A Man of Value (16 page)

He turned her over onto her back and entered her warm wet centre, pounding into her, his loins on fire. His ecstasy reached its pinnacle and he filled her.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms. He wondered how he could survive a three or four day separation.

As Agneta drifted off to sleep, she acknowledged that she would miss Caedmon terribly, and not only in her bed. She had to reluctantly admit yet again that she was in love with him. It confused her that she could trust Caedmon with her body and share the most intimate of touches and caresses with him. He wasn’t a trustworthy person. He’d been partially responsible for the deaths of her family, but her heart knew he wasn’t an evil man. In fact, he was gentle and kind, strong and brave. He deeply regretted his part in the Bolton raid. She recalled how he’d looked that day as she peered, with terrified eyes, through the chink in the planking of the barn. His heart had not been in the deed. She resolved to tell him of her forgiveness, when he returned from Ellesmere.

~~~

Tybaut had already left to inform the Earl of Caedmon’s imminent arrival. When the steward arrived at Ellesmere, he discovered the Earl was away and wouldn’t be returning until later that night. He wouldn’t be available until the morrow—the day Caedmon planned to meet with him. Tybaut couldn’t wait until the next day. He’d made arrangements to meet with someone in Shrewsbury that same night, on his way back to Ruyton, to procure more ribbons for Lady Agneta.

He sought out his friend and fellow steward, Martin Bonhomme and found him in the kitchens. “My friend, I need your help to convey a message to the Earl,” he said as he swilled down the ale Bonhomme offered him.

Bonhomme raised his own tankard to his lips. “I’ll see to it. What do you want me to tell him?”

“I’ve been assigned to the manor at Shelfhoc for some time now.”

“
Oui
, lucky dog. Off the beaten track, not much work,” teased his easygoing friend, whose father Mathieu had in fact procured the post for Tybaut.

Tybaut took another big gulp, smacked his lips and carried on, “It’s true there hasn’t been much to do there, but I’ve done my best to carry out the Earl’s wishes. Anyway, out of nowhere, maybe a year ago, comes the thane, Sir Caedmon Woolgar and his lady wife, to take up residence.”

“Huh. A year ago?” was all his friend could apparently say.

“I suppose I should have come tell the Earl, but my strict instructions have been not to bother him with anything to do with Shelfhoc and all is in order.”

“Hmmm.”

“Anyway, be that as it may, he’s a pleasant fellow, albeit a Saxon. But he wants to see the Earl on the morrow. Come to pledge his service, no doubt, and give his thanks. I was supposed to tell the Earl about his coming.”

Bonhomme slapped his companion on the back. “Leave it with me, Tybaut. I’m to meet with the Earl early on the morrow. He plans to return late tonight and I’ll tell him about his visitor. I doubt the matter will take much time?”

“Probably not,” Tybaut replied, swigging down the last of the dark ale and swiping his sleeve across his mouth. “Obliged to you, my friend. I’ll be off now. Want to make it back to Shrewsbury before dark. There’s something bothers me about this Sir Caedmon. He reminds me of someone, but who?”

“Never met him, therefore I’m no help with your quandary. Sir Caedmon Woolgar. These strange Saxon names! I’ll remember it. Good journey, mon ami.”

As Tybaut left the kitchens he bumped into Robert de Montbryce. “Beg your pardon,
milord
Robert. It’s good to see you back from Normandie. I trust all is well at the castle there?” he asked, bowing deferentially.

“Steward—Tybaut, isn’t it? Things are relatively good in Normandie,” Robert replied, with a grin, walking away quickly. “I’m looking for Trésor and I can’t be deterred from my errand. She usually has something good to eat tucked away for me.”

In that instant Tybaut found the answer to the question that had nagged at him since he’d met Sir Caedmon. “I have it,” he murmured gleefully. “Sir Caedmon could be
milord
Robert’s twin brother—except Sir Caedmon is older. They look much alike.”

~~~

When Bonhomme met with his Earl the following morning they discussed matters concerning Ellesmere that needed immediate attention. He suddenly remembered the message his friend had asked him to pass on.

“Oh,
milord
Earl, it slipped my mind. Tybaut, the steward appointed to Shelfhoc Manor, was here yesterday with a message. He wanted to inform you that the thane, Sir Caedmon Woolgar, and his lady wife, have returned to the manor.”

