Susan Spencer Paul (9 page)

* * *

Alexander watched Lillis go as Aunt Leta and the other women led her toward the stairs. She went with them in the same dazed state she’d been in all day, not really knowing where she was or what she was doing. He was rather stunned, too, by the speed and the reality with which events had passed. It would be understandable for Lillis to be more so. She’d not spoken a word to him during the day, other than her vows, and he wasn’t altogether sure that she remembered saying those. Indeed, he’d had a suspicion during the ceremony that if he didn’t tightly hold her hand she would collapse into a stupefied heap on the chapel floor.

The wedding feast had been like a waking nightmare for him; a host of conflicting sounds and faces. The villagers and castlefolk who crowded the great hall laughed and danced and lost no opportunity to express their well-wishes to their lord and new lady; Barbara cried incessantly and miserably at one end of the long table; Willem looked as if he’d lost his best friend; and his bride sat silent beside him, staring at nothing. He’d been relieved when Aunt Leta had finally come to take her away to prepare her for the wedding night. Once the marriage was consummated, the ordeal would be over, for Lillis, at least. For him it would continue until every last stone of the dam that stopped the Eel River was torn down.

Alexander wasn’t looking forward to what he must do this night. It certainly wasn’t going to be the joyful consummation he’d always imagined he’d share with Barbara; indeed, his coupling with Lillis of Wellewyn—no, Lillis of Gyer, now, he must remember that—promised to be nothing short of wretched for them both. When it was over...when it was all over, he would find a way to make up to her the humiliation he was certain she would suffer, and he would repay her a hundredfold during their marriage what the loss of her land and freedom were worth.

He let one quarter of an hour pass, then rose, nodding to the men he’d chosen as witnesses: his chamberlain and marshal, one of his most trusted barons and Father Bartholomew, the priest who’d married them. With understanding, the men rose, and at the same time the crowd in the hall came to life, seeing that their lord was about to make his way up to his bride. A man was sometimes carried to his marriage bed by a group of revelers, but none who knew Alexander of Gyer would ever dare such a thing. Even the most drunken among those at the celebration gave their lord plenty of freedom to pass by unmolested.

The five men traversed the stairway in solemn silence, but as they neared the chamber that was their destination, the sound of women’s voices made them pause.

“I’ll not be handled like a brood mare! I’m perfectly able to care for myself!”

“Oh! I should have known that Lillis of Wellewyn would have the manners of a stubborn ass! God only knows your father was ever thus!”

“My father! Look to your own nephew if you want a lesson in crudeness! Any man who would forcibly wed a woman for the sake of a strip of land is naught but a—”

Alexander pushed the chamber door wide, and the room fell utterly silent. Walking inside, he encountered the surprised expressions of several of his aunt’s ladies-in-waiting, the doleful face of Edyth of Cantfield, and the equally furious faces of his aunt and bride. His own questioning gaze fell upon Lillis, who, at the moment, looked more beautiful than any woman he’d ever seen before. She was nearly nude, covered only by the thin garment that she held protectively against herself, with her pure white hair flowing free to her hips and her light blue eyes glaring at him with all the fire of some mythical Amazon, ready to do battle. He found it amusingly ironic that any bride should greet her groom thusly, so totally unwelcoming, and had it not been for the fact that Jaward of Wellewyn would use his daughter’s unwillingness at the moment of consummation as an argument against the legality of the union, should he ever hear of it, Alexander would have laughed.

Instead, angered at the possibility of losing what he’d given up so much to gain, he frowned darkly at his bride. Without a word he stalked toward her, saw the defiance in her face and gripped her shoulders with both hands.

“My lady,” he greeted quietly, hearing, irately, the maid Edyth sniffling dramatically nearby.

In response, his lovely wife made a face at him, which was as close to snarling as anything he’d ever seen a human do before.

Alexander pressed his fingers into her soft flesh more tightly, and saw, with satisfaction, that she understood at once.

