Both Lady Sabine and Lady Daphne appeared shocked. “Your wife?” Lady Sabine repeated, incredulous. “You… you are married?”
Brandt nodded. “Indeed I am,” he said, rather pleased at their expressions. “Now, you will excuse me, ladies. I will bid you a good day.”
With that, he turned away and headed back to the keep. But he was detained by Dylan, who pulled him into a private conversation somewhere near the smithy shack. Unfortunately, he was blocked from Ellowyn’s view as she descended the stairs from the keep. Although she was keeping her eye out for him, she missed him entirely but clearly saw the women standing near the great hall. They were just standing there, looking rather lost, so Ellowyn made her way towards them.
“Greetings, ladies,” she said pleasantly as she approached. “I am Lady de Russe. I am not sure where my husband is, but I should be happy to entertain you until he can join us.”
Lady Sabine and Lady Daphne looked at Ellowyn with shock, outrage, and curiosity. It was an odd combination. Lady Sabine seemed the most incensed, shamed by Brandt’s treatment of her and now faced with his glorious wife. The bitter, petty woman had little control but in the midst of her tantrum, she was also very sly. If she could create problems, she would.
“He has already joined us,” she snapped. “He was quite rude and… and inappropriate. We are leaving now.”
Although Ellowyn wasn’t surprised that Brandt had been rude, considering his behavior at their first introduction, she didn’t like the way the woman spoke of him. Already, her dander was up.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her pleasant attitude fading. “What did he do?”
“Do?” Lady Sabine repeated, flustered and exaggerated. “My lady, do you know what manner of man your husband is?”
Ellowyn was finished being polite. Already, the conversation had taken a terrible turn and she crossed her arms impatiently.
“I believe that I do,” she said. “If you think to slander him, I would not do it if I were you. You will not like my response.”
Lady Sabine began pointing fingers. “How long have you been married to the man?”
“That is none of your affair.”
Lady Sabine’s eyes widened with indignation. “He is a man of immoral and lascivious character,” she declared, then dramatically lowered her voice, speaking as if scolding. “He made inappropriate suggestions to my daughter that would clearly compromise her moral standards. I heard it myself. He asked her to play her harp for him. Alone. What kind of man would do this? If I were you, my lady, I would make all due haste back to your family and away from that… that monster. Being exposed to French whores and immoral women has taken away his sense of propriety.”
By the time she was finished, Ellowyn was looking at the woman in complete shock. Her mouth fell open.
“Are we speaking of the same man?” she asked incredulously.
“We are!”
Ellowyn wasn’t over her shock, but she was fully aware of the fury overtaking her. No one could speak that way of Brandt and get away with it.
“I do not know who you are and I do not care,” she said, her gaze riveted to Lady Sabine. “Do you seriously think to come to my husband’s home, slander him and call him a monster, and expect me not to defend him? You are a low-bred, foolish woman to say such things to a man’s wife and I have no doubt you are lying about his proposition to your ugly daughter. My husband has far better taste than that fat little toad. Now, you will remove yourself from my sight immediately before I find a switch and beat you both within an inch of your lives. Now, go!”
She was roaring by the time she was finished. Lady Daphne shrieked, grabbing her mother by the hand and yanking her towards their fine carriage.
“Oh!” Lady Sabine gasped as her daughter dragged her along. “How dare you say such things to me! You ill-mannered…!”
She didn’t get the words out fast enough before Ellowyn was hitting her in the mouth with a clod of earth she had scooped up at her feet.
“Get out!” Ellowyn bellowed as she picked up another handful of dank, dirty earth and threw it again, hitting the woman on her pristine-white wimple. “Get out of here, you stupid cow, and take your revolting child with you!”
Lady Sabine and Lady Daphne were running, with Ellowyn following and intermittently stopping to pick up more dirt to toss it. She had a good aim. She hit them five out of the six times she had thrown. But they were attracting attention, including Brandt’s, and he turned away from Dylan when he heard the yelling. He wasn’t particularly astonished to see his wife chasing after Lady Sabine and Lady Daphne, but he was surprised when he saw her snatch a rock from the ground and throw it at Lady Sabine with all her might. Lady Sabine shrieked when it the rock hit her on the arse.
