Chapter 6 #2
“I can and I do. Lothair is a healer most skilled.”
Isabella shook her head, unconvinced. “No healer is so skilled as this. Only a witch could divine such a detail with her sorcery, and he is no witch.”
“Lothair is so skilled.” Amaury’s gaze flicked, though, a sign that he fabricated a tale, and that hint infuriated Isabella.
“You concoct a tale, sir, to justify your brothers’ deeds, when you were the one to ask for honesty between us,” she accused. “You make an accusation so you might have a crime to lay at my father’s door. You would provoke a fight, and there is peril aplenty in this, my lord.”
“There is truth in it as well.”
“Nay, there cannot be. If you believe your father’s passing was unnatural, then you deceive yourself to no good end.
He died, as old men do.” She retreated a few steps, hating that he wished to fabricate an accusation against her family.
She eyed him, noting his resolute manner.
“You invite disaster in this, sir. I should flee your side now, before your seed does root. I should save that child from what I know will be his or her fate.”
“You should heed your lord husband,” Amaury said softly, his gaze vivid blue. “We will ride to Marnis on the morrow. We will take the horse and I will apologize on my brothers’ behalf.”
“Better to say you found it wandering,” Isabella said.
“I will not lie!”
She wanted to roar in frustration. “And your honor will see you dead, sir!” She pivoted and marched toward the tent, furious with Amaury for being so stubborn, for failing to heed her advice.
For putting himself in peril.
He was the sole man who had ever shown her a consideration, and already Isabella found herself determined to defend his interests and even his life. But did he heed her? Nay, he listened to his foolish brothers instead!
She pivoted to find Amaury staring after her, his arms folded across his chest and his features in shadow.
“You are all either witless or simple at Montvieux, and not a one of you will survive to see this holding rebuilt. I wish it might be otherwise, but what can be done when a man will not listen to reason?” she concluded, then ducked into the tent.
She stood, staring about herself in the darkness, her heart racing and her fists clenched.
How could Amaury fail to see the danger in this?
Isabella choked back a sob of frustration, then saw the wilted coronet of daisies where it had fallen.
It had not lasted even one night and neither had her hopes of a good marriage.
Amaury had revealed his alliance to be primarily with his kin.
There was no doubt of the decision he would make if compelled to choose between her and them.
Indeed, he already had made it.
Her father, much to Isabella’s dismay, had been right.
“Oh, you have made an enviable match,” Roland said, then Sebastian chuckled at his side.
“She is the daughter of father’s enemy, she is plain, she is deformed and she is a harridan,” Sebastian agreed with a cruel laugh. “What more? Do you think she is barren as well?”
Amaury spun and seized the tabard of his youngest brother, lifting Sebastian from the ground and giving him a shake. “And she is my lady wife,” he said through his teeth, watching Sebastian’s eyes widen in surprise. “You will address her with courtesy and respect.”
“I will do no such thing,” Sebastian replied.
“Then do not return from Provins,” Amaury said.
He hated that it came to this choice, but he had to acknowledge the merit of Isabella’s warning.
Though he had not discerned the peril immediately, she knew those of Marnis far better than he – if she feared Denis’ retribution for this incident, then he should take heed.
“Ride on and seek your fortune, but do not return to imperil those of this estate.”
“And so you choose her over your own blood,” Sebastian said with disgust. He shook himself free of Amaury’s grasp. He spat on the ground, then straightened, eyes flashing. “Then I shall exceed your expectations, brother, and leave Montvieux this very moment.”
“You need not do as much,” Amaury began, but Sebastian had already flung himself in the direction of his belongings.
He seized a saddlebag, then halted beside Lothair.
He pointed to the north. “There is a town half a day’s ride to the north with a tavern that offers good fare.
I will wait for you there for one night only. ”
“You cede to Amaury’s request in that then,” Lothair said quietly.
“I recognize that he is more protective of his friends than his family,” Sebastian said hotly.
“And there is merit in two men travelling together.” He granted Amaury a look of disdain.
“I will not linger here for one moment longer than I must, but I will ride to Provins with you. From thence, I may find a patron and a tournament.”
“I thank you,” Lothair said. “I will meet you there on the morrow.”
