Keeping her head high and her resentment hidden, Ariane stood at attention behind Ranulf during the entire meal, determined to anticipate his every need, to give him no cause for rebuke. Serfs carried in trenchers of day-old bread to serve as bowls and plates. Such trenchers were usually shared by two people, often a
lady and a nobleman, but Ranulf enjoyed his own, for the twin chair to his right remained empty.
He conversed idly with his knights as he ate, first a thick soup, then platters of roasted meats, and finally cheeses and sweet wine. Ariane suspected the dishes were not prepared with the care they would have been given under her management, yet the food smelled delicious. Her own hunger took her by surprise, since she’d had little appetite during the past four grueling days.
It came as a welcome relief when Ranulf at last sent her a glance. “You have my leave to eat, demoiselle.”
Feigning indifference, Ariane withdrew before he could change his mind, and sought a place at the opposite end of the hall, as far away from the lord’s table as she could get. She could feel Ranulf’s gaze boring into her as she was welcomed eagerly by Father John and his clerk, Gilbert, who both jumped to their feet to serve her.
A lad of some sixteen years, Gilbert was actually her half-brother—her father’s son by a field serf. By law a serf’s bastard could not inherit a noble’s demesne lands, but Gilbert had never appeared to resent the limitations of his baseborn status. Tall and slight of build, he was obviously unfit for the demands of a knightly life, yet he was clever and quick and had earned the notice of his lordly father and the lord’s wife, Ariane’s mother.
It was actually Lady Constance who had plucked Gilbert from the obscurity and grueling toil of a serf’s fate, and had seen him educated by the Church, which dispensed all learning. Although it was not uncommon for a lady to raise her husband’s bastard sons, Constance had been exceptionally generous in Gilbert’s case, since she herself had been unable to give her lord husband more children. Claredon, as well as Gilbert, had profited. Clerking was an honorable profession in great demand. Many nobles could write at least a little, but most relied upon clerks to see to such work, to handle correspondence and to keep the accounts for their seneschals and stewards.
“My lady!” Gilbert exclaimed in a fierce undertone that startled Ariane as he resettled himself beside her on the bench. He was normally sweet-tempered and exquisitely-mannered, but his fair complexion now was flushed with emotion. “It aggrieves me to see the shame that black devil has heaped on you.”
It aggrieved her as well, but she thought it wiser not to inflame her half-brother further. “It is not too unbearable,” Ariane replied soothingly.
“But he treats you so ill—”
“He has not harmed me, Gilbert.”
Father John scolded the youth to silence. While she ate, the elderly priest related the events of the past three days of her incarceration. It seemed that the new lord was in full command of Claredon. “Yet we have not despaired. Your courage is being hailed on every tongue, my lady.”
“Mine?”
“Aye, for foiling the Black Dragon, for aiding Lord Simon to escape. You have given us hope.”
“False hope, I fear.” She stole a glance at the far end of the hall, where Ranulf sat with his men. “All I have done is bring his vengeance down upon our heads.”
“They say he is a devil,” Father John murmured in a fearful voice.
“He gives no quarter,” Ariane agreed.
“Our father would have dealt swiftly with him,” Gilbert muttered beside her.
A pang of remorse shot through Ariane at the reminder of her failing. “But our father is not here, so I must act as I see fit.”
Her brother scowled. “What villainous means did he employ to force your surrender? ’Tis rumored he threatened to kill his wounded prisoners, and that you traded their lives for your subservience, milady.”
“He was justly angered by the attack on his men,” she murmured.
“But to abuse you so—the accursed devil! He should be stricken down for defiling you.”
“He has not defiled me. He only denied my status as a lady.”
“He has not taken you as his leman?”
Ariane felt a blush rising to heat her cheeks, knowing Gilbert’s assumption was what the rest of the castle folk must believe. “Nay, he has not. He did not wish to validate the betrothal contract. He means to repudiate it—and me.”
Her assurances did not appease the boy’s fury. “All the same, he has dishonored you by this public humiliation. Would that I knew how to wield a sword! I swear I would cut him down where he stands!”
“Gilbert!” she replied sharply. “You must not even consider such a rash act. To challenge the new lord would be to forfeit your life.”
“I care not! I cannot allow him to treat you with such disrespect.”
“We will aid you to escape to the abbey at Frothom,” the priest broke in with a suggestion. “The Church will succor you. Simply say the word.”
“Aye,” Gilbert seconded. “There are many here who would lay down their lives for you.”