To the Lady Born (27 page)

Eyes on the distant banners of crimson and yellow, Weston unslung the armor and mail from his shoulder and was preparing to pull the mail coat over his head when Colton suddenly let out a scream.

The boy was off and running with Esma trying to keep pace. Weston looked to see the sources of his son’s excitement; another competitor had brought his children with him and on a vacant area of the encampment, two small children were trying to drive a goat cart.  A bald man in pieces of armor was trying to direct them but the children couldn’t quite get the two goats going in the same direction.

Esma caught Colton before he could run right into the cart and Colton was loudly unhappy about it.  He kept pointing to the cart and crying. Aubria, however, stood quite calmly next to her father, slipping her small hand into his big mitt as she watched her brother throw a fit.

“Dada,” she turned her sweet little face up to him. “Can I please have a goat cart?”

Weston smiled down at her; he wasn’t surprised with the request. “Perhaps when we return home,” he told her. “We will have to ask your mother.”

Aubria wasn’t happy with his reply. “But,
Dada,
” she insisted. “I love the goats. Can I please have one?”

He just sighed and picked her up, kissing her soft cheek. “You cannot always have everything you want, Aubria,” he said softly.

She wrapped her little arms around his neck, looking at him as if she had no idea what he meant. “But I
love
them. “

Weston wasn’t quite getting through to her and he just kissed her cheek again. “I know you do,” he set her down gently and resumed with his mail. “Go over and see them, then. But mind you do not get too close. I do not want them to run you over.”

Aubria looked at the goats and cart in the distance. She was sizing up the children driving the rig; her mind tended to work quite cunningly at times in spite of her young age.

“I will go ask them if I can have their goats,” she said decisively. “They will want to give them to me.”             

Weston lifted an eyebrow at her. “They will?”

She nodded firmly. “I will let them be my friend if they give me the goats.”

Weston shook his head at her, fighting off a grin. “Angel, those goats belong to those children. They are pets.” He bent down so he could look her in the eye. “They love the goats, too. Perhaps they do not want to give them away.”

Aubria was undeterred. “They will want to give them to me. I will love them more.”

Weston scratched his head in a doubtful gesture, preparing a reply she would hopefully understand, when she abruptly charged off. Aubria lived in a world where everyone did as she wanted and she had no enemies.  She was the queen. So Weston gave up trying to talk her out of it, assuming she would learn the disappointment first-hand when the children rejected her demands. As he pulled his mail coat over his head, he caught sight of his mother now standing next to him.  He glanced over at her as he straightened out the mail coat, noticing that she was smiling at Aubria.

“She is the exact image of you as a child,” Elizabeth said softly, watching her bold granddaughter march right up to the children in the goat cart. “She is brave and intelligent.  You must be very proud of her.”

Weston looked over at his mother.
She is the exact image of you as a child
. Elizabeth had divulged many deep secrets today, perhaps more than she should have. Weston could have kept the illusion going for her, the illusion that Aubria was his flesh and blood, but somehow, he couldn’t seem to do it.

Now that Elizabeth had told him her most personal secrets, he thought perhaps he might do the same. He found that he wanted to.

“Since this has been a day of confessions, I also have something to confess,” he looked at his mother as he straightened out the neck of his mail coat. “You must never repeat what I tell you, not ever. Is that clear?”

Elizabeth gazed at him seriously. “Of course, Weston. I would never repeat something you told me in confidence.”

Weston stopped fussing with his neck, his dark blue gaze moving to the beautiful blond girl as she spoke with the two children in the goat cart.

“I met Amalie when I was assigned to Hedingham Castle as the garrison commander,” he told her quietly. “As you may or may not be aware, her brother is the Duke of Ireland, personal confidant to King Richard.  But when Richard fell out of favor with the nobles, they also condemned Amalie’s brother. The man fled to Ireland in fear of his life and left his sister behind at the mercy of the nobles.”

Elizabeth looked frightened. “Sweet Amalie,” she whispered. “The poor child. What became of her?”

Weston sighed faintly, watching now as Esma set Colton to his feet and the little boy toddled over to the goat cart where his sister was.

