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Something's Missing
Grateful for Terric’s assistance negotiating patches of loose rock on the downhill trail, Adelina pondered the unusually sullen Norman cousin ahead of them dragging the litter bearing Mandeville. “What do you suppose got into Roland back at the fort?” she asked her brother. “He was like a dog with a sore paw. I can’t believe the major’s wounds upset him so badly. He must have seen worse in battle.”
“He was jealous,” Terric replied with a chuckle.
Puzzled, Adelina paused to catch her breath. “Of what?”
“Of whom, you mean. Mandeville, of course.”
“Why would he be jealous of a man at death’s door?”
Terric shook his head. “You’ve a lot to learn about men, Sister dear. You touched Mandeville.”
“And that made Roland jealous?”
Terric took her hand and they resumed the trek. “Especially when you tore his leggings and smeared the foul-smelling stuff near the man’s…er…on his thigh.”
“But I was only trying to help him heal,” she replied.
“Roland knows that now he’s thinking more rationally. It’s the reason he’s refused to let me share the burden of the litter.”
She decided it was time to confide in her brother. He was a man, after all. “Roland confuses me,” she admitted. “At first, I sensed he harbored feelings for me, but that can’t be. We just met.”
Terric let go of her hand when they reached a grassy stretch. “And how did you feel about that?” he asked, his gaze on the surrounding moorland.
She wished he would look her in the eyes so she could ascertain what he was thinking. They’d always been able to read what was in the mind of the other, a kind of silent sibling communication. It didn’t help when she detected a slight hint of censure in his voice. Terric owed his life to Roland and might resent anything negative she said. Still, he’d asked her opinion. “I think he’s a lady’s man who likes to flirt with women.”
Terric shook his head. “That’s exactly what Roland has always been, until he heard about John’s callous treatment of you. Then, rescuing you became his obsession.”
* * *
“Yonder Ravenglass,” Godric declared from somewhere behind Roland. “We mun wait for t’others to catch up, then we’ll head north to Aigremont.”
Peering out at the estuary far below their vantage point, Roland hesitated. The rough wood of the litter had bitten into his cold hands but, if he put down his burden, he’d be obliged to turn around.
That would necessitate feigning interest in Mandeville’s condition. He was too preoccupied with the disgust he might see on Adelina’s face to consider whether the soldier was still alive or not. He hardly recognized the indecisive, cautious man he’d become. Perhaps the ghost of a Roman soldier had cast some sort of hex upon him.
At the outset of their journey, he’d been so sure Adelina was his soul mate. Was that notion some naive dream fostered by jealousy of what his older brother had—a loving wife and growing family? An absurd longing for a ridiculous curse?
Yet, the first time he’d set eyes on Adelina in the longboat, there’d been a jolt—to his heart as well as his loins. Or was that merely hubris at having succeeded in his quest to save a damsel in distress?
But, he hadn’t saved her, yet. And, once she was safe, if he babbled words of undying love, she’d deem him a lunatic, especially after his ignoble behavior back at the fort.
Gritting his teeth, he was ready to face his fears and turn around when something struck him as odd about the vessels in the estuary. “The galley’s gone,” he exclaimed, raking both hands through his windblown hair.
* * *
“It’s fortunate you found us, my lord,” Adrien told Baron Ravenglass as he steered the galley into the sheltered cove below Aigremont. “We were feeling exposed when most of the other vessels departed.”
Standing beside him with legs braced against the swell, Marguerite’s father nodded. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the comings and goings in the harbor since we got word from the Montbryces at Ellesmere that you and your brother were on the way to Cumbria. And, you’re right, a Norman galley is easy to spot.”
Not for the first time, Adrien offered up a silent prayer of thanks for the bonds of kinship. “The earl sent a messenger from the Marches?”
“Aye, one who knew the way. Same rider brought the welcome news of our daughter’s marriage two years ago.”
“Did King John impose vengeful penalties when he found out about Marguerite marrying a Norman?”
“No more than on anyone else in England. Too busy trying to finance his campaign to retake Anjou and Normandie to recall he is distantly related to our family. He apparently lost interest once Marguerite was beyond his reach, and I thank your family every day for it.”
“She is happy,” Adrien replied. “Just so you know that.”
The baron clapped a meaty hand on his shoulder. “’Tis good for a father to hear. There was a time her mother and I despaired of Marguerite finding happiness. When we heard about the siege of Gaillard, we assumed the worst, so news of her marriage was welcome indeed. Mayhap one day before I die we’ll get to meet her husband and my grandchildren.”
Adrien bristled at the unfairness of it. “When John is no longer king, we Normans might be able to once more travel to England without risking arrest.”
“Aye,” the baron replied. “Fyking tyrant. Now, let’s go ashore and see if we can determine what’s become of your brother and his friends.”