He leaned very close and whispered, “You will do this willingly, madam, without complaint, exactly as I want you to, else I will do as I’ve promised and destroy Wellewyn. I will do it this night, as a wedding present to you, my sweet. I swear this by my own mother’s soul. I shall mount up every man I possess and ride within the hour. Your father shall be dead, by my hand, before the sun rises in tomorrow’s sky.” He met her angry glare steadily. “Do you give way?”

“You are a
swine,
” she said between clenched teeth, so that no one but he could hear.

“Perhaps,” he admitted, “but do you give way?”

Her chest rose and fell with harsh, unsteady breaths, and her mouth was set in a grim line of rage.

“Do you?” he said.

“You know full well I do.”

“Good.” His hands on her shoulders kept her pinned to the wall, but he turned his head and spoke to the others in the chamber. “Witness the purity of the bed,” he demanded, and the four men and four ladies-in-waiting moved to do his bidding. The blankets and coverlet were pulled back and examined, as were the pillows and the bed curtains, and the mattress was felt and manipulated by eight pairs of hands.

“It is unassailable, my lord,” the marshal of Gyer stated when they had finished.

Alexander looked at Lillis once more. “Hear the willingness of the bride. Father Bartholomew?”

Father Bartholomew cleared his throat uncomfortably, then queried, “Do you submit to the possession of your lord husband, my lady? Freely and willingly?”

Alexander didn’t think anyone had ever looked at him with quite so much loathing as his bride did at that moment. Staring at him, she silently mouthed the words, “You have made me a liar,” before answering loudly, “I submit, freely and willingly.”

Having said the words, her chin rose defiantly, and Alexander knew, in that moment, that he would never again know such a woman as this. An odd feeling of pride possessed him, because she would soon be his wife, and his alone, and made him regret even more the humiliation he must next visit upon her.

With one hand, he ripped away the chemise she clutched and tossed it aside, leaving her utterly exposed; then, ignoring her gasp of outrage, he bent and scooped her into his arms, carrying her to the bed.

“Affirm the purity of the bride,” he said harshly, dropping her onto the mattress and tossing a coverlet over her so quickly that none but he had a chance to see her nakedness. Heads craned to look over Alexander’s broad shoulders, but dropped back when he turned to face them. Cursing his own foolishness for forging a weak link in his plans, he demanded, “Do you so affirm?”

Eight silent heads nodded, and Edyth, standing with Aunt Leta, broke into even louder wails.

With a shake of his head, Alexander turned and met Lillis’s eyes once more. She lay in the bed, dearly clutching the coverlet with both hands, gazing at him with apprehension. It seemed strange to him that, in the midst of this, with an angry bride and a roomful of onlookers, he should be so completely aroused and wanting her. But she was so lovely—more perfectly formed than any other woman he’d seen unclothed—and she was
his.
Yet she was embarrassed, as well as frightened—he could see these things in her eyes, along with her hatred of him—but she’d not be alone in this. He would share the humiliation of what they were about to do in front of witnesses, though perhaps his experience would be more complete, as his body had already reacted to the sight of her. But she would know, beginning tonight, this very moment, that Alexander of Gyer would never ask more of her than he would of himself. With this in mind, he began to undress.

When it was done he made a slow turn before those in the chamber, holding his arms aloft.

“Affirm the state of the groom,” he said, ignoring the flushed countenances of the ladies present and the shocked weeping of Edyth of Cantfield who, along with Aunt Leta, kept her head turned.

“We so affirm, my lord,” replied the marshal.

Without another word Alexander stepped into the bed and drew the curtains shut, until he and his bride were left in near complete darkness. Moving right for her, feeling her trembling nakedness, he set a hand over her mouth, and set his own mouth to her ear.

“Be silent, and trust me, and I shall have this misery done with as quick as possible.”