The Earl’s reaction wasn’t what the steward expected. He jumped out of his chair. “Sir Caedmon Woolgar? He’s dead. He died at Hastings. It can’t be him. His lady wife? Did he mention her name? Was it Lady Ascha?”

Bonhomme searched his memory. “No,
milord
, he didn’t mention the lady’s name. Anyway, Tybaut said Sir Caedmon is coming here to see you today—to thank you—for the manor and all.”

The Earl scratched his head. “Today? He’s coming here today?”

Bonhomme wasn’t sure why the Earl was visibly upset by this news.

“Is the Lady of Shelfhoc expected?”

“Not that Tybaut mentioned,
milord
.”

The Earl seemed relieved at that news, but started pacing the room, his brow furrowed.

“Will there be anything further?” the steward asked.

“
Non
, Bonhomme,
merci
. I need to speak with my Countess. Do you know where she is?”

“I believe she’s in the kitchen with Trésor,
milord
.”

Ram ran to the kitchens to find Mabelle, leaving a perplexed Bonhomme behind. He asked her hurriedly to meet him in their chamber as soon as possible. Trésor bit back a grin as the flustered countess left the kitchen. “Our Earl can’t keep his hands off his wife,” she chuckled to the scullery wench. “They’ve always been that way. Rushing off to their chamber this early in the day. What I wouldn’t do for a lusty man like that.”

When Mabelle arrived, Ram paced the room nervously.

“What is it Ram? What’s wrong?”

He took hold of her hands. “I’m not sure. I’ve received a message that Sir Caedmon Woolgar has returned to Shelfhoc Manor and is coming here to see me today.”

“But you said—”

“
Oui
, Mabelle, Lady Ascha believed her husband died at Hastings. Perhaps he didn’t. But where has he been all these years? The news gets worse. Apparently, he didn’t return alone. His lady wife is with him. I’m sorry, Mabelle, but I don’t know if she’ll accompany him.”

“Ram,” she replied calmly. “We’ll receive them together. You’re the Earl and I’m the Countess. They are vassals for whom you’ve done a great deal. They can only be grateful. If Lady Ascha is coming here she’s probably more worried about it than you are. Her husband may not be aware of your interlude with her.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he confessed.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Impatiently cooling his heels in the courtyard garden of Ellesmere Castle, Caedmon rehearsed over and over what he would say to the Earl. How much longer would he have to wait? He was anxious to return to his beloved Agneta. A young Norman nobleman sauntered by, evidently looking for someone.

“Robert de Montbryce,” the young man introduced himself, bowing his head slightly. “I’m the Earl’s son.”

“Sir Caedmon Woolgar,” Caedmon replied. “I’m waiting to speak with the Earl.” There was something familiar about this nobleman. “Have we met before, Lord Robert?”

“I don’t believe so—though—there’s something—my father is in the Map Room with my mother. He sent me to fetch you. I got the mistaken impression you were an older man. And you have a Scottish burr. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the way.”

Caedmon entered the room and Ram saw him.

Robert started to introduce the visitor, but stopped when he saw the shocked look on his father’s ashen face. His mother’s hand went to her mouth and she let out an involuntary startled cry, grasping the arm of a chair.

“What is it, Papa? Are you ill?” Robert asked worriedly.

Ram had to sit down, as did Mabelle. Neither of them took their eyes off Caedmon.

“What is it, Papa,
Maman
? I’m sorry, Sir Caedmon, I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m embarrassed.”

“I admit this isn’t the reception I envisaged,” Caedmon muttered.

Ram was the first to get hold of his emotions. He could see no point in denying or avoiding the truth that had slapped him in the face. He stood. Bitterly aware of the hurt he was about to inflict, he said to Robert, “You can’t see it, can you?”

“See what, Papa?” Robert followed his father’s gaze to Caedmon and turned to look fully at the man he’d escorted into the room. He gasped and his jaw fell open. “You look like my father,” he exclaimed. “Who are you? Are you a Montbryce?”

At the same moment Caedmon looked more closely at the Earl. His hand went to the hilt of his sword. He tore his gaze from the Earl and looked at the Countess. Ram saw his reaction to the compassionate and stricken expression on her face. He felt Caedmon’s eyes on him as he turned to his wife and said, “I didn’t know there was a child, Mabelle. I swear I didn’t know.”

She nodded.

