His Enemy's Daughter (12 page)

‘Was there something you wanted, lady? Or did you seek to find if I've treated our guests well and shared our hospitality with them?' If someone, if she, did not know the truth of the matters between them, they would believe him to be a kind and caring husband. Instead, his words hit her as though he had struck her. Retreat was the only move possible for her now.

‘Just that, Lord Soren,' she replied, smiling as sincerely as she could force herself to do.

‘Guermont, escort the lady back to her chambers,' Lord Soren said.

Guermont stepped to her side and lifted her hand onto his arm, without a word. She bowed towards them and turned to go back inside. Confused and angry over his treatment of her, she walked without saying a word, all the way back to her room. Guermont said only a few words, as they approached the doors, the stairs, her doorway.

As he left her, she realised that he was angry also. She could feel it in the tension of his arm beneath her hand and in the way he walked beside her. And she could hear the words, spoken very softly, as he muttered to himself along the way. Clearly, he did not understand or agree with his lord's actions.

Well, that made at least two of them.

 

‘He told her,' Guermont said as he approached. Larenz looked back to where Soren still met with the two Saxon lords and nodded.

‘'Twas only a matter of time, Guermont,' Larenz said. ‘The truth will out eventually.'

Guermont and Stephen and several others had been friends with Soren, Brice and Giles for many years, fighting at their side, defending their backs, even through Hastings. He'd watched most of them grow to manhood while serving Gautier in Rennes.

Though all of them wished to help Soren, none had known the best way to approach him, so none had. The result was that Soren had sunk further into his own world of vengeance and anger and become even more distant from them all. The frustration was beginning to fray the edges of their loyalty and their bond to each other.

‘He also told them…' Guermont indicated the two
guests with a nod ‘…that she is blind.' He shrugged. ‘Why would he expose and shame her like that to outsiders?'

Guermont had clearly fallen under the spell of Lady Sybilla. 'Twas not a difficult thing to do, considering all these circumstances, but a dangerous thing if left to develop. She was a beautiful woman, and one of remarkable spirit, too. If only Soren would…

‘Soren is an intelligent man and a better warrior. He has his reasons,' Larenz answered, believing his own words to be true. Guermont snorted his disbelief. Before he could reply, Larenz placed his hand on Guermont's arm to stop him.

‘The man Soren was is buried deep now, under layers of hatred and vengeance and pain. But he is there, even now questioning his path. We must have his back in this, Guermont.'

‘And the lady?' he asked.

‘The lady is walking much the same path that Soren has. I think she will be the one to call forth the true Soren from within this damaged one.'

Guermont shook his head. ‘But she is blind, Larenz.'

‘Ah, aye, she is blind. But in this it will be the blind leading the blind.'

‘If you say so, Larenz.' Though he clearly did not agree or understand, Guermont nodded. ‘You ever were able to see the good in people. Lord Gautier said you would make a good priest for you could see into men's souls.'

‘I love women too much to ever make a good priest, Guermont! Doubt it not!' Larenz smacked him on the shoulder and Guermont returned to his duties.

As Guermont walked away, Larenz could not help
smiling. His ability to read men's souls came not as something special or different, it came from years of watching those around him and noticing the details of their actions and studying the patterns they created. A good memory and a keen curiosity was how he had developed the skill and Gautier had recognised the talent and brought him into his service.

His brother had repented of some long-ago sins and Larenz had helped him in his quest. They never spoke of the reasons, only the actions Gautier wanted to carry out and the boys involved. Now, the smartest of the three stood before him, damaged and searching for his soul and for the man he should become and, out of respect and love for his brother, Larenz would continue his work until Soren found his way.

T
he visitors had left long ago, but Soren did not let down his defences yet. He called Stephen to him and gave him orders to follow them. Something was not right, but Soren did not know what. He was suspect of their loyalties for many reasons, but their comments after Lady Sybilla left had made him most suspicious.

