Epic Knights of Legend and Steel

Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

T he chapel of Isenhall was a small, round structure tucked between the south side of the keep and the south wall. It would seat ten or twelve people at the most and actually had pews, unusual for a church. Honey didn’t like to stand so Antoninus had benches placed upon the wooden floor. There was a stone altar, covered with silk, with a beautiful golden cross upon it and an array of golden candle holders that held fat, white tapers. Above the altar, to the left, was a large lancet window that allowed light and air into the otherwise stuffy room.

Crypts from two generations of de Sheras were orderly, bunched up against the east side of the room in a small alcove while the previous owners of Isenhall, the House of de Gernon, had several crypts in the vault below the chapel floor. Because of the premium of space inside of Isenhall in general, the chapel had been built in two levels with the ground level being that of an unusual wooden, and not dirt, floor.

Jeniver entered the chapel before anyone, eager to meet the priest who would offer up prayers for her father’s recovery and also for his soul. The dusty, musty smell hit her in the face and she sneezed, more than once. The first thing she saw was a thin man in heavy robes sitting on one of the benches, eating a big hunk of bread. A servant in traveling clothes stood next to the priest, holding a tray with a cup of wine and other bits of food upon it. The man who was eating looked up sharply when he heard people enter, crumbs on his bearded face.

“Are you the priest?” Jeniver asked as she approached him. “My father is the one you have come for. I am Lady Jeniver ferch Gaerwen.”

The priest blinked, confused by her statement. He brushed off his beard. “Your father, my lady?” he repeated. “Is he in need of a priest?”

Jeniver came to a halt, standing next to the man as he rose wearily from the pew. “He was badly injured today in an ambush,” she said. “The lady of the house has graciously sent for you. I would like a healing mass said for my father. He is in great need of healing prayers.”

The priest looked at her strangely. He truly had no idea what she was talking about. He turned to look at the servant who had brought him to Isenhall, but the servant backed away, evidently unwilling or unable to explain away the confusion. The priest returned his attention to the beautiful young woman standing in front of him.

“There must be a misunderstanding,” he said. “I did not come to pray for the dying. Were you expecting someone to?”

Gallus, standing behind Jeniver, entered the conversation. “If you are not here to perform a funeral mass, why have you come?”

“He came to perform a marriage mass.”

The voice came from the entry to the chapel and they all turned to see Honey standing in the doorway. When she realized all eyes were upon her, she stepped into the chapel and quietly shut the door. Only then did she turn to face the group.

“He came at my request,” she said, looking directly at Gallus. “He is here to perform the marriage ceremony for you and Lady Jeniver.”

Gallus stared at his mother. “Marriage mass?” he repeated. He had to make a conscious effort to keep his mouth from hanging open in surprise. “ You brought him here for that?”

Honey nodded, stepping closer. She remained fixed on Gallus as if he were the only person in the room.

“I promised Lord ap Gaerwen that you would marry his daughter,” she said evenly. “I intend to keep my promise.”

Now, Gallus couldn’t help it, his mouth hung open and he looked at his mother as if she had gone quite mad. “You agreed to a betrothal that you did not have my permission to agree to,” he clarified. “We have not discussed it further, which I assumed we would, but now I find that you have summoned a priest for such a purpose? Did you think to bully me into submission, then?”

Honey held her ground. “Listen to me, Gallus,” she said. Then, she looked at her other two sons who were gazing at her with varying degrees of surprise. “All of you will listen to me and listen well. I am a sick woman. I do not have long for this life. I am not going to die knowing that my eldest son is still in limbo grieving his dead wife and my other two sons are foolishly unattached. Is that what you think I want? I do not have the luxury of time to wait for you idiots to come to your senses and provide me with more grandchildren. Gallus, I know you have been miserable since Catheryn’s death but in Lady Jeniver, I see a chance for happiness for you again. Is that too much to hope for? Your happiness? Or are you simply going to pine away for the rest of your life, leaving two young daughters motherless after I die? Do you think it will make my passing a peaceful one if I know my entire family is in a state of turmoil?”

