Dauntless by Tamara Leigh
Chapter Thirty
Barony of Valeur
Mid-Spring, The Year of Our Lord 1044
At last Hugh had come, and not alone. He brought his wife, the infant son named in honor of Lady Maëlys, and a score of well-trained warriors in need of a lord to serve in lieu of turning mercenary.
There had been strain between the brothers during their first meeting in the hall two days past, and Robine’s advanced pregnancy added to it, rumor of its untimeliness surely having reached the duke’s court shortly after venturing beyond Valeur’s borders months ago.
And Michel Roche had to be in receipt of it and also subject to looks and whispers, albeit not as unsparing as those directed at a woman on the other end of that sin, Godfroi brooded as he patted the neck of the destrier now trained to respond to commands delivered in an uncommon way.
Robine had assured her husband she would reveal any attempt by the chevalier to have further contact, but thus far none. It was as Godfroi preferred, knowing what was bad would get worse if Roche did anything to feed the rumor, but still the chevalier’s silence offended for the perception he left Robine to fend for herself.
Fend she did, but not alone. The castle folk, confident of the baron’s wife remaining at his side, had adjusted to the pending arrival of the misbegotten babe with aid from Maëlys, Brother Johannes, and women servants who behaved as if there was naught untoward about this pregnancy. Still, spurning was dealt by those not of Valeur.
Despite curiosity over Godfroi’s debility that should have seen an increase in nobility seeking lodging, few did. Of those who continued to avail themselves of D’Argent hospitality, many looked askance at the Lady of Valeur and pityingly at its lord. Godfroi might have tossed them out if not that Robine, who insisted they continue admitting travelers, maintained her composure and Brother Johannes supported her by telling there was power in not hiding one’s weaknesses but showing the strength and courage to take responsibility for them and press onward.
Though it was good advice from one who eschewed a solitary life to continue advancing Godfroi’s faith as nearer the day drew when another man’s child entered here, the depth of this ache was a different matter. Unless one knew Godfroi well, the mask he wore outside the solar concealed how far below the surface pain dug into him. And among the few well acquainted with him was Hugh.
Drawing a breath of spring-scented air, Godfroi looked to his brother where he had also reined in at the river bank and was not surprised to find he was watched by one whose face mirrored his own except for distinguishing marks of battle.
Hugh raised an eyebrow divided by a thin scar. “Now we are distant from prying eyes and ears, we ought to discuss the thing wedged between us, Godfroi.”
As it had been since the day he departed, Godfroi acknowledged and said, “I think we must take it apart piece by piece, but first let me say again I am grateful you brought your family home and for delivery of men to replace Valeur’s slain defenders.”
Hugh glanced at booted feet that had to be set into stirrups. “The least I could do, and all are exceedingly worthy—even Bernard though I pressed for further training to ensure the control gained over his impulses sticks.”
He spoke of one of twenty years who had gone around his trainer to entreat his cousin, the duke, to intervene, allowing him to be among those placed at Valeur.
Hugh drew breath. “Methinks you know why I did not return sooner, Godfroi. Though I am loath to speak it, it was not only because of anger directed at myself for losing Valeur. It was jealousy made worse for believing I would be baron and you would be my lesser. Indeed, so dark were some thoughts they sickened. Though I did not think I could become to you what our father’s brother became to him, I was certain my continued presence would be worse than my absence.”
He shifted in the saddle to more fully face Godfroi. “I think Mother knew that about me. It hurt she did not call me home when you were believed dead, and yet it relieved since I did not think myself ready. No harm do I wish your sons, but I gave her cause to worry over accepting my offer of aid lest I seek to displace your heir by passing Valeur to my own son.” Hugh narrowed his eyes. “Does she know of the accusations against me—that I ordered the assault on your wife and sons and am behind raids upon Valeur’s borderlands?”
Though Godfroi had hoped those charges had not reached Hugh, he was not surprised. “Non, my lady wife quieted them so it not distress our mother who you must believe would not tolerate such talk, just as I do not.”
Hugh swallowed loudly, forced a smile. “My Maël is a fine boy, is he not?”
It was strange to see him discomfited as if greatly moved by his brother’s belief in his innocence.
“Oui, of good credit to you and your wife,” Godfroi said of the black-haired infant who was alert, robust, and somewhere between strikingly handsome and exceedingly beautiful as if his sire’s side warred with Chanson’s.
