Authors: Madeline Hunter
The mood in the crowded hall was very sober and the noise at a minimum. Everyone within the walls, victors and vanquished alike, waited in morbid fascination for the news that they all expected. Haarold had broken the most sacred oath a knight could give, the only one that most men really honored. In the world in which they lived, there was only one punishment to be expected, and the continued order of their world depended on its being meted out. The rule was very simple. If a man violated his fealty to his lord by bearing arms against him, he died.
The door opened and Paul came out. Anna caught a glimpse of Morvan sitting in a chair, looking stern and resolute, before the door closed. Paul walked to a chamber off the long wall of the hall and entered it.
A woman's wail pierced the quiet. The chamber door flew open and Gervaise rushed out, pushing aside her son's restraining arms, fighting to be released from his hold. She broke free and ran to the solar. Anna jumped up to try and catch her, but Gervaise plunged in, leaving Paul and Anna grabbing at air from the threshold.
Gervaise ran to Morvan and threw herself on the floor, grabbing his legs and whispering entreaties. Anna could not hear what he said in return as he bent over her. Finally Haarold lifted her up and brought her over to the door. He kissed her gently, and handed her into Anna's arms.
The door closed again, but it would not be long now.
Gervaise insisted on sitting in the hall where she could see her husband emerge. She grabbed Anna's hands in her own, twisting them all together on her lap. “He has disseized the estate,” she whispered hoarsely. “We have been here almost as long as your family has held La Roche de Roald.”
It was the least that they should have expected. A traitorous vassal does not keep his lands.
“Your son will not be harmed, though,” Anna tried to console her. It had been the offer to spare the son that had gotten Haarold to surrender.
“He must leave by nightfall. Your husband said he could take only his weapons, armor, and horse.”
Anna thought that was generous. It left Paul ready to take service at least, and not impoverished. Still, for Gervaise's sake, she would find a way to slip Paul a few coins.
“They are going to execute him. A sword to the neck. He doesn't even get to meet someone in combat and die honorably.”
Anna didn't know what to say. Gervaise gripped her hands harder. “Morvan would listen to you,” she pleaded. “Haarold was seduced by Gurwant into this. As soon as they took Morvan he began regretting it, but he said that it was too late. Please, Anna. He was your father's friend, and loyal for years. He came to you when you called in November.”
Anna pulled the weeping woman into her arms.
Her heart went out to Gervaise, but also to Morvan. She could feel his mood. No matter what the justice of it, he had no stomach for this, and a cold-blooded execution of a vassal was one lordly duty he would have preferred to avoid.
Perhaps if he had been lord for a number of years he
could show mercy, but his authority was still not secure. What message would it send to Baldwin and Gaultier if he let Haarold live?
The solar door opened and the four vassals emerged. Gervaise walked over to her husband. He drew her aside and spoke quietly to her. It occurred to Anna that this man had probably not shown so much gentleness to his wife in the last twenty years combined.
He pulled away and glanced at Anna meaningfully, silently requesting her help in keeping Gervaise away from the bailey. Then, with clenched-teeth resolve, he joined the other vassals and left the hall.
Anna looked into the solar. Morvan stood there, his back to her. A bandage bound one upper arm.
She had played their reunion out many times in her mind. Her imagination had usually filled it with joy, but sometimes with anger. Never had she expected it to occur in this shadow.
She had only to leave and take refuge in one of the chambers and her happiest fantasies might unfold later this day.
She went over to Gervaise and spoke quietly. Gervaise retreated to her chamber.
Anna walked into the solar and closed the door behind her. Gliding up to Morvan, she placed a hand on his back. He turned, startled out of his thoughts, and a smile wiped away the frown that had creased his brow. He pulled her into an embrace.
“I am sorry that I did not come to you right away,” he said, burying his face in her hair.
“I understand why.” His hold created a timeless spell. She gave herself over to his assault on her senses, letting his presence fill voids in her soul and renew memories too quickly half forgotten.
He touched all that was alive in her. She did not want even a just death intruding on this bliss.
