Chapter Five
ARISTIDE
CHAPTER FIVE
His Majesty’s Most Honorable Privy Council convened in a large inner sanctum within Westminster Palace, and a long, massive table held pride of place beneath huge, bronze chandeliers, which cast mosaic-like shadows on the floor. As the noblemen argued various points of law and finance, Aristide sat with his fellow Nautionnier Knights in a row along the back wall, while Morgan and Geoffrey dozed, and wondered wherefore the King summoned the Brethren.
“How much longer is this going to take?” He shifted his weight and folded his arms, as he spent much of the dark hours guarding his wife’s slumber and pondering her as-yet undisclosed secret. “I wanted to spend the afternoon with Dionysia.”
“And so it begins.” Arucard elbowed Aristide. “But it happens to even the best of us, I suppose. Thither comes a moment when you realize your life is not your own, and your lady commands your attention to the detriment of all else, but it is a good problem to have, I would argue.”
“What additional advice would you impart to a new husband endeavoring to please his bride?” In that instant, Aristide swallowed his pride, because he wanted to restore the smile he recalled with fondness. “My lady seems reluctant to embark on marital affinity, if you take my meaning.”
“Kiss her often and well, but do not frighten her, as that is how I won Isolde.” Arucard boasted a smug smirk. “Leave your bride breathless, and make her scream with pleasure, and she will be but moulding clay in your hands.”
“When you must discipline her, sit her in your lap, in a show of sympathy.” Demetrius pointed for emphasis. “Bring her the morning meal, in bed, and she will reward you a thousand times over for the simple gesture.”
“Ask her mother if Dionysia prefers any particular flower. Pay close attention to her mood and responses during intimate exchanges, because those will help you navigate rough seas as you sail for her maidenhead. When she brings you problems, do not solve them. Just listen to her complaints.” Arucard counted on his fingers. “And does she favor a certain dish?”
As the married Brethren disclosed bits of connubial brilliance, Aristide made mental notes, because he would not fail Dionysia. Still, he presumed an advantage, since he welcomed his nuptials and formed an acquaintance with his lady prior to the ceremony.
“Women require a period of adjustment to their newfound duties in the bedchamber, so have care not to rush her. And share a bed, even fully clothed, as the habit will foster intimacy, but show temperance.” Demetrius scratched his chin and wrinkled his nose. “Although I was unable to stay away from Athel, once I breached her.”
“As was I, with Isolde.” Arucard rolled his eyes. “If you can manage to employ a measure of self-control, once you have savored the treasure that rests between your wife’s thighs, I applaud you.”
“I remember that.” Demetrius snorted. “Isolde could barely walk, and you—”
“That is enough.” Arucard glowered but then broke into a grin. “Ah, what sweet memories I covet, but let us aid Aristide, as it is his turn to dance with the devil.”
“And never keep secrets from her.” Demetrius wagged a finger. “Trust me, whatever you attempt to hide, your wife will root out the truth, and thither will be hell to pay, if you do not confide in her.”
“What if she keeps secrets from me?” Aristide uttered the words before he realized he spoke aloud. “Forget I said that.”
“Not a chance.” Arucard rested elbows to thighs and leaned forward. “What does your lady hide? Do you suspect she harbors sentiments for another swain?”
“No.” Aristide shook his head and lowered his voice, as the King enacted another outburst. “But something troubles her, and it is a barrier I must surmount to succeed.”
“You must confront her, as a secret is much like a festering wound.” Demetrius stretched his legs and yawned. “Mayhap, at first, it seems naught more than a nuisance, but it can prove lethal as the days pass.”
“And now we shall deal with our Nautionnier Knights.” The King waved a summons. “At attention, Brethren, and come hither.”
The husbands came alert, and with a swift kick, Arucard roused Morgan and Geoffrey. Together, side-by-side, they approached His Majesty and knelt.
As always, ingrained consternation plagued Aristide, because his life could be ended on the whims of an eccentric monarch, and he fretted for Dionysia should such fate befall him. It was unnerving to be responsible for another, and he struggled with uncertainty as he made his obeisance to the Crown.
“The Brethren of the Coast report at the ready, to do His Majesty’s bidding.” With head bowed, Arucard pressed a clenched fist to his chest. “On my honor, Sire.”
“Indeed, on your honor we rely.” The King steepled his hands. “Rise, knights of the realm, as we would define your purpose for our Privy Council, that your service is never abused.” The Sovereign snapped his fingers, and a steward brought forth a parchment, which he set on the table. “We have thought long and hard about our servants of the Crown and their place in our reign. Given their unimpeachable fealty and unwavering support, we would return to them their ships.”
A rush of murmurs filled the chamber.
In silence, Aristide celebrated the great victory, as his ship offered a means of security for him and his wife. Just as the surviving Templars fled France, they could depart England should the situation necessitate a hasty exit.
“Sire, wherefore did you not dispatch these warriors to fight Robert the Bruce at Bannockburn, as they might have changed the outcome?” The earl of Pembroke sneered. “Wherefore do you reward them, when we know not their intentions?”
