The Marriage Bed (The Medieval Knights Series) (4 page)

And still today.

But she would not look away. She had come too far to see him again, finding in his presence a safety he did not willfully give her. Willingly, he would give her nothing. Nay, that was not true; he would give her what he always gave her: the icy chill of reproach. And within her heart, the hot flare of guilt answered him.

Chapter 3

The shock of seeing her ran along his veins with the force of a swollen river. Those eyes he knew so well from so long past stared into his without the courtesy of maidenly humility. Hazel eyes, more green than brown, skin pale and translucent as spring ice, and that dark fall of hair all assaulted his senses without welcome or invitation. Unwimpled, flagrant hair that fell heavily down her back in windblown disarray, calling to his eyes and to his sin. So straight she stood against the silent, heavy weight of his censure. She should not be here, not in this place of men, this place of God.

Abbot Godric spoke, drawing Richard's attention from Isabel, giving him a reason to look away. He shifted his eyes to Godric, but his thoughts remained with her. A year of hourly service to God and he still could not lay firm rein to his thoughts; he was steeped in sin. The presence of her, her very scent, roused him as nothing should save prayer. Only prayer and service could save him, and yet she was here, interfering with his salvation, interfering with his vocation and corrupting the very strands of his life.

Isabel was profoundly adept at interfering.

Richard pulled his errant thoughts back toward Godric, determined to give his abbot his full attention and starve Isabel of his regard.

So little had changed in a year.

"And so it is with deep sorrow I impart these tidings to you, Richard. Hubert and Geoffrey both, gone to their Lord in His time, if not our own."

Hubert dead. And Geoffrey also. Richard sighed and looked toward the sole wind hole in the chamber. Hubert he had hardly known, born to his father's first wife and away at his fostering before he had even been born. Geoffrey he had known better and liked less. Geoffrey, sharing Hubert's mother, was the first in this world to torment him, and Richard had swiftly learned the advantage of hiding. Proud and vain, Geoffrey would not long be missed upon this earth. Hubert, overbearing as he had been, had been Isabel's betrothed. Isabel must have brought the news to the abbey, thinking he should know the fate of his brothers.

"What was the manner of their deaths? Did they die together?" he asked Abbot Godric, ignoring Isabel completely and determined that she see it.

"Hubert died in tourney while in Anjou and Geoffrey while hunting. They did not die together but close upon each other. A sad loss for your house, Richard. Prayers will be said for them as well."

"As well?" Richard asked.

"Yea, for Lord Bernard died this day, leaving Isabel alone to fend for herself. Until a husband is found for her," Godric answered.

"My sorrow is with you, Lady," Richard murmured, looking at her hem as he bowed his head to the slightest degree.

Isabel bowed in return and said nothing.

Richard turned his eyes back to the wind hole, determined not to look at so much as her hem for the remainder of their shared enclosure. Isabel had been betrothed to Hubert from the cradle; the marriage should have taken place long ago. She was of an age to be wed. Now, because of her father's sudden death, she would be wed or risk losing all. Isabel would marry. She would not willingly give up her position in the world.

"Thank you, Father Abbot, for taking such care in telling me of my brothers. May I now be excused?"

He was already turning away when Godric called him back.

"There is more," Godric said softly.

"What more could there be?" Richard asked.

The messenger stepped forward and said solemnly, "Lord Robert, overlord of Warefeld, is most determined that the betrothal arranged between Lord Bernard and Lord Hubert be unbroken."

Richard faced the man fully and, though clothed as a Benedictine, stood like a warrior. There could be only one meaning behind the message of Warefeld's and Dornei's mutual overlord; he was an only son, Isabel an only daughter. The betrothal has been nullified with Hubert's death. He would not be pushed by Lord Robert's whim and not on the word of a paltry messenger.

"Lord Robert is having another written," the messenger answered, blinking rapidly against Richard's latent animosity.

The room seemed to close in on him, pressing him up against Isabel. He could hear her breath and feel her body heat, though he would not look at her. There was victory in that. He could feel her bright eyes upon him, but he would not turn to face her; he would not give even that to her.

"I have sworn myself to another," Richard said, his voice reverberating in the stone chamber.

"But not yet taken your final vows," Godric said almost reluctantly.

All eyes looked to the abbot, Richard's the most urgently. "I am sworn to another," he repeated, his voice as stubborn as his posture was humble.

"Leave us, please," Godric commanded softly.

All left, Isabel leading them, leaving Richard alone to face the lord of his chosen house. When they were alone, Richard fell to his knees and kissed the hem of Godric's robe. Against its rough warmth, he came as close as he ever had to pleading.

"My life is here. I have no wish to reenter the world."

"And what of God's will?" Godric asked softly.

"This is not God's will for me," he said, rising to his feet and burying his hands within the deep bell of his sleeves.

Godric smiled. "Is this the result of devoted prayer or your own will which speaks?"

Richard kept silent, unable to give an honest answer which would serve.

"Pray, Richard," Abbot Godric softly commanded. "Seek God's will on this. Nothing need be decided upon this hour. I will send my own messenger to Lord Robert and one to the bishop as well. Between us, we will find God's path for you."

"Yea, Father. I will pray," Richard all but grumbled.

