Hellion (51 page)

Isabelle dutifully settled herself in his comfortable embrace, opening her mouth like a baby bird for the bread and brie he offered. She had become quite used to eating this way.

“Hugh,” Vivienne said low, “you must not tell Simon that you have been my lover. You must not even allude to it. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

“If you wish it, lady, I am yours to command,” Hugh answered, wondering what this was all about. Usually Vivi was bold about her lovers. Now, suddenly, she was stammering like a maiden. Fascinating.

In her quiet, dramatic voice, Vivienne d’ Bretagne gave the reason behind her request. She concluded her remarkable explanation by saying, “You may remain at La Citadelle as a knight of the castle, or you are free to go with your men, but never again will there be anything between us, Hugh. You do comprehend me, don’t you?”

He was dumbfounded. A day ago she had been professing
her absolute, undying love for him; outraged and ranting over Count Alan’s decision to supply her with an unknown husband. Now, suddenly, all she had shared with him was quite unimportant to her in light of her new grand passion. Hugh was relieved more than anything else, but he was also slightly offended. For the briefest moment his eyes met Belle’s. Then he swallowed hard. With the merriment he saw dancing in those green-gold eyes, it was all he could do to maintain his own composure.

“Can you say nothing to me?” Vivienne demanded. She had expected protest; a declaration of love, not silence.

“Lady, I am astounded by your words,” he began.

“You will not tell Simon?” There was desperation in her voice.

Hugh shook his head. “You nursed me back to good health, and I am grateful. I have no desire to fight over you with that great beast you have wed, Vivi. In time when this new passion of yours wanes, and it will, you will want me back in your bed,
chérie.
”

“Will you stay, or will you go?” she asked testily.

How much easier for her if I were out of sight, Hugh thought, but he could not leave La Citadelle until he could find a way to take his wife with him.
The wife they did not even know he had
. He laughed harshly. “You would like me to go now, I know, but I will remain in your service for now. I have no other place where I might go.”

“Aye!” Guy said enthusiastically. “That pleases me well enough!”

Vivienne looked decidedly uncomfortable at this, so Hugh decided to give her something else to concentrate upon.

“I did not want to tell you, for I know how you feared such a thing,” Hugh said contritely, “but several days ago I regained my memory. I have confirmed my identity with my men-at-arms, who dared not aid me in my quest to regain my past for fear of you, lady.”

“
I knew it!
” Vivienne said triumphantly, sounding surprisingly relieved.

“I am Hugh Fauconier, a simple knight from Worcester. I am a younger son, and was traveling about with my men seeking a place. The Sieur de Manneville promised me one, but when we could not agree upon terms, he threw me into his dungeons, where you found me.”

“You have no wife?” she asked.

“Nay, lady, but a sweetheart back in England who by now may have married another,” Hugh said ingenuously. “Perhaps one day I shall go home and find another girl, but for now I have nothing to offer one.”

Vivienne felt the relief pouring through her. The return of his memory was greatly to her advantage. He would not now betray her. So she said, “I am grateful to have you in my service, Sir Hugh Fauconier.” She smiled at them all, and gathering up some food, said, “Now I must return to my husband. He will be waking, and want to break his fast.” She hurried off.

“She has lost her wits completely,” Guy said angrily as his sister departed the Great Hall. “She is like a maid with her first man. I am relieved you are staying, Hugh. I may need your help to protect what belongs to the d’ Bretagnes from this bully the count has inflicted upon us. It is as if my sister were bewitched.” Suddenly his eyes glittered. “That has to be it. The sorceress has been ensorcelled!”

“Nay,” Belle said softly, “but she does believe she is really in love, my lord. Do not deny her her happiness.”

“I never before did,” Guy said, “but Simon de Beaumont is like a dangerous boar in the underbrush. I do not like him, nor do I trust him. He is the count’s man first, and my sister’s husband second.”

“A man’s sworn fealty must be to his liege lord first,” Hugh said reasonably, “and then to his wife. Let us see how this man behaves with Vivi.”

Guy nodded glumly. There was nothing he could really do for the moment. If Simon de Beaumont was the man he
believed, then he would betray himself eventually, and they could act.