She was speaking quite angrily by the time she was finished, which was unusual for the normally sedate woman. Gallus stared at her a moment before grunting unhappily, putting both hands to his head and turning away from the woman, running his fingers through his hair in a frustrated gesture. He hissed and sighed, indicative of a man with a good deal on his mind. He ended up pacing over by Tiberius and Maximus, coming to pause between his brothers.

“I am sure you feel you are doing what is best for me,” he said, trying to be calm about it. Then, he gestured to Jeniver, who was standing in place looking rather shocked about the entire circumstances. “What about her? The woman’s entire life has been upended and now you want to upend it more by having her marry a stranger?”

Honey looked at Jeniver. “What will you do if you do not marry my son?” she nearly demanded. “Will you return home? Marry a sweetheart who toils the fields or works in a shed? Can you not see that your father wishes for you to marry the Earl of Coventry? It will be a good life for you with much prestige. Will you not obey your father’s wishes?”

Jeniver didn’t want to get into an argument with a woman who had been very kind to her. Much like Gallus, she was in a bad position. She wanted to resist but she knew that she could not. Her father’s wish was for her to be taken care of in the event of his death, but he was not dead yet. Still, she was presented with a wonderful opportunity. There wasn’t much she could do to refute any of this for she was, essentially, at their mercy. And they had promised Gaerwen she would be taken care of. Heavily, she sighed.

“I will not return home to marry a sweetheart,” she said quietly. “I do not have one. My father wishes for me to be taken care of but he is not dead yet. He made the bargain when he thought he was at his end.”

“And he is closer to his end now than he was when he struck the bargain,” Honey said, rather firmly. “Whether the man lives or dies, he made an agreement that was accepted. Whether you marry Gallus now or in five years, the agreement will still be the same. The only difference is that your father may not be here to witness it and I certainly will not be here if you wait. Therefore, you will do it now.”

Jeniver could see there was no way out of this. She looked at Gallus, who was clearly upset by the entire circumstance. “If the earl does not wish to fulfill my father’s wishes, then I will not think him a lesser man for it,” she said quietly. “He saved my life and I shall always be grateful to him.”

In the midst of his frustrated ticking, Gallus came to a stop and looked at her. “Do you want to marry me?” he asked.

Jeniver wouldn’t look at him. She could feel her cheeks growing quite hot but she had no idea why. The earl was handsome and in the brief conversations they’d had, she had come to like him. There was interest in her heart. Perhaps she was ashamed that there was no interest in his.

“It is clear that you do not wish to marry me,” she said, avoiding the question. “I do not blame you for it. You do not know me and I do not know you. I am not embittered by the rejection.”

Gallus peered at her. He was aware she had not answered the question. Dropping his hands from his head, he went over to her and planted himself in front of her.

“Answer me,” he said quietly, with a measure of gentleness. “Do you want to marry me?”

Jeniver kept her head down, eyes averted. She wasn’t sure she could avoid the question again, not with him demanding an answer.

“I would be agreeable if you are,” she said, so softly that he barely heard her. “But you are not agreeable so the question is irrelevant.”

Gallus stared at her, aware that he was feeling something odd and giddy in his chest. So she was agreeable? He was genuinely puzzled by her answer. But he was also strangely flattered and encouraged by it.

“But…,” he started, stopped, and then started again. “I am not a young man. Surely you would want a husband closer to your own age.”

Jeniver looked up at him, then. “How old are you?”

Gallus scratched his ear. “I have seen thirty-seven years.”

“And I have seen eighteen. I fail to see the issue in our ages.”

Gallus blinked, somewhat stumped by her answer. “Then I suppose there is none,” he said. “But I already have two children you would be a mother to. This does not concern you?”

“Nay.”

“You would not be permitted to be cruel to them in any fashion.”

“If they need to be disciplined, I will not back away. Raising a spoilt child does the entire world a disservice.”

Speechless, Gallus looked up at his mother for something of support or answers. Honey was the only person he allowed to discipline his daughters and he could see that she was smiling at Jeniver’s answers. When Honey saw that her son was looking at her, she nodded her head confidently.

“She will make a worthy Countess of Coventry,” she assured her son. “Marry her, Gallus. She will make you happy.”

