Authors: Bertrice Small
“He has taken a wife,” the priest said. “Perhaps in the excitement of it all he forgot his duty to you, lady.”
“No,” she said. “He did not forget. From the moment I married their father, my stepsons were disrespectful to me. May God and His Blessed Mother assoil my lord’s soul.” She bowed her head a moment, but shed no tears, the priest noted. When she raised her head to look at him again, she asked, “Why has the king sent you to Langston, my lords? This manor is of no importance, nor was my late lord. Why is King Henry concerned with us? What are we to him, good father?”
“The messages sent you, lady, were for your daughter, not your husband. King Henry sought her fealty. When she did not give it to him, he became concerned, for Langston is most strategically located. Should England be threatened by invasion, keeps such as yours, on and near the coast, are its first line of defense.” The priest’s gray eyes probed the woman’s face for any sign of deception or fear, but Alette de Manneville showed only curiosity in what he was telling her. “Sir Hugh,” Father Bernard continued, “is the grandson of Langston’s last Saxon lord, Hugh Strongarm. After Hastings his mother fled west to her father’s house, where he was born. When he was seven, he was sent to court to be raised by Queen Matilda, for his grandmother, the lady Emma, was King William’s kin.” He stopped so she might absorb all this.
“Pray go on, good father,” the lady Alette finally said.
“When King Henry learned of your husband’s death, and that you and your daughter were bereft of guidance; when he did not receive the reassurance of your daughter’s fealty
as heiress to Langston, he decided that it would be best that Langston be returned to its only legitimate heir, Hugh Fauconier, his childhood friend and companion, for the king knows that Lord Hugh’s allegiance to him is complete.”
“Then,” said Alette de Manneville, “we are to be displaced and disinherited, good father? What will become of us?”
“Nay, lady, the king is not without feeling. He would never dispossess you and the maiden. The king has determined that your daughter shall marry Lord Hugh. She is of an age, and, it was learned, has no betrothed husband. Thus,” the priest concluded, “the difficulty shall be solved most amenably. Langston will, I am certain, most gladly accept the grandson of Hugh Strongarm as its lord; you shall not be deprived of your home, and your daughter shall have a most honorable knight for a husband.”
“
I shall marry no man I do not choose myself!
” a determined voice said loudly from the entry to the hall. The owner of the voice strode boldly into the room. To their surprise, she was dressed in boy’s clothing; only her long single braid of hair gave testimony to her sex.
“
Isabelle
,” Alette de Manneville said, her voice pleading.
“Oh, madame, do not, I pray you, look like a cornered doe. It is not a look that becomes you,” Isabelle of Langston said scornfully.
Rolf de Briard rolled his eyes and restrained his amusement, but the priest looked scandalized by the girl’s words.
“Do not, lady, speak with such disrespect to your mother,” Hugh said quietly. If he had been hoping for a petite blue and gold creature such as Alette de Manneville, he was now doomed to disappointment. The girl was tall for a female, slender, but big-boned, and her hair was a flaming copper color. The green-gold eyes she now fastened on him were both angry and hostile.
“And who are you, sirrah, to instruct me in my behavior?” Isabelle of Langston demanded furiously.
“
Belle!
” her mother half whispered, but was patently ignored.
“I am, I fear, lady, to be your husband, which gives me the power of life and death over you. For now I choose to let you live,” Hugh finished with a small attempt at humor.
“
I shall marry no man I do not choose myself
,” Belle repeated.
Father Bernard rose from his warm seat by the fire, and taking the girl by the arm, pressed her firmly into his former place. “The king has decreed, my lady Isabelle, that you shall marry this good knight, heir to the last Saxon lord of Langston. Your father and elder brother have perished on crusade. No woman can hold a keep for the king, even so small a keep as this one is.”
The girl’s face, hard before, now crumbled at the revelation that her father was dead. She struggled to keep her tears from overflowing her eyes. “Then I shall return to my brother Richard’s house in Normandy,” she said stubbornly, “but I shall not marry some Saxon scum!”
“Oh, Belle!” her mother burst out. “You know that Richard will not have us. Besides, he has married, and Manneville is smaller than Langston. You’ve never even been there. It’s dark and gloomy. I hated it! All the years I was married to your father, I was forced to bear the insults your half brothers heaped upon me for the sake of peace. Oh, they were careful not to show their disrespect before your father, not that he would have chastised them. Rather he would have somehow found cause to blame me. The only thing I ever did that pleased Robert de Manneville was to bear you. In the beginning he was furious that you were not another son. Only when you began to show signs of being like him did you become his adored darling. As for William and Richard, they showed you favor because it pleased Robert, not because they cared for you. Neither of them ever cared for anyone save themselves. Richard will not welcome you, my child, believe me. He no longer has to satisfy your father.”
“How dare you speak of my father with such insolence, madame?” Belle demanded. “He was a wonderful man, and I loved him.”
“And he loved you, at least as much as he was capable of loving, my child,” her mother answered, “but I only speak the truth to you. Your brother will not have you, I am certain, and why would you want to leave Langston? It is your home. You love it. Be grateful the king has provided you with a suitable husband, and you will be allowed to live your life even as you have always desired to live it, here at Langston. Do not struggle against yourself, Belle.”
“You are so weak,” the girl sneered. “How can it be possible that I am your daughter? I am nothing like you, madame. My father would see me dead rather than married to a Saxon!”
“An event easily arranged,” Hugh Fauconier said dryly, and he fingered his sword, his blue eyes serious.
Rolf de Briard snickered, but his amusement turned to surprise as the girl pulled a short sword from beneath her cloak, standing to defend herself.
“
Belle!
” her mother shrieked, and Father Bernard crossed himself.