Isabelle sought to distract Guy d’ Bretagne from his mood. Leaning over, she nibbled delicately upon his ear. “I can but imagine what your sister and her bridegroom are now doing, my lord Guy. Can you?” She blew softly into his ear. “Shall we occupy our time in the same manner? Hugh can see to the more mundane details of La Citadelle, can he not? Ahhh, how these garments chafe me!”

Guy d’ Bretagne stood up, cradling his mistress in his arms. Then, without another word, he walked from the hall, leaving his companion behind.

Hugh watched them go, understanding the tact Isabelle had taken with Guy, but jealous nonetheless. There was no escaping the fact she was Guy’s mistress, and Hugh hated it. When he had himself possessed Vivienne, it had not seemed so bad. Now, however, everything was different, and he was the odd man out. Had he been foolish not to leave La Citadelle when Vivienne gave him the chance? But how could he have taken Isabelle with him? Had she disappeared, they would have quickly realized where she had gone. There had to be a way to spirit her from the castle so they might return home to England.

Perhaps he could persuade Simon de Beaumont to take Vivienne to Count Alan’s court. Then Hugh shook his head. He had not a doubt Simon de Beaumont would enjoy showing off his beautiful wife, and the mastery he held over her, but they were not the problem. Guy was the problem. They would not want to take him with them, and Guy would not want to leave Isabelle. His obsessive passion for her was obvious. Hugh silently struggled to find the answer.

Simon de Beaumont had brought with him news of the world around them when he came to La Citadelle. He sat at the high board in the evening, playing the lord of the manor while Guy d’ Bretagne silently seethed with anger. Guy had named him
well:
the Boar
. He was fully as tall as Hugh, but very stocky, and strongly built. His dark eyes were small and porcine. They glittered like jets, darting here and there, rarely still as he took in everything about him. Little got past him, although subtlety escaped him entirely.

“The Conqueror’s aging whelps are at odds again,” he told them, his meaty fist wrapped about his goblet. “Count Alan is wise. He sits back and watches, but does not involve himself.”

“How can he?” Hugh said. “He is married to their sister, and cannot favor one over the other unless it is to his absolute advantage.”

“Aye!” Simon said, banging his goblet down upon the high board, “and it is not to his advantage to become involved, although both of them have importuned him to join them.” He swallowed a large draught of wine.

“What has happened, my lord Simon, to cause the brothers to quarrel once again?” Belle asked quietly. They needed all the information they could obtain, as they would have to cross Normandy to reach England.

“ ’Tis those wretched Montgomeries again,” Simon said. “Duke Robert has welcomed Robert de Belleme with open arms into his court. And this after King Henry sent him from England for his rebellions. The English king was mightily offended by his brother’s actions.”

“Aye,” Belle said. “I can certainly understand why he would be.”

“Did Henry act merely because his brother has become reconciled to Robert de Belleme? Certainly there must be more,” Hugh said.

“Aye,” Simon answered knowledgeably. “De Belleme has been plundering the Norman lands of those men loyal to the English king. The duke either could not, or would not, contain him. Then Duke Robert accepted de Belleme’s presence with much cordiality into his court. Naturally Henry Beauclerc was offended.” Simon reached for a joint of venison, and, biting into it, began chewing vigorously. He grinned, pleased, as
Vivienne personally refilled his silver cup with dark red wine, giving her an approving wink.

“Did the English send an army?” Hugh wondered.

“A small one,” Simon answered. “Those Normans! Such a people! You cannot trust them at all, but then you native English know that. The duke’s most important nobles took the English knights in and fully cooperated with them. Not that it made any difference. Then some other high Norman noble, one William of Mortain, left England, and conspired against the king with the duke. The king has seized Mortain’s lands in retaliation. Pfaugh! Normans! At least in Brittany a man knows plain and simple who his enemies are.” He took another swallow of his wine. “In Brittany a man’s enemies never change. If you make an enemy, you are enemies until one of you is dead. It’s much easier that way.”

Hugh couldn’t help but grin. “Aye,” he agreed. Then he said, “I suppose Normandy is yet a dangerous road to travel. ’Tis good we’re far from it all here at La Citadelle, eh?”