Jealousy was not uncommon in the palace, and thither were those who would destroy the Brethren, in light of the Sovereign’s benevolence.
“One does not feed prime meat to a pack of wild heathens, and do not interrupt us, again.” The King stared down his nose at his subordinate. “We have something else in mind for our knights, which is to be inscribed in our ordinances, establishing the Brethren as guardians of the realm. Beholden to no one, our brave Nautionniers shall defend the land, specifically from strategic strongholds we deem invaluable to the security of our home. For whither monarchs come and go, mighty England must never fall.” His Majesty signed and sanded the document. “And the battle with Scotland is not yet done, but we are more concerned with our enemies to the south, thus we defend our coastal borders.” To the steward, the King said, “See to it copies of our orders are transcribed and delivered to each knight, before they depart on the morrow, and our Nautionniers are dismissed.”
“Gramercy, Majesty.” Arucard dipped his chin.
Aristide could have run from the estimable chamber, straight to Dionysia, but he withdrew with his fellow former Templars, one painfully slow step at a time. In the hall, he exhaled in relief, and then the knights clasped forearms.
“This is a very good day, which I did not believe I would see in my lifetime.” Arucard bared his teeth. “Just as I promised, on the night we sailed from the Golfe de Gascogne , we persist, brothers. Now, let us adjourn to the tavern and raise a tankard of ale to our good fortune.”
“But I should check on my wife.” In an altogether odd development he could not have predicted, Aristide did not want to drink. “Mayhap I should forgo the evening’s entertainment.”
“Aw, the little darling will be thither, when you return.” Morgan slapped Aristide on the back. “Or do you wish to attend her bath and wash her bottom?” With that, Morgan pinched Aristide’s arse.
“Come, brother.” Arucard chucked Aristide’s shoulder. “Whatever your bride suppresses, thither will be amble opportunity to speak with her, on the journey to Rochester.”
Despite urges to the contrary, Aristide frowned. “I suppose it will keep.”
~
Pacing before the hearth, Dionysia marked the sun’s position low on the horizon and wrapped her arms about herself. Now that she decided to confess her shame, she wanted naught more than to have done with it. And as she repeated her steps, she formed and reformulated her speech, checking to ensure she omitted naught, as she refused to embark on her marriage, in a sea of lies. When Aristide stomped into the room, she was so lost in thought she shrieked.
“Dionysia, are you all right?” He doffed his ermine trimmed cloak and removed his leather belt and scabbard. “Did I frighten you?”
“I—no, my lord.” As a good wife, she collected his belongs, strolled into their bedchamber, and deposited the items on a bench. Inhaling a deep, calming breath, she removed to the solar. “I expected you much earlier.”
“The King imparted fortuitous news, and my brothers wished to celebrate at a local tavern.” He sat in a chair near the fireplace and gazed into the blaze. “His Majesty returns our ships, with the request that we guard England’s southern coast. And we journey to Rochester on the morrow, with Arucard and Isolde to guide us as we reestablish the Crown’s authority in the region.”
“It is nice to know we will have friends as we begin our service.” Clasping her hands to conceal her trembling, she studied his appearance and frowned. “You partook of refreshments.” If he were drunk, now was not the time for confessions, and disappointment left a bitter taste. “Shall I prepare the bed and turn down the covers?”
“Actually, I guarded a single full tankard of ale, while the others indulged, because I hoped we could talk.” He patted his thighs. “Will you sit in my lap?”
“Wherefore?” She gulped, and her heart raced.
“I thought it might make things easier for you.” To her distress, he flicked his fingers. “Come hither, Dion. I only want to comfort you.”
For a moment, she hesitated. Then she recalled Isolde and Athel’s advice and relented. “As you wish, my lord.”
Stepping about his legs, she paused and changed directions, so the scar on her right cheek did not face him. Even between the layers of their garb, she detected the heat of his flesh against her bottom, and she stiffened her spine.
“Relax, Dion.” With a chuckle, Aristide rubbed her back. “I want you to know thither is naught you could confide in me that would cause me to reject you.”
It was as though he read her mind, and she flinched. In desperation, and to forestall the inevitable, she blurted, “Are you a virgin?”
“I beg your pardon?” Beneath her, his muscles tensed. “What a curious question.”
“If this is the time for confessions, I would know wherefore you granted the deferment to our consummation.” As second nature, she covered her scar with her palm. “Is it because I am marked or because you are equally afraid of the deed?”
“Afraid is not how I would describe my disposition, and I will share my body with you, alone.” Then he inclined his head and winked. “Although I am quite nervous at the prospect, given my upbringing, my ambivalence has naught to do with you and everything to do with the misconceptions in regard to physical relations, which were ingrained in me from my youth.”
“In France?” How he fascinated her, with his chiseled features and broad shoulders, yet innate goodness shone through his beauteous exterior. “And what sort of misconceptions?”