Though they offered their sympathies and promised Masses would be prayed for her complete recovery, their thinly veiled advice about her being flawed and mentions of other wives being put aside for lesser flaws pushed the limits of their new acquaintance. Soren wished he'd had Larenz at table with them, for no one could see people's true motives as the old man could.

As he thought about the man, Larenz walked through the yard, with Raed in tow, heading towards the keep. The boy saw him and tucked himself closer to Larenz as though using him as a shield. He wanted to be angry,
but there was no man better than Larenz to teach the boy what he needed to learn.

Except one thing, and that one needed to be taught to him by his lord. Soren called out to Larenz.

‘Larenz,' he yelled. He noticed that everyone within sight or hearing stopped and watched him now. ‘Send the boy to me now.'

Larenz spoke to the boy and then pushed him towards Soren. Hesitation was clear in every movement Raed made, from his head hung low to the slowness of his steps. Soren waved Larenz off and waited for Raed to arrive. When he did, Soren took him by the shoulder and guided him to the fence. They stood silently watching the horses within this makeshift corral for a few minutes. Then Soren crouched down, bringing him down to Raed's height.

‘Did you see those men?' he asked. Raed glanced at him and then looked down again. He nodded. ‘I do not know if I can trust them. So I sent someone I trusted after them to find out more about them. I trust Stephen,' he said.

Raed still watched his feet, but Soren continued, ‘I need to trust those who serve me, Raed. I need to know that they will carry out my orders or watch my back.' He paused, fighting the smile that pulled at the untorn corner of his mouth. ‘I need to know they will tell me if they cannot. Me, Raed, not Larenz or one of the others.'

Raed now shifted from foot to foot in front of him. Soren lifted the boy's head with his finger and marvelled that this child could meet his gaze without being struck by the horror of his face. ‘Do I have your loyalty, Raed? Can I trust you to guard my back?'

The boy's lower lip began to quiver and Soren suspected he was scared close to tears, but Raed nodded. ‘You can trust me, Lord Soren.'

‘Good, then, we understand what is required between a lord and his man,' Soren said, standing back up. ‘Never lie to me, Raed, and own up to your actions, good or bad, and you will make a good squire for me.'

‘Aye, my lord,' the boy agreed.

‘Seek out Larenz and finish your duties then,' he directed and watched as the boy began skipping away. Raed stopped after a few paces and turned back to him.

‘Lord Soren, who watches the lady's back if we are all sworn to you?'

Soren looked around, for he would swear Gautier laughed at him. A child instructing him where others had failed—Gautier would find that humourous. He waved Raed back to his duties and leaned on the fence, watching the horses in the enclosure.

He could survive on vengeance, but he could not live on it, he knew that now. Though the need for vengeance yet flowed strongly within his veins, he wanted more than that now. After finding this place and working here these last weeks, he knew that this was the kind of life he wanted. 'Twas the life he'd always dreamt of when planning battles and hoping to win enough to finance a peaceful future. 'Twas the life that had brought him and Giles and Brice to these lands and that had enticed them to fight for William's claim here.

And the others, too. Stephen and others who would come to fight with him from Brice and Giles would want to stay on, find wives, protect and defend this land. They
had plotted and planned and promised it time and time again in their youth and when the call from William had arrived in Brittany.

Now it was time to fulfil that dream.

First, though, he needed to consult the priest. He had questions about his marriage and the possibility of ending it. Then he would speak—not yell, not curse—to her and come to an understanding. Just as he had told Raed to take responsibility for his actions, Soren knew he must as well and Sybilla was his responsibility.

With a clarity in thought and purpose he had not felt in a long, long time, Soren went off to find Father Medwyn.

 

Sybilla nodded to allow Guermont entrance to her chambers. A day had passed since the visitors had been here and work around the manor seemed to be getting back to the usual pace of it. At least she thought so from the sounds out in the yard and the descriptions her maids provided of the height and width of the wall.

