CHAPTER TEN
‡
A Warrior’s Heart
Westerham, home of Boltolph the Sane
Fortunately, Boltolph hadn’t resisted the Norman incursion. In fact, the man wasn’t even home.
But his daughter was. Gunnora had been very glad to see her friend, Ghislaine, as the woman entered the walled courtyard of Westerham. Having been called forth by the men guarding the entry to the complex, Gunnora was a tall, lovely woman with long blonde hair and an ample girth. She was, quite simply, a big woman with a big heart, and she embraced Ghislaine warmly.
Through a few minutes of friendly chatter, Ghislaine was distracted by the fact that Westerham was nearly devoid of soldiers. There were a few guarding the walls and milling about, but it was very clear that the army was gone. When she asked Gunnora about her father, the woman confirmed that, indeed, her father was still in the north. Ghislaine didn’t know if she felt worse about that or better, because now there would be no resistance to Gaetan and his army. Gaetan intended to stay here for the night so, perhaps, it was best that there be no chance at resistance. Westerham would remain intact and the Normans would continue on their way come the morning. But because Boltolph was not in residence, it meant that Gaetan would not be able to establish an alliance with him.
But Gunnora saw things differently.
Truth be told, the woman didn’t have much of a head for warfare. Harold’s death and the advent of the Normans meant little to her. She had been twice married, and twice widowed, and she was constantly on the hunt for another husband. So when Ghislaine asked if the Norman army could lodge at Westerham for the night, Gunnora was more than willing to let them come. Saxon or Norman made little difference to her; if they were men, they were welcome.
Gaetan and his men were literally welcomed with open arms by the people of Westerham. The gates to the enclosure were wide open and the soldiers on the wall, what little there were of them, simply watched them enter without any reaction whatsoever. But a large woman with a mass of blonde hair, standing near one of two long houses in the compound, seemed quite excited to see them. Ghislaine was with the woman and introduced her as Gunnora Boltolphdotter, Lady of Westerham.
As Ghislaine introduced their hostess to de Wolfe’s knights, who seemed less interested in Gunnora and more interested in their surroundings, Jathan pulled Gaetan aside and explained that Boltolph was still in the north with the majority of his army.
With that information, Gaetan understood that he could have had a very quick submission of Westerham if he wanted to, confiscating the lands and riches for himself, but he thought better of it. Better to be allied with the Saxon lord than to steal from him at this point, especially if he wanted the man’s cooperation with other Saxon lords.
Therefore, in the interest of being a polite guest, he only had his knights and the provision wagons come into the bailey to be protected during the night while the rest of his army camped outside the walls. They were permitted to hunt in the forest or fish in the river for their food but they were not permitted to raid the village, which was quite unprotected. It would have been like lions hunting lambs.
God’s Bones, when did he become such a polite guest?
He wasn’t going to admit it. Under no circumstances would he admit it. But… perhaps, there was a chance that Ghislaine’s words had some impact on him. Had he truly become so soft and foolish that he was actually listening to a woman? Or was it the fact that he had no choice but to trust her advice in this strange new world?
Or, perhaps, he simply wanted to please her.
He was an idiot….
As night fell and black clouds gathered for a storm that soon unleashed its ferocity, Gaetan’s army settled in for the night courtesy of Lady Gunnora. Westerham was actually quite vast and comfortable as far as homes went; there were two longhouses, or what looked like longhouses, with one of them being made from waddle and daub with a heavily-thatched roof, and the other was made from stone until about midway up the wall when it abruptly turned into another kind of stone, very rough-hewn and jagged. This structure, too, had the heavily-thatched roof and it was into this building that Gaetan and his men were ushered.
It was a busy place, crowded with servants and tables that were oddly low to the ground. The benches looked like they were meant for children. It was also incredibly smoky and Gaetan and his men realized that it was because the cooking fire was at the far end of the hall, spitting thick smoke into the roof where it would struggle to escape through holes in the walls. There were several people cooking over this very large fire, a pit dug into the ground. A cauldron sat upon one side of it, steaming heavily, while an entire pig was roasting over the center of it, turned on a spit.
