“You do. And this is Lady Natalia de Chapelle, widow of the late count de Chapelle.” I reach out my hand. To her credit and my relief Natalia takes it and rises to her feet. She makes a graceful curtsy to Father Paul before positioning herself at my side.
“Of course, of course, I am delighted to make your acquaintance, my lord. My lady. And how may I help you this evening?”
“We wish you to perform a wedding. Between myself and Lady Natalia.”
“Now? Tonight?” The priest’s demeanour is less enthusiastic now, though only marginally. “This is most—sudden.”
“Yes, now, tonight. And I can appreciate that our plans might seem somewhat precipitous from your point of view. My betrothed and I have however been aware of our intentions for a while.” A short while, in fairness, but I see no need to trouble this busy padre with the details. “We have witnesses,” I gesture to my men at arms. “We have a bride and a groom, and a generous purse with which to bless the parish funds, so perhaps we could proceed?”
Mention of the purse does the trick. The priest beams at us both.
“Of course, at once. If you would just step forward my lord, my lady, and kneel before the altar. And your witnesses…?”
“Karl, Berthe, you will serve, will you not?” I am relieved that I took the trouble to learn the girl’s name as I gesture to the two of them to follow us down the aisle to face the altar, where his reverence is already fiddling with his incense and such other trappings. He turns to face us, prayer book in hand. His countenance is beatific, no doubt at the prospect of my likely generosity.
“A widow you say? May I enquire who gives this lady in marriage?”
“Gerhard of Bavaria, though he is regrettably not able to be present in person. You are of course free to make enquiries, though perhaps you could do that afterwards. I would not wish to delay, nor to be forced to seek a different church to bless our union.”
“That will not be necessary, my lord. Not necessary at all. Perhaps if one of your attendants could act as proxy for his lordship…?” My implied threat of the lost revenue has dispelled any remaining doubts on the part of the priest. I summon the nearest of my men at arms to join the wedding party at the front of the chapel. Now all I need is for Natalia to do her part.
She does. Tally speaks her responses in a low but even tone, exchanging vows with me. Ten minutes later we emerge from the church as man and wife, and the priest is several silver pennies the richer.
I chance a brief glance at my new bride. She looks positively wretched. I had intended to press on for Richtenholst immediately, but the sight of Tally’s depressed features generates a more urgent need. This marriage needs to be consummated, and quickly. My own desires aside, though I confess they are substantial, my bride needs to rediscover the joy to be found in intimacy. She needs to be fucked, and she needs that to be done both thoroughly and well. And it needs to be now.
“Karl, do you think you might secure us lodgings for the night?”
Before Karl has any chance to respond, Father Paul is chirruping again at my elbow, this time drawing my attention to the dwelling of one Mistress Lars who has a clean and weather-tight barn we might like to make use of.
“She had a man, and two grown sons, but they are all gone now. She would be glad of the coin, my lord, I am sure. And she will provide you with adequate sustenance too, I can vouch for that. She’s my sister, you see…”
Ah, right, a family concern. Still, it looks like this will be the best we can manage at short notice.
“Thank you, father. Could you direct us to Mistress Lars’ home, please?”
“I will take you there myself, my lord, with pleasure. Please, follow me.”
I am not sure whether the good father’s diligence is borne of a desire to see us comfortable in our lodgings or a reluctance to allow potential further income to slip through his fingers. After all, we might still remount and carry on our way. We do not do that though, and the next half hour sees us cosily ensconced in Mistress Lars’ own cottage.
The priest’s sister would not hear of us sleeping in her barn. She insisted that Lady Natalia’s wedding night must be conducted in more salubrious surroundings. Whilst I might have struggled to apply that description to the humble widow’s cottage, the place is at least clean and warm and I am happy enough to hand over two more silver pennies for the privilege of using it for the night. Mistress Lars draws our attention to the pot of lamb stew simmering on the fire, then bustles off to oust her brother from his bed. I suspect the padre could end up in the barn.
Meanwhile, Natalia and I are quite alone.
Chapter Seven
I am numb, though not from cold. His grace made sure of that on our journey here, insisting that I snuggle up close to his body, absorbing his warmth while he enveloped me in his thick cloak.
I was warm, comfortable, I even slept. I was in his arms, and I felt safe there. Even his brute of a horse seemed less terrifying after a while, the steady gait beneath us, the rhythmic clip-clop of the steel-tipped hooves pacing the distance, laying mile after mile behind us, taking me farther and farther from Sophia.
His grace told me she would be taken to Vienna, which lies somewhere to the east of us, I think. I have lost my bearings somewhat, though I know our destination lies south of Bavaria. Richtenholst is a long way from Vienna, from Sophia.
Richtenholst. My new home, whether I wish it or no.
It is done now, I am wed. I obeyed, as I always do when intimidated. I gave my responses, and I did what was expected of me. I am married, for the third time. This time though it is to a man I hardly know and already fear.
He hurt me. He spanked me, and he will do so again when the mood takes him. He as good as said that. He has talked of using a switch on me, and his belt. I will be black and blue, if I survive at all.
“It is our wedding night, Tally. I intend to make it memorable for you.”