Once more Hugh drew nonchalance around him. “Mother is pleased he bears a likeness of her name,” he said, then frowned. “I did not expect her to go so soft.”
Guessing he was remembering her sitting on the floor, Guarin and Cyr playing about her skirts, Maël on her lap, Godfroi said, “Not soft, just more the mother we lost when she determined to raise us without a father. Methinks ever she was behind the one she had to become, longing for the time she could re-emerge.”
Hugh nodded. “Of greater surprise is how fond she is of your wife, especially now…” He trailed off.
“…she carries another man’s child,” Godfroi spoke it and wished he had not for the pain that put a crack in his voice.
“A hard thing, and I am sorry for it,” Hugh said, then set a hand on his brother’s arm. “I do not know how you tolerate it. Oui, she believed herself a widow, but were it I who gained her for a wife…” He shook his head. “I could not tolerate her having had relations with another.”
Godfroi tensed for several reasons, one being suspicion Hugh himself committed adultery. Though he had hoped his brother would take his marriage vows seriously, his eye roved among the castle’s pretty servants just as when Valeur had yet to be awarded to the winner of the contest. And Godfroi was not the only one who noticed, Lady Maëlys tensing with disapproval, Robine keeping watch over her women as if ducklings with a predator nipping at their tails, and Lady Chanson exuding hurt.
“Your wife appears devoted to you,” Godfroi said.
“Oui, since the day she attended our contest, she has been entranced with this chevalier.”
“And you with her?”
Hugh shrugged. “She makes a good wife.”
“You feel no love for her?”
He snorted. “Does one wish their line to continue, women are a necessary weakness. But I am pleased with Chanson, since I had little hope of making a match like you did. Of course…”
Once again, he left things unspoken, and Godfroi knew he was thinking better a match made with one of little benefit than one of great benefit who damaged her character. “Atop losing the use of my legs, it has been difficult, Hugh, but there is some relief in knowing my wife succumbed to the seduction of a man who was to have been her husband.”
“Roche,” Hugh said. “I hardly know him, but what I learned of that chevalier when he was at court two years past—that his warrior skills and strategy are impressive—I liked, as did the duke. Now I would be tempted to slit his throat did he dare breathe my air, as might Lady Herleva who aided him in gaining a bride well out of his reach.”
Godfroi knew of the lady’s intercession, just as he knew she had collected on the favor Robine owed by asking her to wear well the wedding ring supplied Roche.
“Regardless,” Hugh continued, “that you are so accepting of your wife’s sin makes me think you have gone soft like our mother. I wonder, is it because you love your wife or is it all those things the hermit puts in your head, entreating you to forgive the unforgivable so you might prove yourself more godly than others?”
Ignoring the first question, Godfroi said, “Faith is an easy thing to accept or reject when one’s trials can be overcome without aid, far harder to accept or reject when overcoming them seems—or proves—out of reach.”
Hugh harrumphed. “You spend too much time with one who exploits your belief the Creator does more than look down on His creation, giving credit to God for what is not the result of answered prayer but great effort, the generosity of others, chance, and good fortune.”
Anger stirred. “That you say, and yet I came up out of self-pity and left that cave as should have been impossible with the warrior cut out from under me. And yet I am here, astride a horse as ought to be impossible. Thus, I am indebted to Brother Johannes for showing me faith in God is not weakness, that it is strength needed to do things so daunting they appear impossible.”
Hugh stared, and was that chagrin in his eyes? Before it could be determined, once more he looked to Godfroi’s strapped leg this side of the saddle. “As there is some feeling, is it possible more will return?”
Recalling the appearance of those limbs that continued wasting away in defiance of his powerful upper body, Godfroi said, “Since shortly after I came home to Valeur, improvement has been negligible. Hence, to reclaim my position as fully as possible, it is imperative I continue perfecting my skill at fighting astride so I may lead men and have a presence on Valeur beyond that of presiding at high table. Just as important, I must continue replacing lost defenders and increasing their numbers since more I will have to rely on others to push back those who seek to take advantage of my loss. And so I ask you—”
“Non, Godfroi,” Hugh said harshly. “I am pleased to have made right some of my wrong, but this is a visit. I cannot stay and be what one of us was to become to the victor. Perhaps in time, but not now.”
Godfroi had not meant to ask that of him, but thinking it best not to correct Hugh lest truth be thought a lack of trust, he said, “I understand. You have made a good life serving William and your reputation for training warriors is unsurpassed. That is not easy to leave behind.”
