Preceded by a band of musicians, followed by the chief wedding guests, with Richard leading her mare and Adrian by her side, Meriel rode from the castle to the village church. The streets were lined with Adrian's tenants. Normally a lord's wedding would take place at the bride's home, so the folk of Warfield felt blessed that they could witness this one.
Richard helped Meriel from her horse with a warm smile and a soft, "Courage, little sister! Soon it will be over."
If Meriel had a brother, she would like one like Richard. For a moment she remembered that she might have a brother, perhaps more than one. She pushed the thought away. Better to think of what she was gaining than what she might never know.
Then she was standing under the church porch, Adrian's right hand clasped in hers. Because Adrian hoped that in time there would be no more distinction between Norman and Englishman, they had chosen to exchange vows in English, using the same words that any villager might.
Meriel felt as if she moved in a dream, her gaze locked to Adrian's as he spoke the vows. I take thee to be my wedded wife... to have and to hold... for fairer, for fouler... for better, for worse... for richer, for poorer... in sickness and in health... from this time forward... till death us do part... if Holy Church will it ordain... and thereto I plight thee my troth.
But words meant less than the expression of his clear gray eyes, where he pledged her his very soul.
Then it was her turn. Raising her voice so no one could doubt her willingness, Meriel repeated her own vows. They were similar to Adrian's, but included the promise to be "blithe and obedient in bed and at board." When she reached that phrase, Meriel found herself blushing. Adrian's face was solemn, but his fingers tightened on hers and a spark of teasing promise showed deep in his eyes.
The priest gave a short homily on the virtues of conjugal harmony, then blessed the ring. Adrian took Meriel's left hand in his and slipped the gold circlet over three of her fingertips in turn, saying, "In the name of the Father... and of the Son... and of the Holy Ghost." Then he slid the band fully onto her third finger with the quiet words, "With this ring I thee wed."
Adrian's locked on Meriel's. Though they were outwardly quiet, both were blazingly aware of the bonds of spirit, heart, and body that connected them. Now Meriel understood why Adrian had wanted to wait until they were wed to make her fully his own. The understanding brought tears of joy to her eyes.
They might have stood handfast indefinitely if Richard had not begun to distribute the traditional alms. Brought back to a sense of the occasion, the earl and his new countess went into the church for the nuptial mass.
Every corner of the church filled with people, with Meriel and Adrian in seats of honor in the choir. She ignored the sonorous Latin words. What mattered was that below the level of the carved railing Adrian held her hand, his fingers clasping hers as if he would never let go.
After the service the priest gave the kiss of peace to Adrian, who then transmitted it to Meriel. Her new husband's kiss was not overtly carnal, but his lips held hers with aching sweetness. When Adrian finally released her, he whispered, "For now and for always, little wife."
Meriel could not help herself. She departed from dignified custom by throwing her arms around her new husband. As Adrian caught her up against him so forcefully that her elegant leather slippers lifted from the floor, the onlookers broke into cheers and laughter despite of the priest's quelling expression.
There was one more deviation from custom. As they left the church, they passed under the tower where the bell ropes hung. Adrian stopped, a mischievous gleam in his eye. Grabbing one of the ropes, he said exuberantly, "I want the whole of Shropshire to know that we have wed!"
Above their heads Great Tom, the deep bass bell, boomed out with a resonance that made the tower vibrate. Meriel could not resist joining in. Loving the sunny day, the happy crowd, the whole wonderful world, and most of all loving Adrian, she seized another rope, pulling with all her weight until the soprano bell, Little Nell, pealed out rapturous chimes.
For a few clamorous, laughing minutes Meriel and Adrian rang the bells and the whole parish resounded with their joy. Then the regular parish bell ringers arrived, apologizing breathlessly for lateness caused by the crowd.
As the ringers took over the bells and the chiming settled into a more normal rhythm, Adrian and Meriel emerged hand-in-hand into the village square to be pelted with seeds. The ride back was slow, as everyone in Warfield seemed to want to wish the new couple happiness. When he helped Meriel dismount in front of the castle, Adrian said softly, for her ears only.
"Only a few hours of feasting and dancing, ma petite. Then we can be alone."