“You don't have to do this,” she said softly, sorry to break the mood.
“Nay, but it was decided that even with my wound my sword arm is the strongest. No one wants him to suffer.”
“That isn't what I mean. It doesn't have to happen at all. I know that his crime is great, but a lord can be magnanimous if he chooses, can't he?”
“Is that why you came here? To ask for his life?”
“He was one of my father's closest friends, Morvan. And a loyal vassal for many years.”
“But not loyal to me, Anna.”
She didn't know what to say to that. Haarold had handed Morvan over to be killed. It was too much to expect mercy.
He took her face in his hands and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “If it had just been me, it would be one thing. But he was ready to give you to that madman.”
“Did none of the others speak for him?”
“Nay. Not even Fouke. Not even his son Paul. You are the only one to have done so except his wife.”
She knew she should hate Haarold for the role he had played in Gurwant's scheme. Morvan might be dead if her plan hadn't worked, and Haarold would be responsible. But her plan had worked, and Morvan was alive, and the man she really held responsible had already been killed. She wanted Morvan to stay in her arms, and not walk away now to wield his sword again today.
“You said that I never asked you for anything. Well, I am asking you for this.”
His eyes flashed with annoyance. “Do not do this, Anna.”
“I am doing it.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “The one time that you want something from me, and it is the life of the man who would have destroyed us?”
She held on to him tightly and forced his gaze to meet hers. “I do not ask for myself, or for Gervaise, and especially not for Haarold. Someday the child that I carry will hear of this day. I want him to be told of his father's generosity and not of his wrath.”
He went utterly still. She watched her words sink in. His dark eyes brightened and a slow smile formed. Briefly, for no longer than a blink, another expression and realization flashed, but the pleasure won out for now.
“You are sure?”
“I consulted Catherine and Ruth. I am as sure as a woman can be.”
He caressed her cheek. “You did not want this.”
“You said that your ancestor hailed from Brittany. Surely at least one drop of his blood still flows in you. I will have my Breton heir, Morvan.”
He gave her a sweet, grateful kiss. She reveled in the comfort of his warmth.
He smiled. “I suppose that it would be churlish for a man to be ungenerous on the day that he got such news.”
“I suppose so.”
They walked into the hall arm in arm. With each step Morvan's elation grew. By the time they reached the bailey stairs he was grinning and holding her so close that he was practically carrying her under his arm.
At the bottom of the steps he gave her an encompassing embrace and a deep long kiss, and afterwards let his gaze and hand drift curiously to her belly. “There is no sign yet,” she whispered, aware of the eyes watching them.
In the middle of the bailey the four vassals waited in
morbid silence. Ascanio had joined them, and Fouke held a heavy two-handed sword. Every face wore the hard lines of control and duty.
Anna and Morvan walked over laughing. Everyone exchanged appalled looks. Haarold's face held an expression that said he found it in very bad taste for Morvan to interrupt an execution in order to fondle and kiss his wife. That it was Haarold's own execution that had been delayed didn't seem to matter.
Fouke began to unsheathe the judgmental sword. Morvan held up a hand and shook his head.
“My wife has just given me good news. For nothing less would I pardon you, Haarold, but to honor Anna and the child that she carries I will do so. You must leave at once, though.”
A tremor of relief passed over the bailey. Fouke slapped a hand down on his old friend's shoulder.
Morvan looked past the group to the far end of the yard. “It would seem that a squire is bringing your mount already, Haarold.”
Haarold and the others pivoted to watch the slow approach of two horses. On one sat a skinny youth in a baggy cotte and high boots, a broad-brimmed hat almost obscuring his face.
“What the hell … See here, woman,” Haarold sputtered.
“Don't ‘see here’ to me, husband,” Gervaise snapped, handing him the reins as she looked down from beneath her hat.
“Go and dress decently at once. I'll not be seen riding over the country with you like that.”
“And I'll not ride saints know how long and how far in clumsy skirts. This is very practical. It is even safer for a woman. Lady Anna says so.”