Tears wet the hand that touched her, but she nodded her agreement and Alexander, blanking every thought, moved above her. Her body shook badly beneath him, yet she complied as he whispered his instructions, as he made her his wife, and she made no sound, save when he tore her maidenhead, and then she only gasped and shuddered while he held her tight and completed the act. Never had he received such little satisfaction from giving a woman his seed, and he sent God a fervent prayer, in the moment of his release, that she would not conceive his child from this so unjoyful union.

She cried when it was done, pitifully, so that Alexander’s heart ached.

“It’s over, Lillis,” he whispered soothingly, moving away from her, taking her with him and holding her. “You are my wife, now. There’s only a little more, and then I shall make everything right.”

Her body was warm and needy against his own. She pushed her face into the place between his neck and shoulder where a wife should be able to seek comfort of her husband, and Alexander held her, giving what he could in reply to her misery, loath to push her away as he knew he must. When he finally sat he did it quickly, giving her but a moment to understand what was coming. He shoved the curtains aside, and, wrapping her firmly in the coverlets, took her up in his arms and stepped from the bed, on the side away from the witnesses.

Eight pale faces met his gaze, then fell as one to the stained sheet on the bed.

“Bring the Lady Edyth forward,” Alexander commanded.

Lillis wept against his shoulder, begging, “No—no—”

When Edyth was forcibly dragged to the foot of the bed by Aunt Leta, Alexander demanded, of all those present, “Witness the bed. Affirm the loss of Lady Lillis’s maidenhead.”

Weeping wildly, Lillis lifted a hand and struck him aimlessly, and Alexander, suffering the blow as his due, held her that much more tightly.

“We so affirm it, my lord,” the chamberlain replied.

“Affirm, my wife,” he demanded of Lillis, “that this is the blood of your innocence, that there has been no trickery between us in this matter.”

She nodded and, with what Alexander felt was a valiant effort, murmured, “Yes.”

“Swear, then, all of you, that the Lady Lillis has become my wife in truth, by her own will, and that any who question you will receive such a reply, that Lillis of Wellewyn has been made the wife of Alexander of Gyer in truth and in whole, that our marriage is complete and unassailable.”

All present, save Edyth, so swore.

“Take the sheet,” Alexander instructed his aunt, “and keep it safe. Take Lady Edyth to the chamber prepared for her, and in the morn bring her to me so that I may send her to Jaward of Wellewyn with this proof of his daughter’s marriage. The rest of you may go.”

With these words Alexander strode to the door that adjoined his own chamber, and took his wife into it. Everything there was just as he’d commanded it should be, and, satisified, he took Lillis to the bed and gently set her upon it.

* * *

The bed was soft and clean, and the room was warm from the fire that blazed in its place. Alexander of Gyer unwrapped the coverings that imprisoned her and tossed them aside, leaving Lillis wholly exposed. The bed was cool against her skin, compared to the fire, and she tried to relax, willing the ache that throbbed deep inside her, in that place where he’d hurt her, to go away.

All her life, she’d expected that moment to hurt. Did not every girl child know, from the moment she was able to understand, that this one moment in her life would hurt, and that the pain would be a sacrifice that would prove her purity? That it would be a glorious thing, the sign that she would be a godly wife to her husband and a godly mother to her children? That was what it was supposed to mean, wasn’t it?

“Lillis.” His voice moved over the tension in her body, making her aware of how tightly her hands were fisted. “Now it’s done.” His deep voice was soothing, reassuring. She felt his hand on her hip, turning her toward him, to lie flat. “Let me care for you, now. Just for tonight.”

She jumped when he put the warm, wet cloth between her legs, but he said, “It’s all right, sweet. It’s all right,” and Lillis lay still, very tired, wanting to sleep.

She did sleep, though she was aware that he bathed and dressed her and, afterward, held her.

“Please,” she whispered, her last conscious thought, not able to say more of what she wished.

“Sleep,” he said, stroking her hair, understanding what she wanted without hearing the words. “My beautiful wife,” he said, after she’d passed into slumber. “Sleep.”

“I
‘m sorry, my lord, but she has refused her food again.”

