Warrior's Song (Medieval Song 1)

“Not really. She and Chandra grew up together. They have been friends since they were children. Also, I’ve been told that her father doesn’t care for her very much, simply views her as a pawn, as barter.”

“All that is true, and there is more. There is no easy way to say this, Mark. Mary was raped by Graelam de Moreton when he took Croyland. He raped her in front of Chandra to bring Chandra into line. Mary is pregnant, over three months gone.”

For a moment Mark could find no words. Rage filled him. But then he realized fully that what was done was done. “I am to be the father to Graelam’s child? I wonder if God will grant that the child not be a boy and I have another man’s son as my heir.”

“It is something you must consider closely, Mark. I will not try to coerce you, even though Chandra is very nearly distraught over it.”

“Yes, she would be. Naturally, that would add to her dislike of men.”

“Aye, it has.”

“I will do it, Jerval. I like Mary very much. She soothes me, she makes me smile, she is generous. Please ask Lord Hugh to send a messenger to Mary’s father to gain his permission.”

Jerval nodded. “He will do it tomorrow. At the very least, her portion should enable you to buy what you need to provision the keep properly, make repairs to the walls, and provide feed and seed for the farmers.”

Mark smiled. “I suppose that I am to have dallied with Mary, and am doing the honorable thing by her.”

“Aye, you will doubtless be cast as the lecher, particularly by my mother, when Mary’s belly becomes nicely rounded in the next couple of months.” The two men rose, and Jerval placed his hands on Mark’s shoulders. “I thank you, Mark, as will Chandra. She has been frantic with worry.”

“Have you told Mary?”

Jerval looked at him, surprised. “Nay, of course not. I trust she will be overcome by her good fortune. No, of course I could not tell her. Do not worry that her father will turn you down. He won’t. My father thinks he will hear soon enough from Sir Stephen and you can wed by early next week.”

“This moves very quickly. It makes a man roll his eyes, Jerval.”

“Aye, that and a good deal more. Are you certain you wish to wed her?”

“Aye, but I wish I knew whether she wanted me.”

“But I couldn’t tell her, could I? What if you had not wished to become master of Oldham? I could not foist a landless lout on her, now could I?”

“Your wit fells me.”

“I know, but I am trying. Now, you must marry the girl quickly. Do you feel that you can safely leave Oldham in Malton’s hands until you return with your bride?”

“My bride,” Mark said, and swallowed. “Aye, I can leave Malton with a half-dozen men under his command. Lord Hugh said that I could recruit more men from Penrith and Carlisle. I must do that quickly. I hope the Scots will not attack until I have the additional men I need at Oldham.”

An hour later, Jerval found his father with a roll of parchment on his lap, his gouty foot propped up on a stool. He was smiling.

“Sir, what is it?” Chandra said to Lord Hugh, drawing closer, Lady Faye at her side.

Hugh drew himself up, and that smile stretched his mouth even wider. “It is a letter from King Henry. Prince Edward and Princess Eleanor are touring the lake region on their way to Scotland, and will be our guests. So what do you think of that?”

“When, Father?”

“In a week, no more.”

“Only seven days from now?” Lady Avicia whirled about to yell at her husband, “By the Virgin, Hugh, I must have a new gown. Oh, and all the preparations. I haven’t the time to get it all done. Oh, my.”

“How exciting it is,” Mary said to Mark, who had walked to stand beside her.

“Aye, it is an honor,” he said. “It will also drain Camberley of some of her winter stores.”

“I had not thought of that.”

“It is still wonderful,” Mark said, smiling down at her, seeing her with new eyes, the eyes of her future husband. Please, God, he prayed as he looked at her still slender waist, do not let it be a male child.

Jerval said, “It will be good to see Edward again. You will like Edward’s ready wit, Chandra, and Eleanor’s gentle grace.” He frowned suddenly at the old gown his wife was wearing. “I trust you have something more fitting to wear?”