Chapter Eight
“You have a husband, my dear.”
Catalina had no idea what Harald was talking about.
In their small section of the competitor and visitor encampment on the outskirts of the tournament field, she had just settled her girls in for the night in the fortified carriage that she and her children had traveled to the tournament in when Harald summoned her.
Leaving Adabella and Ines tucked into one of the small benches that doubled as a bed, she had just exited the carriage through the rear door when Harald had made his odd statement.
She looked at him curiously.
“A what?” she asked.
“Husband.”
Catalina still wasn’t clear on what he was saying.
“Papa, forgive me, but you are talking nonsense,” she said, pushing past him and heading for the small cooking fire next to the carriage.
She picked up an earthenware pitcher. “Do you know where I can find fresh water? There must be a well around here.”
Harald followed her. “Sit down,” he told her, gently grasping her arm. “I must speak with you.”
She let him direct her onto a stool near the fire. “What about?”
“Your husband.”
She sighed with growing irritation. “I do not have one.”
“You do now.”
“What on earth are you speaking of?”
Harald sat on a collapsible chair, one made from leather on a sturdy frame, facing her across the fire.
“My dear, you must remarry,” he said. “You know you must remarry. I have a great legacy and you are the guardian of that legacy. However, when I die, you cannot be unmarried. There must be a husband to pass that legacy on to, including the Earldom of Mercia. Including the wealth my forefathers have built over the years, a great deal of wealth. It must go to your husband.”
Catalina had a horrible suspicion. “Papa, what have you done?”
“I found you a husband.”
Catalina shot to her feet. “We have been over this,” she said. “I will choose my own husband. You promised that I could.”
Harald didn’t rise to her anger. “And you have deliberately avoided choosing one,” he said. “Do not deny it, for it would be a lie. You have had perfectly acceptable suitors, whom you have summarily dismissed.”
She was angry, but he was right. There had been at least three suitors since Alfred had passed away and she’d brushed off all of them, not to mention the two friends of Harald’s who had wanted her for their sons. She’d brushed them off, too.
“They were not of my choosing,” she said, knowing it was a weak excuse. “I will choose my own husband.”
“Who?” he said, almost sarcastically. “Le Kerque? For some reason, he seems to be fond of you, but I do not want him for you and I cannot wait for you to choose a husband because you might not do it until I am on my deathbed. At that point, there would be nothing I could do about it if he were unworthy.”
“But—!”
“Nay,” he said sharply, cutting her off.
He pointed a bony finger at her. “You will listen to me and listen well, Catalina. This is not a matter up for debate. You did your duty and married, but all you could manage to produce were two daughters. We need a son from you if my legacy is to survive. If you remain a stubborn widow, with only two daughters to your name, then the king will swoop in, take everything from you, and force you to marry a man who could treat you like dirt beneath his feet, and there would be nothing you could do about it. I realize you want to choose your own husband, but you hardly leave Eckington as it is. How do you expect to choose a man when you refuse to socialize with anyone?”
Catalina was red in the face by the time he finished. “I am here, aren’t I?” she snapped back. “I am out in the world, as you want me to be.”
“So you are.”
“Then let me start looking for a husband now,” she said, trying to keep the panic from her voice. “Let me—”
He cut her off again. “Nay,” he said. “It has been decided for you. I spoke to Lord Hereford and he has a prince in mind for you.”
Catalina was gearing up for a major row, but his statement confused her. She faltered. “A prince?” she repeated. “What prince?”
Harald could see he had her attention. “The brother of a king,” he said.
“Well, he would be king if his country had not been sacked. The man’s brother is the Earl of Deira and your future husband is a prince from a family a thousand years old.
He bears royal blood, as do you, so the sons you bear him will inherit the Earldom of Mercia.
They will be men of royal blood, a fine legacy for my ancestors.
You can do no better, Catalina. You are an old woman with two children. Decent, eligible men want virgins.”
He was insulting her. But, then again, he always insulted her and never realized he was doing so.
Harald could be oblivious sometimes, unaware how much he hurt his daughter, how much he battered her sense of self-worth.
Sadly, Alfred used to do the same thing.
She was beautiful, and bright, but Alfred’s first unkind words came when she bore a daughter, and then more unkind words came when she bore a second daughter.
The man had wanted sons and only got girl children.
Very difficult for him to swallow.
“If I am such an undesirable prospect, how did this prince agree to it?” she asked, her tone full of hurt. “Surely he would not want such an old hag as me.”
Harald laughed softly, choosing to overlook the pain in her tone.
“That is a good question,” he said. “The truth is that he must take a wife, so he is being forced into this as much as you are. All you need to do is marry him and bear his sons, my dear. You do not have to like him. If he is intolerable enough, I will allow you to live under my roof. But you must marry. Am I making myself clear?”
He was. But he made it sound so transactional, as if there were nothing involved other than a contract. That was it. All the sentiment of buying a horse. Harald’s disappointment in her being born a woman was never more evident than it was at that moment. Frankly, Catalina was disappointed, too.
Had she been born male, she’d at least have a choice over whom she married.
This was like a nightmare.
Disgusted and overwhelmed, Catalina turned away from her father, refusing to look at him.
The truth was that she’d been away from the man for the duration of her marriage, several years at least, and had only returned after Alfred’s death.
They were only just coming to know one another again.
They’d never been particularly close to begin with, as her father seemed to be aloof to women in general, so his heavy-handed control of her future didn’t sit well with her.
“You have brokered this contract to simply perpetuate the de Efford name and titles,” she said. “It has nothing to do with an alliance, or money, or even affection, but carrying on your bloodlines. I want to make sure I’m clear on this.”
