Defy Not the Heart (10 page)

R
anulf was well aware he had been goaded into marrying the lady, and he would do it for the sole purpose of making her regret manipulating him in such a way. But this was no time to let anger get in the way of his reason. She was prepared to make contract with him, and whether he liked it or not, he knew it was necessary, was in fact considered to be the most important aspect of any marriage. She was also too shrewd for him not to pay close attention when she dictated the terms to the young monk who had been lent to them as scribe.

They had been allowed the use of a small room for the discussion, with Walter and Searle there as witnesses for Ranulf, and the monk for her. Ranulf would have preferred talking over the terms with her privately first, but she had insisted that it would not take long, and that he should find everything agreeable to him, as she was offering him the same as she would have Lord John de Lascelles—he finally had the name! Whether this was so or not remained to be seen, but if it was not, he was less likely to argue with her in front of the monk, which she was surely counting on.

Ranulf had not realized until after they had spoken to Father Geoffrey, and he had agreed to marry them, that Walter’s little plot could very well have backfired in their faces. The lady could have sought sanctuary with the bishop, the very reason Ranulf had not
wanted to bring her to the abbey to pass the night. He had to wonder why she did not, for the notion must have crossed her mind. She could not truly
want
to marry him, not with her low opinion of him that she had made abundantly clear. Yet in no way had she appeared reluctant before Father Geoffrey. And she had been naught but calmly controlled ever since they arrived at the abbey.

“Before we get to the terms, ’tis your right to know what you are getting, Sir Ranulf.”

He snorted upon hearing she was back to addressing him in a courteous manner, and she heard him, giving him a smile meant to annoy him before continuing. “Because my father is dead and I am his only heir, I do not come to you with a mere dowry, but with my full inheritance. Besides Clydon Castle with its large farm and mill, there are two other keeps, Brent Tower and Roth Hill, not quite as large, but not small either. There are also two other farms near Roth Hill, and three fortified manor houses with hamlets closer to Shefford.”

Ranulf was impressed, but it was Walter who thought to ask, “Which do you want as your dower property?”

“I thought I made it clear I do not come with a dowry, but with everything my father owned. So being, I wish to keep half my inheritance should aught happen to Sir Ranulf ere there are any children of this union. If there is a child to then inherit, I would request only Clydon for my own, for the duration of my life, to go to the child on my death. If I die before Sir Ranulf, then of course everything remains his, for I have no other family to fight over it.”

“Does that sound reasonable to you, Ranulf?” Walter asked his friend.

It was more than reasonable, since she was in effect giving him everything for the duration of his own life. But not trusting her, he knew there had to be a catch. He just could not see it.

Instead of answering Walter, he said to her, “You say you want only half of your inheritance back should I die. Who, then, gets the other half?”

She looked at him as if he were daft. “’Tis usual for the husband’s family to fight over the property should he die. Ofttimes they try to keep it all, though Lord Guy would prevent that in this case. But Lord John’s family would have expected half, as would Lord Richard’s family, had he answered my summons first. So I was willing to give half to form either alliance. As I said before, I offer you the same terms. You need but match them, pledging half you possess to me, the amount to be given only should you die. But I thought we agreed to wait on discussing the terms.”

“You were not finished?” Ranulf frowned.

She shook her head. “What I have mentioned are the demesne lands, held only by me. Though I should mention now that two other fiefs have returned to me due to those vassals dying, one without heirs and one with a baby daughter now in wardship to me. Actually three vassals died with my father on Crusade, though the third had three sons, the oldest of whom has already sworn to me for the manor he holds now.”

Ranulf ignored Walter’s groaning. Neither of them had thought she was this well landed. “How many vassals did your father take with him?”

“Four,” she replied. “William de Bruce remains
with Lord Guy, as do our household knights, though we have lost two of them as well, as I already told you when you met their widows. Sir William’s son has already sworn to me for his father, who holds a manor and a toll bridge of me.”

Ranulf was almost afraid to ask, “Is that all?”

