than that in his dealings here as lord and husband, especially with such a woman as the lady who was now his wife.
Giles knew that his men watched him, not only the two guards standing nearest the door, but also those who had accompanied him to the wedding and back. Still, between her strength of character and her intelligence, he should not have been surprised. He stepped away then and turned to leave.
‘Not quite the frail English flower you expected, then, eh?’ Roger asked as they walked down the steps to the main hall.
‘And even you could not have plucked that flower so quickly,’ Brice said from behind him. ‘You are good, my lord, but not that good.’
His men laughed at the insult as did he. Plucking a flower as beautiful as this one would not have been difficult at all and, considering the womanly curves and feminine enticements she offered, he could have managed a quick bedding in a very short time. If Giles gave himself leave to, he could have lost himself in the depth of her green eyes, but his fear about her true role in his enemy’s plans haunted him too much.
He’d shared the truth of his concerns and his intention to avoid consummating their vows until he knew the truth of her condition only with Brice. Gaining a bride who’d lost her virtue was not the best situation, but he’d be damned before he accepted another man’s child as his without knowing. The irony of his concerns was not lost on him.
‘Ah, but we are Bretons,’ Giles said, laughing. ‘We are better than most and certainly faster than these Englishmen.’ Smacking Brice hard on the shoulder, he nodded at him. ‘And you, soon to be my Lord Thaxted, should be wary and watchful for you will have your own Saxon maid to deal with shortly.’
Brice remained silent, most likely thinking of the challenges he would face soon. Once things were in Giles’s control here, Brice would be free to continue his journey north to gain the keep and the woman who would be his. Giles motioned for the others to precede him and issued new orders to the guards concerning his … wife.
Would there ever be a time when he did not stumble over such a thought? Born a bastard, the son of a Breton vicomte and a weaver, a common woman, he should never have aspired to such a position in life. Dreamed? Oh, yes, he had dreamed of it and prayed for such a thing, but a man such as he did not marry the daughter of a nobleman and gain a title as he had. By rights, he should be a servant in his father’s household, but William’s need for men to fight in his cause and Giles’s own skills in the arts of warfare had brought him to this moment.
War, as his friend Simon would say, was a great leveller of men and an open avenue to advance past one’s station in life. Giles smiled as he remembered their many conversations earlier this year on the occasion of Simon’s marriage to Elise. It was the first step he’d taken on this road to his own destiny.
Still, having gained such a title and such a wife did not wipe out the niggling doubt that moved through him each time he heard himself being called ‘my lord'. It would take some time to answer that call easily or to think of the angry woman in the chamber as his wife … and even more time to accept that he was worthy of the honours given him by the king.
Once the guards understood their orders, he followed the others down the stairs to the hall where many still ate and drank of the wedding feast’s bounty, such as it was. The fare at table was nothing but a beggar’s meal if compared to some he’d seen in Brittany. Simon’s went on for more than a day while his own half brother’s feast went on for three days, with course after course of fowl and meat and fish and delicacies that yet made his mouth water even at the memory of them.
But neither his father, Simon nor the father of either of those brides had had to worry about their crops burning in the fields and barns. They did not have to spend a moment considering how many of their people would survive the coming war and the coming winter. With a beleaguered sigh after pushing those serious concerns aside for the moment, he climbed the few steps to the raised table and sat in the chair in the middle of it. Brice, Roger and several others of his men joined him there without much fanfare.
Giles tore a chunk of meat off a roast of … something and stuffed it in his mouth, chewing to soften up the tough piece before trying to swallow it. Even a mouthful of ale did not ease its path down to his stomach.
Then he noticed it.
Complete silence filled the hall. It seemed to start with the villagers present and then, when his men noticed it, they stilled as well. As one, they stared at him. Giles resisted the urge to see if he’d come naked to the table, so startled by their silent scrutiny. Leaning over to Brice, who sat at his side, he lowered his voice and spoke.
‘What is the matter here?’
‘You have attended weddings before, my friend. What do you think is the matter?’ Brice whispered in their Breton tongue.
Giles surveyed the faces before him. They wore expressions of surprise and concern and even anger. The people had eaten their fill, drank of the ale and sat at their ease during the meal. Now, darkness called them to rest. Yet, their unhappiness and anger could be seen and felt and even heard as the silence gave way to hushed grumblings in that awkward tongue of theirs. He realised his error even as Brice spoke the words.
‘They wonder how the groom can so quickly return to the wedding feast.’ Brice leaned closer so that he could not be overheard. ‘They know nothing of your concern about the lady’s condition. They know only that you married her and have returned from your marriage bed within minutes of arriving there.’
Merde.
Giles drank down the cup of ale in his grasp and motioned for more. He’d not considered the ways in which his actions would be seen or even considered that any person, villein or free, in his hall might have a concern over them. As a bastard serving his lord, his actions mattered naught except when they interfered with his lord’s desires or needs or commands. Now, it was his word that mattered. His actions were to be heeded and obeyed.
As he drank the ale again he shook his head at Brice. He’d arranged for them to say their marriage vows before her people to lessen the strain in the keep and village about her health. Rumours had flown round in the days after his arrival and her lack of presence had made them wonder whether he’d killed her or not. Only the word of her servants that she was alive had kept the worst of the distrust at bay.
Now this.
‘This is a private matter between the lady and me.’
‘Ah, my lord, you have it wrong there. Within hours, if indeed it takes that long, every person living within the walls or without will know what is between you and their lady. And that you have not consummated your vows.’
He gazed out over the tables before him, seeing the mutinous stares from those who would never dare to say a word. He could not, nay, he would not relent and bed Fayth before knowing the truth. His hand would not be forced in such a grievous matter.
‘Merde.‘ This time he’d said the word aloud.
‘Exactly, my lord.’
‘I will not explain myself to them, Brice,’ he said, clenching his teeth. Giles looked out over the hall and the people there. His illegitimate standing gave rise to his reluctance in this and he would not discuss it with anyone.
They knew nothing but what happened here, within these walls, within this small village. They knew not of his struggles to rise from his bitter beginnings, to gain fame and fortune in