The servant shuffled nervously, looking as though he were somehow to blame for what had happened. Alexander frowned at the man’s bowed head.

“She’s made no requests whatsoever?”

“No, my lord,” the man answered meekly. “She says very little and then only when she is first spoken to. She sends the maidservants away when they try to bathe and dress her. She’ll not even sleep in the bed, my lord, but sits in the same chair both day and night, wearing only her nightshift. One of the servants found her asleep in the chair last night when she had gone in to take her some food, but when she tried to put Lady Gyer to bed she would not go.”

“Very well,” Alexander muttered. He waved the man away. “Leave me.”

It had been three days since the wedding and Alexander was at the end of his patience. In those three days Lillis had neither come out of her chamber nor eaten any food. She refused to see him or anyone else. The servants reported the same thing day after day. On the morn following her wedding night, Lady Gyer had returned to her chamber and pulled a large chair close to an open window, then had seated herself there almost permanently, rising only occasionally to use the chamber pot or to drink a little water. Always she returned to the chair. She even slept in it.

Wearily Alexander leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. Perhaps he should have stayed that first morn after their wedding night, instead of leaving her there to waken in a strange chamber all alone. He’d thought, at the time, that she would prefer it that way, especially after all she’d suffered at his hands the night before, but now he wondered if his attempt to please her hadn’t only angered her the more. Perhaps she’d taken his absence as a personal slight—a thoughtless act of discourtesy from the man who’d forced her into marriage. She must have thought so, Alexander told himself. She must have, else she’d have accepted the wedding gift he’d left on her pillow and not used the valuable brooch to rend his pillow to shreds with, instead. And she certainly never would have locked herself away as she had, behaving exactly like a spoiled child rather than the sensible woman he knew her to be. Indeed, this was the sort of sulking he expected out of the twins, never from the woman he’d taken to wife.

He’d thought it strange that first day when she made no appearance to partake of the morning meal. He’d been disgruntled, as well, because those few wedding guests who’d spent the night at Gyer could not help but notice that the new Lady of Gyer was absent, but he’d made excuses for her, saying she was weary from the activities of the day before, and had borne the teasing that came his way after. In truth, he’d been more concerned about Barbara’s absence than Lillis’s, for his wife might truly be weary or even feeling shy, while Barbara’s only reason for staying away was her unhappiness, a thought that made Alexander’s guilt weigh heavier than before.

He’d left the table and gone to his private chamber as quickly as he could. Shortly after, responding to his summons, Aunt Leta arrived with the marriage sheet, which had already been folded and wrapped in a neat package.

Throwing the package on his table, Aunt Leta announced, “Lady Gyer refuses to either dress or eat. I told her I was certain she would at least wish to bathe and she threw me out of the room.”

The words, so unexpected, had thoroughly surprised Alexander.
“What?”

Aunt Leta happily repeated herself, and by the time she’d finished answering all his questions, Alexander had been furious.

“Leave her be,” he’d instructed. “If she wants to behave as a child, then let her do as she pleases. Perhaps a day without food and company is just what she needs to bring her to reason.”

That first day, being so busy in making preparations to take over the lands that were now his by marriage, Alexander barely had a moment’s time to think of his wife, sitting alone in her chamber. When he did think of her it was to convince himself that she would be all right—one day without food had never harmed anyone.

It was late when he finally made his way to his chamber that night and, worn to the bone from the long day’s work, he put himself to bed immediately, not letting his gaze even fall upon the adjoining door. Lillis had refused food and company the entire day, Aunt Leta had informed him at the evening meal. Alexander had shrugged at this news and firmly put all thoughts of his wife from his mind, turning his attention instead to Barbara, who’d finally come to sit at the table with the rest of the family. Lillis would tire of her self-imposed exile shortly, and would come out in the morn. He was certain of it.

The following day Alexander kept himself busy dealing with the many tenant problems he’d not had time to take care of in the past month. He made arrangements for the rebuilding of the village that had been destroyed in the recent fire, and made certain that the families had sufficient dwellings and supplies to keep them until their homes could be repaired.