Gallus returned his attention to Jeniver, who was still looking up at him quite openly. She was such a beautiful creature. He had thought so since the beginning. Gazing down into that lovely face, all of the hesitance and opposition died within him. He couldn’t think on the guilt he had felt for thinking another woman attractive other than his wife. He knew, deep down, that Catheryn would have wanted him to be happy. She had been a generous and understanding woman.

But on the heels of warm memories of Catheryn came unpleasant thoughts of Hugh Bigod and the whole betrothal business with his daughter, but Gallus refused to entertain them. This marriage might have repercussions with the man, but in truth it was a convenient excuse to keep him from any Bigod betrothal. Hugh would have to accept the marriage and find another victim for his daughter. Besides, a future with Jeniver seemed much more appealing than a future with one of the Bigod brood. As Gallus’ resistance to the marriage slipped away, he finally turned to the priest with the dirty beard.

“Very well,” he said, as if he had no more argument to give. “You have a marriage mass to perform. Get on with it.”

Jeniver felt her heart swell although she knew not why, exactly. Perhaps it was because he did indeed want her. She was accepted. She was no longer alone. Perhaps she would spend the rest of her life listening to tales of singed buttocks and, for a young lady who had spent much of her years with only her father and a few servants and knights as company, there was appeal in belonging to a larger family.

Although she was still greatly mourning her father’s state of health, the light of hope that this marriage had given her was of comfort. Her father must have known that when he had begged Gallus to marry her. He must have known that it would give her some optimism in her days of sorrow. To face the possibility of losing one man but to gain another was something of a comfort.

She was lost in her thoughts as Gallus grasped her by the elbow and led her to the entry to the chapel, as it was customary to perform the ceremony at the door before moving into the chapel for the nuptials. The priest with the dirty beard set down his bread, brushed off his robes, and collected his holy book. Gallus and Jeniver stood just outside the chapel door, in the darkness, as the priest began to intone the wedding mass while back in the chapel, Maximus and Tiberius helped Honey to sit on one of the benches. The soft light of the flickering tapers provided gentle illumination in the background for the holy and binding ceremony.

Truth be told, Jeniver didn’t pay a good deal of attention to what was being said. As the priest droned on, she was still overwhelmed with the marriage, and with the day in general, and it was difficult for her to focus. She simply did what she was told to do at the appropriate times, gazing at Gallus and realizing the man was growing increasingly handsome in her eyes. He is now my husband she thought to herself in awe. Never had she imagined such a man to share her life with. But she was fairly certain he was not thinking such warm thoughts of her as she was thinking of him. If she had to earn the man’s affection, so be it. She hoped that she could.

The marriage mass ended when the priest held their hands together and prayed over them. Usually, there was a type of binding ceremony with silk bindings, but with no bindings present, the priest simply put his hand over theirs and intoned the blessing and with that, Lady Jeniver ferch Gaerwen became the Lady Jeniver de Shera, Countess of Coventry.

Gallus was the first one to kiss her politely on the cheek, signifying his acceptance of her as his wife. It had been a warm and gentle kiss, and truly the first time she had been kissed by a man other than her father. She smiled timidly at him and he returned the gesture, a faint but undeniably warm indication. Jeniver rather liked the big dimple in his right cheek and the big cleft in his chin. In fact, there was nothing about his face that she didn’t like but further scrutiny of the man was cut off as Maximus grasped her by the arms and kissed her on the cheek. He was followed by Tiberius with a big grin who managed to hug her as well until Honey called him off.

“Ty, release her,” she said. “She is your brother’s wife now and you will respect those boundaries. Gal, take your wife and retreat to your chamber.”

Honey was giving orders quite ably and her sons obeyed purely out of habit, but Gallus faltered for a moment. This marriage had been unexpected and unplanned, and he had a good deal to do this night for he had planned to depart for London on the morrow. As Jeniver accepted a congratulatory kiss from Honey, Gallus turned to his brothers.

“Make sure the men are prepared to depart on the morrow,” he said, his voice low. “I do not intend that this marriage should delay our journey to London, so make sure everything is set.”

