Passion in the Blood Read online

  PASSION IN THE BLOOD

  by

  Anna Markland

  The Montbryce Legacy

  Book IV

  Kindle Edition

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright © Anna Markland 2012

  ISBN 978-0-9878673-9-1

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to kindle.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  All fictional characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.

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  Also available on Kindle

  Book One of The Montbryce Legacy~Conquering Passion

  Book Two of The Montbryce Legacy~A Man of Value

  Book Three of The Montbryce Legacy~If Love Dares Enough

  The strength of a family,

  like the strength of an army,

  is in its loyalty to each other.

  ~Mario Puzo

  For my firstborn,

  Bernard Anthony

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ellesmere, England, August 2nd 1100

  Robert de Montbryce had never seen his brother so animated. Though born and raised together in Ellesmere castle in England, he and Baudoin saw each other infrequently. Robert now lived in Normandie, having assumed responsibility, as the eldest son, for the ancestral castle at Montbryce. He loved Normandie. Montbryce castle was where he belonged, but he enjoyed visiting his parents in England. He missed his family.

  Robert had to admit his brother had grown up in his shadow, but Baudoin’s calm exterior belied his deeply held convictions. Robert could certainly see that passion now.

  They were often mistaken for twins. As the only male offspring of their parents, the onus on them to provide heirs and to carry on the Montbryce name was heavy, and they were reminded of it more and more frequently nowadays. Their parents shared a deep passionate love. Without admitting it, both sons wanted the same for themselves.

  Robert had never been in love, but he suspected Baudoin was enamoured with Carys, the castle’s Welsh healer. He chuckled inwardly at the thought of the hornet’s nest that might unleash. The Earl of Ellesmere’s son in love with the daughter of the Earl’s nemesis, Welsh rebel chieftain Rhodri ap Owain! He wouldn’t want to be in Baudoin’s boots when their parents found out!

  Most noblemen of his acquaintance would scoff at the idea of loving their wives, but Robert wanted what his parents had. He sometimes despaired of ever finding a lifemate, a woman who would make a good Comtesse when he inherited his father’s Norman title, especially now, given the volatile political situation in Normandie.

  This was the topic that had Baudoin holding forth animatedly as they relaxed in the Hall after a heavy midday meal. The air was still redolent with the aroma of roasted venison. Their parents had left as soon as they’d finished eating, making an excuse. Did they believe their children were fooled? They knew full well Ram and Mabelle de Montbryce would wile away the afternoon in their chamber. Their passion had never waned over thirty years.

  Rhoni had shared her brothers’ amusement and then gone off to her solar. Their sister rarely showed any interest in politics.

  “Papa is right,” Baudoin banged his fist on the wooden table. “We’d be much better off with one ruler for Normandie and England. Serving two masters is intolerable, like walking a tightrope. What’s the sentiment in Normandie?”

  Things said within the confines of Ellesmere might be considered treason by many, but Montbryces didn’t betray each other. Family loyalty was paramount. Though they could hear the distant chatter of servants in the kitchens, Robert felt comfortable they were too far away to overhear. “Most of the Norman barons favour Curthose.”

  Baudoin snorted. “Ah! Your namesake! The misbegotten Duke of the Normans for the past thirteen years. They’re afraid he’ll confiscate their lands if they don’t support him.”

  Robert had been slouching in his chair, legs outstretched. Now he tensed and sat up. “Listen, I don’t support him because I was named for him. We in Normandie have to be mindful he has the power to take our lands.”

  Baudoin nodded his understanding. “You’re right, but most Norman barons own lands in England as well, and here we have to please King William Rufus.”

  Robert threw up his hands. “Who knows what the Conqueror had in mind when he divided up his empire the way he did? Normandie for Curthose, England for Rufus and gold for the scholarly Henry, who’ll no doubt be a bishop one day. If only they could get along as a family, like the Montbryces!”

  Baudoin slapped his thigh and laughed at his brother’s jest. “Oui. At least you and I have never emptied chamberpots on each other’s heads!”

  They enjoyed the humour, remembering their parents’ disgust when news of the royal prank had reached Ellesmere years ago. Their laughter died when their father unexpectedly entered the Hall, clad only in his bed robe, his face ashen. Steward Bonhomme accompanied him, jaw clenched.

  Robert and Baudoin came to their feet immediately. Both spoke at once. “What’s amiss, Papa?”

  Ram clutched a parchment which he thrust at Robert. “The King is dead.”

  Baudoin read the message over his brother’s shoulder. His face betrayed his shock. “William Rufus?”

  Robert gasped and made the Sign of the Cross. “I can’t believe this.”

  Their father swore. “Believe it! As you see, he was killed yesterday in a hunting accident in the New Forest. Your mother and I were—well, never mind. Steward Bonhomme brought the message to me as soon as it arrived. The rider insisted we get the news immediately. Since he was from the court—”

  He drew his bed robe more tightly around his body and sat down wearily in a chair near the hearth, rubbing his knees.

