Elisabeth Hobbes - Beguiled By The Forbidden Knight

Gui and Gilbert carried swords so Gui doubted they were in any real danger. Part of Gui relished the idea of drawing English blood and teaching these northern curs that they were under the rule of William of Normandy. Another part grew clammy with cold sweat at the thought of taking arms in battle. The sword had never been his preferred weapon, but he no longer wielded the bow that he had loved since his youth.

In any case, William had decreed that was not the way things were to be done. England had been taken by force and subjugated by brutality, but would be held and secured through marriage and creating alliances.

Gui was growing tired of listening to the demands and refusals going back and forth. It was time to intervene and smooth the path for his lord as he had done so many times before. That was why Gilbert had brought him today after all, not to fight. He was no use in that respect any longer.

Gui swallowed the bitter bile that caused his stomach to twist in self-loathing. He cleared his throat and stepped forward to stand beside Gilbert.

‘Lady Emma, it’s time to put an end to this nonsense. Be gracious enough to tell us where the maid is. Now.’

Emma raised an eyebrow in surprise. Her watery blue eyes raked over Gui. She blinked, but did not outwardly show aversion at the sight of him as most women did. Gui felt a grudging touch of admiration for the woman who faced down these unwelcome visitors in her house and lands with such assurance.

‘Who are you to speak so boldly on a matter which does not concern you?’

What must she think of him in comparison to the noble knight he now stood beside? He was a head taller than Gilbert and with a broader frame. He bore a nose that was slightly crooked after a break during his childhood, and his time in William’s army had left him with a scar that split his lower lip into two uneven parts and eyes that were charcoal smuts from frequent sleepless nights. He felt like a rough tree trunk beside a tower of polished oak.

He thanked his stars that his greatest disfigurement was not immediately apparent to an onlooker and folded his right arm over his left, masking the padded leather glove he always wore. He turned his eyes to meet the widow’s gaze, boldly as she had called it.

He gave Lady Emma a smile, knowing that even when he meant it—which was rare these days—his scarred grin was more likely to provoke repulsion than kindness.

‘My name is Guilherm FitzLannion, my lady. I am no one of import.’

No one. Not a man of rank, simply an archer who had followed his friend and lord to England to seek his fortune and failed to find it.

Gilbert clapped a hand tightly on Gui’s shoulder and gave him a wide smile. The sorrow in his eyes was replaced with a warmer expression.

‘Gui is my closest confidant and my advisor, Lady Emma. He reminds me that I need to temper my speech at times and perhaps now is such a time.’

Emma flashed Gui a look of understanding that took him by surprise. Perhaps she had spent the years before widowhood smoothing the path of a rash nobleman.

Gui bowed his head. ‘Sir Gilbert does me too much kindness. I would add my petition to his, however. Delaying this affair simply to provoke us will solve nothing. Whether or not you accept William as King, he has spoken on this matter.’

He gave another crooked smile, took a step back and waited.

‘She is with her companion—a foundling left with us as a child—at the priory at Byland near Elmeslac,’ Emma said after a long pause.

Her voice caught. Her eyes were blank, viewing something other than the room before her. Were her nights plagued by bad dreams as Gui’s were? Did she hear the same cries?

‘Sigrun was already of fragile temperament and is not strong in body or spirit,’ Emma continued. ‘She narrowly escaped defilement, first at the hands of the rebels, then by men such as yourself who came to take back the city. Despite his determination to break our shire, I believe William of Normandy respects the sanctity of holy orders enough to allow a maiden to be safe in a priory from abuse and slaughter.’

Her voice dripped with contempt. Having travelled from the south through the ruins of what had once been prosperous villages, Gui found it hard to blame her. He studied his boots, ashamed of his countrymen, though he had not taken part in such dishonourable exploits.

‘My heart aches for the maid’s distress, but if you have sent her away you must fetch her back,’ Gilbert blustered.

A gleeful smile flitted across Emma’s lips.

‘That is out of the question.’

Gilbert growled deep in his throat and tensed his shoulders. Gui laid a restraining hand on his friend’s forearm, foreseeing a return to the hostilities he had hoped were ending.

‘You are making this harder than necessary, my lady,’ he cautioned.

Emma rose from her seat and walked slowly to the men. Her attendants stayed at their stations, but both stood poised to act if the need arose. Did these men of the north think Normans so dishonourable that they would attack a woman in her own home?

Emma stopped before Gui.

‘I am a poor widow with few resources. I do not have the means to escort my child here safely and she cannot travel alone, not while bands of rebels and outlaws roam through Yorkshire. It is simply not safe.’

‘Your daughter will come to no harm,’ Gui assured her.

‘You thought York was safe after FitzOsbern was given the garrison in the city, but Edgar and Sweyn of Denmark proved you wrong! Yorkshire may rise in rebellion again at any time.’

‘Now Alan Rouz holds the estate as Tenant in Chief, Yorkshire will not rise again. William has seen to that. Barely a village stands between here and Durham.’

Gui and Gilbert had marched with Alan the Red of Brittany to take York back when the Aetheling had attacked for the second time. Rouz had been granted land and William had decreed that Gilbert was the man to marry the sister of the young eorl who had taken arms against him.

Emma looked from man to man. Approaching her late thirties and therefore at least ten years older than either man, she was still an attractive, elegant woman with full breasts and a gently curved belly. Where once he might have taken his time to appreciate her beauty, Gui remained unmoved, simply noting that time and her troubles had not diminished her looks.

‘I agreed to allow my daughter to marry you, Sir Gilbert,’ Emma said coldly, ‘but I do not have to like it. Nor do I have to aid you in the process.’

‘You did not agree. You were given no choice,’ Gui pointed out. Neither was Gilbert, he thought ruefully. ‘A marriage was settled in return for your lands not being devastated after your son joined with the Aetheling’s forces.’

Emma’s eyes filled with hatred. Gui shrugged. A daughter’s virginity was a small price to pay in return for the guarantee of safety for those who lived on her manor, especially when the girl would have been doubtless married off to some straw-haired eorl in any case.

‘Sigrun is a compliant and dutiful maiden and will do what is required of her. If you wish to marry my daughter go and bring her here yourself!’ Emma lifted her chin. ‘I’ll send word ahead that the prioress should expect the noble Gilbert du Rospez to come claim his bride. Until you marry her, this house is mine so leave it now. Both of you.’

She turned on her heel and vanished behind the thick embroidered hangings into her private quarters, leaving Gui, Gilbert and their escort standing alone. Her attendants moved silently to stand before the curtain and block entry.

Gilbert spun on his heel and marched out of the building with as much dignity as the departed woman. Outside he sagged against the beam of wood at the corner of the building and sighed.