“But I shall, at least for a time.”
Godfroi frowned. “What say you?”
“I weary of training men and receiving less compensation than is my due.” He smiled crookedly. “You are the first to know that by year’s end I shall remedy this restlessness and scarcity of coin by selling my sword arm to the highest bidder.”
“What of your family—and the duke?”
“I will be missed, but more appreciated when I return.”
It seemed desertion of Chanson and Maël, but knowing he would not be dissuaded, Godfroi said, “I hope you will consider leaving your wife and son in our care for the duration.”
Hugh uncapped his wineskin. “They are comfortable at court, but much depends on the duke’s depth of displeasure over my departure.”
Godfroi nodded, and after his brother quenched his thirst, said, “Ere you leave William’s service, if there are other worthy warriors he wishes placed well, I pray you will send them to Valeur.”
“I will and, as discussed, seek one capable of aiding Olivier.”
His emphasis on that word was disdain over Godfroi’s refusal to replace the chevalier who would never fully recover from injuries received during the attack on Robine and the boys. Until Olivier determined a less burdensome life held more appeal or it was absolutely necessary he relinquish his position to another, he would hold it and be given aid where needed.
Hugh gave a guttural sigh and considered the river’s coursing. “I have thought more on the length of my visit, and if my family is welcome as you say, I would make use of all the leave given me.”
“I pray you will. How many weeks have you?”
“Six.”
That surprised, and now Godfroi was the one discomfited, having guessed no more than three.
“Four things it will accomplish,” Hugh said, doubtless having given them much thought ahead of this day’s ride. “It will be good my wife and son know our family better, Chanson is excellent at midwifery, I will be here to keep you strong should Lady Robine make it difficult to part her from the babe, and between now and then we shall see about trapping Arn fitz Géré.”
That Hugh suspected the son of the man who retaliated against their mother was behind the offenses dealt in Godfroi’s absence intrigued, but it paled compared to the jolt of what came before. It was Godfroi’s fault since he had assumed Chanson was informed the babe would remain and had told her husband, accounting for the dark looks cast at the Lady of Valeur.
Godfroi cleared his throat. “The child is to be raised alongside Guarin and Cyr.”
Hugh jerked. “Godfroi! It is one thing you did not send her away for the duration, exposing our family to derision, but—”
“You will not dissuade me, Hugh. It is what Robine wants and I have agreed. Though it is difficult watching her grow large with child, I accept much responsibility since had I sent word I lived, she would not have been betrothed to Roche nor succumbed to seduction. Regardless how broken my body, she would have waited for me.”
“Accursed hermit!” Hugh spat. “He seeks to—”
“Enough, Brother! I feel for Johannes as if a father. You will speak no further word against him.” When Hugh nodded grudgingly, Godfroi said, “Regarding remaining at Valeur six weeks, I am well with that, but there is one thing I require.”
“Ask.” His brother’s tone forewarned he might not grant it.
“If you cannot look kindly on my wife—or without expression—do not look on her at all. Just as I see your anger and condemnation, she does.”
“Almighty! Too much you feel for that L’Épée!”
“She is a D’Argent, Hugh! And you will do what I require of you.”
Hugh heaved breath up his face. “As I know myself, I will not look on her at all. Now let us discuss Fitz Géré.”
Silently, Godfroi beseeched the Lord to grant him patience, then said, “Since you also suspect he is behind many of the ills worked on Valeur, I would think you believe his timing has much to do with when you are in the area to cast suspicion your way.”
“Oui, and were I not very present at Castle D’Argent at this time, I would be surprised were there no attacks on the barony now.”
“Have you recent word of him?” Godfroi asked.
“His wife having passed from fever without providing an heir, he wishes a bride not only capable of giving him a son but enlarging his holdings. However, thus far the duke has refused his petitions to wed an heiress.”
“I am glad William and his counselors are wise in that.”
“Mostly it is our duke,” Hugh said. “He keeps his advisors about him, but less and less heeds them. Though the lessons dealt William since his sire’s death have been numerous and near deadly, obsessively he picks them apart to examine them and ensure mistakes are not repeated. Thus, I have concluded the reason Duke Robert did not wed to produce a legitimate heir is he believed already he had a son worthy of succeeding him.”
“For the sake of Normandy, I hope you are right,” Godfroi said. “Now let us discuss how we are to put an end to the trespasses of Arn fitz Géré.”