A Man of Value (22 page)

“There’s nothing to forgive, Caedmon. You were lost and now you’re found,” Baudoin replied, raising his right hand, his palm open in a gesture of brotherhood. Caedmon returned the gesture and they clasped hands, gripping each other fiercely.

“You need a bath, brother,” Baudoin grimaced with a smile.

“Aye, for certain,” Caedmon chuckled. “I’ve got used to it, but I know—”

Two servants came to prepare a bath and his father reassured him he should bathe and get some rest. There would be plenty of time to talk on the long journey home, after they’d helped to rescue the unfortunates trapped in the ruin.

~~~

The following morning, the Turkish commander in charge of the siege of Civitote woke early and, as he stretched his cramped muscles, seemed dismayed to see a battle squadron of the Byzantine Navy docked in the bay below him. Weighing his options, and satisfied he’d managed to kill most of the infidel dogs in the so called People’s Crusade, he decided to withdraw his troops and allow the escape of those trapped in the ruin.

The Christians came ashore when they saw the Turks had withdrawn and relieved the besieged crusaders. Caedmon was reunited with Abbot. Both Montbryce men went with the rescue party and when Caedmon was greeted by his Norman friends with embraces and effusive thanks in Norman French, and responded with equal ease, Ram and Baudoin were amazed.

“It seems you’re a Norman after all, Caedmon,” Ram jested.

His son smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Wait until you read my codex,” Caedmon said, extricating the journal from his saddlebags.

The survivors were ferried back to Constantinople, the last remnant of an ‘army’ that had started out forty thousand strong. Many of them were on their last legs and had to be carried from the ruin.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Mabelle missed Ram terribly. It was the first time they’d been separated for any length of time since her captivity in Wales, and recalling that terrible episode brought back some difficult memories. But when Ram returned, he would be overjoyed if a healthy grandchild awaited him. She prayed daily for the safe return of her men. After she saw Ram off on the expedition to recover Caedmon, she immediately sent a messenger to Shelfhoc Manor, inviting Agneta and Ascha to come to Ellesmere. Agneta accepted and travelled to Ellesmere with Tybaut and some of the men-at-arms. Ascha opted to stay at Shelfhoc, citing the presence of her house guests, the Brightmores. Mabelle greeted Agneta warmly.

Agneta curtseyed. “My lady Countess, I’m indebted to you for inviting me here. It’s hard to be at Shelfhoc without Caedmon. I’m sorry we’ve brought this trouble to your door.”

Mabelle proffered her hand to Agneta and helped her rise. “Lady Agneta, these are difficulties we’ll overcome with prayers and goodwill. We’ll keep each other company as we pray and wait for the men we love to return. All we can do is keep faith and support each other.”

Agneta was given a chamber and a lady’s maid assigned to take care of her needs. She’d brought some clothing with her, which the maid unpacked from her trunks. Because she was with child the clothes would soon not fit her, so she had brought only a few things. The dagger lay among her belongings. She felt somehow it had become a talisman, a symbol that perhaps there was hope for Caedmon’s return. She concealed it in her chamber.

Gradually she and Mabelle got to know each other. One day she felt bold enough to say, “My lady Countess, Caedmon isn’t your son. He’s your husband’s illegitimate son and yet you’ve accepted him, and me, and allowed your husband to look for Caedmon in a place he may not want to be found, a place of many dangers.”

Mabelle looked up from her sewing. “Agneta, I learned long ago that if you love someone you can forgive them. To live my life without Ram would be no life. He has regretted what he did for the past thirty years. If I refused to forgive him, I would be harming myself.”

“I told Caedmon I could never forgive him for something he did,” Agneta whispered.

“What did he do?” Mabelle asked quietly.

Agneta told the story about the death of her parents and Caedmon’s part in the raid. “I could tell from my hiding place that he regretted what had happened. But I’ve continued to make him suffer for it.”

Mabelle watched Agneta for several minutes then asked. “Do you love him?”

Agneta fidgeted with her embroidery. “I love him with all my heart. If he doesn’t return—”

“Have you ever told him you love him?”

Agneta hung her head. “No, if I had he might have been better able to cope with the shock of finding out the Earl is his father. He believes I don’t love him. When he despised himself, he had no love to cushion his fall.”

Mabelle reached out and patted Agneta’s hand. “You can’t blame yourself, Agneta. But now you’ve a child to consider. You must make sure that you take care of yourself, then, God willing, your baby will be born healthy and you’ll survive. When Caedmon returns, you must tell him how much you love him.”

“I will,” Agneta sighed.

She decided the Countess was right. She took good care throughout her pregnancy and kept a positive outlook about Caedmon’s return. The alternative couldn’t be borne. In her ninth month, when she’d grown large, she walked daily and ate the good food Trésor prepared for her. She was determined her baby would grow up with at least one parent. After all, her mother-by-marriage had raised Caedmon alone in difficult circumstances.

Mabelle provided Agneta with the best of care. The younger woman had many questions and the Countess was able to allay some of her fears. The day her labour started she wasn’t as afraid as she had been, and took it all in stride. As she strained in the birthing stool, fighting the pain, she concentrated on Caedmon—his smile, his face, his hair, his hands, his body, the sound of his husky voice. She envisaged welcoming him home, showing him his child for the first time.

