Medieval Ever After (158 page)

Per her directive, Demetrius did as she bade, to Briarus’s look of confusion.  But when Demetrius sent his horse into a gallop, the world tilted on end, the passing landscape blurred, and all too soon, he soared into blissful release.

“Oh, mother of mercy.”  Again and again, he tensed with pure unadulterated pleasure, until he slumped over his bride, who clung to him.  Spent to his toes, he fell prey to a fit of mirth.  “Whither did ye learn that, my lady, as thou were a virgin when I first took ye?”

“From Isolde.”  Athel shrugged.  “She swears by it to pass the time on an otherwise unremarkable tour.”

In that instant, he sifted through his memory and recalled several occasions whereupon Arucard offered the same thin excuse, to Demetrius’s unutterable bewilderment.

But now he understood the need for secrecy.

The need for isolation.

The need.

To his horror, he suspected he had fallen in love with his wife.

That particular development would not have troubled him, had he regained his faith, but he remained detached from his beliefs, as a lost son.  Every attempt at prayer left him empty and mute, so he suffered in silence, wondering if he would ever find his way home.

So that first night, after the party retired, he sought solace and seduced his bride with soft kisses intended to entice and arouse, and Athel all but melted beneath him.  And in the intimate connection he won redemption, however temporary.

Rising before the dawn, they came together again, melding into one entity, and his declaration danced on the tip of his tongue, but his bride rushed to prepare a morning meal for the small contingent of soldiers that escorted them to their new home, so he held his tongue.  But in their moments of shared bliss, he glimpsed a light at the end of a long and dark tunnel.

To his delight, she took him again, in the same soul-stealing manner, on the second day of their travels, and he employed the same excuse to gain a measure of privacy.  But she was exhausted when they approached the massive stronghold, as the sun sat low on the horizon, thus he carried her to their quarters and deposited her on the bed.

In the Great Hall, he met with Grimbaud, his marshalsea.

“Thither are not enough tables and chairs for the garrison to dine at once, so Isotta feeds everyone in two sittings.”  Grimbaud opened his mouth and then closed it.  “And given Lady Athelyna’s absence, I would speak with ye about a difficult situation.”

“What is it?”  Demetrius flipped through a stack of bills.

“Per thy orders, I conferred upon Gerwald a supervisory rank in the garrison, but he doth not perform his duties.”  Grimbaud frowned.  “Sir, I am not one to gainsay ye, but the men hath noticed, and they resent him.  Thither is talk of preferential treatment, given he is thy relation through marriage, such that Gerwald undermines my authority.”

“Whither is Gerwald now, as he did not welcome his sister?”  The gadling reminded Demetrius of Randulf, and that gave him pause.

“He may be in the meadow, sir.”  Grimbaud rolled his eyes.  “The lad is absent whenever thither is work to be done, but he never misses a meal, so thou mayest catch him at supper.”

“But I did not see him, when we made our approach to the gate.”  He pondered the landscape.  “Thither is a particular place he favors?”

“Aye.  I wager ye can find him just on the edge of the woods, as thither is a gentle verge.”  The marshalsea accepted the bundle of parchment.  “And what shall I do with these, my lord?”

“I will remit payment, immediately.”  Demetrius strolled toward the courtyard.  “And purchase more furnishings, as I would have us gather as a community, especially for holidays and such.”

“Yea, my lord.”  Grimbaud nodded and disappeared down a side corridor.

As he exited the main gate, Demetrius peered to the left and noted the forested area.  A slope in the earth caught his attention, and he just spied the crown of Gerwald’s head visible above the tall grass.

Given the long ride, he enjoyed the walk to his undisciplined relation.  A cool breeze rolled off the river, and he inhaled the fresh air.  As Demetrius neared, Gerwald started.

“Demetrius, thou art hither.”  With arms stretched overhead, Gerwald yawned.  “And how is Athelyna?”

“She is spent, thus she sleeps.”  He squatted and dropped to the earth.  “Wherefore art thou hither, when thither is much work to be done?”

