The solar ofMarnis occupied the middle of the top floor of the wooden tower of the keep. The tower was narrower than Montvieux’s had been but it was taller, and the chamber had a view of the forests to the south. In its midst was a great pillared bed, hung with the deep red curtains of Marnis’ colors and piled with wolf pelts. It had been years since there had been many wolves in the holding, though in the occasional winter, one might appear on the borders. These pelts were old and Isabella always thought them mouldering. She would have been rid of them in a moment if this chamber ever fell to her hand, though that was unlikely to ever occur.
Her father was in his great chair, braziers lit and smoking on either side of him. He had once been a large man of manyappetites but in his sunset years had lost his zeal for many of life’s pleasures. He was now almost gaunt, his head bald, though he still possessed a small paunch. He was as tall as Isabella always recalled him to be, but he stooped in these days, which diminished his once-imposing presence. He made up for any lack with the volume of his voice.
His robe was samite edged in embroidery, though the fabric was worn in these times. The garment remained a favorite, however. The Lord de Marnis wore jewelled rings on every finger, though they spun now that his hands were thinner: most in the household had learned to duck if the lord spoke with vehemence, for if he flung out a hand, a ring might slip free and be cast across the chamber. A page had lost an eye several years before to a particularly large carved agate set in silver.
Her father was agitated in this moment, though that was not sufficient cause of late for him to rise and be garbed. Isabella suspected the presence of her uncle, Mallory de Sancerre, who hovered nearby, was the reason her father had stirred from his bed.
Mallory was the older brother of Faydide, the lord’s current wife and Isabella’s step-mother, a man who reminded Isabella even more of a snake than his sister. Mallory was one whose appearance belied his nature – he was devastatingly handsome and charming beyond all but Isabella feared his heart was dark. He was not always in residence at Marnis but a frequent visitor, particularly in recent months.
On this day, he was dressed with his customary flair, gold embroidery rich upon the hem and neck of the deep green tabard that fell to his knees, a black velvet cloak cast over his shoulder so the silk embroidery on the lining could be admired by all, and a large gold clasp thick with gems at his neck. His hose were deep gold, his leather shoes tooled and dyed deep red, his auburn hair curled at the lower edge to better frame his face.He was shaved clean but his green eyes glinted like emeralds as he assessed her.
His splendor made her father look more aged and worn in contrast.
The tale upon Mallory’s arrival earlier this week was that he came to visit his beloved sister, but Isabella had wondered from the outset if there was more detail than had been shared. Her father, if naught else, seemed most pleased to have Mallory at his side: the older man clutched the hand of the younger, as if drawing strength from his very presence.
Edmund was at her father’s feet, kneeling with his head bowed, but Isabella’s father ignored that man at her appearance. “Isabella! Is it true that Denis is dead? Where is he?”
She knew better than to expect any greeting or enquiry after her own welfare. “We found him fallen on the road. He has been killed.”
Her father caught his breath in horror. “My son!” he gasped, clutching at Mallory’s arm.
“My lord Amaury vowed to bring him home.”
Her father’s features darkened to purple. “You left him there? You abandoned your only brother, dead on the road? You are no better than this faithless wretch who left him to the mercy of the thieves who took his steed last night!” He gestured to Edmund.
“My lord! I must protest! Lord Denis bade me ride for Marnis…”
“You have need of more reliable people in your household, Gaultier,” Mallory advised in his deep voice but his comment was ignored.
“Isabella!” Her father rose to his feet unsteadily, his voice booming. “Answer me!”
“I did not abandon Denis, Father. I was ordered by my lord husband to ride to safety. Doubtless he feared the attackers were yet in the area.”
“What nonsense is this? You have no lord husband!”
CHAPTER 9
Isabella blinked. Edmund studied her, but there was cunning in his gaze. He knew what this was about, as she did not. Mallory’s thoughts could not be discerned. Her father’s fury was evident – and inexplicable. Isabella felt that a river swirled around her and stole her footing.
What was awry? Her father had talked incessantly of wedding her to Amaury since her last broken engagement.
She strove to make the situation clear. “I beg your pardon, Father, but I exchanged vows yesterday with Amaury de Montvieux, as you wished, for he has returned from Outremer. Surely Denis told you last evening that Amaury accepted your offer…”
“None of that matters now,” her father said, his manner imperious.
Perhaps her father was not listening.
“I am wed by your dictate, Father, and according to your plan. Edmund also witnessed the exchange of our vows.”
“And I tell you that it does not matter. You cannot be wed to the son of Montvieux if Denis is dead. Youcannot!”
Mallory nodded. “You must abandon the match if it exists, Isabella.”
If it exists? Was her word doubted?
Isabella straightened. She had not been inclined to insist upon speaking to her father, but all had changed with her match – and it was not one she would deny. “Regardless of the unfortunate fate of Denis, a marriage is a marriage. I have pledged myself to Amaury de Montvieux, and he has pledged to me, before witnesses and before God…”
“I tell you, Isabella, I do not care!” her father shouted. “Is it not sufficient that you are so poor a candidate for marriage? Must you be a fool and a deaf as well? You will not be wed to that man, not now, notever.”