Maximus nodded. “We will be ready, have no doubt,” he said, “but what about ap Gaerwen? If the man dies, will we return?”

Gallus grunted softly with regret. So much of his life over the past day had become complicated and unexpected.

“If he dies, I told her I would send men to escort her back to Wales with her father’s body but that was before I married the woman,” he muttered. “Obviously, she cannot go without me and I am due in London, so if ap Gaerwen passes, his return to Wales for burial is going to have to wait.”

Maximus lifted his eyebrows at his brother, expectantly. “I assume you are going to tell her that?”

“I will have to.”

“Then we bury him here?”

Gallus nodded. “See if there is room for him down below in the vault,” he mumbled. “We already have a coffin for him so let us see if we have burial space as well. We will put him there for the time being, at least until we can move him back to Wales.”

Tiberius slapped his brother on the shoulder and moved back into the chapel, presumably to see about space for ap Gaerwen down in the vault. Maximus started to say something but he noted that Jeniver and Honey were walking in their direction so he excused himself and followed his younger brother into the chapel. Gallus, now alone, faced his mother and new wife.

“Go now,” Honey said before he could speak. “I will see you on the morrow.”

Gallus looked at Jeniver, who was gazing back at him with a hint of apprehension although she was trying very hard to hide it. Without a word to his mother, he took Jeniver by the elbow and headed back to the keep.

Their walk was a silent one, in the darkness of Isenhall’s small bailey with the sounds of night all around them. Gallus wasn’t honestly sure what to say to the woman because, much like her, he was rather overwhelmed with the speed in which he had become a married man. Overwhelmed but resigned. Resigned… and just the littlest bit curious. He’d managed to acquire quite a beauty and a hereditary princess at that, so there was a good deal for him to think over, to reconcile, and to become accustomed to, not the least of which he had married the heiress to the ancient kingdom of Anglesey. Aye, he had much to think over.

But that would have to wait, at least until tomorrow, because tonight he was expected to perform his husbandly duties. He hadn’t performed as a husband in over a year. Not that he had missed it, but the more he thought on that particular aspect of the marriage, the more interested in it he became. He already knew that his new wife had a luscious figure– he’d noticed it earlier. Now, that figure was to be his, rightfully so. What had his brother said to him earlier in the day? Taunting him with lumpy Bigod lady-flesh? Gallus had to admit that he was vastly relieved that was not to be the case. Instead, he’d had something of a goddess dropped right into his lap.

“My lord?” came a soft female voice.

Jolted from his thoughts, Gallus looked down at Jeniver, who was looking up at him. “You do not have to address me formally in private,” he told her. “You may call me Gallus if it pleases you. I am your husband, after all. It would seem rather strange to be so formal.”

Jeniver smiled timidly. “It does,” she agreed. “But we have only just met so it seems odd not to address you with formality.”

He wriggled his eyebrows in agreement. “That is true,” he said. “We are essentially strangers.”

Jeniver thought on that statement a moment as the steps leading into the big, darkened keep loomed ahead. Their footfalls, so soft against the dirt of the bailey, briefly filled the gritty silence.

“We… we would not be strangers if I told you something about me and you told me something about you,” she offered. “We could come to know each other that way.”

Gallus led her up the broad, stone steps. “I think it is a brilliant idea,” he said. “Would you like me to go first?”

Jeniver nodded, pleased that he liked her suggestion. “I would.”

He smiled as the dark innards of the keep swallowed them up. Now, they were in the entry, the room where Gaerwen had bled all over the floor, and Gallus hastened to keep her mind off what the room meant to her. Fortunately, it was mostly dark so she couldn’t see evidence of bloodstains still on the floor. Still, he somewhat blocked that corner of the room with his body as he directed her towards the big staircase that led to the upper level.

“Let me see,” he said thoughtfully. “I was born on the Ides of March and my father named me Gallus, after his father. My family descends from a Roman legion that was stationed in Chester and married into the Saxon nobility.”

They were ascending the steps now, dimly lit by torches shoved into wall brackets. The smoke from the burning fat they were soaked in stank up the musty air.