“Such drudgery is boring.”  Gerwald rubbed his eyes.  “And I drank too much at the tavern in town, last eventide, thus I suffer for it now.”

“Gerwald, thou cannot go through life as an idle drunkard, as that is not an occupation, unless thou art a king.”  Had he not said the same to Randulf?  “Thou dost want to lead, but ye must do so by example, else thou wilt never know respect, and thy charges will desert ye.  What I ask of ye is naught more than I do, myself.”

“But I am too young to be locked away in toil.”  Gerwald leaped to his feet, spread wide his arms, and rotated in circles.  “I am in my prime, and I wish to have fun.”

“Complete thy chores, and then ye may indulge in various entertainments.”  Demetrius smacked Athel’s brother on the back of the head.  “But if thou dost embarrass my wife, thou wilt have to deal with me.”  Stars twinkled in the encroaching indigo sky, and he envisioned his lady, reclining in their bed.  “Now let us return to the castle.”

As Demetrius strolled the lea, he made a mental list of necessities to address on the morrow.  But at that moment, he thought only of Athelyna.  Despite Briarus’s suggestion that Demetrius sup at the dais, he chose to convey a tray to his private accommodation.

In deep slumber, his bride did not stir when he carried their meal to a small bedside table, which was not like her.  After removing her heavy cotehardie, he divested her of her shoes, kirtle, and hose, and then he tucked her between the sheets.

Once he joined her, he woke her.  “Sweetheart, thou must eat something.”

“I am too tired.”  She moaned.

“Athel, take some beef broth, for me.”  Demetrius held the bowl to her lips.

“My lord, stop fussing.”  She nestled close, and he kissed her.  That brought her alert, and she sipped the hot liquid.  “Mmm, that is delicious.”

After tending his wife, he sank into the mattress and drew her into his arms.  While his body responded to her closeness, he disturbed her not, as just holding her brought him comfort.

It dawned on Demetrius then that so many dreams he coveted in La Rochelle had since come to completion.  Indeed, despite the hardships he endured, he prospered.  Although he had never planned to marry, he had longed to manage his own community, and he was just beginning to attain that goal, in France, when everything was destroyed.

But fate chose a different course, which brought him Athelyna and the possibility of a family legacy.  He wanted an heir.  He wanted his wife.  More importantly, he wanted her love.

#

By March, the chill of winter surrendered to the rebirth of spring, and countless wildflowers littered the meadow before Winchester Castle.  Built of beige stone, the motte-and-bailey fortress perched high on a sandstone bluff, with a river on one side and a moat on the other.  Crenellation marked the parapets, and a pair of impressive towers stood guard over the north face of the curtain wall.  At first glance, it was an awesome responsibility for a novice chatelaine, but Athelyna fell in love with the resplendent structure.

But in rare moments of frustration, she resolved to ride for Chichester Castle, if she could persuade her husband.  Of course, she was not in earnest, as the huge residence presented a challenge she could not resist, so she commenced to creating a warm and inviting home from the cold fortification.

Vivid tapestries hung on the walls of the solar, and intricate woodwork decorated the ceiling of Athelyna’s new shared accommodation.  A large four-poster, with a hand-tooled headboard, occupied the center of the back wall, and she spread a luxurious burgundy damask coverlet over the mattress.

“Lady Athelyna, thou art not a maid.”  Isotta shook her head and clucked her tongue.  “Permit me to summon the servants.”

“Thou dost remind me of Margery.”  She assessed her work and dipped her chin.  “I think it lovely, if I do say so, myself.”

“Well that is enough, as his lordship bade me fetch ye to the courtyard, whither he awaits.”  Isotta snatched the pillow from Athel’s grasp.  “I will have the maids finish thy chores, as thou hast been tired, of late.”

“All right.”  She glanced at her appearance and doffed her apron.  “I am gone.”

Athel paused in the hallway and glanced left and then right.  On more than one occasion, she got lost in the maze of corridors, but she suspected she could access the side egress to the right.  Indeed, in a few minutes, she stepped into the bright sunlight.

“Ah, thither is my beauteous bride.”  Demetrius loomed with his destrier, and she ran into his embrace.  “And thy ardent welcome is my reward.”

