Dauntless by Tamara Leigh
Chapter Twenty-Four
If you will not come to me, I must come to you.”
Godfroi stared at the man who shouldered aside the curtains, causing Cat curled atop Robine’s pillow to rise.
Three days had passed since Johannes returned, and throughout the Baron of Valeur had remained in his chamber. Though he told himself he was not hiding from the hermit, it was partly true. The greater part of that whole had to do with his wife reopening the hall to castle folk who once more took meals beyond the solar and bedded down there at night. As that required greater attendance by servants to keep all in order and clean, there were more people about to witness his infirmity. And then there were his sons.
Though Guarin and Cyr had been told their sire’s legs no longer functioned, he balked at them witnessing exactly what that meant. He worked the crutches well owing to great upper body strength and much practice, but he presented as a cripple.
“Brooding!” the hermit pronounced as slower strides evidenced his own affliction and his advance caused the rat catcher to spring over Godfroi and settle like a sentry on the side Johannes approached. “So we are there again, my son?”
“I am there,” Godfroi said, “and I do not need to tell you the reason since my mother and wife have spoken with you.”
“Oui, but still I hoped for more from Godfroi D’Argent.”
“You hoped for a saint, and I am not that.”
“One must always have hope.” The hermit eyed Cat, then removed the thigh and calf supports from the chair beside the bed. “Though I confess ere this sinner turned to God, he would have behaved worse than you in this situation. I was…violent in my younger years.”
When he lowered, Godfroi said, “I am told you recover well.”
“I do—eating, drinking, sitting, and now walking though my legs protest.” He raised his eyebrows. “For you, my son. And your family.”
Knowing he cast guilt where it was due, Godfroi said, “I thank you,” then added wryly, “I think.”
Johannes sat forward. “You know I am going to pray for you, and I wish you to pray with me.”
Godfroi adjusted his back amid pillows propped against the headboard. “I appreciate it.”
The hermit bent his head. “Almighty, You know our work is not done with this Son of Adam, just as work is not done with the Daughter of Eve to whom he is wed.” He replenished his breath. “As Godfroi’s body yet requires much healing, healing is needed for his marriage. We know You can do both if it is in Your will, and so we pray for forgiveness of Lady Robine for her sin and forgiveness of Godfroi for a faith not strong enough to see him returned home earlier to prevent that sin.”
Godfroi raised his head, but before he could add words to his protest, the hermit continued, “And we pray for forgiveness of Your humble servant for not better shepherding the sheep sent to him. Lord, as this man knows he also bears responsibility for what happened during his absence, I pray You move him to show grace as he wishes grace shown him so sooner husband and wife are one again in accord with vows spoken and great feeling.”
Godfroi surprised himself by silently agreeing.
However, the hermit knew all and did not shy away from speaking what made it harder to forgive since it could not be forgotten. As it slammed back to Godfroi’s consciousness, Johannes said, “As we know already You have a plan for the babe in his wife’s womb, we beseech You to work in the hearts of all to see realized what is sure to bless many.” He breathed in, sharply breathed out the word, “Amen!”
When he met Godfroi’s gaze, he said, “You know I am right in this.”
Did he? Godfroi stubbornly questioned, then sighed. He knew it, but acting on it was far different.
“I like your lady wife, and though this will sound cruel, more I like the pain she feels.”
“What?” Godfroi barked.
The hermit nearly grinned. “See there! You fight it, but you remain her champion.”
Godfroi glowered.
“I baited, my son, but I spoke true. I do like she is pained, but ere you break my nose, I shall explain. The pain coming off your wife like the fur of her cat who finds me offensive”—he frowned at the feline—“is genuine remorse, but it is more. It is torment. Why? Because she has hurt someone she loves very much. If you will allow it, I believe she will come all the way back and stay your side no matter what comes of your injury.”
Godfroi opened hands that had become fists. “We shall see. Much depends on her willingness to sever all contact with Michel Roche.”
The hermit jerked. “She seeks to remain familiar with him?”
“Non, I am nearly certain she has let him go—that as she tells, she did not love him. I speak of their child.”
“Ah, she wishes to keep it.”
“Ever a reminder.”
Johannes nodded. “I am not surprised. Though I hardly know her, I have watched her with others and she is kind and hospitable. A good soul, methinks, one that loves even when not loved.” He sighed. “You are right. Does she raise the misbegotten one alongside your sons, it will be more difficult, but—”
“Not difficult, Johannes. I have decided to send her away for the duration. When she returns, it will be as the mother of two, not three.”