“Very interesting,” Jeniver said. “But how do you know your ancestors were Romans? That was a very long time ago.”

Gallus gave her a half-grin, barely illuminated in the darkness. “Don’t you believe me?”

“Of course I do. But de Shera does not sound like a Roman name.”

He nodded in agreement. “It was, long ago,” he said. “Family legend states that we descend from the House of Shericus, an ancient and noble Roman family. When my ancestor came with his legion many centuries ago, the name was shortened to Shera. My father remembers his grandfather speaking of the days before the conquest when our family was still known as Shera. It was the Normans who changed it to de Shera, or ‘of Shera’, in order to make it more fitting with their own customs and surnames. Having an ancestor who sought to work with the Normans rather than oppose them, he agreed to the change and the House of de Shera was born.”

By this time, they had reached the top of the steps and emerged onto the level where Jeniver’s puppy was sleeping in her borrowed chamber. There was one torch on this level, smoking heavily, as Gallus went to the chamber where the puppy happened to be and opened the door.

“Then your family managed to keep their lands after the Normans came?” she asked as she entered the room. “I’ve not heard many tales of families who were able to.”

Gallus shrugged, shutting the door softly behind them. Jeniver had just picked up her puppy because she thought they would be retreating to another room. When she saw him close the door, she looked at him questioningly but Gallus simply threw the bolt, locking them in.

“This is my chamber,” he explained quietly. “I was honored to offer it to you for your stay.”

Jeniver nodded in realization, looking around the dark room as Gallus used a flint and stone to light the fat, tallow taper near the bed.

“It is quite a lavish chamber,” she said. “I was wondering who it belonged to.”

Gallus went around to the other side of the big bed and lit the other taper, throwing the room into a gentle golden glow.

“My wife and I shared it,” he said. “She is the one who appointed it. It looks rather like a woman lives here, doesn’t it?”

Jeniver smiled because he asked the question with some chagrin. “It does.”

He snorted at the humor of it. “It reminds me a great deal of her,” he said, sobering. “I have not had the heart to change anything about it.”

He set the flint and stone down, moving to the big wardrobe against the southern wall of the chamber. Jeniver watched him as he moved, his graceful stalking gait. She was coming to see, for the first time, his sorrow over his wife. It was in his tone of voice but more than that, it was in his movements. Now, in the quiet of the chamber, things were beginning to become evident.

“Your mother told me what happened,” she said softly. “I am very sorry for your loss.”

Gallus pulled open the wardrobe doors and a tumble of clothing fell out, right onto the floor. He just stood there and looked at it as it piled up around his boots.

“As am I,” he muttered, as if remembering those days when his wife was alive and all things were joyful. It was a brief reflection and nothing more. Then, he turned his attention to the innards of the cabinet. “But it is of no matter. She is gone and life marches onward.”

Jeniver could feel more of his sadness in that brief statement. “It is no wonder that you did not wish to remarry,” she ventured softly. “You are still grieving your loss. I suppose I did not understand that until now.”

Gallus stopped rummaging through the wardrobe and looked at her. “It is of no matter,” he repeated. “It is done. You and I are married.”

Jeniver thought that perhaps there was something resentful in that statement. It made her sad although she couldn’t figure out why. Was she sad for him? For her?

“You are doing what your mother wants you to do,” she said after a moment, perching her bottom on the edge of the bed. “I am doing as my father wished. Are our parents so selfish that they failed to take into account your feelings and mine? I had always hoped that my marriage would be a happy one, mayhap even an affectionate one, but I am not entirely sure how that can take place if you resent this marriage in general.”

Gallus stopped digging through the wardrobe. He kicked aside the pile at his feet and moved in her direction.

“I do not resent it,” he said. “In time, I will become accustomed to it, just as you will. I have every hope that this will be a happy union. I would not have married you had I thought otherwise.”

“But you still mourn your wife.”

“I do. But that has no bearing on you.”

Jeniver looked up at the man, seeing the strong lines of his face, hearing the sincerity in his voice. She wanted to believe him very badly.

“If you are quite certain,” she murmured.

