Roland looked chastened, while Sebastian appeared to be annoyed.
“You do not understand,” Roland said tightly.
“Nay, I do not. I await your explanation.”
“What choice had we?” Sebastian demanded hotly.
“And you have not told us why she is even here,” Roland added.
Amaury glanced toward Isabella, who lowered her gaze.
As if she had a comment but dared not make it aloud.
He recalled in that moment his own summary of his father’s nature, that he had never chastened but had led by example. Yet here he stood, berating his brothers instead of showing them a better way. In the east, he had served beneath men who had not shared his father’s view, but Amaury was home and he should recall his own father’s choices.
He was glad that Isabella, however subtly, had reminded him of that.
“I apologize,” he said to his brothers and even Sebastian glanced at him with curiosity. “I do not know what you have endured or what has occurred in my absence, and I do not know what options you had. I would offer you the chance to change that choice now.” He lifted a hand to Isabella, who stepped toward him, inscrutable as ever. “I was wed today, to Isabella de Marnis…”
“Wed to the daughter of that fiend? What madness is this?” Sebastian demanded. “Those of Marnis are the worst liars and scoundrels in all of Christendom. How could you ally yourself with the man who has stolen everything from us?”
“He granted me the opportunity to regain Montvieux,” Amaury explained, his voice tight. He was embarrassed that Isabella had to endure his brother’s diatribe, but she did not appear to resent it. In this moment, she was a statue again, her features composed. “By taking his daughter to wife. We have the chance to rebuild and regain the holding.”
“How?” Roland asked, his voice sharp.
“With prosperity and sons,” Amaury supplied. He watched his brothers exchange a glance.
“She will cheat you,” Sebastian warned darkly. “She will dispatch you in your sleep.”
“I think that is unjust,” Amaury replied, his voice low. He watched Isabella’s lips tighten, just a little, and wondered what she knew that he did not. “I would ask for your good wishes on the match.”
“I wish you had taken a wife of Father’s choosing,” Roland said, then inclined his head to Isabella. “As I can imagine the lady might agree.”
“But this is the option I was offered and it is the one I chose to accept,” Amaury said. “Never mind that it is the onlyone that carries the promise of Montvieux. Father always said that marriage was an alliance, and one best founded on mutual trust.” He claimed Isabella’s hand. “I believe we begin well and I dare to trust in our shared future.”
Again there was a silence and a sense that something of import passed between his brothers.
“I will not swear my blade to her, but I will pledge it to you,” Roland said with defiance.
“And if I command you to defend my lady wife?”
“It will depend upon whether I trust her by then.”
Amaury bristled, but Isabella squeezed his fingers. “Do not let my presence become an obstacle between brothers,” she said. She inclined her head to Roland. “I cannot blame you for your doubts and would urge my husband to accept your offer.”
Roland looked surprised and Sebastian scowled. Amaury was disinclined to accept any measure less than full loyalty but when he glanced at Isabella, she shook her head slightly. What had occurred in his absence? It seemed he was the sole one who did not know.
He chose to trust his lady wife. That surely, would make an example.
“And so I cede to the advice of my lady, and hope that all will be as it should be within short order,” he said.
Once again, his brothers exchanged a glance, but this time, they nodded as one.
Then Roland stepped forward, pulling his sword and laying it across his palms as he dropped to one knee before Amaury. “Make no mistake, Amaury. I am beyond glad to have you home again. My blade and my loyalty are yours to command.”
Amaury looked down at the blade, unable to suppress his smile of admiration. Roland’s was a fine blade, wrought of good Toledo steel, and Amaury recalled it well. Their uncle had granted it to Roland upon the earning of his spurs. It gleamedin the moonlight, well tended and sharpened. Its weight was welcome in his hand, a reminder of the history and legacy of Montvieux, and also of the responsibility upon his own shoulders to restore all that had been stolen from them.
He must be temperate and judicious, ensuring that all had their say and each earned their due.