  Robert rolled the parchment and gave it back to his father. “We should go to the Map Room to discuss this. Too many people come in and out of here. We need to make some decisions.”

  Baudoin strode to the door. “I’ll fetch Rhoni.”

  Bonhomme held up his hand. “I can see to that, milord Baudoin.”

  ***

  For as long as he lived Ram, Comte de Montbryce and Earl of Ellesmere, would remember that when news of the cataclysmic event was brought to him he was making sweet love with his beautiful wife, Mabelle. They’d enjoyed each other for more than thirty years, and the passion and love they shared had never diminished. Rheumatism slowed him down a bit these days, but they still experienced dizzying heights of rapture when they lay together, their bodies joined in bliss.

  They were spending the later years of their lives in Ellesmere, the comfortable castle they’d built together, and had fallen into the habit of wiling away pleasant afternoons playing with each other’s bodies. It was one of these passion filled trysts that had been rudely interrupted by loud insistent banging on the outer door of their chambers.

&nb
sp; “A moment!” Ram had risen reluctantly from his bed and donned his robe, hoping it might adequately conceal his erection. “Wait for me”, he’d whispered to Mabelle, inhaling the scent of her. “This will take but a few minutes, I hope.”

  She’d smiled and curled up in the linens. “Don’t be long.”

  Ram’s hopes were cruelly dashed when he read the terse message handed to him by his steward, Martin Bonhomme. He’d gone immediately to find his sons without bothering to dress.

  As they made their way now to the Map Room, his mind was in turmoil. His thoughts went back to the first time he’d seen this castle, a reward granted him by William the Conqueror in the year of our Lord One Thousand and Sixty-Six, thirty and four years before.

  He’d fallen to his knees in dismay at the dilapidated condition of the crude Saxon earthwork. It had taken him and his family the intervening years to build the castle and the town and its environs into a prosperous and vibrant community. He was proud of his achievement.

  He recalled happy scenes of Robert, Baudoin and Hylda Rhonwen growing up there, and the bitter memory of the lonely torture of his months-long separation from his family, kidnapped by the notorious Welsh rebel Rhodri ap Owain. How elated they’d been to return home after their ransom.

  Now, here was a danger that might destroy everything his family had worked for. They could lose everything in England and Normandie. He again sought the chair nearest the hearth. “I’ve never had any great love for Rufus, as you know, but this could jeopardise Ellesmere, and your earldom, Baudoin.”

  The colour drained from Baudoin’s face.

  “Your inheritance in Normandie may also be at risk, Robert. We could lose Montbryce.”

  Both sons stood in silence, absorbing the idea of this unthinkable possibility.

  Robert spoke first. “I need to get back to Normandie. I’ll get a message to them when we leave here. Once we’ve made some decisions.”

  Ram rubbed his knees. “I didn’t support Rufus as the third son of the Conqueror when he first came to the English throne, believing the eldest son, Curthose, should inherit. But the news of his sudden death means trouble ahead. Curthose and Henry will both want the throne of England.”

  Baudoin joined his father by the hearth and sat with his forearms on his thighs, gazing into the flames. “William Rufus ruled by bad faith and brutality rather than by skill and diplomacy. But his death brings to the fore again the underlying problem for Anglo-Normans—we have a ruler over our lands in Normandie, Duke Curthose, and a ruler in England, King William Rufus, which has resulted in Normans serving two masters. Robert and I were just now discussing that very problem.”

  Ram stood, flexing his knees. “Exactement! You have described the problem exactly. What I and others have tried and failed to achieve over the years is one ruler for both, otherwise there’s too much instability.”

  Baudoin sank back into his chair. “When Duke Robert decided to raise a Crusading army and virtually pawned Normandie to William Rufus for ten thousand marks, it defused the problem for a while, but now he’s on his way back from the Crusade, a richer man.”

  They were silent for a while before Ram spoke again. “The King’s death will leave the Anglo-Norman nobility in a position of having to choose whom to support. I chose the wrong side before in supporting Curthose, and almost lost favour. He failed then to come to England to rally his supporters, and I switched my allegiance in the nick of time and held on to our lands and titles.”

  Baudoin stood. “We’ll have to make some decisions. I’ll get a message to Caedmon at Shelfhoc Hall, asking him to come as soon as possible. It’s fortuitous he’s in Ruyton and not at home in Northumbria.”

  Ram was proud to see his youngest son act decisively and thankful his sons had been accepting of their half-brother, Caedmon, Ram’s illegitimate son. “You’re right. Henry will move quickly to be crowned.”

  ***

  When Ram didn’t return to their tryst, Mabelle sensed it must be a matter of importance. She dressed and went in search of him, bumping into Baudoin as he hastened from the Map Room.

  “What’s happened?” she asked, a sense of foreboding washing over her when she saw Ram’s harried expression.

  He rose and motioned her to sit by the fire. “King William Rufus is dead. He was accidentally shot. He might have survived had he not fallen from his horse and impaled the arrow more deeply.”