He nodded firmly. “I am,” he said. He wanted to be away from the painful subject because he had only recently fought off the guilt his marriage to Jeniver had provoked. He turned the focus onto something else. “Now, will you tell me something about you? You know all about me and I know practically nothing about you.”

She smiled hesitantly although she was relieved that the conversation was taking a more pleasant turn. “I do not know all about you,” she corrected. “I am sure there are a few things I do not know.”

He returned her smile, winking at her as he returned to the wardrobe. “The things you do not know are the things you do not need to know,” he told her, although it was lightly done. “I am sure my brothers will fill in the gaps with lies and half-truths. Whatever they tell you, do not listen to them.”

“Even if they tell me you are a wonderful and generous man?”

He looked at her, feigning shock. “If they told you that, it would be with an ulterior motive,” he said. “Beware of Ty. The man has a wicked sense of humor.”

“And Max?”

Gallus grunted. “He is the quiet one,” he said. “But when he does speak, it is usually quite serious or quite deadly. But he has been known to tease in his time.”

Jeniver laughed softly. “I will be on guard with them, I swear it,” she said. “As for me, I am an only child of Gaerwen and Tacey. My ancestors have ruled the Isle of M?n for centuries until they were absorbed by the House of Gwynedd. Because my father wanted me to have an education, I fostered in Scotland for a few years before returning to Wales. I believe I told you that we were returning from Paris in celebration of my eighteenth year when we found ourselves on your doorstep. Never did I imagine when I awoke this morning that this would be the end of my day.”

Gallus watched shadows of sorrow cross her face as she thought of the tragedy that had befallen her that morning. She was trying to be brave about it and he respected that. He also understood it, showing bravery when all you wanted to do was break down. In that way, he and Jeniver were very much alike. He also understood that she was baring her soul to him a bit. Perhaps it warranted his own soul-baring. For some reason, he couldn’t help himself and the words started to come forth before he could stop them.

“The day started out just like any other,” he said softly. “It was misty in the morning, as it often is here so close to the river, and my wife was up early to go about her duties. She enjoyed working in the kitchens, you see. She had a great affinity for good cooking and she spent a good deal of time trying new recipes and flavors. On this day, she wanted to go to a stretch of forest that is not far from here to collect mushrooms. I was busy and could not go with her so I sent Maximus. He and my wife and a few soldiers and servants set out before noon to collect mushrooms but in short order, they returned and Maximus was carrying my wife. Her horse had stumbled in a hole and she had been pitched off, striking her head on a rock. She died the next morning without ever regaining consciousness. So, you see, I do understand what it is like to wake up in the morning, having no idea how your day is going to end. I felt as if something inside of me died that day, too. I have yet to gain it back.”

Jeniver was listening to him intently, surprised he was revealing something so personal to her. She thought very carefully on her reply.

“Do you feel as if your grief has eased in time?” she asked softly. “I… I think I am still in shock. All of this… everything that has happened… it is still shocking. I will wake up tomorrow to wonder if it has all been a dream.”

Gallus pulled something out of the wardrobe and stepped away from it. His expression was somber. “Nay,” he muttered. “It is not a dream. Your father is badly injured and you are now my wife. But I will make you a promise… I will do all I can not to add to your grief. I will try to make this marriage as pleasant as possible.”

“As will I.”

“Then let us hope we are both true to our pledges.”

Jeniver simply nodded, looking at her hands as they were folded on her lap. “What will happen now?” she asked after a moment.

He looked at her as he began to pull off his tunic. “What do you mean?”

She sighed heavily. What did she mean? “I assume that I am to live here now,” she said. “Many of my possessions are still at Rhydilian Castle and I should like to retrieve them someday if we are not to live there. And what will happen to Rhydilian? If my father passes, it will belong to you.”

He pulled the tunic over his head and went to work on the mail he was wearing. “We do not have to worry about that tonight,” he said as he bent over and shook off the mail coat. “We can discuss all of that when I return from London.”

She looked at him, then. “You are leaving?”

He nodded. “I am expected in London,” he said. “I should have left today but circumstances prevented it. I have business in London and I am not sure how long it will keep me there.”

Jeniver thought on his departure. “Then… then you are leaving me here?”