In all, it was a bustling place. Chaotic, even. Gunnora and a man the presumed to be her majordomo indicated for the knights to sit at a table near the door and they did. As the knights settled down, they were followed by their squires who removed weaponry and anything else that made it difficult to sit. From that moment forward, it was a meal unlike anything Ghislaine had ever seen before.
The men were weary; she knew that. They were all weary from battles and travel. Gunnora and her servants brought out drinking vessels which were, in some cases, hollowed-out horns from cattle. Those went to most of the men while Gaetan and Téo received glass bowls to drink from, evidently quite an honor. Gaetan thanked Lady Gunnora in her own tongue as she and her servants filled their cups to the rim with sweet beer, literally beer sweetened with honey. It was fermented for quite a long time and had quite a bite to it, but the knights drank it gratefully as food was brought to the table.
It was simple fare for the most part but it was plentiful – cabbage potage flavored with garlic, onions, white carrots, butter, and copious amounts of bread. The knights dug in to the food as Gunnora and her servants catered to them, delivering the first of the roast pig before anyone else was served. There was an entire leg on the table that the knights began cutting from with their daggers, pulling off big slabs of roasted pork. It was a feast fit for a king.
Only when they had sliced off their fill did Ghislaine even try to take any food. She was on the end of the table where Jathan was, both of them seated far down the table from the knights. For Jathan, that was where he usually ate and for Ghislaine, she didn’t want to put herself in the middle of feasting knights who only days before had been her enemy. Perhaps the still were. She assumed they would want to sup without her seated amongst them. In any case, she sat at the opposite end of the table with Gunnora and enjoyed her meal.
In fact, she was enjoying it immensely. It was more food than she’d had in several days but Camulos had followed her into the hall and she found herself sharing her meal with the dog because she couldn’t avoid his pathetic doggy stare. As she stuffed herself with the succulent pork, Gunnora seemed to be paying more attention to the Norman knights.
“My dear, they are quite attractive, aren’t they?” Gunnora hissed at her giddily. “Are they all married?”
Ghislaine glanced down the table at the group. “I would not know,” she said. “I do not know that much about them.”
“Then why are you with them? Are you a liaison on behalf of Edwin?”
Ghislaine shook her head. “Nay,” she said, not wanting to tell Gunnora about their missing man because the woman, as kind as she was, had a big mouth. Ghislaine didn’t think that was the type of thing Gaetan would want spread around. “I… I am their guide. They do not know Mercia as I do, so I am helping them find their way.”
“But where are they going?”
“North.”
Gunnora’s curiosity wasn’t satisfied but she could sense that Ghislaine didn’t wish to speak of why she was accompanying the Normans. She leaned into the woman and whispered.
“Are you their prisoner?” she asked. “Are they forcing you to do this?”
They were, in fact, but Ghislaine didn’t tell her so. Gunnora wouldn’t understand why, exactly, she was being forced, so it wouldn’t do to upset the woman. Therefore, Ghislaine simply shook her head.
“Of course not,” she said. “Have you been well, Gunnora? I have not seen you in a very long time.”
She was deliberately trying to change the subject but Gunnora, who didn’t have much female company, was glad to tell her of her life since the two last saw one another.
“I have been well,” she said. “Papa has a man he wishes for me to marry but nothing can come of it until he returns from the north. I believe he said that he was going to fight with Edwin. They were to hold off the Danes.”
Ghislaine nodded. “That is true,” she said. “But that was some time ago. Your father should be returning very soon.”
Gunnora shrugged, turning to her food. “I wish it would be soon. Why did you not go north with Edwin, Ghislaine? You always fight with your brother.”
Ghislaine was focused on her food as well, hearing the soft laughter of the knights down the table and wondering what they were laughing about. Glancing at them, she could see their camaraderie, the warmth in their expressions when they looked at each other. She wondered what it was like to know such companionship, for it was something she’d never experienced.
Certainly, she had men she commanded and family around her, but she’d lived a rather lonely life as the youngest child of a powerful family. Both of her parents were dead and her siblings had lives and families of their own. Hakon had been the one she’d been closest to and his death had not only left a hole in her heart, but it had left her with mind-numbing loneliness. She was alone, unwanted, and unloved. Listening to the knights down the table as they laughed and conversed, she wondered if she would ever know companionship like that.
