of the fever,’ she answered.

‘I do not mean to probe in old wounds, lady. I seek a way to aid you in your position here as my wife. Is there some other cousin you would like to invite here? Or I could send to my friend, or rather his wife, to see if she knows of any suitable companions—if you were to permit it? Lady Elise always seemed to have an overabundance of women surrounding her.’

Part of that, he knew, was due to the presence of the three men who served her husband. Mostly due to Soren, but many others were attracted to him or Brice or even to Simon before his recent marriage.

‘I cannot think of one right now, my lord.’

Of course not. With war raging she probably thought him mad. ‘When things settle, think on it. I am not opposed to such an arrangement.’

He let her eat, or drink for she sought no food this morn. The aftermath of her stomach illness most likely the cause.

‘Did something untoward happen in the village yesterday?’ he asked.

He could not bear to see the fear in her eyes and could not explain it to himself. Their last encounter had been one of passion and pleasure, freely given and accepted, but had her doubts risen once he’d left the keep? Did she worry once more on her guilt for placing herself under his touch?

Was this why married men sought out others for their pleasure, leaving only the need for children between them and their wives?

Nearly every man of consequence he knew kept a leman for their pleasure, not just noblemen but also others who were high in the esteem of their dukes or counts, knights and landowners on the same level as he was now. They went from their wives’ beds to their lemans’ arms, sometimes in the same night or sometimes for days or weeks at a time. After planning a new keep for the area near the fork in the river, he thought that it would be easy enough to have his lady wife there and keep a leman here for his visits.

What was he thinking? Truly, he was going mad. Glancing at the lady now, he knew from the moment her eyes had met his, even as she had pleaded for another man’s life, that she was the one woman he wanted. He wanted her in his bed, under his touch, at his table and in his keep. He wanted her to bear his children and to grow old with him.

He could blame it on losing his senses in the battles he’d fought or from too many days in the rain or on many other circumstances, but none of that mattered. When he’d allowed himself to dream, sitting in the rain, looking at the hill that would become their new home, he had seen her at his side. Truly, he wanted no other.

Fayth tried to form an answer to his question, but got caught up by the curious light that entered his eyes just then. It was as though he were noticing her for the first time and finally taking stock that he had a manor and lands and a wife.

She remembered waking briefly in the night and thought she remembered him climbing into bed, but the sleeping herbs in Emma’s posset had fogged her mind. Upon waking fully this morn, wrapped and warmed by his naked body surrounding hers, Fayth had simply lain there, enjoying the comfort he provided. If anything bad was to happen between them, that moment and this one were what she would try to hold on to.

‘Was it memories of your father again, Fayth? Did it bother you being in the village?’

For as merciless as he’d first appeared before her, sword in hand, fighting his way through her men to get to her, it seemed a distant memory now after the smaller things he’d done. Easing her people’s way. Protecting them from danger. Now, this concern for her comfort and her pain.

And all the while, she intended to seek out his enemy for proof of his involvement in her father’s death. Even while she planned to aid his enemies if they needed her help. She had not missed the sack of food that Edmund had carried into the weaver’s hut with him—they were pilfering from the keep’s supplies.

‘It was sad memories again, my lord,’ she answered honestly.

‘Did you see something in the weaver’s cottage that caused it?’

Fayth tried to keep her breathing slow and steady as she heard his words. Did he know about Edmund, then? Did he know she’d met him there? Had Brice seen more than she thought?

‘Brice said he returned there and searched it after placing you in Emma’s care and could find nothing.’

Pray God, Edmund had escaped first! She slipped her hands under the table and clenched them tightly. She must give him some answer and then she remembered the last task she did and nodded at him.

‘I found a parcel of fabrics my father had bought at the summer market. I had not seen them before, but they were stored there and I came upon them. It upset me more than I expected.’

‘Would you rather I withhold my permission for you to go there? Would you rather I order Brice to see to things in the village while you oversee the keep only?’

