The Marriage Bed (The Medieval Knights Series) by Claudia Dain Page A
Authors: Claudia Dain
Ads: Link
his thoughts in its dark depths.
Nicholas missed nothing, most especially the speculative, plotting smile on Adam's face. "Adam thinks to snare a wife from Richard's grasp," he said in an undertone to Louis. "It will not be. As monkish as he is, Richard lets nothing slip from him once he sets his eye upon it."
"Even an unwanted wife?" Louis asked, looking askance at his comrade in arms.
"You have said it," Nicholas replied. "She is his wife. He will not toss her away for another man to snatch."
Nicholas stroked the hilt of his dagger, his eyes narrowed in thought. But if Richard could be convinced to return to the life he had chosen, what thought would he give to a wife and a life left behind? None, for, being married, Isabel could not remarry. Isabel without her lands interested him not at all. So, Richard must be urged to repudiate her, leaving her as unmarried as she had been yesterday. Richard had never seemed overly fond of Isabel, and Isabel had in all ways seemed more than fond of Richard. For a monkish man, doused in the church's teachings on women, the course rose clear.
"Come, let us celebrate. It is the marriage supper of our lord and lady," Nicholas said to Louis.
Louis, his own expression thoughtful, elbowed his way to a place at the table with the rest of the fighting men.
The hall was full, the tables crowded with all who lived within Dornei's walls. Elbow to elbow were the knights Louis, Adam, and Nicholas, seated below the high table. And at the high table, Aelis and Elsbeth, two young women in training to become ladies of their own halls, as well as Brother John, honored guest; Father Langfrid, Dornei's priest; and Lady Joan, who had lately served as companion to Bernard's second wife, Ida. She now served as counselor to Isabel, though Father Langfrid could see that Isabel was not of a mind to listen to any counsel which did not give her Richard. Well, that was past now, for Richard was hers; God had seen it done, no doubt in answer to the most heartfelt prayers since Abraham had prayed for a son.
But at what cost?
Father Langfrid sighed and prodded his eel with his dagger, trying not to observe Aelis's clumsy flirtations and Edmund's stiff refusal to participate in that flirtation. He tried even harder to ignore Richard's complete disregard for his bride. It did not seem the season for love, no matter what the troubadours mouthed of spring's glories. Isabel had the man of her choice, aye, and he sat in the lord's place, in the lord's clothes; Richard even had the lord's manner and mantle of power well within his grasp. But Isabel was no part of it. She was an observer, as were they all. Richard was the center, and he occupied his position of power alone.
A strong man and not given to idle talk, yet was not his wife a worthy subject of his contemplation? Isabel fair shimmered in her joy, while Richard was as dark and sharp as a midwinter night. Were two people ever more out of joint? Isabel had what she wanted in Richard, but was her marriage as she imagined it would be? Langfrid shook off his worry; God would manage all, in time. A marriage was the slow building of commonalities, the daily sharing of a life well blended.
Richard sat beside Isabel, sharing a trencher and a cup yet sharing nothing at all. 'Twas a most strange marriage feast. And all eyes watched it, course upon course, studying Richard's disdain and Isabel's devotion. Did she know? Could she feel her husband's displeasure with his state? Langfrid, knowing her, knew that she did. But in knowing her, he also knew that she would fly above such unpleasant thoughts to dwell on her success. She had wanted Richard and now she had him. Misery would have little room in her musings.
Father Langfrid scanned the room, studying the faces of those in the hall. Edmund and Gilles, both squires, served. Edmund kept his face averted from young Aelis the best he could. She was not so easily put off; Edmund knew that from experience. Still, he tried
Nicholas missed nothing, most especially the speculative, plotting smile on Adam's face. "Adam thinks to snare a wife from Richard's grasp," he said in an undertone to Louis. "It will not be. As monkish as he is, Richard lets nothing slip from him once he sets his eye upon it."
"Even an unwanted wife?" Louis asked, looking askance at his comrade in arms.
"You have said it," Nicholas replied. "She is his wife. He will not toss her away for another man to snatch."
Nicholas stroked the hilt of his dagger, his eyes narrowed in thought. But if Richard could be convinced to return to the life he had chosen, what thought would he give to a wife and a life left behind? None, for, being married, Isabel could not remarry. Isabel without her lands interested him not at all. So, Richard must be urged to repudiate her, leaving her as unmarried as she had been yesterday. Richard had never seemed overly fond of Isabel, and Isabel had in all ways seemed more than fond of Richard. For a monkish man, doused in the church's teachings on women, the course rose clear.
"Come, let us celebrate. It is the marriage supper of our lord and lady," Nicholas said to Louis.
Louis, his own expression thoughtful, elbowed his way to a place at the table with the rest of the fighting men.
The hall was full, the tables crowded with all who lived within Dornei's walls. Elbow to elbow were the knights Louis, Adam, and Nicholas, seated below the high table. And at the high table, Aelis and Elsbeth, two young women in training to become ladies of their own halls, as well as Brother John, honored guest; Father Langfrid, Dornei's priest; and Lady Joan, who had lately served as companion to Bernard's second wife, Ida. She now served as counselor to Isabel, though Father Langfrid could see that Isabel was not of a mind to listen to any counsel which did not give her Richard. Well, that was past now, for Richard was hers; God had seen it done, no doubt in answer to the most heartfelt prayers since Abraham had prayed for a son.
But at what cost?
Father Langfrid sighed and prodded his eel with his dagger, trying not to observe Aelis's clumsy flirtations and Edmund's stiff refusal to participate in that flirtation. He tried even harder to ignore Richard's complete disregard for his bride. It did not seem the season for love, no matter what the troubadours mouthed of spring's glories. Isabel had the man of her choice, aye, and he sat in the lord's place, in the lord's clothes; Richard even had the lord's manner and mantle of power well within his grasp. But Isabel was no part of it. She was an observer, as were they all. Richard was the center, and he occupied his position of power alone.
A strong man and not given to idle talk, yet was not his wife a worthy subject of his contemplation? Isabel fair shimmered in her joy, while Richard was as dark and sharp as a midwinter night. Were two people ever more out of joint? Isabel had what she wanted in Richard, but was her marriage as she imagined it would be? Langfrid shook off his worry; God would manage all, in time. A marriage was the slow building of commonalities, the daily sharing of a life well blended.
Richard sat beside Isabel, sharing a trencher and a cup yet sharing nothing at all. 'Twas a most strange marriage feast. And all eyes watched it, course upon course, studying Richard's disdain and Isabel's devotion. Did she know? Could she feel her husband's displeasure with his state? Langfrid, knowing her, knew that she did. But in knowing her, he also knew that she would fly above such unpleasant thoughts to dwell on her success. She had wanted Richard and now she had him. Misery would have little room in her musings.
Father Langfrid scanned the room, studying the faces of those in the hall. Edmund and Gilles, both squires, served. Edmund kept his face averted from young Aelis the best he could. She was not so easily put off; Edmund knew that from experience. Still, he tried
Similar Books