To belong.
“I have not felt like fighting for my brother since my husband’s death,” she said quietly. “When Edwin left for the north, I did not want to go with him.”
Gunnora’s mouth was full of pork. “Yet you went with Alary to fight off the Normans?”
Ghislaine looked at her queerly. “Who said anything about fighting with Alary?”
“Because he was here only yesterday. He said he had fought with Harold but he did not have Normans with him like you do. Are you sure they are not forcing you to accompany them?”
So Alary had been at Westerham. Ghislaine didn’t know why she was shocked to hear that. Since Westerham was an ally, certainly he would have stopped for the night for lodgings. It would have been completely normal and expected.
He did not have Normans with him like you do.
That statement concerned her greatly.
“I told you that they are not,” Ghislaine said casually. She didn’t want to tip Gunnora off about the real situation between Alary and the Normans that were, even now, in Gunnora’s hall. “Alary would make a terrible ally to the Normans and you know that, so he left the field of battle before I did. But… but you did not see a Norman knight with him?”
Gunnora cocked her head thoughtfully. “I did not, but his men did not come into the hall,” she said. “In fact, they feasted in the bailey and left in the morning. Alary did not seem to want to be sociable. Why do you ask?”
Because he has a Norman captive, Ghislaine thought. Alary knew, as Ghislaine knew, that Gunnora couldn’t keep her mouth shut about such a thing so he had kept his prisoner hidden. Rumors of a Norman captive would, in fact, possibly reach the Normans. Now, Ghislaine was starting to understand that Alary was being very careful with his prisoner and she knew that Gaetan would want to know that Alary was only a day ahead of them. In fact, she was very eager to tell him.
“That is typical of Alary,” Ghislaine said casually as she turned back to her food, although her attention was really on Gaetan, down at the end of the table. “He was never very social, at least not with women. Had your father been here, he more than likely would have supped in the hall.”
Gunnora shrugged. “Mayhap,” she said. “He did say he was returning home.”
“That is where we are going, also.”
Gunnora lifted her head, puzzled. “Then why did he not wait for you?”
Ghislaine simply shrugged and turned back to her food. In hindsight, she should have given the woman an answer because, in Gunnora’s mind, perhaps Alary would have waited had he known his sister and a contingent of Normans were only a day behind him. She opened her mouth to speak but her majordomo was at her side, whispering in her ear, and she excused herself from the table.
Ghislaine continued to eat, rather glad that her hostess had vanished. She didn’t want to talk about Alary anymore because any further conversation might lead to the real reason Ghislaine was accompanying a large Norman army northward. Some might think that was treacherous, and it was true that Gunnora might as well, so it was best to be off the subject.
Now, all Ghislaine could think about was the fact that Alary was only a day ahead of them. Gaetan had to know but the more Ghislaine watched him with his men, the more she was hesitant to interrupt him.
“My brother was here yesterday,” she said to Jathan, sitting across from her. “I must tell Gaetan.”
Jathan had eaten so much pork that he was close to bursting with it but, much like Ghislaine, he’d not eaten much over the past several days. Still, he wouldn’t stop eating and pushed another piece of pork into his mouth. His gaze moved down the table to the men he’d known for years.
“I heard,” he said, shrugging when she looked curiously at him. “Our hostess’ voice carries. I heard what she said.”
“Then Gaetan must know.”
Jathan sighed, cutting another piece of pork with his knife. “I know you must tell him, and I do agree, but this is the first time in weeks I have seen these men relax,” he said. “Let them enjoy a little more of this peaceful time before telling them what you know. Once you do, it will keep them up all night as they plan tomorrow’s travel to catch up to your brother. So for now… just wait. At least give them the night to enjoy and then you can tell them in the morning.”
Ghislaine could see that he was concerned for the knights and their state of mind. Men like this had little time to relax and those moments were precious. He was right; there wasn’t anything they could do about it tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough. She returned to her food.
“They look as if they do not have a care in the world,” she said.
Jathan chewed loudly. “Thoughts of Kristoph are not far from their minds, I assure you. They miss him.”