Distress creased the man’s face. “Were I one to wager, I would say the lady does not know those fates await her and the babe.”
“She knows I consider it, not that it will be done.”
“Still, so long an absence will feed rumors, and stuff them full for her having nearly wed another.”
“Those stinging rumors will be easier to live with than stabbing truths.”
“Were that all this entails, Godfroi. You do not consider well how your relationship with your wife will be affected by distancing her from your sons for many months, then forcing her to leave her babe behind. Were she willing to birth in secret and pass the wee one into the keeping of another, it could be overcome. However, if she is resistant, ever it will be a wedge between you.”
“I know, Johannes, but better the wedge be of her anger than mine.”
The hermit reached, hesitated over Cat’s hiss, then set a hand on Godfroi’s arm. “With the Lord’s aid, I believe you could raise this child as your own.”
Bitter laughter. “You give me much credit for tolerance.”
“Non, I give you credit due a D’Argent—a dauntless D’Argent.”
“Dauntless!” Godfroi spat the word as he looked to his legs.
“If even one half of you can get through this whole,” Johannes said, “more dauntless you will be than the warrior I saw defeat his brother to gain this barony.”
Godfroi blinked, opened his mouth, closed it.
“Oui, I could not resist.” It was said with intensity unexpected of one not fully healed from what was believed an attack of the heart. “I left my cave to see what all flocked here to see. Undaunted even when your sword broke, you prevailed over one who could not be more your equal. Thus, I believe you can overcome this as well, providing you put faith in God ahead of faith in yourself, asking for and embracing the courage He grants you.”
Struggling against words not due his well-intentioned friend, Godfroi said, “I will continue seeking His guidance, but as told, I am not destined for sainthood.”
“Be assured, neither am I, my son, and yet if you knew how far from sainthood I was years ago, you might think me near it now.”
It was said with gravity and yet a crooked smile that bent Godfroi’s own mouth in a direction to which it was more resistant than before his return home.
“Ha!” Johannes said. “There some of the man your sons are missing. They tell of their papa’s broken legs and speak of their prayers for the Lord to fix them so you can come out of the solar and be with them again.” His mouth corrected its tilt. “This you must do, not only for them but your people. Made aware of your injury, they begin questioning if, like the former Lady of Valeur, your wife will be the one directing them, her hand moving your sons toward manhood.”
The hermit chose his words well. They offended, but knowing they were truth, Godfroi suppressed emotions bubbling to his surface. “You are wily, Johannes. And wise.”
The hermit gave a laugh that might have been longer had not Lady Maëlys called, “May I enter?”
Paling, mouth flattening, Johannes drew back as if, forbidden to enter here, now he faced the consequences of defiance.
Though his withdrawal pleased the rat catcher who eased his watch, Godfroi regretted how discomfited this man was in the presence of women who could not be avoided in the hall. Wife, mother, and Olivier all reported Johannes did not look long upon any and spoke as few words as possible. Too, as she who seemed to disturb him most was the former Lady of Valeur, likely it was for the authority she exuded though in most things she deferred to Robine. It was also possible the hermit was attracted to that lady who remained lovely despite her advancing years.
When Johannes started to rise, Godfroi said, “Take your ease. My mother’s teeth are not sharp, and I would speak with you further.” Then he called, “Enter!”
She strode inside, and without falter over his visitor, continued to the bed. “Brother Johannes,” she acknowledged.
“Lady,” he said low, then laced his fingers and showed much interest in his hands.
Settling her gaze on Godfroi, she said, “Sir Charles has come from De Couloir.”
He frowned. “Something is amiss?”
“Naught at the moment. He says a meeting was arranged a sennight past to report on expansion of that fortress’s patrol.”
She did not need to tell that meeting was to have been with Michel Roche who had taken seriously the role that would have been his had he wed Robine.
“I would have had Sir Olivier speak with him,” she continued, “but your man departed this morn to conduct training exercises with the squires who shall soon attain their spurs. Though your lady wife would serve, she is occupied with the boys—”
“How would Robine serve?” Godfroi interrupted.
Maëlys raised her eyebrows. “The same as I did when I lost your father.”
“Forgive me, Lady…Baron.” Johannes pushed upright. “As I have exerted myself, best I lie down.” He looked to Godfroi. “We will speak more later.”
“Later,” Godfroi agreed.
As the hermit intently observed his steps, Lady Maëlys watched him with gathered eyebrows. After he passed through the curtains, she said, “That is the most I have heard him speak since he arrived here. Regrettably, he does not settle in well.”