As busy as he was, however, and as much time as he tried to spend with Barbara in an effort to bring a smile back to her face, he grew more constantly aware of the fact that Lillis still had neither eaten nor come out of her room. The reports from Aunt Leta were the same throughout the day, and by the time the evening meal had come and gone Alexander was thoroughly irate. He’d given Lillis more than enough time to come to terms with what had transpired between them, and every indulgence had its limits.

That night, as he lay in his bed, straining to hear any sounds that might come from her chamber, he finally decided enough was enough. She’d been in there for two entire days. Something was wrong. If she was angry then she should rail at him; if she was unhappy she should let him offer comfort, but whatever her ailment was, Alexander would no longer let her starve herself into illness. Determined to put an end to her foolishness, he rose and went to the adjoining door. The pin pushed in and the bolt slid open, but when he pushed at the door he found it wouldn’t budge.

“Lillis!” he called through the wood, making another ineffectual shove against it. Nothing. Damn! She must have put something on the other side to keep it closed. He pushed again to no avail. Damn!

“Lillis!” he repeated more loudly. “Answer me!”

He knew that she heard him; not even a deaf person could have slept through all the noise he’d just made, yet no sound came from the other side. She wasn’t going to speak to him, and that knowledge, for some reason his normally logical, controlled self couldn’t understand, enraged him all the more.

“I will let this pass for now,” he shouted at the door, “but tomorrow night I’ll use the outside door if I must. There will be no barriers between us, Lillis Baldwin. I am the lord of this castle, and I’ll not be kept out of any room in which I wish to go.”

She neither answered nor made any sound, and Alexander finally went back to bed. Eventually he fell into a restless sleep, waking on and off throughout the night with unbidden dreams that left him confused. Dreams of smoothing his hands through soft, white blond hair and of a warm, shapely body pressed against his own. By the time dawn arrived, he gave up the battle and rose for the day.

Now the third day had passed and she still had not eaten or come out of her room. What a thoroughly aggravating woman to behave in such a manner! If she didn’t come down soon, he would fulfill his promise of the night before. Nothing would keep him from getting into that chamber. Nothing. He only regretted that he’d promised to wait until evening time, else Lillis of Gyer would already know who her lord and master was, and what kind of behavior he would accept from her in future.

There wasn’t much longer to wait, however, for it was time for the evening meal. He’d give her one hour, once the meal was over, just one hour to make an appearance, and if she didn’t then he would go and fetch her. That would be the end of it.

* * *

The sun was beautiful at this time of day, sinking into the land and glowing orange and gold. Lillis gazed out the window and wondered if her father might be looking at this same beautiful sight—a fall sunset, with such lovely colors in it, and the breeze soft on his skin, just beginning to chill as night came.

She’d thought of her father a great deal since she’d woken after her wedding night to find herself lying alone in Alexander of Gyer’s bed. She’d thought of her father, and of many other people and things, though she’d dwelled mostly on her years at the convent.

She remembered the many travelers who’d stayed at Tynedale on their way to more interesting places, and how excited she and the other girls would become at the prospect of hearing about those places, about London and Shrewsbury and even of France. The knights who came were the most exciting of all; Lillis recalled how fiercely she and the others would fight for the honor of serving them at table in the hopes of hearing stories of the battle at Shrewsbury, and of the bravery of King Henry and his son, the Prince of Wales.

When she’d grown older, the arrival of knights and fighting men at Tynedale had signaled trouble for Lillis. Being in charge of the other girls at the convent, she’d necessarily spent many a night on guard, a heavy candlestick at the ready, to discourage any secret trysts after the nuns had sought their beds. She’d been quite good at scaring off those few amorous fellows who did make an attempt. She was as tall as many men and taller than some, quite strong, and her faithful candlestick was sufficiently heavy to give even the most insistent lover pause for thought. As far as Lillis knew, not a one of the girls in her charge ever lost her virtue during the years they were under her care. She, of course, had never been in danger of such a thing—none of the men who’d passed through Tynedale had ever shown an interest in her—in a mannish female whose height and odd coloring made children think her a witch.