Ghislaine had a perfect view of Gaetan from where she sat and she watched the man, greedily drinking in his male beauty. “One would not know that by looking at them.”
Jathan’s attention moved to her, his expression something between thoughtfulness and genuine concern. “I will tell you something of these men so that you understand them, my lady,” he said quietly. “You will understand why they are so determined to regain their comrade and why moments like this, when they are relatively carefree, are more valuable than gold. Do you see de Wolfe? He is the man they call Warwolfe, the greatest knight in the Duke of Normandy’s arsenal.”
Ghislaine cocked her head curiously. “Warwolfe?” she repeated, still looking at Gaetan. “An intimidating name. Yet… it suits him.”
Jathan drank deeply of his mead. “Aye, it does,” he said. “The man is immortal and I have seen him in enough battles to know. And these men that are sworn to him, they are all great knights in their own right, men who have fought together for many years. They have seen much of life and death together, and Warwolfe is the man that binds them all together. The Duke of Normandy calls these knights his Anges de Guerre.”
Ghislaine looked at him then. “Angels of War,” she translated softly. “I have heard of them. I have heard the men speak of Normandy’s Angels but I wondered if they were simply telling stories.”
Jathan shook his head. “They were not,” he replied. “These men have been at the forefront of most of the Duke of Normandy’s wars, going back years. If the duke did not have them, it is difficult to say if he would have even won the battle against Harold Godwinson for, in truth, these were the men who led the charge. You are looking at the front of the duke’s army.”
Ghislaine’s attention returned to the men at the end of the table, feeling some awe now as she looked at them. “Tell me about them,” she asked, sipping at her mead, a very strong drink that was already making her head swim. “They will not speak to me but I would know something of these men I have been tasked with guiding north.”
Jathan’s tongue was loosened by the mead in his veins. Ghislaine was not Norman and he more than likely should not tell her what he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. This serious, solemn lass needed to be aware of the greatness of these men, far greater than any knights she had ever heard of.
Legends in the flesh.
“Their rally cry is et pro Gloria dei,” Jathan said. “De Wolfe is their leader, as you know. He is a descendant of the kings of Breton. The family name is Vargr, which means a monstrous wolf in the Breton tongue, but Gaetan’s father changed the family name to de Wolfe in the Norman fashion. Although born a bastard, Gaetan is the only son of a great warrior father, William, and when his father died, Gaetan inherited the de Wolfe lands and titles. From his mother’s mother, he inherited control of Lorient and the ports, which makes him a very wealthy man.”
Ghislaine was fascinated to learn something of the man she was becoming quite attracted to. “Et pro Gloria dei,” she murmured. “For God and Glory.”
“Aye.”
“Is… is de Wolfe married?” she asked because she found she had to know.
But Jathan shook his head. “He is not married, but he has two sons through a woman who has warmed his bed for many years,” he said. “He also has a daughter by another bedslave.”
Ghislaine looked at him as if shocked by the word. “He has bedslaves?”
Jathan lifted his eyebrows as he took another drink of his mead. “Women he has acquired by conquest,” he said simply. “Much to his mother’s distress, I might add. She wishes him to marry and produce legitimate children. But do not look so shocked; surely Saxon warriors have slaves who warm their bed.”
They did, but Ghislaine didn’t like the thought of a slave woman in Gaetan’s bed. Not that it was any of her concern, but the fact that he had women to service him meant that had no need for another woman. Her.
Sweet Mary, what had she been thinking?
“They do,” she said dully, tearing her gaze from Gaetan and feeling incredibly disappointed now that she knew he had other women. “What of the others? Are they all as wealthy as de Wolfe?”
Jathan nodded. “Being a noble knight is an expensive undertaking,” he said. “De Lohr, the man we seek, comes from nobility. His family owns most of western Brittany. De Russe’s father is from Flanders, the Count of Roeselare, but the family itself is very old and originally came from the realm of Kievan Rus, which is far to the east.”
“He is very frightening.”
Jathan gave her half-grin. “Aye, he is, but there is no man more fearless or loyal in battle.”
“Go on.”
Jathan turned to look at the group. “De Reyne is from Morlaix in Brittany, the son of a great landowner, and….”