Both Brandt and Dylan ran towards the women. Brandt intercepted his wife just as she collected another handful of dirt. He grasped her wrist to keep her from pitching it.
“No more,” he said softly, firmly. “What on earth are you doing?”
Ellowyn was mad enough to spit. “That… that image of a woman’s vagina called you a lascivious monster,” she said angrily. “She said you made an indecent proposal to her daughter.”
Brandt had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing at her rather vulgar insult. It was funny as Hell. But he refrained, instead, rolled his eyes in disbelief, turning in time to see Dylan quickly usher the ladies into their carriage. As Dylan waved the driver on, Brandt forced Ellowyn to open her hand and he scraped the dirt from it. Then he brushed off the remaining dirt from her hand with the hem of his tunic.
“She is upset because she did not know I was married and had brought her daughter here with the hopes of perhaps making her an attractive marital prospect to me,” he said firmly but gently. “I am sorry that she upset you so.”
Ellowyn was cooling but still unhappy. She frowned at her husband. “Who is she?”
He sighed faintly, putting his arm around her shoulders and turning her for the keep. “Lady Sabine de Ferrers,” he said. “Her husband is one of my vassals.”
Ellowyn shook her head. “I do not care who she is,” she declared. “I will kill her if I see her again for saying such terrible things about you.”
He smiled, giving her a squeeze as they walked. “Your defense of me is flattering.”
“You are my husband and a fine example of man. I will kill anyone who says otherwise.”
He was genuinely touched. “There are many who do.”
She looked up at him, her anger gaining speed again. “Who are they?” she demanded. “Tell me right now.”
He laughed softly. “Well,” he pretended to be thoughtful, “there is the King of France, the Lords of Navarre, the entire population of the Aquitaine, and….”
She cut him off, understanding that he was jesting with her. He was trying to calm her down and she appreciated his gentle, humorous manner. As Sabine and Daphne’s carriage tore off for the gatehouse, Ellowyn realized just how irate she had been. She eyed Brandt, trying not to look too ashamed.
“I understand,” she said, fighting off a contrite grin. “Everyone in France hates you. Well, you must start a list, then, so I know who it is I must defend you against. According to you and to my father, it might take a very long time for me to work my way through the ranks of haters.”
He smiled, his dark eyes twinkling. “It would take you more than one lifetime, for certain,” he said, pleased she was calming. “You are very gracious to want to defend me. I have never had anyone defend me before.”
She gave up the fight altogether and collapsed against him, her arms around his waist. “I would kill for you,” she said. “And if that foolish sow ever comes back here again, she will be very sorry.”
He laughed low in his throat, hugging her. “Aye, she will,” he replied, kissing the top of her head. “Return to the keep now and I shall join you in a short while for the nooning meal.”
She nodded and let him go. “It would seem that
I slept overlong this morning. I do not normally do that.”
He eyed her. “You do not seem to sleep very well.”
She shrugged, averting her gaze. “Sometimes I do not.”
“More dreams?”
Her head shot up, looking at him. “How would you know that?”
“Because you mutter in your sleep.”
She averted her gaze again, thinking on the murky, terrible dream she had been having for some time now. It wasn’t every night but it did come to her every few days, pieces of this same dream like chapters of a book. The dream exhausted her. She always woke up feeling heartsick and weary. She didn’t want to talk about it.
“Sometimes I dream,” she said evasively, changing the subject. “Brandt, do you suppose we could go into town today? There are a few things I would like to buy.”
He gave a reluctant nod. “I suppose,” he said, well aware she was shifting the focus away from her poor sleeping habits. “What do you need to buy?”
“Thread, if I can find it,” she said. “I have put a hole in one of my new stockings and must repair it.”