She was comforted by the presence of Mabelle, who insisted on being the one to support Agneta’s shoulders during most of the labour. Agneta jested she would tell her son as he grew that he’d been brought into the world with the aid of a Countess.

The last leaves were clinging to the trees outside as the cool autumn winds assailed them. Agneta had never been as hot in her life as she travailed to give birth, and in the afternoon of her second day of labour, she heard the cry of her first born child.

“It’s a boy,” cried Mabelle. “A beautiful strong boy. He has Caedmon’s black hair.”

The midwife was worried. “My lady, there’s another babe,” she whispered to Mabelle.

“What is it?” Agneta whimpered. “My son?”

“
Non
, Agneta,” Mabelle soothed, wiping Agneta’s brow. “Don’t worry. But we’ll need to mark him in some way. There’s another babe. I need a knife, something to mark him with.”

The midwife handed over a knife, but Agneta stopped her. “No, go to the
armoire
. In the bottom, there’s a dagger, wrapped in cloth. Use that. It’s an heirloom, from my Viking ancestors.”

Mabelle quickly found the weapon and nicked the baby’s forearm to mark him as the first born. Minutes later, Agneta gave birth to a tiny girl. Though she was exhausted, the good care she and Mabelle had taken with her health came to her aid and the midwife assured her everything was as it should be. They cleansed Agneta and helped her to bed. After a while, they brought the two newborns to her, swaddled and hungry. Mabelle laid the girl to Agneta’s breast.

“She’s not first born, but she’s tiny and needs you first,” she said, tearful at the thought of Ram’s blue eyes glowing with pride at the sight of these grandchildren. “Now October will have a happy memory associated with it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“We’ll rest a few days before beginning the journey back,” Ram decided. “Your ordeal has taken its toll on your body, Caedmon, but you’re strong, and you’ll soon regain your strength. You have good bloodlines.”

Caedmon smiled at the wink his father gave him. “With the Emperor’s lavish hospitality, I’m confident you’re right,” he replied, putting his feet up on an ottoman.

“Baudoin and I have met with the Norman knights who survived with you. All expressed their gratitude for your saving their lives. They praised you as a man of fortitude who bore the trials and ordeals of the journey with courage and forbearance. I’m proud of you, my son.”

“I couldn’t have done it without Amadour de Vignoles,” Caedmon replied.

“I’ve invited Amadour and the others to join our forces if they wish. They were honoured, recognizing the Montbryce name. Allying themselves with our family may bring them renewed hope after the terrible failure of this crusade. Once we reach Normandie, if they meet our standards, they can either remain at the castle in Saint Germain or go with us to England.”

Caedmon suddenly jumped to his feet. “Is Burel among them?” he asked.

Ram raised his hand to reassure Caedmon. “
Non
, all spoke of his incompetence and arrogance.”

Caedmon sat back down, but not before he grabbed another handful of grapes from the groaning board set out by the Emperor. “It’s as it should be.”

Ram helped himself to a sweet confection and joined his son on the divan. “Baudoin is making sure the men-at-arms sharpen their weapons, repair armour and prepare horses before we set out. It won’t be an easy journey back to England.”

“Abbot has weathered the ordeal remarkably well. I might not be alive today if he hadn’t kept going. Thank God for Tybaut’s keen eye for horseflesh.”

Ram nodded. “I understand how you feel. My stallion Fortis kept me alive at Hastings. Perhaps one day I’ll tell you about it.” Ram was surprised he’d uttered those words. He’d always avoided talking about Hastings.

After a few days rest, all were anxious to be on the road home.

“You look like a Byzantine knight,” Baudoin mocked when he first saw his brother in his new equipment, provided by Alexius. Caedmon wore a fine new chain mail hauberk, a lamellar leather cuirass over it, metal arm and leg braces, and a helmet, clothing and boots. His own were beyond repair.

Tens of thousands of people were still flocking to join the next crusade and Ram deemed it best to keep to the routes those travellers were taking, though in the opposite direction. While there were risks, it would be safer than journeying through sparsely travelled territory where they might be vulnerable.

Instead of following the Danube we’ve decided to go overland through Macedonia to Dyrrhacium, which ironically fell briefly to Norman forces many years ago. From there we’ll take ship across the Adriatic to Bari in Italy.

“I’m not sure why I want to go the sea route,” Ram complained as they made their plans. “I’m a terrible sailor.”

“So am I,” said Caedmon.

Just as at the outset of my journey, I couldn’t stop retching throughout the voyage across the Adriatic, but now I know from whom I’ve inherited this malady. The Earl was as sick as I was. Baudoin deemed it amusing. Bari was shrouded in fog from the sea and the landing was difficult.

From the heel of Italy they made their way to the Duchy of Naples. At first they traversed rolling hills, but the terrain became more difficult as they followed trails through high rounded mountains, sometimes catching sight of villages perched right on the top.

The magnificent Arch of Trajan in Beneventum is a testimony to the ancientness of these towns we’re passing through. The Earl seems to have made an ally of the Archbishop here in this Papal stronghold. He has gifted us with some of the fine wine from this region. We’ve packed it well and the Earl hopes we can get it back to Ellesmere safely. He wants his Countess to taste it. He talks about her as much as I talk about Agneta.

I’m developing a taste for olives.