Yes! Her mind screamed out the word. If she could not go to the village, she would not be forced to make the decisions that seeing Edmund would force on her. Like a tempted soul, she would not sin if she had not opportunity to do it.

She must be strong. She must find out the truth from Edmund and she must help those of her people that she could and if that meant giving them some spare food to get them through the coming winter, then so be it.

Even as she opened her mouth to say the words, her heart was not in it. Her heart saw this man trying to see to her comfort. This man being a better one than those higher in rank and wealth. This man who terrified her and frightened her and at the same time made her feel alive and valued.

‘I would not shirk my duties because they’re difficult, my lord,’ she answered. ‘We are almost done there and should only need another day.’

‘Very well, then,’ he said, rising from his chair, his gaze still intent and yet different.

‘Brice and I will be working in the yard when you are ready.’

‘I have some numbers to add to the records before I return there,’ she said. ‘It may take me some time.’

‘Worry not,’ he said as he gifted her with a smile that spoke of wicked plans. ‘By the time you are ready, he will beg you to remove him from my swordplay.’

She watched as he strode off, intent on besting his friend in practice. Fayth noticed the fraying edge of his tunic and the torn sleeve hanging down. She had been remiss in seeing to his care and his needs since he’d given her duties back to her. Planning to inspect his clothing chest to see what he needed later, she turned her attention and efforts back to the task at hand—the scrolls.

An hour or more had passed as she worked on completing the inventory of foodstuffs and supplies within the keep and those she’d found in the village. Other than a few cheers coming from the yard that shook the keep’s wall, she worked in the silence of the hall. Then a commotion in the yard began. Not knowing, she gathered up the records, carefully rolling and binding them before returning them to the steward’s closet. By the time she’d finished, Roger was leading a small group into the hall.

‘My lady,’ he said with a bow of his head, ‘these are Lord Huard’s men and Lord Giles asked that you see to them until he can arrive.’

With a nod, she called to the servants for ale and then watched the four men approach. They did not walk so much as swagger, all the time saying things under their breaths to each other that she was certain she did not wish to hear. One even had the audacity to touch her as he passed her. Soon, they were seated at the table, drinking ale and talking amongst themselves.

They did not realise or care that she could understand their Norman tongue. She felt her face flaming at their lewd and vicious comments and just when she thought she could not stand another word Giles entered from the yard. Tempted to run to him, she stepped away from the table and allowed him to greet them on his own.

‘Sir Eudes, welcome to Taerford Manor,’ he said. ‘How can I be of service to your lord?’ Giles’s greeting seemed appropriate to her, but the men at the table guffawed loudly instead of accepting it.

‘Oh, how the lowly have stepped up, eh, Lord Giles?’ Sir Eudes said. ‘Stepped up too high, if you ask me.’ Shocked, she waited for Giles’s reply.

‘Ah, but the duke asked neither you nor your lord for their opinions in this, did he, Sir Eudes?’ Giles took a cup of ale and drank it down. ‘So, what is it that you or your lord wants of me?’

Like a group of young boys who lost their concentration and rolled on the floor like puppies, these men did the same. They seemed to take notice of everything in the hall, or every person, and commented on it to Lord Giles instead of answering his question. Then they all turned and looked at her.

‘Looks like you got yourself one of the pretty ones, did you not, Lord Giles? Lord Huard was left with two old Saxon cows with teats down to their waists and one too young to be ridden well yet, if you gather my meaning,’ Sir Eudes leered.

‘But how can you tell when they cover themselves like that?’ He pointed at her and she backed away until she reached the wall and could go no farther. ‘If you take them in the dark, you do not need to see them or their faces to plough them deep, do you, my lord?’

Because she was looking away, she did not see Giles move, but the crash of the knight to the floor and the movements of Roger and the other soldiers into the hall drew her attention. With his knee on Sir Eudes’s chest, Giles held his dagger at the man’s neck.

‘That is my wife and you will not speak of her, or like that, in her presence,’ he demanded. At the knight’s hesitation to agree, he pressed harder until he succumbed. Giles pushed him away with his foot and placed his dagger back in his boot. Fayth noticed that many of Giles’s knights and men now surrounded the group at the table.