“She was raped by the first Bolingbroke garrison commander,” he looked at his mother then, the pain evident in his dark blue eyes.  “When he was removed and I was assigned, my first introduction to Amalie was when she attempted to kill herself. The rape resulted in a pregnancy, the results of which you see in Aubria. Amalie wanted to die rather than live with the shame.  I knew she was determined to kill herself and I did not want the responsibility to be mine if she managed to accomplish it, so I spent most of my time with her to prevent her from doing anything foolish.  But during the time I spent with her, I came to know a remarkable woman whom I fell deeply in love with.  So I married her and accepted Aubria as my child.  It was the best thing I have ever done.”

Elizabeth gazed at him in shock. “My dear God,” she breathed. “Poor, sweet Amalie.   Did you know she was pregnant when you married her, Weston?”

He nodded. “Aye,” he replied. “When I first took command of Hedingham, I knew she had been brutalized by the previous garrison commander but I did not know she had been raped until much later. In the time we spent together during the first few weeks of our acquaintance, I fell in love with the woman and just as I was preparing to declare my intentions, she committed herself to a convent.  I spent four months going to the convent every day to see her and ask for her hand, but every day she turned me away. I was finally able to see her and she confessed the pregnancy. But it did not matter; I loved her so much that I was willing to overlook it. It did not matter at all.”

Elizabeth’s wide-eyed gaze had softened.  She smiled faintly at him.

“Is this true?” she whispered. “I knew Weston de Royans to be a pious and controlled knight, not given to whims of compassion or pity.  You have built your reputation on such things.  Yet you married a woman compromised by another man? I find that astonishing.”

He could see she wasn’t taunting him; in fact, she looked extremely pleased.  He smiled weakly.

“What happened was not her fault,” he murmured. “My Amalie is the sweetest, purest woman who has ever walked the face of this earth, and the day I married her was the best day of my life.  I have a beautiful, bright daughter and a son that is the envy of all men.  I have been extremely blessed and I consider my family a reward for the good life I have lived.  I would not change a thing.”

Elizabeth’s smile broadened. “I am so happy to have lived long enough to see you know such joy,” she said softly. “It is something I have prayed for daily since you were born. I am only sorry....”

She trailed off and he looked at her. “Sorry for what?”

Her smile was forced as she tried to nervously cover. “I am sorry for nothing,” she said too quickly. “I only meant that I am sorry that… well, that….”

He faced her fully. “Say what you mean, Mother. I shall not become angry, I swear it.”

She looked at him, her lips in a tremulous smile.  She visibly relaxed. “I… I was going to say that I am sorry Heston did not get to see your happiness.  He would have been overjoyed.”

Weston’s expression tensed slightly. “I will assume that he knew he was my father.”

“He did.”

Weston pondered that information for a moment. Since all confessions were coming forth, he had one more. “I am sorry I did not have the same conversation with him that I had with you,” he admitted softly. “I would have told him… that I never hated him.”

Impulsively, Elizabeth reached out and touched his stubbled cheek. “He knew that. You do not need to explain yourself.  But he never gave up hope that he would someday reconcile with you.”

Weston stared at her, feeling the impact of her words. Having a son himself made him realize what it must have been like for his grandfather, or more correctly, his father in the matters of estrangement.  It must have been hell.  Weston couldn’t imagine how he would feel if Colton stopped speaking to him and with that awareness, all of the barricades he had kept up against his mother and father seemed to crumble away.  He just couldn’t keep them up any longer.

With a heavy sigh, he took his mother’s hand and kissed it. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “For letting a child’s clouded memory mold my adult life, please forgive me. Although I do not regret the man I have become or the blessings I have, I do regret my behavior towards you and my father. I hope you will forgive me in time.”

Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Weston,” she breathed. “There is nothing to forgive, truly. Heston loved you very much. He was very proud of you.”

A scream suddenly distracted them and they both looked over to see Colton as he tried to hijack the goat cart.  He had the goats by the head and was pulling them as Aubria tried to pull one of the children out of the cart. Weston let go of his mother and bolted over to the tussle, apologizing to the bald knight as he grasped both of his children and pulled them away from the goats. 

Colton was screaming hysterically and Aubria was sobbing as if her heart was broken as Weston stoically brought them back over to the encampment. By the time they arrived, Amalie was emerging from the big tent.

She looked pale and tired as she opened her arms up for Colton.  Weston handed over the boy, reaching down to pick up his daughter. 