~~~

Ram and Caedmon and Baudoin had many hours to get to know each other and their respect and liking for each other grew. The conversation one day turned to the Battle of Alnwick where Agneta had found Caedmon wounded on the battlefield.

“I must tell you, my lord Rambaud,” said Caedmon, “Sometimes I wish I’d never regained my memory of that event. I can still hear the screams of the injured and dying. I’ll never forget the fear. It’s not very Norman of me to reveal such a thing to you.”

Ram shifted in the saddle, and it was a while before he replied. “Caedmon, a warrior who says he has never been afraid is a liar. I can tell you that during the Battle of Hastings, I was terrified all the time. At one moment I thought my head had been severed and I was looking into my own dead eyes. Then the horror struck me that the blow had felled the knight who rode at my side.”

It suddenly occurred to Ram he’d never told anyone about his near decapitation before. But Caedmon had fought and fallen in an equally horrific battle.

“The memory of that day has haunted me all my life. But courage isn’t the absence of fear. It’s acting in spite of the fear. When you made the decision to flee the abandoned ruin and sail for help, were you not afraid?”

“Aye, I was afraid. But you’re right. I had to act in spite of the fear. Though I could hear Turkish voices in their camp, I kept going.”

“That makes you a man of great courage,” Ram answered proudly. “You saved thousands of lives.”

“But I was a coward when I first found out you were my father. I ran away from my fears then,” Caedmon lamented.

Ram was thoughtful for a while, contemplating the landscape around them. “My belief is that when we experience a tremendous shock of some kind, violence, bad news, something completely unexpected, our bodies have a number of ways to react. Yours chose to forget when you were at Alnwick. When you understood you were my son, it chose denial and flight. After Hastings I chose to try and overcome my emotional turmoil, and the frustration of losing the confrontation with a Welsh rebel, by seeking solace with your mother who was also in need of comfort. She’d suffered a loss and was faced with a future filled with fear.”

It was the first time the two men had ever spoken about Ram’s coupling with Ascha.