Passion in the Blood (20 page)

One day his mother didn’t appear for the evening meal. Robert went down into the crypt knowing he’d find her there.
On Ram’s tomb she’d placed a posy of bluebells picked earlier in the day with the help of one of the maidservants. Her head rested on her husband’s tomb, her arms around the neck of the stone effigy on its surface. He called his mother’s name, but she didn’t respond, and before he touched her he knew she was dead.

“
Maman
,” he whispered tearfully. “You are at last reunited with your beloved Ram.” With all the strength he could muster, he carried her up to her chamber.

Mabelle de Montbryce’s remains were entombed beside her husband’s. They lay side by side in death as they did in life, watched over by the Montbryce crest and motto, “
Fide et Virtute!
Faith and Valour.”

Dorianne keened at his side. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, feeling her tremble.

“I will miss her,” she whimpered.

He recognised with pangs of guilt that his mother had been his wife’s only comfort while he dealt with his demons. He looked up at the crest as the bishop completed the funerary rites. He’d kept faith and survived his torment. He swore to his dead mother and father he would bring only honour to the family name, and he silently thanked them for their gifts of courage and love. He couldn’t have survived his ordeal without them. He promised to fill his own life and those of his wife and children with love. He would recover from his captivity because of the overwhelming love Dorianne had for him. She was nursing him back to health, helping him slay his demons. One day he would be whole again.

With his problems in England resolved, King Henry returned to Normandie in the summer of the year of Our Lord One Thousand One Hundred and Six. Robert de Montbryce wanted desperately to fight with Henry against Curthose and deemed he was sufficiently recovered. He had to be part of the destruction of Curthose. He needed the closure.

After taking the fortified abbey of Saint-Pierre-sur-Dives, Henry’s army turned south and besieged the castle of Tinchebray, on a hill above the town, not far from Caen. Tinchebray, on the border of the county of Mortain, in the southwest of Normandie, was held by the
Comte
, who was one of the few important Norman barons still loyal to Curthose. The Duke brought up his forces to break the siege. After unsuccessful negotiations, battle was inevitable.

On the Twenty-eighth day of September the Battle of Tinchebray was fought between Henry and Curthose.

Henry's army was organized into three groups. These were commanded by Ranulf of Bayeux, Robert de Beaumont, and William de Warenne. Also on Henry's side were Alain, Duke of Brittany, William, Count of Évreux, Ralph of Tosny, Robert and Baudoin de Montbryce, their half-brother Caedmon FitzRambaud, and Robert of Grandmesil. In addition Henry had a reserve force, commanded by Elias of Maine, out of sight on the flank. Hugh’s sons Melton and Izzy, and Antoine’s boys, Adam and Mathieu, were part of that force.

On Curthose's side were William, Count of Mortain, François de Giroux and Robert of Bellême.

The battle itself lasted a brief hour. Henry dismounted and ordered most of his knights to do the same. Mortain charged the front line. The intervention of Henry's reserve force proved decisive. Most of Curthose’s army was captured or killed.

François de Giroux was among the captured Curthose supporters, but was subsequently released by the King. He pledged his allegiance to Henry and was allowed to return to his castle with what remained of the body of his son, Pierre. Robert dreaded imparting the news to Dorianne.

Baudoin and Caedmon saw action in what essentially became a running battle over several miles, and Robert was proud his brothers and cousins had come to join him in this crucial fight.

He requested and received a boon from his king—he wanted to be in the party of knights seeking to apprehend the Duke. When the fugitive was trapped at a farm two miles north of Tinchebray and forced into surrender, Robert itched to run him through with his sword. The dark memories washed over him, but he didn’t want the blood of the King’s brother on his hands.

He handed Curthose over to the King, but not before goading him in a proud and steady voice and with a mock bow. “Your Grace, I am Robert de Montbryce, of late your guest in Caen. I hope for your sake the prison your brother the King has in mind for you is better than the one you inflicted on me. You will be in prison much longer than I was.”

***

When they arrived back at Montbryce, there was a message for Baudoin. Dorianne herself delivered it to him. Her daughters clung to her skirts and she held Alexandre in her arms. She thrust the missive into Baudoin’s hand as he dismounted. Her expression told them it wasn’t good news.

Before he read the message, Baudoin looked at Dorianne. “Robert will find it hard to tell you this, sister, so I will. Pierre was killed at Tinchebray. Robert was not the one who slew him. I did.”

She swayed and clutched Alexandre. “My father?” she whispered.

“He was captured, but swore his allegiance to Henry and was released. He took Pierre’s body home.”

Dorianne only nodded.

Baudoin opened the message. Caedmon watched his brother’s face draw into tight lines as he read it.

“What is it?” he asked.

Baudoin exhaled loudly. “I suppose I should have expected this. Rhun and Rhydderch have been arrested by the Earl of Chester and sentenced to hang in a fortnight. Carys is distraught for her brothers. I must return at once to see what I can do.”

“I’ll journey with you,” Caedmon said.

Robert put his arm around Baudoin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about Carys’s brothers. Rhodri must be devastated. The Earl of Chester has already done much for me and our family. Will we never know peace?”

Caedmon braced his legs, determined not to let his younger brothers lose heart. “Listen, we’ve achieved our father’s goal. Normandie and England are again subject to one ruler, King Henry, son of the Conqueror, the only one of his children born in England.
The political strife had been put to rest. But the battles aren’t over. Now Baudoin, you and I will ride to help Carys’s brothers. We must be our father’s sons and protect this family. We’re his legacy.”