“But how do they all know one another? And what makes them so loyal to de Lohr?”
Jathan could see that she was studying the group quite intently, understandably curious about these men she found herself traveling with. But there was something more in her tone, as if she were deeply puzzled by their association because she didn’t understand the kind of bond they shared. Women usually didn’t.
“They all fostered with other knights who fought together on the field of battle,” he said. “That is how I met them, too. I was a knight before I turned to the church. These men go back to their childhood in some cases and bonds were forged that cannot be broken. That is why they go after de Lohr; these men are brothers, my lady. And they will not leave one of their own behind.”
Ghislaine drained her mead, reaching for the pitcher to pour herself more even though she knew she shouldn’t. The buzz in her head was growing stronger and when that happened, it meant she would sleep heavily and wake up with an aching head. But she didn’t much care this night; her world had changed drastically over the past few days and she was trying very hard to make sense of it all. But there was one thing she could already make sense of and that was the strength of the relationship between these men. She wished she had someone who cared about her enough to go after her should she be abducted. But the truth was that there was no one. Depressed, she took another gulp of mead when she heard someone call her name.
“Lady Ghislaine!”
She could see Gaetan waving her down the table to where he was sitting and, startled, she immediately set her cup down and got up from the bench. The great and handsome Gaetan was summoning her and she was more than willing to go to him, if only to be in the man’s midst for only a moment. She was halfway down the table when Gaetan pointed to her as he spoke to his men.
“We have a goddess among us,” he told them. “I am sure none of you knew that The Beautiful Maid of Mercia was our guide. Lady Ghislaine is the sister of Edith the Fair, who was the wife of Harold Godwinson. Truthfully, I have never been this close to a lady of legendary beauty before, although it is difficult to tell by the clothing she wears.”
Ghislaine was horrified by the compliment once again paired with an insult from Gaetan’s lips. He never seemed to do anything else. Wide-eyed, she looked at the Norman knights who were all looking at her quite curiously now. De Russe and de Moray were the closest to her, the men she was the most frightened of, and when she saw them turn to her, she moved away quickly, tripping over her own feet as she did. She stumbled right in to de Lara, who grabbed her before she could pitch into their food.
“Steady, my lady, steady,” de Lara said, carefully righting her. He had noticed her discomfort with the proximity of de Russe and de Moray. “But I do not blame your reaction to those two. See their dark eyes? That means the devil is upon them. De Moray will belch loudly enough to knock cups from the table and, although it is not frequently spoken of, de Russe is known as the Lord of Flatulence to his friends. He will fart a tune if he is drunk enough.”
The table erupted in laughter, all except Aramis. Being insulted in front of men was one thing, but being insulted in front of a woman was quite another. “I see that I have not beat you nearly hard enough, de Lara, for your mouth continues to runneth over,” he growled. “Next time I shall cut out your tongue.”
The table was still laughing but Ghislaine wasn’t so sure why when de Russe was leveling threats. She believed him even if the others did not. “I do not believe that about you, my lord, truly,” she said to de Russe because she didn’t want him spewing threats at her, too. “I am sure Lord de Lara is mistaken.”
Luc was grinning even though Ghislaine was very nervous. “Do not fear him, my lady,” he said, putting an arm around her waist to pull her closer to him and away from de Russe. “He would not dare strike me with you as my protector.”
Aramis simply shook his head, sighing heavily as he turned back to his drink. “Only de Lara would have a woman as a protector.”
“I would not discount her so easily,” Gaetan, across the table, pointed out. “I have seen her fight. She is not to be trifled with.”
Aramis cast Ghislaine a long glance. “Is that so?” he said. He then looked her up and down with those dark murky eyes. “How many men do you command, my lady?”
Ghislaine was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the discussion and the fact that de Lara had his arm around her waist. Although seemingly a kind enough man, and a handsome one, she was vastly uncomfortable with him touching her. In fact, the entire situation had her wanting to run for cover.
“Two hundred men,” she said, wondering if her voice sounded as nervous as she felt. “Mostly archers.”
Aramis seemed to turn more of his attention to her, now seriously inspecting the lady warrior they’d brought with them. The highly alcoholic mead was loosening them all up, even those who normally didn’t speak much, de Russe included.
