Stewart Binns - Crusade

‘So, what are we to do? Robert is being generous and suggesting that he will offer a small landholding to a suitable candidate.’

‘Sire, I suspect that steed won’t gallop. Adela is not without funds of her own, and the thought of her marrying a stranger would be out of the question.’

‘Then you’ll have to marry her.’

Edwin looked stunned.

‘You’ll make a handsome couple. You’re close enough in age; it’s perfect.’

‘With respect, my Lord, it is not perfect. My regard for her is like that of a brother. I can’t marry her.’

‘Well, someone is going to have to marry her, or she will be using the gift of a steed from Count Robert for a long ride home. He’s given me twenty-four hours to resolve it.’

I sent Edwin to get Adela and Sweyn the next morning. The encounter was not one I relished.

‘So, that’s the situation. I’m sorry, Adela, but the Count is adamant. I think he’s very sympathetic, but there are many in his retinue who are set against you continuing to Scotland. This expedition is crucial to his future and he can’t afford doubts about his judgement getting back to the King.’

Adela tried to grit her teeth, but her eyes filled with tears and there was nothing she could do to stop them streaming down her face. Her chest began to heave and she bit her lip to try to contain her emotions, to no avail.

‘They think I am queer, I know that. But that’s not the real reason – the real reason is, I frighten them. Weak men fear strong women, and weak women are jealous of those who stand up for themselves in a man’s world.’

‘Adela, forgive me…’ I hesitated. ‘But I have to ask you this – remember, we are comrades, brothers-in-arms – is it women you desire, rather than men?’

‘My Lord, I desire neither.’ She shrugged. ‘All that was extinguished in Bourne a long time ago.’

‘Would you consider a marriage proposal from an upstanding knight in the Count’s retinue? That would give the Count a way to let you stay with his army.’

‘No, sire, I would not.’

‘Adela, the army marches in the morning and you will have to return to Aquitaine if we cannot resolve this.’

‘So be it. I will find another way to follow the Code of Knights and fulfil my destiny.’

She had now regained control of her emotions and the look of steely resolve had returned to her face.

‘I will marry you.’

Sweyn had said nothing until this point, but his sudden intervention stunned all three of us.

‘If you’ll have me.’

Adela did not respond; her face remained set, free of emotion. It was Edwin who broke the silence.

‘Sweyn, you’re not yet seventeen and only just dubbed a knight.’

‘On the contrary, Edwin, I am an ideal suitor; I am a knight of Normandy and I have land and money in Aquitaine. I think I’m a pretty good catch for any lady, even someone as discerning as Adela.’

‘But you’re like brother and sister.’

When it came, Adela’s blunt reply was as astonishing as Sweyn’s offer had been.

‘I accept. You’re right; you are a fine catch, any woman would be proud to have you as a husband.’

‘Then it is agreed, we will be married today. I’m sure one of the Count’s clerics will conduct the service.’

I was rendered speechless; I just sat and listened.

Adela took Sweyn by the hand, her expression still stern.

‘I know why you are doing this and I’m very grateful, but this marriage can only be a cloak. If I ever see your little prick poking out of your smock with an evil look in its eye, I’ll dice it up like minced meat!’

‘Thank you, my beloved. Worry not, I will try to keep my “little prick” under control. If its needs become too great, I’ll take comfort in one of the baggage girls; that’s what they’re there for.’

Edwin and I looked at one another, not entirely sure how much of the exchange was serious and how much was banter. Either way, although not exactly made in heaven, it seemed to be a match that served its purpose.

The four of us agreed that the terms of the marriage would be known only to us, to be kept in the strictest confidence.

I went to Robert to give him the extraordinary news.

The wedding ceremony was organized within hours. Adela managed to borrow a linen dress from one of the few Norman women in Durham and made for herself a lovely circlet of wild flowers. The overall effect was very fetching, and she looked like any other bride on her wedding day – serene and striking. Her dress was an abrupt reminder of her femininity. The pleasing curves of her sexuality, previously hidden by the smock, leggings and hauberk of a warrior, were plain to see. Her hair, washed and brushed, fell in gentle ash-blond waves and her skin shone with the rosy glow typical of her Englishness. She seemed smaller – indeed, petite – without her male garb and weapons. It was an image that must have challenged many prejudices about her sexual preferences.

Sweyn stood by her side, proud and handsome, a young man who had, within just two days, become a knight and a husband. Not surprisingly, he now looked older than his years. He had always had the bearing and manner of a knight, but now he was one. With his dark-brown hair and tanned skin, in contrast to his fair English bride, he could easily have been the haughty son of a Count of Aquitaine; he looked the part and had the self-confidence of a young man born to wield power. I was proud of my brother- and now my ‘sister’-in-arms. They were, to everyone’s agreement, an eye-catching couple.

Sadly, that was not the end of the matter. Even before the happy couple could retire for the non-consummation of their marriage, several of Sweyn’s fellow knights were determined to cause trouble.

The taunts were predictable. Sweyn was ten years younger than Adela so, inevitably, the mocking suggested that she was the real ‘man’ of the partnership and that at the bedroom ‘tilt’ it would be Adela who would do the ‘tilting’ and Sweyn who would be ‘speared’ in the joust.

Adela tried to pull him away from the insults, but Sweyn’s anger could not be assuaged and pandemonium broke out. He drew his sword with lightning speed and lunged at his barrackers before any of them could unsheathe their weapons. They retreated rapidly, some falling over one another as they did so. Sweyn managed to get his blade firmly under the chin of one of them, who happened to be Alan of Sées, the youngest son of one of King William’s most powerful allies and one of Count Robert’s most capable young knights.

As Sweyn spoke, the razor-sharp tip of his sword drew blood, which began to trickle down the blade.

‘If you ever insult my wife or me again, I’ll kill you. And that applies to any other man here.’

Adela was at his side in an instant. She had hitched up her dress beyond her knees and pulled out the seax concealed inside the ankle straps of her leather shoe. Now she was holding it towards their goaders, crouched in the pose of a knife-fighter. Suddenly, she was a warrior again.

Sweyn glared at them all with a fiery look in his eye that had real menace in it, then calmly put his sword in its scabbard, took Adela by the hand and walked away.

She, in turn, sheathed her dagger in its improvised scabbard, dropped the hem of her dress, smoothed out its wrinkles and curtsied sweetly to Count Robert, who had arrived to see what the commotion was. Their assailants dispersed sheepishly as the many onlookers began to mutter to themselves.

The speed and ferocity of Sweyn’s reaction had certainly mesmerized me. Whether it had won him respect among his and Adela’s detractors, or created enemies for life, was difficult to tell. Notwithstanding that, he had certainly made an impression.