The three men embraced, too overcome with emotion to speak. Baudoin and Caedmon hugged Dorianne and her children. Dorianne sniffled back her tears as they kissed Alexandre, and then Catherine and Marguerite begged to be picked up. The two men crouched. Baudoin lifted Catherine and Caedmon hoisted Marguerite onto his shoulders. They clung to their uncles, giggling. “Goodbye, beautiful nieces,” Caedmon said.

“
Au revoir
,
oncle
Caedmon,
oncle
Baudoin,” they replied.

Baudoin lowered Catherine to the ground and mounted his stallion.

Caedmon put one arm around Robert’s shoulder and drew him aside. In a low voice he said, “When we leave, Robert, turn around and take a good look at your family. You’ve wreaked your revenge on Curthose, now you must defeat whatever demons are destroying your wife and children. Look into the eyes of this child on my shoulders. She needs you.”

Robert nodded slowly, and reached up to take Marguerite. For a moment Caedmon feared she would make strange with the father she barely knew. But then she put out her arms and clasped Robert tightly around the neck.

“Godspeed, my brother,” Robert rasped, holding his daughter tightly.

***

Dorianne gasped when she saw how fiercely Robert held on to his little girl. Was there hope now that he could learn to love them again? She had resigned herself that she would never again be the object of his love, but his children—she knew what it was to grow up without a father’s love.

He walked over to her and put his arm around her waist. It was the first time for months he had willingly touched her, and her knees buckled. He held her up, as if sensing her distress. “Let’s get inside. I must get this armour off.”

He crouched and beckoned Catherine, who had again taken refuge in her mother’s skirts. She looked at Marguerite then held out her arms. He lifted her and carried both of them into the keep. “My father was good with children,” he said to Dorianne.

She could barely speak. “
Oui
, he was,” she rasped.

Alexandre seemed suddenly to become aware his sisters were being carried by their father. He squirmed in Dorianne’s arms and reached out to Robert. “Papa,” he begged.

Robert turned. His eyes had filled with tears. “That’s the first time I’ve heard him say my name.”

Dorianne tried to soothe Alexandre. She stroked his hair off his face. “Papa will pick you up when he’s got his armour off,” she cajoled. He was not to be placated. Robert laughed and crouched to put the girls down. He smiled at them. “Can I put you down for a few moments, while I kiss your brother?”

Both girls pouted, but didn’t put up a fuss. Robert took Alexandre from Dorianne and lifted him high above his head. Alexandre giggled with delight. Robert lowered him and clasped him to his breast, burying his face in the child’s hair. “My son,” he croaked.

Dorianne’s heart filled with cautious hope.

***

Once he’d been stripped of his armour and had bathed, Robert decided to go to the nursery. Suddenly he couldn’t get enough of his children. They had missed so much while he struggled with his ghosts. He had a lot to make up for.

When he strode into the room, his girls squealed with delight and ran to him. He nodded to the nursemaid, crouched and pretended they’d knocked him over. The three wrestled on the floor until both girls seemed worn out by his tickling. “Show me your toys,” he said, feigning defeat.

Catherine took his hand and dragged him over to a bench. Two knight puppets lay atop it. He looked enquiringly at the nursemaid. “They like to play with them, but they don’t really know how.”

He knelt beside the bench. “Well, we’ll soon fix that. Catherine, you stand at that end of the bench.” He placed the strings attached to the knights in her hands. “Hold them tightly.”

“Marguerite, you stand at the other end.” He straightened the strings and put the other ends in her hands.

“Now, if you both pull—oh, too hard. Pull gently, and you’ll see them battle each other.”

The two laughed with delight once they got the feel of it. The two miniature knights twisted and turned in mock battle with each tug of the string.

Robert laughed at their amusement. How could he have found their joy irritating? “Where’s Alexandre?” he asked.

Catherine thrust her chin out towards an alcove. “With
Maman
,” she replied.

It was only then he became aware of Dorianne suckling his son in the shadowed alcove, watching him. Her expression became guarded when she realized he’d seen her, and she covered the suckling babe with a blanket.

Robert cursed himself for the times he’d sent her away when she nursed their child. “I’m going to talk with
Maman
for a few minutes,” he said to his daughters. “Can you play with your toys for a while?”

They nodded and carried on the mock battle. He came to his feet and walked over to the alcove. “Alexandre still suckles?” he whispered.

Dorianne nodded. “
Oui
, sometimes, though less and less frequently now.”

“I’ve missed so much,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ve been here, yet I haven’t.” Carefully he pulled the blanket away. His shaft went rigid. Alexandre had fallen into a contented sleep, his head resting on his mother’s breast. Dorianne’s eyes flitted to his groin then she looked away, blushing. Her mouth fell open.

Robert shifted his weight. Did he have the right to ask? He touched his fingers to Dorianne’s burning cheek. She looked up at him, her eyes wary.

He went down on one knee and bowed his head, fearful of the answer he might receive to his request. “May I return to your bed this night,
milady Comtesse
?”

A choked sob escaped her lips. He looked up. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She reached for his hand. “I will be waiting for you,
milord Comte
.”

He kissed her hand, stroked his son’s head, rose and went back to playing with his girls.

***

The light tapping at the door of her chamber set Dorianne’s heart beating rapidly. She fanned her face and straightened the neck of the linen chemise she’d decided to wear. She usually slept naked, but didn’t know what to expect from Robert. His behaviour since his rescue more than a year before had been unpredictable. She swallowed hard and murmured, “
Entrez
.”

The word stuck in her throat. She coughed and tried again. “
Entrez
.”