“I can have the smithy make you a spinning wheel and we could provide you with all of the wool you need for thread,” he said.
She shook her head. “I was never any good at spinning,” she told him. “My mother and I would buy our thread from a merchant in Milnthorpe. In fact, I could use a great many sewing items.”
Again, he nodded. “If that is your wish.”
“Can we go today?”
He shrugged. “That depends,” he replied. “Dylan told me that St. Hèver is approaching. The man sent scouts ahead to announce his arrival with six hundred of his father’s men. I should like to be here when they arrive.”
Ellowyn smiled. “Brennan is arriving?” she repeated. “I am glad to hear he has made a safe journey. He is a nice man.”
Brandt was surprised by the stab of jealousy he felt at her innocent statement. He knew it was innocent. From what he knew of his wife, she didn’t think covertly and she had never shown anything other than polite regard for his knights. She had spoken to St. Hèver more than most, more than likely because she felt a connection with him after he had saved her life. It never bothered Brandt until this moment. Her positive assessment of Brennan had him fighting off an unexpected surge of jealousy.
“Then you will understand when I say I want to be here when he arrives,” he said, trying to keep his manner even. “However, if you can promise me that our trip to town will not take more than an hour, I believe I can take you now.”
Ellowyn nodded eagerly. “Let me gather my things and I shall be ready to go.”
On tiptoes, she pecked him on the cheek and ran off towards the mighty motte with the keep perched on top. Brandt watched her go, still feeling the kiss to his cheek and the warm adoration that brought about. But he was also still fighting off the last pricks of jealously and forced himself to shift focus, ordering the nearest sergeant to bring forth chargers and a palfrey for his wife. Whatever hateful envy he was feeling, it was unexpected and unnecessary. He had no reason to feel so. But as a man untried in the realm of romance, his control when it came to his feelings wasn’t as practiced as it should have been.
Unfortunately, his jealously was going to make an ugly return.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The trip into the village of Guildford had produced a great deal of goods for Ellowyn.
It started with what she had originally sought – thread in many different colors. But the purchase of thread triggered the purchase of fabric, and she selected five different types in all colors and weights.
Brandt, lured into the shopping mood by his gleeful wife, selected ribbons he thought were nice and she purchased those, too. He also purchased a lovely gold and garnet wedding band, which Ellowyn wore with great pride. It was a lovely ring, signifying a marriage that was quite palatable for them both. They were content, in love, and deliriously happy.
Brandt went a bit overboard in purchasing luxurious items for his wife, simply because he liked them, she liked them, and he thought that she should have them. He’d never purchased items for a woman, ever, so it was a new and exciting experience. There was a tailor in town that had several ready-made, loosely-basted garments hanging in his shop, including three or four beautiful cloaks lined with animal fur. Brandt purchased a gray cloak lined with white rabbit and a goldenrod yellow woolen cloak that was lined with fox. They were a bit large for Ellowyn’s petite frame, but terribly beautiful and soft. While she loved up her new cloaks, Brandt walked around the shop and bought four more dresses simply because he liked the colors.
The booty haul was huge from the tailor’s shop, loading up the escorts horses with goods. More goods were to come, however, when Brandt took Ellowyn into the stall of a merchant who had all manner of perfumes, soaps, candles, dyes, gloves, and jewelry. It was a veritable feast for the eyes and Ellowyn moved excitedly around the stall, selecting soaps, perfumes, and a pair of doeskin gloves. Brandt told her she could buy whatever she wished, and she did.
Ellowyn was a paradox as far as he was concerned. She would roam the shop giddily, selecting pretty things, and then turn on the merchant like a cunning bird of prey when it came time for payment. Brandt watched her swoop in for the kill, something she seemed to enjoy. She had purchased the thread for nearly what it cost the man to make, bartered the tailor down to the point where the man was barely making a profit, and then she started in again on the man with the perfumes.
Brandt stood in the doorway with Dylan, watching his wife verbally beat down the perfume merchant to the point where the man was so twisted up he had no idea what he had really said.