Simon de Beaumont nodded his agreement. “I’ve had enough of battles to last me a lifetime,” he said. “I was with Count Alan in the Holy Land. I’m ready to be settled and have a family.”

He was rough-spoken, Hugh thought to himself, but basically not a bad fellow, despite Guy d’ Bretagne’s dislike of him. Simon de Beaumont was a blunt, forthright man, loyal to his liege lord. How many like him did he know? Hugh wondered. He would make the most of the opportunity given him, and hold La Citadelle for his master. As I would hold Langston for Henry if I could but get home, Hugh thought to himself.

The situation as described by Simon de Beaumont was a bad one. Hugh knew he dare not take Isabelle and attempt to cross Normandy. It was much too dangerous, especially for a woman in her condition. He doubted if even he and his men could get through without casualties. And they could certainly not seek refuge at Duke Robert’s court now. Hugh was King Henry’s man without a doubt. He would not betray his old
friend and childhood companion. Both he and Isabelle would be in danger in Rouen, particularly if Richard de Manneville were there and in Duke Robert’s favor.

Isabelle knew from Hugh’s face what he was thinking. They were trapped, and would be unable to escape La Citadelle at any time in the near future.

“Take the men and go yourself,” she pleaded with him when they next met in the mews. “I know I should be a burden to you, but surely you could get through. I am secure here. You can come back for me, Hugh.”

“Are you anxious then, lady, to be rid of me so you may continue to cavort with your lover without guilt?” He hated himself even as he said the words.

Quick tears sprang to her eyes, but she said nothing to rebuke him, turning instead to leave the mews.

“She carries another man’s child,” Alain said. “ ’Twould be best if you did leave her, my lord.”

Hugh swore beneath his breath. “She carries my child, you busybody, none other,” he said angrily. Then, because he had no choice if Isabelle’s good name was to be cleared of future suspicion, he told Alain and Lind the truth.

The two falconers were astounded by his tale.

“Those d’ Bretagnes are surely the devil’s own,” Alain finally managed to say. The elder of the two falconers was pale with shock.

Lind said nothing, but Hugh could but imagine what he was thinking, for he adored Isabelle. She was
his
lady.

Isabelle’s condition was now beginning to become evident in the gentle rounding of her belly beneath her skirts and tunic. The autumn came with its lovely, clear warm days and its cool, lengthening nights. The dark erotic passion that had always inhabited Guy d’ Bretagne’s soul was mellowing as he watched Belle ripen with the child he had now come to consider his own. The manner of this child’s actual conception was of no consequence to him, for had he not shared Belle’s
sweetness with Hugh Fauconier on that night? Hugh’s participation in the creation of the infant to be born in the spring was no longer of any account. Guy considered the baby his child, and anyone who dared to suggest otherwise would suffer the consequences. Simon de Beaumont did not know the truth. Vivienne would not share it with him, for then she should have to admit her own complicity in the matter.

Guy hated his brother-in-law. He was such an ordinary man. He had taken the beautiful, exotic Vivienne, and before her horrified brother’s eyes, was turning her into an ordinary woman. She now wore her wonderful dark hair in plaits, her head covered modestly by a white veil. She looked more like a damned nun than she did an exciting flesh-and-blood woman. When he had remarked upon it one night, his brother-in-law had spoken up rather than allowing Vivi to explain.

“The old-time Saxons used to make their brides shave their hair all off as a gesture of submission,” he chortled. “A woman should be modest in her appearance. Vivienne was too flamboyant, but then she did not know it, having been isolated here all her life. As her husband, it is my duty to correct her. Am I not right, my angel?”

“Oh, yes, my dear lord,” Vivienne said dutifully, taking up his big hairy hand and kissing it. “I am yours to do with as you will.”

Guy felt physically ill at the display. What had happened to his proud and independent sister? Unable to bear it, he arose from the table and left the hall. I must kill that bastard who has so changed my wonderful Vivi, he thought, and if I do not do it soon, she will be so changed I will never be able to get her back again.

Belle had been shown the stairs down to the beach, and having learned the tides, now climbed down and up daily in order to walk along the sands. She went alone most days, which she far preferred. The winds and the mists seemed to soothe her,
giving her a peace she knew nowhere else. The tension between Guy and Simon became worse each day.