‘As I said, tell me your business here and be gone.’

Sir Eudes stood then and brushed himself off, holding on to any answers he would give. When Giles took a step towards him, he started to speak.

‘Some of the serfs bound to Lord Huard’s lands are escaping and he wants your word that you will not allow them onto your property. He sent me to make certain you understand what’s expected of you, with you being a—’ the knight paused then and Fayth wondered if he would have the nerve to use the word ‘—a bastard knight, and not raised to know how a true lord behaves.’

Stunned by the audacity of such rudeness, Fayth held her breath and waited for the fighting to begin. Instead silence filled the room as the men waited on Lord Giles’s signal, for surely he could not let the insult go unanswered. He walked alone over to the other knight and stood so close she could almost not hear his words. His knights closed the circle around the others, significantly outnumbering them and making certain they knew it.

‘A Breton, did you not mean to say, Sir Eudes? I may not know Norman ways because I am a Breton ?’

Although rough and rude, Sir Eudes did not act the fool and his nod and agreement showed that he knew the odds were against him. The vicious look in his eyes told her he would not forget this insult by someone he considered below him in rank and privilege.

‘A Breton is what I meant,’ he mumbled.

‘What you meant…?’ Lord Giles pressed the point.

‘What I meant, my lord,’ the knight spat out more loudly.

Lord Giles stepped away then and nodded. ‘Give Lord Huard my regards and tell him I understand my obligations to my Norman neighbours. Roger, Lucien, escort these men to the edge of my lands so that they do not lose their way.’

His commanders and six other knights led the others away. Giles, Brice and a few others stood together whispering and arguing furiously, but every few moments another expletive or curse rang out from them. Clearly these two groups of men hated each other and their disputes went back to their homelands. There was more at play than a simple message from one lord to his neighbour.

Unwilling to disturb them, but unable to move unless she did so, Fayth waited until they remembered her presence, trying to pick up fragments of their conversations. It took but a minute or so before Giles glanced over at her and issued some orders to his men regarding her. He left them and came to her side.

‘I cannot allow you to visit the village today, lady. I would take no chances with your safety or give them the opportunity for mischief of any kind against me or my people.’

‘I understand that his insult against me was against your honour, my lord, but I thank you for defending my person to him.’

‘You are my wife, lady,’ he said, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing it. ‘I would defend your honour to any man.’

The devil tempted her to her next words, and she could not resist asking it. ‘Am I fortunate that Sir Eudes did not arrive a few days ago when you yet believed I’d given mine away?’ Instead of the anger she expected, a chagrined expression filled his face and he nodded to her.

‘Aye, you are correct and I fear that I demanded your trust in me without giving mine in your word, Fayth,’ he said in a low, private tone to her. ‘I only ask that we will speak on that matter in private before we speak of it in public,’ he said. ‘I would rather have any wifely reprimands delivered away from the eyes of my knights who would taunt me later on my numerous faults if I give you leave to do so before them.

‘For now, though, my lady, I will assign Emma and the girl to you to assist you in any work you have here in the keep.’

She nodded in acceptance, for he’d surprised her beyond words once more and Fayth waited for him and the other knights to leave. Just before he left with them, he returned to her.

‘You are still very pale, whether from the rude words you suffered or from your illness matters not to me. If you feel the need to rest or to walk outside in the air, please do so and do not overwork yourself until you have regained your strength.’

He’d saved her from betraying him this day and she accepted it. When Emma and Ardith arrived, she decided to see to his clothing. It took the better part of the afternoon to sort through his meagre selection of tunics, shirts, stockings and breeches and to alter some of her father’s to fit him more closely.

The knights and others in the hall were quiet through their evening meal and there was none of the usual frivolity amongst them as they ate. Mayhap the work was wearing them down, mayhap it was something else? Whatever the reason, she found herself in her chambers along with her husband earlier than was their usual custom.