Eventually, Ellowyn was triumphant when she was able to purchase her soaps and perfumes for a very good price, leaving the old perfume merchant sweating and weary, and Brandt trying not to grin at his aggressive wife. He was coming to see that was standard behavior with her when dealing with the sale of goods. He had once jested with her about her fearsome bartering skills when the fact was that it was true. Lady de Russe was indeed formidable. And Brandt could not have been prouder.
All the way back to the fortress, Ellowyn verbally accounted for every cent spent, storing it in her memory while Brandt just listened to her rattle on. She had a head for mathematics and he was impressed. As they passed through the gatehouse of Guildford, they could see that there were hundreds of unfamiliar men in the bailey and that put an end to Ellowyn’s aimless chatter. She quieted as Brandt reined his charger close to her, keeping her in arm’s length, as he entered his bailey with gangs of unknown soldiers in it.
“St. Hèver must have arrived,” Dylan said to Brandt. “Look, these men are bearing Wrexham tunics.”
Brandt could see the red and white of Wrexham. His attention began to move through the hordes, searching for the big knight with the white-blond hair. Brennan wasn’t difficult to spot, near the great hall speaking with le Bec and de Reyne. Assisting his wife from the palfrey while servants rushed to gather her goods and take them to the keep, Brandt escorted Ellowyn in Brennan’s direction.
The young knight spied his lord on the approach through the crowd of men and animals and immediately went to him. He looked weary and dirty from days in the saddle, but he was sharp and alert.
“My lord,” he greeted Brandt smartly, acknowledging Ellowyn with a nod. “My father sends his greetings and his support. I have brought six hundred and six men from Wrexham to support Edward’s efforts in France.”
Brandt passed a practiced eye over the group. “Good men,” he commented. “Seasoned. I can tell by their clothing and weapons.”
Brennan nodded. “He kept most of the green troops with him and sent his more seasoned soldiers to you,” he said. “My father said you would need them more than he does.”
Brandt smirked. “Your father is a wise and gracious man,” he replied. “I am sorry I did not get a chance to visit with him. Is he well?”
Brennan nodded. �
��Well enough,” he said. “My sister has just given birth to her third child, another boy, and he is understandably thrilled. It was all he could speak of.”
“And you mother and brother?”
Brennan grinned. “My mother is doing very well,” he said. “She sends her regards and is verily pleased to hear that you married. She says to tell you that it is about time.”
Brandt laughed softly. “Your mother was never one to mince words.”
Brennan shook his head. “Nay, she is not,” he said. “My brother, Evan, is doing well and is in his last year fostering at Culpepper Castle. My father says he is bigger and smarter than I am.”
“If he is anywhere close to the caliber of knight you are, then I will demand he swear fealty to me.”
“My father says he is already in demand.”
Brandt cocked an eyebrow. “I will fight for him if I have to.”
“No one will fight you, my lord. You are too frightening.”
Brandt was back to smirking, glancing at Ellowyn as she grinned at Brennan. Is she looking adoringly at him? He suddenly thought, startled by his uncontrolled notion. Oh, God, I am surely going mad to give regard to such things!
“My lady wife and I will expect to hear all about your travels,” he said, trying to stay neutral and normal. “Get the men settled and we shall see you at supper.”
Brennan nodded, having no idea what thoughts were crossing Brandt’s mind. He turned to Ellowyn as Brandt grasped her elbow.
“My mother has sent you a wedding gift,” he said. “Shall I bring it to you now?”
Ellowyn was thrilled and touched. “Did she truly?” she said. “Oh, please bring it to me now.”
“You have enough finery and gifts from your shopping this afternoon,” Brandt said in a nearly scolding tone. “Allow Brennan to finish his duties. He shall bring you your gift at supper.”
Ellowyn’s mood wasn’t dampened in the least. She shrugged, waved at Brennan, and allowed Brandt to lead her off. As they approached the steps leading up the motte, she turned to him.