“Aye.” He nodded. “When I was but a boy, my parents sent me to La Rochelle, whither I lived and studied at Vauclair Castle, in preparation to become a Templar Knight. And as for the misconceptions, that is a topic for another evening, but you might be amazed.”
“A Templar?” She heard many things regarding the famed fighting men of the Crusades, including rumors of their downfall, disbandment, trials, convictions, and executions. “Do you claim an affiliation?”
In a moving account, Aristide detailed the false accusations spread by Philip the Fair, after the unscrupulous monarch borrowed an enormous sum of money he was unable to repay and attempted to steal the vast fortune the admired order had amassed.
“As mariners, we enjoyed a means of escape unavailable to our fellow Templars, and we sailed for England, in search of sanctuary.” Her husband toyed with a lock of her red hair and smiled. “So you see, we are none of us perfect, Dion, but I will state my innocence without reservation, and now I have no secrets from you. You know of my history and that I maintain my vow of chastity, at least, I will until we consummate our nuptials, and then I shall keep myself only unto you, in accordance with the sacrament and my commitment to you.” With a finger, he traced the curve of her ear. “And I would know you, in the same fashion, if you would but trust me.”
“All right.” She stifled nervous laughter, when his mouth fell agape and he blinked. “You expected a refusal.”
“I did.” Now he laughed, and she sank against his chest. “But know thither is naught that will take me from you. What happened before we met matters not to our future.”
“If only that were true, my lord, but I suspect otherwise. And if you are to refuse me, I would have you do so, once you know the story, without delay.” Because thither were those who shunned her. “Are you aware of the tumultuous governance of the previous Lord Rochester?”
“Isolde’s father?” When she nodded, Aristide replied, “Aye.”
Memories, flashes of cruel abuse flashed in her brain, and she closed her eyes and sobbed. Warm lips pressed against her temple, as her husband kissed her, and she shivered.
“You extend succor without request, and it is much appreciated.” Drawing courage from his support, she rolled her shoulders. “In the year before Lord Rochester moved on the throne, he encouraged his friends to strike at the King’s allies, of which my father is the staunchest.”
“So he was targeted?” Aristide inquired in a soft tone.
“Aye.” Cries of pain and piercing screams echoed in her ears, and she gritted her teeth. “It was late one night when the raiders assailed our home. Tarlington Manor has no curtain wall, and the only garrison was that of Lord Rochester, thus we were at the mercy of our enemies, and lawlessness prevailed beneath the twilight.”
“What happened?” He twined his fingers in hers. “I am hither, Dion, and I will never leave you.”
“The marauders stole cattle, horses, and tapestries.” In that instant, she met his stare, so clear and reassuring. “And they took the one thing guaranteed to bring my father to his knees.”
With an expression of unveiled sympathy, he tipped her chin and brushed his mouth to hers. “Go on, my lady.”
“I fought them. I kicked and gouged at their eyes, but I was no match for their brute strength and singular evil intent.” To her infinite gratitude, he wrapped his arms about her and hugged her tight, and she nuzzled his chest. “Papa negotiated a ransom with Ludewicus Jubert, a local landowner and supporter of Lord Rochester, the sum of which was increased to insure I was returned intact, and my father paid, in full.”
“But Jubert did not honor the terms of the agreement.” Aristide tightened his hold. “He hurt you.”
“Nay, he did not touch me.” Tears won the internal war she waged, and she wept without restraint. “He has a son, Peneus, a dastardly villain bereft of conscience or creed.” With a fistful of her husband’s shirt, she buried her face in the linen. “I was but a young girl of five and ten, na?ve in the games men play, yet to the victor goes the spoils, and I was but a prize—not a person. I did not know thither were other ways to violate a lady, until Peneus balked at his father’s commands, tied me to a table, left my head dangling over one side, and used my mouth in a manner most foul. When he gained his satisfaction, he permitted his marshalsea and one of his friends, a sergeant in Rochester’s garrison, the same indulgence. Afterward, Peneus marked my cheek, with his dagger, that I would forever remember his actions when I looked in a mirror.”
In the years since her disgrace, Dionysia had not cried over the horror she endured, because her father carried the weight of her shame on his shoulders, and it was not his fault. But in that moment, she could not hold back the torrent of misery, so long tucked deep inside her, that when she finally yielded to the agony, she broke and unleashed a tidal wave of emotion.
To his credit, Aristide did not dissuade her. Rather, he simply rocked, to and fro, gently and let her mourn the degradation. Cradling her head, he whispered words of praise and admiration, and he restated his undying commitment.
“I considered myself fortunate when I received the King’s summons to wed, given I had expressed my desire to marry you, but now I see I am the richest man in England.” Framing her face, he kissed her nose, her forehead, her lips, and then he trailed his tongue along the jagged scar, and a shiver coursed her spine. “Know this, and never forget it. When I gaze upon your beauteous profile, I spy neither a scar nor a victim. Oh, no. Indeed, I see naught but my wife.”
In that instant, she wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him.