“What happened?” Amalie asked wearily.

Weston had Aubria’s head cuddled up against his big face. “The goat cart,” he said. “They tried to steal it.  I fear I am raising a pair of thieves.”

Amalie sighed faintly, rocking Colton gently as the boy rubbed at his eyes.  “’Tis your fault,” she told her husband.

He lifted his eyebrows at her. “My fault? What did I do?”

She shook her head, exhausted and irritable. “Because you never deny them anything so they do not know any limits,” she reached out for Aubria and Weston reluctantly handed the child over. “If you were to deny their wishes once in awhile, we would not have this problem. You spoil them too much, Weston.”

Weston looked like a kicked dog as he watched his wife pull the children into the tent with her. He could hear their crying and her soft, soothing voice. As he stood there, feeling wounded, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw his mother standing there.  She was smiling up at him.

He frowned at her. “Why do you look at me like that? I am not a bad father, you know.”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “You are a wonderful father,” she said. “I have seen you with your children enough to know that. But you are just the way Heston was.”

“How is that?”

“He spoiled you and Sutton rotten.”

Weston made a face at her, moving away swiftly so she would not see his grin.  But Elizabeth saw it, laughing at him as he disappeared into the big tent after his family.

Elizabeth stood there long after Weston disappeared, reflecting on their conversation and feeling more joyful than she had in years.  To have Weston acceptance was like a dream; her first born child who had grown into such a remarkable and powerful man.  She knew that Heston would have been thrilled and she was sorry he never knew his son’s acceptance and forgiveness. 

Glancing up at the sky, she suspected that, wherever he was, he knew anyway.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The following morning, the tournament of Keighley burst into full spectacle.

The day dawned brilliantly blue with a cold, crisp breeze that snapped the standards all across the tournament field and the competitor’s encampment.  Weston was snuggled down in the big bed in the main tent with Aubria and Colton sleeping between him and Amalie, waking when his son thrashed around in his sleep and Weston ended up with a baby arm thrown across his face.

It was before dawn and he could hear the birds outside tweeting and dogs barking in the distance.  The smell of smoke was heavy as the servants and soldiers began stoking the morning blazes.   Weston lay there a moment, gazing at his sleeping wife and children, thinking that surely there were no sweeter moments in life than this.   He smiled as he listened to Colton’s baby-snores and watched Aubria wrinkle up her pert little nose. He could have lain there forever and watched them.  It was peace and joy like he had never known in his life.

But he had to get up so he forced himself to rise, very carefully, making sure to tuck the blankets back down around his family as he did so.  Quietly, he stoked the small brass furnace with a load of charcoal so it would provide more heat against the chilly morning before quitting the tent.

The camp was already moderately busy at this hour as he made his way over to one of the smaller tents where Sutton, John and Heath were sleeping.  Sutton and Heath were already up, dressing for the day, but John was slower to rise so Weston went into the tent and kicked the man in the foot to get him moving.  The squires were up, as were the men at arms, and the chargers were being groomed and fed as the squires began to arrange the knights’ tournament implements for the day ahead.  There was excitement in the air as the day began to advance.

At the meeting of all participants the night before, which Weston did not attend, the rules had been reviewed and it was announced that the lots would be drawn in the morning to see who competed against who in the first rounds.  Sutton had returned to the encampment that night to report everything back to Weston and, based upon his brother’s report, Weston was prepared for the day.

He dressed carefully with help from one of the squires, a young man who had followed him from Bolingbroke. Weston donned his undergarments, mail coat and boots before moving on to the heavier pieces of armor used for the joust. Usually, the melee was the first event of any tournament but for some reason, the Keighley marshals were switching the schedule.  The joust would be today followed by the melee tomorrow.  

When Weston finally donned the blue, white and silver tunic that had belonged to Heston, he paused a moment to admire it. Heston wasn’t as tall or as broad as he was so the tunic, which was meant to fit loosely, was somewhat snug.  Still, Weston didn’t mind; he ran his hands over the finely woven tunic and murmured a prayer to Heston as he did so. He felt particularly close to the man at the moment, so very sorry that his stubbornness and sense of righteousness had turned into something of an obsession.  He hoped to do his father proud today and to glorify the de Royan’s name.   