The mail coat was draped over a wooden frame and he began to unfasten the ties of his sweaty, dirty under tunic. “Your father is here,” he reminded her. “If he survives this injury, he will not be able to travel for quite some time. Moreover, my mother is here. You will be a good companion for her. She likes you.”

Jeniver wasn’t pleased with the idea of being left at Isenhall while he went off to London. It was a strange place, with strange people. She liked Lady Honey, that was true, but she didn’t want to remain behind. She wanted to take her father and go home.

“Forgive me, but I see no reason why I must remain here if you are leaving for London,” she said. “As soon as my father can travel, I would like to take him home. You did promise me an escort for that purpose.”

He shook his head. “That was before you were the Countess of Coventry,” he said. “This country is in some form of turmoil right now. You would be an excellent prize to those who oppose me.”

Jeniver had no idea what he was speaking of. “I do not understand,” she said. “Who opposes you?”

He pulled his dirty under tunic off, revealing his spectacular naked chest. He was broad of shoulder, with a muscled chest, massive arms and neck, and a trim torso. In fact, Jeniver was so surprised by all of the nude male flesh that was suddenly in her field of vision that she nearly fell off the bed. Worse still, he was heading in her direction and she stumbled to her feet as he reached over her and pulled back the coverlet.

“You will understand, in time,” he told her. “But I do not find that appropriate talk for my wedding night. Shall we retire?”

Jeniver was backing away from the bed, overwhelmed by the sight and scent of a half-naked man. She had been calm until this moment, but now, she was suddenly very nervous.

“Why?” she blurted.

Gallus looked at her, amused. “Because that is what married people do on their wedding night,” he said. He could see her apprehension quite clearly. “You needn’t be afraid. I promise I will be gentle.”

She knew exactly what he meant and her cheeks flamed a dull shade of red. She turned her back on him so he would not see her level of embarrassment. She wasn’t daft. She knew that the marriage was expected to be consummated and she’d known that all along, but the reality of it was quite different. His naked flesh against mine…

“But… but we were coming to know one another,” she stammered. “I thought we would continue… talking for a while.”

“How long did you wish to talk?”

“A… a while.”

“All night?”

She simply shrugged, knowing she sounded like an idiot, and Gallus fought off a grin. He could hear the nervousness in her voice. Her back was to him and he thought that perhaps leaving her to fear the unknown was the worst thing he could do. The longer they delayed, possibly the more upset she would become. Quietly, he moved up behind her, standing close enough that he could feel her body heat against his. For a man who hadn’t known sexual relations for over a year, he was instantly aroused. He couldn’t help it.

“I do not wish to make you uncomfortable,” he whispered. “I know this is frightening, made worse by the fact that you do not know me. If you wish to talk all night, then we shall. But I hope you will at least allow me to show you the more pleasant aspects of marriage.”

Jeniver could feel him against her back and her breathing started coming in heavy pants. She couldn’t control it. Trembling, she started to rub her arms, as if chilled.

“I… I do not even know where to start,” she stuttered.

His smile turned seductive even though she couldn’t see it. “Will you allow me to show you?”

She could only nod. She was frightened, that was true, but there was also an element of excitement to what she was feeling, something she couldn’t adequately explain. It all had to do with Gallus’ proximity to her, the tone of his voice, and the manly, musky scent he seemed to give off. As she stood there and trembled, Gallus lowered his head and gently kissed her on a small area of bared shoulder.

Jeniver gasped at the gesture, something that sent bolts of lightning through her body. It weakened her knees. Gallus must have sensed her excitement because his arms went about her waist, holding her fast as his lips suckled on her shoulder, moving swiftly to her neck. Jeniver, having never experienced such a thing in her life, lost her balance and toppled back into him. Gallus simply picked her up, his mouth attached to her neck, and put her, belly down, onto the bed.

He stretched his big body on top of her, arms still around her as his kisses grew more forceful. She was supple, soft, and incredibly delicious. The more she gasped, from both excitement and perhaps astonishment, the more aroused he became. Soon, the arms around her torso were moving and his hands moved to her round, full breasts, fondling them through her dress. He could feel her nipples harden, reacting to his touch, and it drove him mad with desire. As Jeniver cried out softly with surprise as well as passion, he bit down gently on her shoulder where it joined to her neck, suckling furiously.