“I see,” he said. “But do they fight in hand to hand combat?”
Ghislaine nodded. “They have.”
“Have you?”
Again, Ghislaine nodded. “Aye, my lord.”
Aramis rolled his head sideways, looking at the men around the table. “This is something I must see for myself,” he muttered, a flash of a grin on his face. “Someone give her a sword. I want to see how she can fight.”
There was jest and joviality to the conversation and the knights around the table were grinning as one of them turned to the squires sitting against the wall by the door, demanding a short sword.
Ghislaine, however, was mortified. Terrified and mortified. Was it really possible that the enormous knight wanted to fight her? Worse still, she could see men pulling out their coin purses and plopping silver coins onto the table, evidently betting how long it would take for her to either surrender or be disarmed by de Russe.
Ghislaine couldn’t decide if she was more insulted by what was going on or more frightened. De Lara still had a grip on her as one of the squires ran up and handed her a beautifully made sword that was fairly lightweight, but it was something Ghislaine had never fought with before. It wasn’t her weapon and she wasn’t used to it. So they expected her to fight with this, did they?
She could hardly believe this was happening.
But it was happening, indeed, and men were putting money out to bet on the spectacle. Feeling increasingly frightened, Ghislaine looked to Gaetan to see if he would stop the fight but he was looking at her most appraisingly over the rim of his cup, his bronze eyes dark in the dim light of the hall. As de Russe collected his sword and came away from the table, pulling her out of de Lara’s grip, Gaetan stood up and came around the end of the table.
Ghislaine was standing near de Russe, having absolutely no idea what she was going to do, when Gaetan put himself between her and the massive figure of de Russe. Thank God! Ghislaine was relieved beyond measure that Gaetan was showing some sense but that comfort lasted only briefly. Gaetan pulled her away a few feet and put his hands on her upper arms, bending over to speak to her in a calm, quiet voice.
“He has a blind spot below his chin,” he muttered. “He is used to fighting big men or men near his eye level, not a small woman. He will lift his sword and when he does, go underneath it and put your blade to his belly. Do not puncture him but let him know you will not stand for his foolery. I have seen you fight, my lady. Your bravery knows no bounds.”
Ghislaine was looking up at Gaetan, trembling in his grip. “Does he really want to kill me?”
Tears filled her eyes when she said it and Gaetan could see, at that instant, that she did not see this as a joke. She saw it as a very big man trying to kill her, her enemy. Gaetan shouldn’t have felt anything towards her at that moment but he did; he felt a great deal of pity for her. She was frightened and they were all making a joke about it.
But it wasn’t funny anymore.
Gaetan had been watching her all evening as she sat with their hostess, Lady Gunnora, and the truth was that it was difficult for him to take his eyes off of her. Something about Ghislaine was drawing him to her more and more but it was interest unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He’d known beautiful women – he owned beautiful women – but Ghislaine was different. There was something about this serious, courageous woman that had captured something inside of him. He wasn’t sure what yet, but she stirred something within him, and right now he was feeling a good deal of compassion for her fear.
And a good deal of protectiveness.
“Nay, he does not,” he answered after a moment, his voice soft with sympathy. “He is making a joke with you because he does not believe you can fight. I know better, but he does not. If it frightens you, I will not let him do this.”
I know better, but he does not. Ghislaine could see Gaetan’s respect for her in his eyes as he said those words, respect that he’d never shown her before. It was so strange how those few words suddenly dashed her fear for the most part, fortifying her because she realized that Gaetan had faith in her.
She blinked away her tears, looking at de Russe standing a few feet away, toying with the sword in his hand. It occurred to her that if she fought de Russe, even in jest, then it might make Gaetan’s knights respect her just a little as well. Perhaps they would even talk to her. As Jathan had said, these men had fought together for many years and there was an inherent respect for one another because of it. They knew what each man was capable of. But they didn’t know what she was capable of. She’d spent the entire meal marveling at their bond, even being jealous of it.
Perhaps this was her chance to earn a little of their respect, too.
“I will fight him,” she said, sniffling. Then her gaze returned to Gaetan. “And I shall win.”