  She made the Sign of the Cross. “May God have mercy on him,” she whispered. “He didn’t have a chance to confess his sins. What will happen now?”

  Ram exhaled. “Henry will claim the throne, but so will Curthose. Interestingly enough, according to the message I received, Henry was also in the New Forest yesterday and became aware of what had happened immediately, giving him a head start. No doubt he’s already been to Winchester to take over the Treasury.”

  “Who shot the King?” Mabelle asked, sure whoever it was must be a dead man by now.

  Ram snorted. “This is where it gets interesting. Tirel of Poix. Again this is according to the message. The same Tirel who is well known as one of England’s best bowmen. He rarely misses a shot.”

  The implications for her family suddenly struck Mabelle. “What must we do now?”

  Robert answered. “Baudoin is arranging for a messenger to Caedmon and Agneta.”

  Mabelle looked at her husband and smiled. Of course he would want to make sure his illegitimate son was protected, and part of the plan of action.

  Ram was blunt. “We must gather information in the next few days and decide which claimant we’ll support. Our lives and all we hold dear may depend on the correct choice.”

  He turned to greet his son as he re-entered the room. “Baudoin, contact our man at Court. We need to know what’s happening, what’s rumour and what’s fact.”

  “Already done, mon père,” Baudoin replied. “And Rhoni’s on her way from her solar.”

  Mabelle and Ram exchanged a look of pride in their youngest son as their daughter Rhoni came hurriedly into the room, holding out her hands to her mother.

  Mabelle clasped Rhoni’s hands and gave a reassuring squeeze. She looked fondly at the young woman, always amused at her insistence on Rhoni, instead of Hylda Rhonwen. Mabelle had wanted to honour her late mother, Hylda—a woman she barely remembered. As long as Rhonwen was aware Mabelle’s daughter had been named for her—that was the important thing.

  Her gaze moved to her two handsome sons—Robert, the future Comte de Montbryce, and Baudoin, who had already taken over a great deal of the responsibility of Ellesmere. Then she looked sadly at Ram. Though they’d spent most of their lives in England, their hearts lay in Normandie, at the castle de Montbryce where Ram had grown up. Now a lifetime of sacrifice and devotion to the furtherance of Norman interests in England could be put in jeopardy by the death of King William Rufus.

  ***

  After days of terrible uncertainty, Mabelle entered the Map Room where she found Ram, Baudoin and Caedmon, newly arrived from Ruyton. Robert had already left for Normandie. The men were enjoying a tankard of ale.

  She embraced Caedmon, kissing him on each cheek. “It’s fortunate you and your family were visiting your mother instead of at home in Northumbria. Whenever I see you three together, I’m always taken aback at how alike you are. How is Agneta with this latest pregnancy, Caedmon?”

  “She’s well,” he replied with a smile. “Though she wasn’t happy about my leaving her and my mother with three children, and Edwin only two years old.”

  Mabelle shook her head. “I can’t believe it. It seems only yesterday Agneta birthed your twins here in Ellesmere.”

  Caedmon reddened, still regretful he’d been off on the Crusade when his twins, Blythe and Aidan had been born.

  Mabelle gave him a reassuring smile. “Do we know yet what’s happening?” she asked.

  Caedmon FitzRambaud returned the smile. He admired his step mother. Despite being a woman, she’d always taken an active role in matte
rs affecting her family’s future, and his father valued her opinions. Ram was fond of telling people he was that most unusual of things, a nobleman in love with his intelligent wife.

  It hadn’t always been thus. His father had confided in him that when he and Mabelle first met they’d clashed frequently, Ram firm in the belief women should be seen and not heard. But the long separation of the kidnapping had convinced them it was their destiny to be together, to enjoy an all-conquering passion.

  Baudoin answered his mother’s query after wiping his hand across his mouth, savouring the dark ale. “According to our contacts at Court, the king was eating while making preparations for the hunt. He was laughing and jesting and pulling on his boots when a smith arrived and offered him six arrows. He took them eagerly, praising the workmanship. He kept four and gave two to Walter Tirel. Ironically he told his fellow hunters it was only fitting the sharpest arrows should be given to the man who was the deadliest shot.”

  Mabelle sat down in the chair next to Ram’s. “What happened then?”

  “They galloped off into the woods. Tirel and the king were stationed with a few companions, on the alert, waiting for their prey, their weapons ready. A beast suddenly ran between them. The king drew back from his place, and Tirel let fly an arrow. It struck the king, who fell from his horse, driving the arrow deeper.”

  Mabelle’s hands went to her mouth. “What’s become of Tirel?”

  Baudoin shrugged. “According to one rumour, he denies firing the shot. According to another he wasn’t in that part of the forest, and yet another says he wasn’t in the forest. There was apparently much confusion after the event and no one is sure what happened.”

  Mabelle shook her head. “I can imagine. What have they done with the body?”

  Her son completed the tale. “It’s said he was loaded on to a cart and taken to the cathedral at Winchester where his body was committed to the ground within the tower.”