“What else is there?”
She did look at him, then. “The joining of two families is one,” she said, annoyed. “Two allied families joining to strengthen a relationship or alliance. If it were that, I could understand it, but this… this man is not even a de Lohr. Or anyone of note. Is he? What is his name?”
Harald shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “But I know that he serves de Lohr.”
Catalina looked at him with some horror. “You do not even know the man’s name?”
Harald yawned, clearly bored with the conversation. “All I know is that he comes highly recommended by Hereford,” he said. “You will marry him on the morrow and we will be done with this.”
Catalina was dumbfounded. “And then what?” she said. “My children and I go off with the man to his home, entering into a situation that could be dangerous or deadly or horrible? Do you even care what becomes of us?”
She was speaking through clenched teeth by the time she was finished, and Harald was no longer yawning. He was looking at her, brow furrowed, displeased by her words and her reaction to what he felt was as good a situation as she could hope for.
“Ungrateful,” he finally said. “I have done my best for you and this is how you thank me?”
Catalina went swiftly from being dumbfounded to outraged. “I have listened to you, so you will listen to me,” she snarled. “If I die, if my girls die, then your legacy is finished once and for all. There will be no grandsons to carry on your grand legacy. Did you ever think of that?”
Harald sighed sharply. “De Lohr would not have recommended him were he the brutal sort, so you do not have to be hysterical about it,” he said, standing up from the chair he’d been sitting on.
“I am retiring for the night. Be prepared to marry on the morrow. That is all I have to say to you about it.”
With that, he headed off for the canvas tent that had been raised for him by his men, the one bearing the dark blue, yellow, and white of de Barenton.
Harald would sleep in his tent while Catalina and her girls had use of the carriage.
It was cold in the carriage, without the brazier that would be in Harald’s tent for warmth, but that didn’t much matter to Harald.
As long as he was comfortable, all was well in the world.
And his daughter was, thankfully, betrothed.
Catalina knew that was what he was thinking.
He hadn’t been thrilled when she returned home, even if it was because she’d had no choice, so certainly he wouldn’t have any trouble finding her a husband with a hasty betrothal.
He had promised her, once, that she could choose her husband, but he’d broken his word.
That wasn’t surprising, because he broke his word to her all the time.
He didn’t seem to think it meant much to keep it.
Probably because he didn’t think much of her.
Maybe he’d brought her to this tournament purely to marry her off.
Now, it was all becoming clear.
Frustrated, and upset, Catalina returned to the carriage to find her cloak, as the night was damp and temperatures were dropping.
She checked on her sleeping children, both of them wrapped up in heavy blankets and sleeping well.
She wasn’t exactly tired, thinking that she needed to take a walk and reconcile herself to her future, which happened to be marrying a man she’d never met.
Tiptoeing out of the carriage, she quietly closed the door and donned the cloak.
There were a few soldiers on guard duty, so she knew the children would be protected.
Her father’s soldiers seemed to care something for the three women even if her father really didn’t.
“My lady?”
Startled, she turned to see Lance coming out of the darkness.
He wasn’t wearing his armor, or the full regalia she’d seen him in since leaving Eckington, but rather clad in a simple tunic and breeches.
His blond hair was combed back, hanging just above his shoulders.
She’d seen him with his helm on so much that she’d forgotten the man had blond hair.
She’d forgotten that he was rather handsome in an avenging-angel sort of way.
“You startled me,” she said, hand on her chest to still her fluttering heart. “I thought you would be at the feast.”
“I was,” he said, coming to a halt a few feet away. “Is that where you are going? I would be happy to escort you to the great hall. There is enough food and drink there to feed most of London.”
She smiled weakly. “I hadn’t really thought about going there,” she admitted. “I was simply going to walk around. The girls are asleep, but I am not tired.”
“May I walk with you?”
Her smile faded. “Thank you, but I would prefer to go alone,” she said. “It is not that I do not want your company—it is simply that everyone likes to be alone once in a while. Tonight is that time for me.”
He nodded. “I understand,” he said. “But with so many armed men here for the tournament, it is probably not safe for you to walk alone. I can follow well behind you so you will not see me, but I feel strongly that you should not walk without an escort.”
So much for her walking alone to clear her head. Still, she wasn’t going to give up without a fight. “I will not come to harm,” she insisted. “I would rather go alone.”
“I must insist, my lady.”
That brought her temper. “Insist all you wish,” she said.
“Insist until the second coming of Christ. I do not care. I simply want to walk a little, alone, and I do not want an escort. I do not want you trailing behind me like a dog or walking alongside me as if we are companions. I am tired of men making decisions for me, so in this instance, I will make the decision myself. I am going alone.”
He backed off a little. “I did not mean to upset you, my lady,” he said calmly. “I am simply concerned for your welfare.”
“I did not ask it of you,” she said hotly. “Therefore, just leave me alone. If I need you, I will scream.”
That didn’t please Lance in the least. “My lady, I suspect that not all of this anger is directed at me,” he said. “If I have annoyed you, my apologies, but I am simply doing my duty. You cannot become angry at me for doing my duty.”
She frowned. “I am not your duty,” she said. “I am nothing to you. You serve my father and that is all. Go see to him if you are looking for something to do, because you will find no work here. I am simply going for a walk.”
With the cloak pulled tightly around her, she headed off toward the warmth and light of Lioncross Abbey Castle. Lance watched her go, once again feeling disappointed by an interaction with her, but he wasn’t going to give up. Lady Catalina was simply a challenge. A very beautiful challenge.
Nay, he wasn’t going to give up in the least.