Haarold glanced furiously at Anna.
“You want to say something, Haarold?” Morvan asked. “Perhaps you want to announce that you would rather die than be seen with a woman in man's garments? The sword awaits. We can still accommodate you.” He turned to Gervaise. “My lady, if you prefer you can stay with us. We will see that you get to your kinsmen.”
“Nay, my lord, I will go with the old goat. I wouldn't know what to do without that scowling face frowning at me all day.”
The other vassals gave up all pretense of not enjoying themselves at Haarold's expense. They teased him as he cursed and mounted the horse. Gervaise reached down and grasped Anna's hand before falling in beside her husband. Low bickering could be heard until they passed below the portcullis.
Morvan turned to the circle of men in front of him. “Is there anything else that requires my attention right now? Nay? Good.”
Anna gave a startled shriek as Morvan abruptly scooped her up in his arms and turned to the keep. Then he kissed her, and she barely heard the hoots and whistles that followed them through the hall to the solar.
“You risked too much.”
His voice caught her in the middle of a sensual stretch. They had made love fiercely, savagely, and then slowly, gratefully. The chamber was still drenched with their poignant emotion, and with their profound awareness that they had almost lost each other.
His quiet statement startled her. She froze. She had hoped that he wouldn't think about that for a day or so.
“Any number of things could have gone wrong,” he added.
“But they didn't. It worked.” She had decided that her success would be her best defense.
“Gurwant might have stopped the wagon away from the dais.”
“I assumed that he would want you to see it.”
“He might not have let Marguerite stand beside me.”
“He needed her out of the way, not underfoot.”
“The horses might not have followed your stallion.”
“They did before.”
“Gurwant might have just killed you when he saw you. One arrow from a longbow would have done it.”
“That would have been too simple. He enjoyed humiliating people too much for that.” She stroked her fingers through his hair. “Aye. I risked much. It was not without danger. But it worked, Morvan. And I would do it again.”
He rose up on his arm. His gaze drifted along her body, and his hand touched her belly.
Now they were down to it.
“You endangered more than yourself. You should have stayed at La Roche de Roald.” His voice sounded more thoughtful than angry.
“And let you die? Then what? I raise this child alone? Or perhaps your King sends me another husband?”
“If your plan had not succeeded, and Gurwant had killed me and taken you, he would have claimed that the child was his.”
“I left a document, witnessed by Ruth and Catherine and the town priest. I left a sworn statement that I carried your child.”
“Did anyone else know? Ascanio?”
“None other, especially not Ascanio or Carlos. They
would never have let me come if they did. They are both getting as protective as you.”
He pulled her to him, embracing the length of her, his rough hand caressing from her shoulders to her knees. Her kiss met his greedily. Still, it seemed that this conversation had not really been completed.
“So how angry are you, Morvan? Are you going to forever blame me for putting your unborn child in danger?”
“Considering that I am alive and not dead, it would be ungrateful of me to blame you for anything. I find no anger in me. There aren't many men whose wives would risk so much for them.” He was quiet and thoughtful, his fingers stroking absently along her back. “The child changes things, though. I cannot let you leave now.”
“I never asked to leave. You are the one who found living together too hard.”
He turned her on her back and rose up over her. “That is not true. I wanted you to find contentment.”
“You wanted to throw out our bargain. You gave me a choice, Morvan, and the choice was to change or to leave. Well, I can't leave now, so the choice is gone. But I can't change either, nor do I want to. You knew what you got in me, and I gave you fair warning on this.”
His eyes sparkled in amusement as he listened to her little speech. She couldn't imagine what he found so humorous about being told that she planned to make his life miserable for the next forty years.
“And if not for the child, Anna, what would you have done?” he asked softly.
She looked into those bright eyes that could mesmerize her still. “What would you have had me do, Morvan?”
He lifted her hand and kissed each finger and then the palm. “I have been in love with you since that first
night.” He said it simply, as if he had done so many times before. He did not speak of mere desire, or the love of friendship. She wondered if her surprise showed, and if he could tell that her breath had caught.