As he finished dressing, he noticed that Sutton, Heath and John were nearly finished as well.  Squires swarmed over the knights, making sure they had everything they needed for the day ahead.  There was to be a gathering of all competitors two hours past sunrise where the marshals would announce the matches for the day. 

Weston presumed by the angle of the sun that they had about an hour until that occurred so he grabbed his helm and made his way from the smaller tent out into his encampment.  It was his intention to rouse his wife, who would take some time given her delicate condition, but he was half way to the tent when he heard a familiar scream emitting from the large tent.

Colton bolted from the tent, half-dressed, as Esma struggled out after him. Weston made a swipe for the boy, but he missed.  Colton continued running, passing by the smaller tent just as Sutton emerged. Sutton grabbed his nephew before the boy could get away.  Sutton growled like a bear, holding on to the kid by the ankles as he walked him back in the direction of the main tent.  Colton’s delighted screams filled the air.

As they approached, Amalie emerged, looking harried until she saw Sutton approaching with her son.  Then she looked visibly relieved as she reached out to take the boy from his uncle and hand him back to Esma. She caught sight of her husband and smiled wearily.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” she greeted him as he came upon her and wrapped her up in a big hug. “You appear ready to take on the world today.”

He kissed her sweetly on both cheeks. “I am,” he kissed her soft mouth. “How are you feeling?”

She nodded faintly. “Surprisingly well.”

He looked her over; she was dressed in a spectacular deep blue damask surcoat that matched his tunic and her blond hair was in a thick braid that was wrapped around her head like a crown. Lovely jeweled butterfly pins were attached to her hair and upon her slender neck she wore simple gold cross on a chain.  It made his heart thump with excitement simply to look at her.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he sighed. “I will be the proudest man on the field today.”

She smiled, her big green eyes studying his handsome face.  Her hands came up, gently holding his cheeks as if to memories every last feature.  She seemed pensive.

“West,” she said softly. “Please be careful today. I would have you well and whole in my arms tonight.”

He kissed her again. “No worries, my angel,” he murmured. “I can joust in my sleep.”

She sighed faintly. “You are a powerful and talented baron,” she rubbed his cheeks affectionately. “But you are foremost my husband and the father of our children.  You could lose everything and I would still love you just as I do now until I die. But remember that no tournament is worth risking your health or life over.  Remember that, at the end of the day, it is my husband and lover I want back in my arms as safely as when he left me. That is the most important thing of all.”

He smiled and kissed her deeply, listening to Colton scream as Esma tried to bundle him up in a sweater as he tried to escape the tent again. Weston started laughing at his howling son, pulling away from his wife to watch Colton throw himself on the ground in a fit. Amalie turned to watch as well, shaking her head in resignation.

“I will not be able to keep him in his seat today,” she told him. “He will want to be on the field with you and Sutton.”

With a final kiss, Weston let go of his wife and made his way over to his son.  He picked the boy up just as Esma managed to button the sweater closed. Colton was thrilled that his father had hold of him and tried to remove his massive helm, but Weston stilled the yanking hands.

“Colton,” he said softly, firmly. “If you behave yourself today, I will let you ride my horse when I am finished. That means that you will listen to your mother and not cry. Only babies cry and you are not a baby. You are a big boy now. I expect you to act like one.”

Colton nodded but he was still trying to pull off the helm.  Weston grabbed both hands and held them snug. “You must be a good boy for your mother, do you understand?” he told the boy. “Do as she tells you and it will make me very happy.”

Colton nodded his head, his big blue eyes fixed on his father.  Weston smiled at the boy and kissed his cheek loudly, but Colton didn’t want a kiss. He wanted the helm.  Esma saved the day by bringing forth the little steel sword, which settled down Colton immensely.  

Weston handed the boy over to his wife as he told his brother to get the men ready. In short time, the de Royans party was ready to move on to the tournament field.

***

The lists in the tournament arena were overrun with spectators and the families of the participants.  It was noisy, busy and chaotic, but it was also very exciting.  Amalie had never been to a tournament before and was unsure what to expect, so her first order of business after her husband’s safety was to ensure that she and the children enjoyed the day.  On her husband’s arm as he proudly led her to the tournament arena, she eagerly absorbed the sights.

