“It is not me they are watching with such awe, Celiese, but you, and I do not like it.” He drew her close as they started up the path leading to the ruins of her home. She could not be expected to bring prosperity to the impoverished village simply by her presence, but he could readily see from the peasants’ adoring glances that she had inspired a hope that had been absent from their hearts only the previous afternoon.
“Your family was so rich they could afford to feed all these people?” he asked incredulously.
“There were several villages similar in size to this one, although I do not recall any being in such a sad state when my father was alive. The peasants farmed our land and gave us a share of what they produced as payment for the use of our property. We did not prosper unless they did, it was not the other way around. My father was always generous, however, if a man were ill, or some tragedy befell his family, he would wait until the man could pay what he owed. No one was ever put out of his home on our estate as they would have been on many others.”
“The peasants did not take advantage of your father’s kindness?” he asked skeptically.
“How could they have done so?” she inquired innocently.
“By being lazy, doing only what was the minimum to insure their survival.” In his experience slaves were always lazy, and he could not believe peasants would have had any more ambition.
“The rent was a flat fee, not based upon how much a man produced. It was to his own advantage to cultivate all he could, for only a tiny portion went to us and the rest he kept for himself and his family.” Thinking she understood his confusion, she continued, “Free men are not like slaves, they have a reason to work, a purpose for their labors other than serving a tyrannical master.”
Laughing, Mylan asked, “Are you calling me a tyrant? I have owned slaves from time to time.” She had been the most difficult to manage, but he thought better of offering the opinion.
Celiese did not reply, for she could not. She had never been his slave, but that was an argument she would not begin again, either.
Seeing by her expression that he was on dangerous ground, he returned to the far safer subject of agriculture. “Well, was this system effective? The crops were cultivated, the people fed?”
“Some years were better than others, for the weather plays a great role in production, as you well know, but the fields were lush when I was a child, the peasants happy. You have seen the respect the name d’Loganville inspires in these people. It is not without cause, but well deserved.”
Mylan turned to be certain they were not being followed. Apparently, since André had not accompanied them today, the villagers had gone about their own business as well. Relieved to find they would have some privacy for a short while at least, he lengthened his stride to hurry Celiese along. “I cannot rebuild your entire house in the short time we have remaining, but if you want to stay here, I can at least see part of it is made livable again.”
She wandered about as he studied what was left of the once magnificent structure. It was so clear in her mind; to consider rebuilding anything less than the perfection it had been saddened her greatly. When he sat down by her side, she attempted to refuse his offer as tactfully as she could.
“The house was so pretty, Mylan, filled with sunlight and good cheer, surrounded by fragrant gardens. I know you want to help me, but I’d rather leave my home in ruins than build anything less than the splendid residence it was.”
“Celiese,” he began, then, realizing the day had gone no better for her than it had for him, he softened his tone. “I want you to come home with me.” He reached for her hand and laced her fingers tightly in his, bringing them to his lips. “I won’t leave you here amidst this rubble.”
“But you must!” she insisted. “This is where I belong. And I know how desperate my situation appears, but I can make everything right again in time, I know I can.”
Gesturing toward the few remaining walls of her home, he asked sarcastically, “How? You have not even so much as André to call your own. You are no more than one fragile young woman, how do you expect to accomplish any of your dreams?”
Holding her temper, she again sought his sympathy. “If you were to return home and find Raktor had leveled your house, killed your family, slaughtered your livestock, and sold off all your servants, would you not try to restore all you could to its proper place?”
“I am a man, Celiese, and a strong one. I would never rest until I had repaid Raktor for each wrong he’d done, but you are little more than a girl. While you do have some skill with weapons, you do not even own any.”
“I would say I have a great deal of skill. Have you forgotten I almost killed your bear?” Her patience at an end, she responded angrily, “I can use weapons, but I may not need to. If I can see the king, I can make him understand that what he has done in making a bargain with Hrolf is wrong.”
“The king?” Mylan was appalled. “You plan to visit the king and demand he restore your lands to you?”
“Why not? The spineless weasel needs someone to tell him how to rule the country with the pride it deserves.”
Mylan rested his head in his hands, “I should wring your neck now and save King Charles the trouble.”
“He would not dare to harm me,” she replied instantly, shocked by his threats. She was as angry as he, her cheeks flushed with color, her green eyes bright with unshed tears.
“Because you are Lady d’Loganville, your name as proud as his?” Mylan scoffed disparagingly.
“Yes!” She rose as a final gesture, ready to end their argument. “Sail with the morning tide. You have brought me home, that was all I asked, and I am grateful for the favor. I will follow the bank of the river Seine to Paris and seek an audience with the king. Were my father alive he would do no less.”
“Your father is dead!” Mylan sprang to his feet to confront her, “All are dead who tried to resist the invading Danes; Hrolf is only the last and the most fierce. Don’t you understand no king gives away part of his realm if he has any other choice? That one pretty young woman objects will matter not at all to him. He is buying peace for the rest of his lands by giving away yours, and nothing you say will sway him from the course he has already chosen!”
Turning her back on him, she took several steps away, fighting the overwhelming sense of frustration confronting her at every turn. Their marriage had not survived their wedding night despite her best efforts to make Mylan accept her love, and to return to Denmark as his wife now was impossible. And to enter the convent as her mother had insisted she do was unthinkable when there was no one else to rectify the terrible injustice her family had suffered.
Her plan might be naive, it might even be ridiculous in the king’s view, but she had to try in every way she could to reclaim what was rightfully hers. Bending down to pick up a handful of earth, she sifted the rich soil through her fingers. “Perhaps I do have more courage than sense, Mylan, but I have not survived this long for no purpose. There are more ways to fight than with a sword, and I’ll not rest until I’ve exhausted every possibility to return my home to the grandeur it had in my father’s lifetime.”
Walking around to face her, Mylan took her soiled hand in his. “This is no more than dirt! If that is all you want, I own plenty. Give up this cause, come home with me and be my wife. Do not refuse what can be the best of all possible lives for us both.”