Again she shook her head. “I have three other vassals who did not join my father. Sir John holds a farm and four hundred acres near Bedford. Sir Guiot, a farm and mill worth three knights’ service. And Lord Simon, whose daughter Elaine you met, holds Forth-wick Keep, a mill, and two rich manors.”

Walter was groaning louder. Ranulf was not sure what he thought now. Clydon did not just equal his father’s estate, it surpassed it.

For want of something better to say, for he was frankly overwhelmed, he asked, “And how many knights’ service does Lord Simon owe you?”

“Twelve knights for the forty days if I need them, but if ’tis the income you are interested in, that equates to two hundred and forty marks a year.”

“And the others?”

“Fifteen and a half knights’ service.”

Ranulf calculated quickly and then said suspiciously, “But that is only five hundred fifty in income, my lady. From where comes all the rest you claimed? Surely not all from your demesne lands.”

Patiently she replied, “Nay, the demesne amounts to eight hundred marks a year. The wardship is two manor farms with villages accounting for one hundred fifty. ’Tis Birkenham Keep and Town—”

“Birkenham!” all three men gasped in unison, but it was Ranulf who demanded, “Birkenham Town is yours?”

“And the keep that guards it,” she said. “You know Birkenham, then?”

“Lady, who does not know Birkenham? ’Tis nigh as large as Lincoln!”

“So it is,” she replied without the least smugness in her tone. “But as I was saying, Birkenham is the richest of the holdings, with dues and fees amounting to five hundred marks a year. ’Tis also the fief that has returned to me, though I have yet to see the additional income that that entails, nor will I until Michaelmas.”

“But why would your father subinfeudate a fief that must be worth more than Clydon, if the dues alone are five hundred marks a year?”

She finally smiled. “Have you never dealt with merchants, Sir Ranulf, or their guilds? Birkenham may be the richest fief, but ’tis also the most troublesome, as well as time-consuming if you are not in residence there. My father was glad to have done with it.”

“And now it will be my problem?” he fairly snarled.

“It need not be a problem at all.” She frowned at him. “You need only decide whether you wish to keep it or give it to your own man or one of mine. Give it to Sir Walter,” she sneered. “His tongue is glib enough to deal right well with demanding merchants.”

“God’s wounds, Ranulf!” Walter groaned, horrified. “Do not even consider—”

“’Tis no more than you deserve for getting me entangled in this,” Ranulf growled low, and then, to Reina: “Now if
that
is all, let us get back to the
terms, which have been so far one-sided. What do you want from me, demoiselle?”

“I am rich in land and priceless trophies from the Holy Land, but there is no money at present, as you may have surmised, nor will there be until after the harvest and the rents due at Michaelmas.”

“How is that possible? Were you robbed? Those outlaws in your woods—”

“Nay, nothing like that,” she assured him. “Crusading is not done cheaply, Sir Ranulf. My father took more than half our wealth, gold stuff, and jewels to support the large army he brought with him. He also took most of our horses, and fifty of the men-at-arms from Clydon.”

“Is
that
why you were so little protected?”

This brought a look from the monk and a blush from the lady. “Partly. I was to replace the garrison as well as the horses and did half, replacing the men, only to lose thirty of them in war. Immediately my father left, both Forthwick and Brent Tower were attacked. The crops and village were burned at Brent Tower ere my men arrived, so there was no income from there last year, and much cost to me to rebuild the village and see they did not starve. But Lord Simon was captured and ransom demanded, which took nigh all the money I had left. And losing those men I had just paid a year’s wage to did not make it easy to replace them, not when one thing after another kept occurring to put it off. So for the rest of that year I took what was left in knights’ service as castle guard, though it has never been my father’s policy to do so. I was then able to hire new men for a garrison of fifty-five soldiers when the rents came due last year.”

“A small number for such a large castle, but not all accounted for,” Ranulf reminded her.

