Royal Feud

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

A single, fragile stain of hope rose in her soul. It did not matter what his motives were for wanting to terminate their marriage. The only thing that mattered was the chance for freedom that would result from his releasing her. She kept her eyes locked on his. He smiled slightly and nodded to her before turning his gaze to the king's emissary.

"Lady Hermione should not be made to suffer for the treachery of her father, nor made a hostage because of his malevolence. As my mother can testify, the marriage between Lady Hermione and myself has not been consummated. The marriage can easily be annulled, thus freeing Lady Hermione from a union that is unwelcome to her."

"You will need the king's permission to set aside this marriage," Wyham responded. "Aye, I realize that. When I write to the king, I will petition for an annulment. I will send a letter to Bamchester as well, asking the baron if he is willing to accept Lady

Hermione."

"And what of Lady Hermione's dowry?" Wyham asked. "Twas a hefty bag of coins that Morety was required to turn over to you." "Helen's dowry will go with her to Bamchester, to be used as she and the baron see fit." Ishton turned to address Lucy. "While we await the king's reply, Hermione will

need her own room. Mother, please prepare a bedchamber for her and see that she has

everything that she requires." Hermione glanced sideways at Lucy as she sat beside her on the settle. Lucy's mouth was set in a straight line as she stared intently at her son. Hermione dropped her own eyes back to her lap. Delvin's words withered in the silence and lingered like a wraith. After a taut, long moment, Lucy laid her hand on top of Hermione's hands.

her touch gentle and comforting.

"Come, my dear," Lucy said. "Let me show you to your new chamber." She led Hermione out of the solar and down the corridor, to a room at the end of the gallery, holding the door open for Hermione. The chamber, located at the southwest corner of the donjon, was smaller than Delvin's but elegantly appointed. The bed, framed with dark blue hangings, was only large enough for one person. A stool sat next to a small table. The shutters surrounding the small window cut in the south stone wall were open, letting in weak winter sunlight and brisk, cold air.

"Hermione, tell me about Lady Dorothea," Lucy said. "Tis obvious you are very fond of her." "Aye," Hermione replied. "She was my mother's best friend. They grew up together in

the same household. I was sent to foster with her when I was but four years old. After my mother died, Lady Dorothea became like a mother to me. I have not seen her since I returned to Morety. My father would not even allow me to write to her." "You must miss her very much."

"Aye." "Then you must be looking forward to seeing her again. Until then, please consider Ishton your home, Hermione." "Thank you, Lady Lucy. You have been so kind and generous to me."

"Tis no more than you deserve, my dear. Well, I will go get the servants to move

your chest in here. I will be back in a few moments." Hermione stood in the center of the chamber, hugging herself with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Was it possible? Would she finally be free to return home? Hope started to push through the hard shell of anguish that had encased her heart in the last

few years. Delvin had defeated her father and now was setting her free. So what if by doing so he served his own purposes as well? She didn't care. As long as she would be reunited with Lady Dorothea, she could bear the stigma of being a wife cast aside by her husband. It did not matter. Delvin had saved her, and he was protecting her from her father. That was all that mattered.

Lucy came through the open doorway, leading two male servants who carried Hermione's chest into the room. "Put it down against this wall," Lucy instructed,

pointing to the west stone wall. The men set the chest down, then left.

"Shall I send a maid to help you unpack?" Hermione shook her head.

"Hermione, Is there anything else you require?" “Nay.”

"Well, my dear, I need to go now and check on our wounded. Will you be all

"I hope you will be comfortable in this chamber. I will see you at dinner, then." Hermione waited until Lucy quit the room before closing and barring the door. Sinking to her knees in front of her trunk, she eased the lip open and dug through the meager pile of her possessions. She pulled a bulky package out of the chest and cradled it on her lap as she unwrapped the fabric surrounding it. When her lute was unveiled, she held it upright to examine the strings and the tuning pegs, then caressed the warm wood of the curved back with long, slow strokes.

She sank back on her heels and slowly released her pent-up breath, Pushing herself off the floor with her free hand, she stood and carried the instrument to the stool. She sat down, positioned the lute on her lap, and began to play. Tempering the volume, she continued employing the caution that had been sharply honed into her.

The mellow, dulcet tones of the strings as she plucked them flowed sweetly over her, cascading smoothly around her. As always, the beauty of the music sank deeply into her arid, thirsting soul. The tension around her heart cased as she gave herself up to the music and the words of the songs she sang. A tiny shoot of hope broke through the casing of despair wrapped around her soul and peered outside her despondency.

Delvin stood on the barbican, watching as Wyham led his men out the main gate and across the bridge, with his baggage train following close behind. The messenger Delvin had dispatched to Bamchester had departed an hour earlier. When Wyham and his entourage were no longer in sight, Delvin strode back through the curtain gate and walked around the right side of the outer bailey.

A sense of satisfaction filled him. He had successfully defeated Morety, who would be weaker now without the presence of his oldest son beside him. Events had turned out far better than he could have hoped when the king had first ordered him to marry Morety's daughter. Henry was sure to accede to his request for an annulment. What purpose could this marriage possibly serve the king now? Both he and Hermione would be better off unchained from each other. She would be able live with the people she knew and loved, and he would be able to marry a woman of his own choosing.

Delvin raised his hand to acknowledge the greeting of one of the grooms but did not break his stride as he continued past the stables to the mews beyond. Inside the aviary, two walls of the building were covered floor to ceiling with compartments of various sizes. Perched inside most of the cubicles were the numerous peregrines, sakers, lanners, merlins, goshawks, and sparrowhawks kept at Ishton. The muted cacophony of the birds as they called to each other and the fluttering of their feathers as they flexed their wings permeated the mews. The faint smell of blood in the air told him that he had arrived at feeding time.

"G'day, milord," the falconer said. "I didn't expect to see ye here today." "Good morrow, Denners." Delvin walked to stand in front of Gaenor's perch. "She's been fed, milord, so I was just gettin' her bath ready." Denners came to stand beside him. "Milord, would ye like to fetch her yerself?" "Aye. That I would."

Delvin put on the heavy leather glove Denners handed to him, pulling the long cuff up to protect his forearm. Singing to his peregrine, he coaxed Gaenor onto his left fist and began to stroke her with his right hand. He absorbed the warmth and softness of her body as he caressed the light gray and black feathers that covered her breast. The bluish tinted feathers of her back shone even in the dull winter sunlight infusing the mews. As usual, the silent communication he enjoyed with the fierce, proud falcon resonated in the deepest part of him.