“A solitary life is his comfort,” Godfroi said and nearly smiled when Cat padded over his abdomen to return to Robine’s pillow. “Now tell, how involved has my wife been with matters beyond the household?”
“When we received word you were lost in battle, I began instructing her in administration of the demesne. Though I knew she would have to wed again and that duty would become her new husband’s, with a loss of so many of our defenders at Falaise, a sure hand was needed at the rudder until then. And I believed it important she understand those workings to better protect Guarin’s inheritance when control passed to one not his sire.” She put her head to the side. “Has she told you of the plan we laid to ensure against her bearing another son whose sire would wish Guarin displaced?”
Godfroi’s jaw cramped. “She has not. But then, we speak very little.”
She lowered to the mattress beside him. “Though it failed since Duke William and his advisors had other designs for Valeur, we submitted the names of several noblemen we thought acceptable—men of advanced age who had wed more than once and produced no children.”
Godfroi wished that plan had worked and it was an aged warrior his return caused to depart in haste. “Instead, Michel Roche,” he said, “a man who could give her a child. And did.”
Pain flashed in her eyes. “I know you do not see him as a blessing, Godfroi, but the same as Robine, I did. Not only did he save your wife and children from whatever unspeakable acts were intended, but compared to those with whom the duke sought to match Robine, greatly he appealed. Hence, we thought it fortunate he who was entranced with the Lady of Valeur and of aid in administering the barony while Sir Olivier recovered was owed favors by Duke William’s mother.”
“Then Herleva interceded for one who could not otherwise gain such a wife.”
“She did.”
“A pity your scheme did not work, Mother. Had one of those old men dishonored my wife ahead of speaking vows, there would be no babe to remind me of what was lost to another.”
Now she exuded annoyance, perhaps even anger. “True, but there would be something else to remind you of it, for great the trauma from which your wife might never recover.”
At Godfroi’s frown, she made a sound of disgust. “As your mother, I understand your hurt and anger. However, if you must be told in that situation Robine would have suffered ravishment and then found herself wed to such an animal, your thinking needs to remedy its crooked ways.”
He did need to be told, and it shamed. It was abhorrent to be unable to defend his lands as once he had, but to allow emotions to make him deficient in mind as well would render him useless. He would be all burden and naught else.
“Forgive me, Mother. I pray, reflect, and reason with myself, but it is like trying to see through a dense fog. I can make sense only of the shape of things very close, little sense of what lies beyond. And those things that step out of the fog to face me…” He shook his head. “Oft that which I first welcome becomes unwelcome.”
She set a hand over his. “You will rise above this, and sooner with Brother Johannes. Though he is peculiar, that he got you this far says much of his guidance.” She smiled slightly. “Regarding Sir Charles from De Couloir, you will meet with him?”
It was that or Robine summoned to do what was expected of a husband and the father of a young heir, forcing her one step nearer to becoming to their sons what Maëlys became to hers—first a father, far second a mother. “I will meet with him.”
She stood. “I shall deliver him here a quarter hour hence.”
Here,Godfroi considered. Knowing it diminishment of his strength and presence to have his man ushered into that which was exclusively the lord and lady’s bedchamber, he said, “Non, I will receive him in the hall.”
She turned back. “I think that a good thing until we can have a table and chairs moved back in here.”
Which had been removed when she took upon herself the onus of lording Valeur since it was unseemly a woman meet with men in her bedchamber. Once the solar became Godfroi’s, he had determined he would do the same as his mother. When privacy was needed to conduct business, all were ordered from the hall or use made of the steward’s counting chamber. He had liked it that way, and more so when Robine became his wife in full and began bearing children—here, in the solar. Such a refuge it had been, whether alone with her or also with his one son and then their two.
“Two,” he rasped and pushed from his mind the third who would never be theirs and only temporarily hers.
“Godfroi?”
Seeing concern once more upon his mother’s face, he said, “No table nor chairs. As ever, I like this privacy.”
She nodded. “As did I when your father was lost to us. It was good to have a refuge away from prying eyes.”
And how they will pry now, Godfroi thought. Much curiosity over this crippled baron. Much curiosity over the state of his marriage.
“A quarter hour?” she prompted.
“Oui, that is plenty.” When she departed, he began putting himself together, beginning with leg supports to be concealed beneath chausses. But henceforth, there would be no concealing the crutches. In lieu of a miracle, they were his legs now, and just as he must accept it, so must his family and people. No matter the injustice of what he had returned to, no matter the humiliation, his wife, children, and mother would not fend for themselves.