Had Caedmon heard? Ram saw the truth sink into the newcomer’s befuddled mind. The young man drew his sword and strode angrily toward him. “How can it be, Norman beast, that your face is my face? You must be a rapist, a violator of women. Did you rape my mother? Now I understand why she didn’t want me to come here. You raped a defenseless widow. Was it not enough that Norman dogs slew her husband?”

Ram stood rooted to the spot, shaking his head. Robert recovered from his shock and ran to stop Caedmon. But Mabelle moved calmly to stand between the enraged young knight and her husband.

“Sir Caedmon,” she said quietly, “If you kill my husband, it’s likely you would be killing your own father. I’m sure we can agree that wouldn’t be the best thing. You would regret it for the rest of your life, if you escaped the noose. My husband isn’t a rapist.”

Caedmon lowered his sword, but didn’t sheathe it. “You can hide behind a woman’s skirts, high and mighty Earl of Ellesmere, but that doesn’t change the fact you shamed my mother.” He spat the words out. “I came here today to thank you for taking care of my estate. Hah, I often wondered why you were so generous. Now I know it was guilt at work. You shamed my mother and you’ve shamed me. I came into this room a proud Saxon knight, the son of a war hero who gave his life in defense of his country. I’m leaving as the bastard of a filthy Norman pig.”

He hurried from the room, sword still in hand.

Robert went to follow, but his mother stopped him. “Let him go, Robert. You need to stay here. We must talk. Go find your brother and sister.”

Robert looked angrily at his parents. “I sense whatever we’ll
talk
about won’t be good.”

He left to find his siblings.

When they were alone Mabelle turned to Ram who had slumped into the chair, pressing his fingertips into his forehead. “He’s a fine boy, Ram. In truth, he’s not a boy. He’s a man. He’s your son and you mustn’t be ashamed of him or make him feel ashamed. It has obviously been as much of a shock for him as for us.”

“Why didn’t she tell me? I had no idea. I would have acknowledged the boy. I would have supported them.” He shook his head. “He won’t wish to see me again, he made that clear.”

“He’s angry and confused. So is Robert. Baudoin and Rhoni will be too. But they love you. They’ll come to understand. You must reach out to Caedmon. We must both reach out.”

Slowly, he came to his feet to embrace her, and rested his chin on the top of her head. “All those years ago when I watched in disbelief as you threw my sword into the lake, the thought ran through my head that you were stronger than you looked. Little did I know. You’ve proven to be the strongest half of our union. I thank you for your strength.”

~~~

Caedmon wasn’t sure how far or in which direction he’d ridden, but as he rode his fury grew to encompass not only the Norman who’d sired him, but the woman who had birthed him. As he went over and over the events of the fateful meeting in his mind, he recalled the Countess saying her husband wasn’t a rapist. To his confused brain that must mean his mother had consented. She was a strumpet, a whore, bedding a Norman before her husband’s grave had gone cold.

Head pounding, he slowed Abbot to a walk then reined the horse to a halt. Sliding dispiritedly from the saddle, he barely noticed he was in a clearing in a copse. He tied Abbot’s reins to a tree, sank to his hands and knees in the rustling carpet of dead leaves and twigs and sobbed until he retched.

Everything he’d believed was suddenly not true. It would have been better if he’d never recovered after Alnwick, or, better still, why hadn’t he died on that field?

“I’m nothing,” he cried to the uncaring trees. “Less than nothing. As a bastard, I don’t have a right to the manor I claimed as my own. I can offer Agneta nothing.”

His wife’s name on his lips intensified his pain and he sobbed until he lay exhausted on the forest floor, full of loathing for himself and the man and woman who had sired him. When he could cry no more, he struggled to his feet, found a blanket in his saddle bags and curled up in it. He lay awake watching as darkness fell and stars appeared in the sky.

“What do the stars portend for me now?” he wondered aloud. “I can’t live off the income of a house I’ve no right to. I can no longer take money from my whore of a mother. I’ll have to make my living as a mercenary. It’s no life for a woman. I will lose Agneta.”

It was more than he could bear. “But where will she go? I’m all she has, and I’m nothing. How can I tell her I’m base born? She hates me already. She will despise my bastardy more.”

Exhaustion claimed him and he slept fitfully beneath the winter canopy.

~~~

By the time Robert returned to the Map Room with Baudoin and Rhoni, he’d told them about the events that had occurred there and his suspicions that the unknown knight was their father’s bastard.