“Are you certain?”
“I am.”
Gaetan could see that she was dead serious. She’d overcome that fear he’d seen in her eyes and now all he saw was determination. It had happened quickly, like a flame being doused, but there was no doubt that she would now meet de Russe head-on. It was a rather astonishing transformation but one he admired. He couldn’t help the lick of a smile that crossed his lips.
“I believe you.”
With that, he moved back to the table and pulled out his own coin purse. As his men were vying for control of the pot, he slapped a gold coin right into the middle of it.
“That is for the lady’s win,” he said.
His men looked at him with some astonishment as more coins began to come forth, turning the pile on the table into a significant sum. De Wolfe had upped the ante and his men responded in kind. De Russe, meanwhile, could see what was happening and his brow furrowed as he marched over to the table to see that Gaetan had bet against him.
“You do not think I can subdue her?” he asked Gaetan, incredulous.
Gaetan had to fight off the giggles at the sight of Aramis’ insulted face. “I think you can try.”
Aramis scowled. “You are going to lose your money, de Wolfe.”
Gaetan thought it was quite humorous to toy with Aramis’ pride, which was considerable. “We shall see.”
In a huff, Aramis turned back to Ghislaine, who had set the sword down and had pulled out her dagger. It wasn’t a big dagger and certainly a lot smaller than the sword that Aramis held. He looked at her in disbelief.
“Is that what you intend to use?” he demanded.
Ghislaine nodded. “Aye, my lord.”
Exasperated, Aramis shook his head. “Then you are either the bravest woman alive or the most foolish,” he said, lifting the sword defensively. “Then let us get about this, my lady.”
“Make your move, my lord.”
Aramis couldn’t believe it. Was she actually challenging him? Shaking his head in disbelief, he lifted his sword and headed straight at Ghislaine, who was simply standing there with her dagger in her hand. He took about five steps when she suddenly fell to her knees, well under his range, and latched on to his left leg.
As Aramis faltered because Ghislaine threw him off balance, she wedged herself between his legs and brought the dagger to bear straight up, pointing right into his manhood. Aramis was forced to freeze in position because he could feel the tip of the blade through his trousers. Moreover, she had her free hand braced against his left buttock so if she truly wanted to ram that dagger into his privates, it would give her the leverage to do it.
In less than a few seconds, he was beaten and he knew it. Damnation, he knew it all too well. His sword clattered to the ground and he lifted his hands slowly in surrender.
“I concede, my lady,” he said steadily. “I have yet to have a son, so I would be grateful if that dagger did not go any further.”
It was a swift and clever victory on the part of Ghislaine and, after a moment’s disbelief at what she had done, the table of knights and half of the room erupted in cheers and laughter. Other men had seen what had happened and their laughter joined the knights’.
Still wedged between Aramis’ legs, Ghislaine could hear the revelry but she refused to take her eyes off of Aramis, who was looking down at her with those dark cloudy eyes. She wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t try to grab her or otherwise try to snatch this victory from her if she lowered the dagger, so it remained in place until the corner of Aramis’ mouth began to twitch. When a slow smile spread across his lips and, perhaps, even gave a faint nod of approval, Ghislaine smiled back.
The dagger swiftly came away.
After that, Ghislaine spent the rest of the evening seated between Aramis and Gaetan as the knights drank and told stories of the man they were going to rescue. She didn’t really participate in the conversation, but she was permitted to listen. De Russe even filled her cup with mead. It would seem that besting the man had the effect she had hoped for; now, they weren’t nearly so indifferent to her. Enemy or not, she had proven herself in some small way to the Anges de Guerre. It was a night she would never forget.
Little did she know that while she was enjoying her evening, Gunnora’s majordomo had sent a message, at Gunnora’s request, to Alary, who had been easy to track because of the size of his group and the lone wagon and oxen that was pulling it.
Near dawn, Alary received a missive from a Westerham rider that Lady Ghislaine had arrived at Westerham for the night with an escort of Norman soldiers and Lady Gunnora suggested that Alary wait for her to catch up with him.
Puzzled and panicked, waiting for Ghislaine was the last thing Alary had in mind.