‘My lady, will you accompany me to the chapel? Father Medwyn wishes to speak to you.' Sybilla hesitated.

‘The chapel? Can he not come here to speak on whatever matter concerns him?'

‘I am but carrying out orders, my lady. I do not know the subject he wishes to speak about, or the reason for bringing you to him.'

Guermont sounded aggrieved. And why not, since he carried out many duties and did not have the time to stand here arguing with her. He sighed then.

‘Your pardon, my lady,' he began. ‘I did not mean to take out my ill temper on you.'

‘It matters not, Guermont. You but surprised me,' she said, rising and holding out her hand to him. ‘I am ready. Aldys, you need not accompany me.'

She did not know Father Medwyn at all, but she did not want her maid milling about if he needed to speak of private matters. All she knew of the priest was that he had arrived with Lord Soren and stayed. He was Saxon, from the west, in Wessex where the Godwinsons' centre of power lay. But other than that and the fact that he'd performed their wedding, she knew him not.

Guermont continued his practice of counting each pace they took and he stopped to allow her a moment before they began the terrifying climb down the stairs. This time there was something else.

‘Lady, reach out your right hand to the wall next to you,' he said. ‘Nay, lower.' Sybilla touched a rope there, hung from a post in the stone wall.

‘What is it?' She slid her hand along it and noticed it descended with the stairs.

‘Something to give you support. Lord Soren thought if you gripped it, you would feel more at ease walking down these steps.'

Startled by his actions, Sybilla tried holding the rope as Guermont guided her down. It did help. Their journey down seemed smoother and quicker than previous ones. When they reached the bottom, Sybilla could not help but smile over such an aid. Though she knew not the reasons behind this action, she was pleased by it. Guermont paused then as though they would stop, but they continued on after but a brief hesitation. It took
little time to walk to the chapel, for the path had been smoothed and a stone walkway now led to it rather than the one made of packed earth. Guermont led her inside when they arrived.

‘Lady Sybilla, welcome,' a man said. ‘I am Father Medwyn, late of Shildon, but now serving Lord Soren and the people here.' She heard some piece of furniture scraping along the stone floor towards her as he spoke.

‘Here now, lady,' he continued. ‘Sit here and be comfortable.' Guermont guided her to the chair, placed it behind her and helped her to sit down.

‘Lady, Father Medwyn will call for me when you are ready to return to the keep.'

With that, she could hear his steps along the stone floor as he left her there with the priest. Sybilla tried not to fidget, but it was difficult not to in such circumstances. She had no way of knowing if they were alone or if others were with them. So she asked, ‘Father, are we alone?'

‘Aye, lady, 'tis but the two of us.'

‘Did you bring me here to hear my confession?' It had been many weeks since she'd sought that sacrament.

The priest laughed—he had a wonderful, warm laugh and she smiled. ‘Nay, lady. But if you wish me to, I will. When we finish.'

She swallowed deeply. If not for confession, then why?

‘Lord Soren has asked me to speak to you about your marriage.'

Of all the things she thought she might hear, this was not one of them. So, he had realised she was correct in wanting to go to the convent.

‘What would he have you discuss with me, Father?
Has he decided to contest it?' An annulment would not take too long, if his king backed him in his request. She could move to the convent now and wait for it there. She felt the priest's hand on hers, as though trying to comfort her.

‘He is offering you the chance to do so. He told me you wish to retire to the convent.'

She was startled at his words. Lord Soren would allow it? Now that she knew the cause of his hatred and how deeply it ran in him, mayhap he'd realised he would never be able to accept her as his wife?

‘Aye, Father. 'Twas my plan on the day he arrived.' She could not believe it would be this easy to end it. ‘He has agreed to this? Truly?'

‘Aye, my lady. And he will provide a donation to the convent to allow your entrance there.'