But it didn’t stop there. He knew he’d left a mark but he didn’t care. All he could think of was bedding the woman, of burying himself within her body, and the hands that were gently fondling her breasts began to move to her skirts. He began to hike them up, his mouth still on her neck and using his body weight to keep her pinned to the mattress. As the skirts came up, his hands stroked her soft thighs, tender and white. Beneath him, Jeniver’s breathing had become one long gasp of pleasure and discovery. He didn’t know if she was frightened or nervous any longer. She wasn’t acting as if she was. She wasn’t stopping him. She was simply letting him do as he pleased.

The skirts came up, exposing her soft, white buttocks to him. Gallus’ hands were on her flesh but the moment he caught sight of her rounded bottom, perfectly shaped, his mouth left her neck and he immediately planted his face on her tender, smooth behind. He heard Jeniver yelp as he began to suckle and nibble at them, but she wasn’t trying to pull away. She was simply holding fast to the coverlet for support as Gallus lost himself in her delicious backside. Biting gently, fondling, and suckling, he feasted on her.

But he was feasting with a purpose. The jewel he sought must be prepared for his conquest. Otherwise, it would be painful and uncomfortable for her. He pulled her thighs apart, being presented with the target he sought. Covered by a soft matting of dark curls, he could see that she was already wet and waiting for his entry. Her body understood his actions even if her mind did not. As he returned his mouth to her soft buttocks, his fingers began to probe the damp curls.

Jeniver startled, shifted, and nearly pulled away but Gallus held her fast. He inserted a finger into her, listening to her grunt and gasp, and he began to mimic the act of lovemaking, thrusting his fingers in and out of her body, acquainting her with his touch. On her belly, Jeniver buried her face in the coverlet, panting and squirming as Gallus put his fingers in her. In fact, he had prepared her so well for his eventual entry that when he finally made the move and carefully thrust his manhood into her from behind, she hardly realized what he was doing. Only when he thrust harder and she experienced a slight stab of pain as her maidenhood breached did she realized he had entered her, as a husband enters a wife.

Gallus lay down on top of her as he began the slow, steady thrusts within her. She was still fully clothed from the waist up but her skirts were up around her waist, her lower body nude to him, and he found it incredibly arousing. In a sense, perhaps it was easier for her to accept because she couldn’t see any naked bodies– hers or his– and all she could feel was utter pleasure. Her mind was free to wander, to experience this act of a husband upon a wife, without embarrassment. She wasn’t nervous any longer. She was coming to enjoy it.

Gallus’ thrusts began to increase in speed and in power, his hands moving underneath her to hold her pelvis against his. It was an experience beyond what he could have ever imagined, something sweet and arousing more than he had ever experienced. When his fingers began to stroke the fluff of curls between her legs, Jeniver instinctively opened her legs wider and Gallus swooped in, driving himself deeper.

His fingers, seeking, brought her to her first release quickly as her pants of pleasure filled the chamber. He could hear her weeping softly, with both pleasure and surprise, the surprise of experiencing something she had never known before. It was enough to throw him over the edge and, after a series of hard thrusts, he released himself deep into her body.

Even after he climaxed, he continued to move simply because the sensations were so delicious. Slowly, he stroked in and out of her, his mouth gently kissing her neck. He was lost in a warm liquid afterglow, reveling in the first coupling with his new wife. He was stunned to realize how beautiful it had been and how incredibly alluring the woman was. Up until a few minutes ago, he had thought of it as a duty and nothing more. In just that brief span of time, it had become much more than a duty. It had becoming overwhelming, emotions bonding him to the woman like he’d never felt before. That was when the guilt and confusion set in, swamping him.

You can’t feel anything for another woman! It nearly killed you when Catheryn died! You cannot feel something for Jeniver!

Christ… you already feel something for her!

When Jeniver awoke in the morning, her husband was missing. She found out from Honey that he had left for London before dawn without a word of farewell.