Godric chuckled and ducked his chin into his cowl. "Pray for a submitted will, Richard; that is the measure of holiness."

Richard lifted his stormy eyes to Godric and said, "It cannot be wrong to want to give my life, every hour of my life, to God."

"Nay, it cannot be wrong," Godric agreed, "but, having given your life to God, can you then pull against the bit when He leads you along the path He has set for you? Nothing in this life is by chance, Richard."

"Yea, Father."

There was nothing more he could say. A messenger was being sent. He would set his heart to prayer. As he turned from his abbot, Richard's hands beneath the heavy wool of his sleeves clenched into fists.

Chapter 4

The messenger from Lord Robert rode into the courtyard just at the conclusion of Compline. Muddy and thirsty, he made his way directly to the Abbot of Saint Stephen's and Saint Paul's, eager to be rid of his obligation. Eager to avoid a confrontation with the novice Richard. He had heard, as had they all, lay brothers as well as tonsured, of how Richard had frothed at his lord's bidding to marry the Lady Isabel. Perhaps frothed was not exactly what he had done, but he had not submitted to a higher authority with any grace. Certainly he had shown no proper submission. And no one who had heard the tale had any trouble believing the truth of it. Richard was unlike any novice yet welcomed into the abbey; he was neither especially pious nor especially submissive, and without either attribute, he was ill suited for abbey life. Though
no
one would dare suggest it to him—for Richard was an especially determined man, and for some reason he had determined to become a Benedictine. God and all His saints help the man who stood between Richard and his determination.

But God's ways were higher and God would not be mocked. At least that was what the messenger concluded after being given the message from Lord Robert himself. Lord Robert was also a very determined man and had been wroth to have his arrangements questioned. But it was all Abbot Godric's headache now, once he was delivered of his message.

The abbey was quiet, the monks preparing to retire, when Godric admitted the messenger. "What response from Lord Robert?" Godric asked.

"He is firm that the marriage between Isabel of Dornei and Richard of Warefeld occur and without delay. He went to great lengths to arrange the match and obtain the bishop's endorsement of it. They are in agreement; Richard will marry Isabel."

So they had gone to great lengths. Godric smiled softly and folded his hands within his sleeves. Yea, he could well guess that a plot of prime land had been exchanged between lord and bishop to see Richard released from his vow. How compared one novice to a rich manor? Still, God would have His way, even in the exchange of land for men. There was no need to wait for his messenger to return the longer distance from the bishop. All had been arranged long before Richard had been told of his future outside abbey walls.

“Thank you. Food awaits you in the refectory," Godric said, dismissing the man.

Now all that awaited was for Richard to be told that his life's path had just taken a sharp turn. Godric let out his breath and cast his eyes heavenward; he was not looking forward to the task.

* * *

Brother Anselm did not know how it was that he managed to be in exactly the right spot to be noticed by Prior Godric and sent to fetch Richard. Again. He surely must be deficient in his prayers to be so used twice in a single day, but God did try the man who turned from Him. Anselm was more determined than usual to be better about his prayers.

Richard was in the dormitory preparing for bed, as were all the novices, when Anselm approached. Unlike all the other novices, Richard was huge in the semidarkness of the chamber, his height and breadth making him a monstrous shadow, though of much firmer form. Even a year on a monk's limited diet had done little to reduce his size, and he towered over most of the others, physically and personally.

Yet it was not Richard's size which daunted, but his manner. Even in the act of removing his shoes, he was intimidating. It should not have been so, for were they not all equal in God's sight? Yet no man in the abbey believed himself the equal of Richard; he was a man set apart from the brotherhood of the abbey even as he dwelt among them. Never had Anselm seen a man so driven to succeed, and never had he seen success weigh so lightly upon a man's shoulders; Richard excelled at all that was required of him and found joy in none of it.

Anselm could not seem to stop the hitch in his step as he approached and fixed a smile upon his face to soften what he was certain would be a blow to Richard's plan for his life. In truth, he was sorry for him. Anselm had come to the abbey as a youth of less than ten summers, and a life outside of abbey walls held no appeal for him.

"You are wanted by our abbot, Richard," he said as gently as he could.

Richard, saying nothing, bent and refastened his shoes. Still silent, he rose to lead Anselm from the chamber, the other novices watching surreptitiously and expectantly. All knew of Lord Robert's arrangements. All knew of the presence of the Lady Isabel. All knew a messenger had been sent to try and seek a release from the arrangement. None expected Richard to be granted reprieve.

"The Lady Isabel," Anselm began, seeking a path of comfort for Richard, "seems to be... that is, she appears a lovely and pious lady—"

"The devil can assume a pleasing shape, Brother," Richard cut in, his voice harsh and low.

Stunned, Anselm fell into silence.

Godric awaited them, his door open. Anselm delivered Richard to his destination and quickly left, his discomfort obvious. Godric was alone; the messenger had been dismissed and had left with as much haste as Anselm. It seemed none wanted to be near when Richard was informed of his new position in the world.

"I trust you have been in prayer concerning your will and the Lord's... and which is to prevail in your life, Richard." Godric said.

Richard said nothing. In all the chamber, only the candle flame moved, in lazy twitches that birthed twirling smoke.