Hugh stepped swiftly forward and yanked the weapon from the girl’s hand. Then jamming her beneath his arm, he smacked her posterior with several hard blows before forcing her back onto her feet before him, his hands gripping her shoulders hard. “Now listen to me, you hellion,” he said in a hard, grim voice. “Your father, God assoil him, is dead. King Henry has restored Langston to me and decreed that you should be my wife. The king is my good friend. Had he known what a virago you are, I am certain he would not have imposed such a wife upon me, but would have had you clapped in a convent instead. I am not a harsh man, lady, and so I will give you a week or two that you may get to know me. Then Father Bernard will marry us and return to my liege lord with the
news we have fulfilled his desires. Do you understand me, Belle?”
“
You hit me!
” she said in a fierce voice.
“It is not my custom to strike women,” he answered, not for one moment betraying the fact that he was indeed ashamed she had driven him to such action. Not that he had been wrong to chastise her for her behavior; it was his right. Both the Church and the law gave him total jurisdiction over the girl. His grandfather, Cedric Merlin-sone, however, had always said that when a man resorted to violence with either a woman or an animal, he had lost the battle.
She glared up at him. “I should sooner end my days in a cloister than marry you, you
Saxon
!”
“Sadly, lady, the choice is neither yours nor mine to make,” Hugh answered her. Then releasing her, he said to Alette, “Take your daughter to her chamber, madame, and remain with her until she is calm again. Then return to me, and we will talk.”
“I hate you! I will never marry you!” Isabelle spat out as her mother tugged at her sleeve, pulling her from the Great Hall.
“Good night, hellion. God give you sweet repose,” the new lord of Langston answered her.
“Whew!” Rolf de Briard said as the two women disappeared through a door. “Forgive me, Hugh, but what a termagant! Send Father Bernard back to the king to tell him. Better the girl go to the convent than you be saddled with her for all your days. Surely the king has among his wards some sweet maid who would make you a far better wife.”
“While I hesitate to encumber some unsuspecting religious order with such a vixen,” the priest said thoughtfully, “I am inclined to agree with Sir Rolf. I wonder if the girl is not mad.”
Hugh Fauconier shook his head. “Let us give her a little time to become used to all the changes that have been set before her. I do not want to reject her out of hand if there is a chance I may
win her friendship. Remember, Isabelle has sustained a great shock. Her father is dead. She has been presented with that news, along with a complete stranger to marry. She is afraid, I think, though she would deny it vehemently, believing fear a shameful thing.”
“You have too kind a heart,” Rolf sighed. “The girl is simply a bad-tempered shrew.”
“
They call her Belle from Hell
,” came the darkly whispered comment. “The Langston folk are mortally afeared of her, lord.”
The three men turned to look at old Eldon. Then Rolf burst out laughing. Even Father Bernard allowed himself a small chuckle.
“I shall call her
ma Belle douce
,” Hugh said with a twinkle in his blue eyes. “When I am training a particularly difficult falcon or hawk, one that bites without provocation, I win it over with soft words, little treats, and a firm hand, until it learns to trust me. I shall manage the hellion in the same manner, until she becomes a soft-spoken angel, glad of heart and happy to do my bidding.”
“I think you a madman,” Rolf declared. “The Blessed Mother herself could not tame that girl. If the wench were mine, I should school her with a dog whip until she either did my bidding or I killed her.” He thought a moment. “Or she killed me,” he amended.
Now it was Hugh who smiled, and when he did, his whole face lit up. He was a plain man, rather than a handsome one. Tall, and big of bone, he had a long face, a long nose not unlike the beaks of the birds he was famed for training, and a long, big mouth. His eyes were among his best features, round in shape and a clear light blue. His smile was broad, showing his white, white teeth. His whole demeanor was serious, almost severe, until he smiled, and when he did, the smile extended all the way to his eyes, and his teeth flashed. Unlike many men, he did not shave the back of his head. His dark blond hair was straight and cropped moderately short.
“Let me see what I can do to tame this wild bird the king has so generously bestowed upon me. If the task proves an impossible one, my friends, then I shall cage her. She will be a challenge, but I think I can subdue the lady Isabelle.”
Chapter 2
A
lette De Manneville shoved her daughter into her chamber with an unaccustomed force. Shutting the door behind them, she barred it and then whirled about to face her daughter. “Have you lost your wits entirely, Isabelle?”
The girl was astounded by her mother’s behavior. Alette was a meek, softspoken creature who had never before shown temper, or uttered a harsh word to her. Much of her own disdain for Alette stemmed from the fact that her mother never spoke up in defense of herself or her ideas. “I cannot imagine what you could possibly mean, madame,” she replied with as much hauteur as she could muster. “You cannot expect me to stand by while Langston and I are parceled off to that long-faced Saxon thief.”
“
Isabelle!
” There was utter exasperation in Alette’s soft voice. “Whatever men may think of women, we have intelligence. You are not stupid. You are, in fact, a very clever girl. King Henry is well within his rights to confiscate Langston. Even I can see the lay of the land. Your father worried about it constantly, which is one reason he went on crusade; to escape being torn between England’s king and Normandy’s duke, as all the Norman barons’ families are. That is why he gave you Langston, and Richard, Manneville. Neither of you will be subjected to divided loyalties. You are English, your brother a Norman. Your choice is clear.
“Because we did not answer the king’s call for fealty, he grew fearful that Langston meant to declare for Duke Robert.
We are too strategically located to be allowed to do such a thing. That is why King Henry returned the estate to the heir of its original owner. He knows he can trust in his childhood friend. He even honors your father’s memory by giving you to Hugh Fauconier as a wife, thereby assuring us that we will not lose our home. It is a good arrangement all around.”