All of this sounded too good to her. He did not seem to be the kind of man who allowed a woman to walk away from him. From what Gytha had revealed, he had been used to women coming to him. There had to be…

‘What is the price for my freedom, Father? What does Lord Soren expect in return?'

‘Truly, lady, he mentioned no such thing to me. He came here with questions about the validity of your marriage and the basis and conditions on which it could be annulled. Then he asked me to speak to you to explain the same to you. And to make certain you know that he will not obstruct you if you choose to pursue such a proceeding.'

She sat back against the chair and thought about this strange situation. She needed to know more. ‘So, pray
thee, Father, explain to me what you explained to Lord Soren.'

‘Because of the nature of your impediment, your blindness, the marriage can, in fact, be nullified. Your condition, if permanent, will prevent you from carrying out your legal and marital duties and could harm any children produced during a marriage.' She gasped at his words, but he was not finished.

‘Although Lord Soren did accomplish the taking of vows, even with knowledge of this impediment, it could be argued that he had no knowledge of the permanence of the condition. So, he can file for an annulment at any time without prejudice.'

‘Are you saying that at any time during our marriage, so long as we do not consummate our vows, he can ask to set me aside?'

‘Consummation will matter not in this situation, my lady. Once he decides that your sight will not return, he can proceed to end it.'

‘And if it proves temporary, as I believe it to be?'

Sybilla did not care who told her sight was gone for ever, she would not believe it so. It could not be. When the swelling in her head and around her eyes healed, her vision would return.

It would.

It must.

It had to return.

She took in a ragged breath, not wanting to think of such things as remaining in this dark, hellish existence for her whole life. The priest patted her hand once more, but said nothing. He might not believe it, but she did. She would see again.

‘If the annulment has been granted before your sight returns, you would be free to marry as you wish, as he will be. If your sight returns before any proceedings, then you remain married in the sight of God and his Church.'

‘And he knows this?' she asked to be certain.

‘Aye, lady. Do you have any other questions of me?'

‘What does he want, Father?'

The loud sigh echoed through the stone building. She could almost see the lovely window her father had made in memory of her mother on the west side of it if she thought about it. Her brother's betrothal ceremony had taken place here as would her own have if death had not claimed her father. He'd spoken of a possible marriage contract on her behalf before Cerdic's departure at Harold's call, but she knew nothing more than that.

‘Lord Soren did not discuss his preferences with me, only possibilities. I am sure he will speak to you about the details of your situation.' She heard the priest moving about and realised their interview must be at an end. ‘I will call for Guermont to escort you back to the keep,' he added.

‘Father, pray thee, may I have a few minutes here before you call for him? I have much to think about,' she said truthfully. She did not want to face her maids or anyone else until she'd pondered on this development. Or be around anyone until she'd sorted things through in her own mind. If she had to speak to him, she needed to understand her own thoughts on the matter first.

‘Certainly, lady. I have to finish my prayers, so remain as long as you'd like and just tell me when you are ready
to return.' He started to walk away, but stopped. ‘You are facing the altar, if you wondered about that.'

She smiled then, for he noticed the small details for her. Sybilla made the Sign of the Cross and then offered up her normal litany of prayers for the souls of the dead, for her family, for her people. When she ran out of prayers, it was time to face the matter at hand.

But she found she could not do it. Lord Soren held this in his power as her husband and, until she knew his plans, nothing she decided mattered. She would give this a few days and then ask to speak to him. If he had smoothed the way by speaking to Father Medwyn, then he must want it as much as she did. There was no reason to remain here. When she heard a pause in the priest's murmured prayers, she asked him to call for Guermont.

The walk back was almost pleasant now with the weight of her future lifted from her shoulders. The air smelled of fresh rain and she inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of it. The day was warm now that midday had come and gone, but it would cool quickly as the sun set later. So far to the north in England, Alston's weather was pleasant enough, though quite wet during the spring. Now, as summer waned down and the autumn would begin, they should have a good harvest, as long as war did not visit them again.