Sebastian offered his hand and the pair shook solemnly, then he strode toward his horse without a backward glance. A young boy ran after him, undoubtedly his squire. Amaury stood silently, hands on his hips, as he watched with vexation.
“You do not even call after him,’ Roland said, accusation in his tone.
“He would not heed me if I did.”
“Is it true?” Roland asked. “Was Father poisoned?”
Amaury nodded and heard his brother’s heartfelt sigh.
“He must be avenged,” Roland said with vigor.
“He must,” Amaury agreed. “But that cannot be achieved if we make poor choices.”
“You would do as she instructs,” his brother said with evident surprise.
“Who better understands the Lord de Marnis and his son than my wife? Who knows what it is like to come of age in that hall? Surely, one who has done it herself.” Amaury turned away from his brother to find Lothair’s gaze upon him, that man’s expression assessing.
“You would not swear your blade to her, but I have pledged myself to her forever. I recognize the wisdom of advice willingly given by one who knows.”
Roland’s lips tightened and his gaze strayed to Sebastian and back again. “I hope she proves worthy of you.”
“That she deigned to warn us is a good indication of that,” Amaury said. “She could have kept silent and let me ride into Marnis, unaware of the danger awaiting me.”
“I do not like it,” Roland muttered.
“There is much to dislike in our situation. Let us contrive a way to improve it.” Amaury beckoned to his brother.
“Tell me all that you know,” he invited as they crouched together near the blaze of the fire.
The meat crackled as it roasted, one of the boys steadily turning a makeshift spit.
He knew that three of his brothers’ men walked the perimeter of the camp, and that two of the squires of his own companions watched the horses.
He knew the land was silent and all at peace, but he could not quell the agitation within himself.
He hated the sound of Sebastian riding away, the horses’ hoofbeats fading from earshot all too quickly. He hated his certainty that his father would have found a way to mend the disagreement before it came to this result.
“Matters have worsened with Marnis,” Roland said from beside him. “Particularly in the last two years. Our crops failed two seasons ago, due to the weather.”
“Too much rain, then not enough,” one of Roland’s companions confided. “And sickness in the village.” He nodded to Amaury. “You may not recall me, my lord. I am Oswald and was but a youth when you left.”
Amaury nodded. “I do remember you, Oswald. You aided the smith on occasion.”
That man nodded agreement, deferring again to Roland.
“We might have surmounted the challenges, but the Lord de Marnis began to attack our borders,” Roland said. “He was clever and left no sign of who was responsible, but we knew it was him.”
“How?” Amaury asked.
“He sent word weekly that Father should cede to him and make Montvieux a daughter estate to Marnis.” Roland gave Amaury an intent look. “Father declined the honor.”
Amaury nodded. He was aware that his three companion knights lingered close enough to listen. “And then?”
“And then there was a great storm last autumn. The river overflowed its banks and the village flooded. We lost many lives, and yet more in the pestilence that followed. Part of the forest was burned one night, thieves preyed upon those who used our roads, and the mill was attacked in the night and set ablaze.”
“The mill? So close as that?”
“Aye,” Oswald agreed.
Philip’s father was the miller of Montvieux, though Amaury would have been concerned even if he was not. “And the miller’s family?”
“Escaped hale, with only the clothes upon their backs,” Oswald asserted, to Amaury’s relief.
“But alive,” Amaury said, to be certain, and the pair before him nodded agreement.
“Those from Marnis grew bolder in their assaults and their insulting offers over the winter. Father feared they would storm the very gates in the spring, so he dispatched us to seek aid. I rode north,” Roland said. “To the king’s own court, with three of those men loyal to the house.”
“So many,” Amaury mused. There had been seven knights in the employ of Montvieux: to dispatch three and a son of the house told him much about his father’s fears.
“We feared assault on the road.”
“We feared to not arrive at our destination at all,” Oswald added. “My lord Sebastian rode east to the archbishop who has always been a friend to your father, also with three warriors loyal to Montvieux.”
Amaury winced, though said naught at all. His brothers departing with six men would leave Montvieux’s defenses thin. His father must have been fearful, indeed.
“We were gone a fortnight,” Roland said and Sebastian nodded agreement.
“You must have ridden hard to reach Paris and return in that time.”
“We did. We did not know what would occur in our absence.”