“My lord, thou art up to something.”  As he lifted her to the saddle, she sneaked a kiss.  “Whither dost we roam, as I have yet to supervise organization of the undercroft, and although the buttery is in order, the spicery requires a thorough scrubbing.”

“And that is what servants are for, my dear.”  Planted at her rear, he heeled his stallion, and they exited the castle at a blazing pace.  “Right now, my burdens are few, and I wish to spend time with ye.”

“Oh, Demetrius, I have missed ye, of late.”  Bursting with joy, she fought happy tears, as demands on the lord and lady of the manor were many.  “But we art both occupied with settlement of our new home.”

“Thou dost glow, my lady.”  As they approached the wooded area to the east, he slowed the stallion.  “Have I pleased ye?”

“Thou hast, my one true knight.”  How she favored his mischievous nature, as it was a part of him shown only to her.  “So what art thou about?”

“Well, Arucard and Isolde have a special place, whither they engage in private interludes, and I suppose we could indulge in a similar practice.”  With his teeth, he nipped the crest of her ear, as he steered between the trees.  “When I surveyed the outlying lands, I discovered a small glade, which I thought perfect for our purpose.”

“How dost thou know of their habit, if it is private?”  The thick canopy of leaves rustled in the breeze, and she closed her eyes.

“Because I happened upon them by accident, whilst they partook of marital affection.”  He snorted.  “They were not aware of my presence, but I will never forget the sight of Arucard’s bare arse, and it is an experience I wish I could erase from memory.”

Athelyna burst into laughter.  “And yet thou would follow their example?”

“To an extent.”  The foliage thinned and opened to a tiny clearing, fully enclosed by the trees.  “What dost thou think of our glade, my lady?”

“It is charming, my lord.”  She surveyed the surroundings, as he dismounted and then handed her down.  “And it appears quite secluded.”

“Thither art all manner of branches and twigs on the ground, too.”  After collecting a bouquet of wildflowers, which he presented to her, he spread a blanket atop the grass and she propped on an elbow, as he unpacked a bundle, to reveal grapes, cheese, bread, and wine.  “If someone doth try to spy on us, we will know it.”

“Is my husband bashful?”  She could not help but giggle.

“Nay, as I care not who views my backside.”  With a snort of disgust, he fed her a plump piece of fruit.  “But I share my fair Lily with no one.”

“Thou hast not called me thus, since the night we met.”  And how far they had journeyed from the initial meeting.  “I am partial to the name.”

“Well, in truth, my use is not so noble.”  He tempted her with a bite of cheese.  “Thy naked bottom doth remind me of two great creamy petals, which doth harken a comparison to the bloom.”

“
Demetrius
.”  She buried her face in his chest, and he chuckled.  “Thou art shocking.”

“Art thou indeed startled?”  In that instant, he skimmed his hand along the edge of her skirt, before easing beneath her kirtle.  When he touched the sensitive flesh at the juncture of her thighs, she sighed and reclined.  “Ah, my Lily is wet for me.”

To Athelyna’s delight, their outing erupted into a passionate encounter under a clear blue sky, as her husband made love to her amid the flora and fauna.  It was not a quick coupling.  Rather, he moved slow and steady, drawing out the experience, until she gave her scream of fulfillment into his mouth.  But it was after their joining, when he held her and stroked her hair, that Athel yearned to proclaim her affection, as their intimacy climbed to new heights.  Instead, she just enjoyed his presence.

“I am sorry if ye dost believe I have ignored ye, of late.”  With his thumb, he toyed with her nipple.  “We must host a dinner for the local notables, and I would have thy assistance when I negotiate peace in Winchester.”

“Of course, my lord.”  So much had happened in the town, and she dreaded meeting the awful people who treated Isolde so callously.  “I understand the citizens incurred countless losses in the battle.  According to Isolde, the residents blame the Brethren.”

“They are hurt, and they need someone to fault.”  He twined his fingers with hers.  “This region hath been without a leader for a while, and our people art fragmented and afraid.”