What would the sisters think of her predicament? Lillis wondered. They’d all been so glad when they’d learned of her betrothal to Jason de Burgh and had made a celebration of her impending marriage on the day before she left Tynedale. What would they think now to know she’d let herself be wed to a man who wasn’t her betrothed, for the sake of a piece of land?

Sister Agatha, she knew, would tell her as severely as possible to stop feeling sorry for herself and to make the best of a bad situation. Lillis could almost hear the elderly woman’s grating voice assuring her that every circumstance in life is brought about with God’s greater purpose in mind, and that she should be thankful for whatever came her way. That was exactly what Sister Agatha would say. And perhaps, Lillis thought, Sister Agatha was right.

A chill breeze caused her to shiver, and drew Lillis’s gaze to the open window once more.

It was mid-September. Michaelmas would be celebrated soon in honor of the harvest. The people of Gyer would have little reason to celebrate, since their harvests had been mostly ruined by her father’s damming of the Eel River, but perhaps the river would be running again soon and the field workers could begin planning next year’s planting. Perhaps next year’s crops would more than make up for all that had been lost this year. With all her heart, Lillis hoped it would be so. Everything she had gone through would be worth it, even her false marriage, if only the people of Gyer could regain what they’d lost because of her father.

Lillis would not be there to see it, if they did. She would be in Wellewyn when next year’s crops were planted. She’d not watch them grow or see how they progressed or how the harvest turned out. What would she be doing? Probably sitting in the crumbling keep at Wellewyn, spending her days caring for her father and trying to keep their home from falling down about their ears.

And she would be alone, or rather, lonely. She would probably not see him again—her husband—once she left Gyer. When she left, he would have no reason to visit her. He would be glad to be rid of her, most like. He’d be able to get on with his life. He and his precious, weeping Barbara. He and the land that had once belonged to Wellewyn.

Stiffly Lillis rose from the chair. It was growing colder now, the open window inviting every breeze to chill her. Lighting a candle against the coming dark, she found the water pitcher. After a long, refreshing drink, she washed her face and hands, then searched out a bar of soap and a fresh bathing cloth.

Regardless of what had happened, of what his motives were, Lillis could not make herself hate Alexander of Gyer, though finding that insulting brooch on the morning after her wedding had certainly made her think she could, at least for the five minutes it had taken to vent her fury at being paid off like the veriest whore on his pillow. Other than that, he had dealt well with her. She could not forget how kind he’d been after the consummation of their marriage. His care had been the most gentle thing she’d ever known; she could not forget, ever, the painstakingly careful touch of his hands, the soothing of his deep voice, or the comforting heat of his arms and body during the following night. And even before that, he’d not purposefully tried to humiliate her in front of those who’d witnessed the act. In spite of her anger and shame in that moment, she’d known this. He’d done the best he could in the face of an unpleasant situation, and now she must do the same.

* * *

The evening meal had already begun by the time Lillis descended the stairs. She hadn’t meant to be late, but she hadn’t had enough time to bathe and dress and still arrive on time. All of the castlefolk, save the servers, were already seated, and a trio of musicians stood to one side, playing soft music to accompany the meal. She saw Alexander of Gyer sitting in the place of honor at the long table, but he did not notice that she’d entered the hall. Somewhat embarrassed, unsure of what to do but too hungry to turn back, Lillis made a slow, careful approach to the dais on which the long table sat. She had no practice with such matters, but she was fairly certain that she should be seated there, beside her husband.

As she neared the table, however, she saw that the chair next to Alexander’s, the chair meant for the Lady of Gyer, was already occupied. By Barbara. Not only that, her husband was in the process of taking Barbara’s hand in his, at the same time both smiling and leaning toward that lady with open affection in his eyes. Lillis stopped directly in front of him, struggling to control the confusion she felt, and the pain.