Weston, Sutton, John and Heath escorted Amalie, the children and Elizabeth to the lists and settled them into a box section near the center line that had a very good view of the entire arena.  But their trip there had not been without hazard; on the walk to the field, they had passed the man with the monkey again and Colton went into fits until he was allowed to pet it.  He even fed it a walnut. Aubria pet the monkey also and fed it two walnuts before turning to her father and again asking if she could have the monkey because she loved it. 

Weston was well aware of Amalie’s ‘say yes and die’ expression as he calmly told his daughter that she could not have the monkey. Aubria burst into tears, which set off Colton, and the only way to distract the pair was to whisk them away to the sweets vendor.

Little custard cakes in a wooden box quieted their tears quickly enough.  Amalie also purchased dried apples and pears from a fruit vendor as they made their way to the entrance.  But there was a smithy just outside the entry that had all manner of toys on display and Colton wanted to inspect every one of them. 

Little carts, a toy horse and knight and other toys were available for Colton’s awed attention.  Sutton was fairly fascinated with the toys as well and the two of them made quite a gawky pair.

Weston was trying to figure out how he could get away with buying a cart for his son without his wife becoming angry when something more valuable caught his attention; there was a silversmith right next to the man with the toys and he took Amalie to the stall to inspect the man’s wares. 

As Amalie gleefully inspected the array of brooches, necklaces and bracelets with semi-precious stones, Sutton made his move and purchased his nephew a real working cart and his niece a funny weighted bird that would bob over and pretend to drink water. The children were delighted and so was Sutton.

Amalie caught sight of what was happening but before she could protest, Weston purchased a gorgeous silver cross set with dark blue rough cut sapphires.   He also purchased a slender silver band with a row of small, glittery blue sapphires and slipped it onto her finger with a kiss.  In the four years they had been married, she had never had a wedding band.

It was a sweet and tender moment, and Amalie forgot about her spoiled children and their partner in crime, Sutton, as she and Weston shared a few softly murmured words of love.  With Mother soothed, the children and their disobedient uncle were able to keep the toys.

Amalie wore the spectacular sapphire cross into the arena. Following Sutton, Elizabeth and the children, with John and Heath bringing up the rear, Weston settled his family into the box area for the competing nobles, in particular, the box reserved for Baron Cononley since the event was taking place in his baronetcy. 

In fact, it was usually expected that the lord and lady of the shire dispense awards to the victors of the competition, but Amalie declined from doing so when the mayor of Keighley approached and introduced himself, asking her if she would dispense the favors.  She simply wanted to enjoy her first tournament and keep a low profile. 

She was, in fact, enjoying it already with the humorous and pleasant mayor and Weston saw it as his chance to leave her and prepare for the announcement of bouts. Leaving two men at arms to watch over the group, one of them being Owyn, he departed with his men.  He trusted Owyn more than most when his wife’s safety was at stake and with Sorrell wandering the grounds, he wanted someone he trusted in charge of his wife. Owyn knew Sorrell on sight and would therefore know what to do.

But Amalie hadn’t mentioned Sorrell that morning nor had she shown any manner of concern that he might be around.  She was swept up with the thrill of her first tournament. The lists were jammed by the time the marshals appeared to announce the morning bouts. 

The day was warming up but the breeze was still brisk as it blew dust and leaves across the arena floor. Amalie sat with Colton on her lap as he excitedly pointed out all of the knights and horses while Elizabeth and Aubria sat quietly together and observed the excitement.  When the marshals began to announce the rounds, Amalie had to listen closely over her son’s excited chatter.

There were apparently more competitors than they had expected. Thirty-six houses had showed up to compete and each house had at least one competitor or, as in the case of Baron Cononley, the Earl of Billingham and several other houses, there were four or more men slated to compete.  In all, there were one hundred and five men competing and that was divided into fifty-three individual bouts. 

The numbers were staggering and the marshals announced that it would take more than one day to accomplish the joust portion.  There would be seventeen rounds in both the morning and afternoon of the current day and then the morning of the next day would see the remaining rounds. The winners of those bouts would compete in the second rounds on the afternoon of the second day and so forth. The marshals estimated it would take at least four days to declare a joust winner.

The crowd wasn’t displeased with the length of the tournament.  In fact, they were cheering wildly. The marshals began to rattle of the lists of the men who would compete against each other, Baron Cononley being the first man listed.