She gave him a baleful stare before replying. “I was caught short only this past fortnight. Lady Margaret’s married daughter had been visiting this past month and needed an escort of ten to return her to London. Sir Arnulph, another household knight, needed another ten to accompany him to Birkenham, where I sent him in my stead. And one of my bailiffs requested assistance with a killing at one of my manors, so I sent him a knight with five men just four days ago.” When Sir William had gotten his crazy idea that
she
could be taught to defend her own castle, and had quickly instructed the armorer to piece together her mail. “I know the number is small. As I said, there has simply been no extra money for long now.”

“But you had your income from last year.”

“And more catastrophes this year than I care to mention. A fire at Roth Hill took every building in the bailey, including the grain sheds, only just replenished. The walls there have long needed repair, too, which was begun but not finished. More than a hundred sheep have been stolen, preventing me from selling any, and my entire herd of cattle. I suspect Falkes de Rochefort had a hand in that. The cattle had to be replaced, as well as the horses for the garrison, though I still do not have enough for all my men. And—”

“So from me you need money?”

“Aye, but not overmuch, just enough to finish the repairs at Roth Hill and to meet any other emergencies occurring before Michaelmas. You already have men to increase the garrison, though Roth Hill and Brent Tower could use more as well. And it would
not be amiss if we had more horses. Is this too much for you to meet?”

His answer was accompanied with a surly glare. “You already know what I am worth and that this will not tax me at all. But what of the obligatory payment due from your vassals on your wedding?”

“’Tis due on the wedding of the lord’s oldest daughter, but technically I am no longer that. I am now their liege lady, and there is no aid due on the wedding of their lord or lady. But that payment would only have offset the costs of the wedding, which will be no burden. Clydon has an abundance of food and stores. We were never in danger of starving.”

Ranulf was still so far dissatisfied he could barely stand it. How
could
she give all this to him, with almost naught in return? Granted, some man had to have it, but doubtless that Lord John or Richard she had wanted would have brought her untold wealth and the power of his family.
There
was where she was being shafted.
He
had no connections, no family to give aid, naught of power to draw on should the need arise. But she could not know that, or she would not have mentioned giving half her estate to him to remain with his family on his death.

Ranulf stiffened, recalling that and what it actually meant. He would have to speak to her about it, but not in front of the monk.

Looking at the monk, he asked, “You are not writing all of this down, are you?”

“Nay, my lord, only the extent of the lady’s holdings as will come to you through the marriage, the stipulations upon the death of either of you, and what you have agreed to pay for. I need only list now your holdings before you can return to Father Geoffrey to
speak your vows. The legalities of these terms will be added later, the copies of the complete contract ready in the morning.”

Ranulf said nothing, loath to mention how little he was bringing to this marriage. But the monk was waiting.…

“His marriage portion is seven thousand marks, to give it an even number,” Lady Reina said without the slightest inflection in her tone. “Half his wealth.”

The monk was aghast at the small amount. “But—”

“There are no ‘buts,’” she cut in forcefully, only to add more moderately, “Sir Ranulf also agrees to give me children, protect my people and property to the best of his ability, and—and not to beat me, for as he is a man of such unusual size, one blow is like to kill me.”

All eyes turned to Ranulf to be treated to the bright color flooding his face. That last stipulation was unheard of, for a man had a right to beat his wife if she was deserving of it, even if she was not. The monk would be the first to say so. And yet she had made a point that Ranulf had not considered. He did not dare take his fist to her as small as she was, for it
was
like to kill her.

But children! To have it stated in contract that he could not ignore her. Did she think that was his intention, to take all she had and put her away somewhere? It was a tempting notion, but he would not do it. Christ’s toes! He was getting so much that it would be a matter of honor to treat her with the tenderest of care!

“Do you—ah—agree to this, Sir Ranulf?” the monk asked with hesitancy.

“Aye.” He nodded grudgingly. “But I need a word with the lady ere the terms can be finished.”

So saying, he rose and snatched Reina’s hand to pull her out of the room before she could gainsay him. She thought he meant to beat her now ere the contract was sworn to and he lost the chance. She had dared much considering she was in no position to make any demands at all. But she had gotten away with it. He
had
agreed before taking her out of the room.