"And you can teach me how to be blithe and obedient in bed, my dearest lord," Meriel replied, her heart overflowing with love. She wanted the next hours to fly.
* * *
The outer gate of Warfield was guarded by only two men, and the streets visible inside the walls looked deserted as Alan rode up in late afternoon. When a guard good-humoredly asked his business, he replied, "I am the brother of Lady Meriel."
The guard inspected him. Alan's clothing might be travel-stained, but he was unmistakably a Norman knight and his face confirmed his story. "Aye, you've the look of the new little countess," he said cheerfully. "You were delayed?"
Not waiting for an answer, he continued, "You missed the wedding, but the feast is being held up at the keep. Go along now, and give the bride a kiss for those of us who are missing the fun."
Alan rode through the quiet streets with his teeth gritted. So he was too late. Or perhaps not, since they were still feasting.
A great tent had been set up in the outer bailey, and there the common folk were celebrating. Whole calves and sheep were roasting, with cooks carving off slices as the meat was done. Barrels of ale were everywhere and the air was filled with the gay clamor of harps, pipes, and viols.
Alan left his horse at the stables and walked right into the keep. The great hall was somewhat more decorous than the bailey, and the music was better. Jongleurs, acrobats, and singers entertained; guests feasted, drank, and danced; servants scurried about with platters of food and pitchers of drink; dogs and cats foraged for savory tidbits in the rose-strewn rushes. It was everything one would expect at the wedding of a nobleman.
Alan stood in the door, attracting no notice, while his vision adjusted to the dim light. At the far end of the hall was a table set above the others, and his heart constricted as he saw the small, dark-haired figure of the bride. He could not be sure, but she looked painfully like his sister.
He strode along the wall unchallenged, even though his hard face was not what was expected at a wedding. He reached the edge of the platform, but maddeningly, he still couldn't be sure the girl was his sister. Her head was turned away and a cloud of veiled hair obscured her profile. All the bride's attention was on the man at her side.
Alan shifted his gaze to the groom. So this was the Earl of Shropshire. Turned toward his bride, his face was clearly visible. He was surprisingly young, and surprisingly contained for such a riotous setting. Alan studied the cool, handsome features, wondering if this was a man capable of forcing a girl into marriage.
The bride laughed and made a quick gesture of her hand, a movement Alan had seen his sister make a thousand times. He came up behind the bridal pair and said sharply, so that his voice would cut through the din, "Meriel!"
The bride turned at the sound of her name and looked up at Alan. His heart leapt at the sight of his sister, alive and well, her great blue eyes shining with happiness. He had never seen her look lovelier, but how the devil did she get here?
Meriel smiled up at him with the polite expression of a bride receiving the best wishes of a stranger. Her face was utterly devoid of recognition. "Welcome," she said warmly. "You are a late-come friend of my husband's?"
Not understanding, Alan asked, "Meriel, what is wrong?"
"Why, nothing," she replied, puzzled that a stranger would ask
such a thing. "I have never been happier.''
With the devastating suddenness of an ax blow, Alan realized that she didn't know him. It was unbelievable, yet the truth was written on her uncomprehending face. "Jesu, Meriel," he cried in anguish. "Don't you recognize me?"
Her smile faded. "I'm sorry..." She faltered, distress clouding her eyes. "I do not."
By this time, the scene had attracted the attention of the nearest people, including the earl. Voice edged, Warfield asked, "You know my wife?"
Alan swung around and looked down into the earl's ice-gray eyes. Later he realized that Warfield showed an odd blend of emotions: Surprise, anger, and a kind of fear, though not a physical one. But at the time, Alan was too furious to care. "You bastard," he snarled. "What have you done to Meriel?"
His fingers balled into a fist and he was beginning to swing when a hard hand caught him above the elbow. Alan turned and saw he had been stopped by a tall, golden-haired man whose steady eyes were level with Alan's.
His voice pleasant but his grip firm, the man said, "We should be happy to hear whatever you know of Meriel's past, but let us find a better place to speak."
The earl had also risen. Now he assisted his bride to her feet. "An excellent notion, Richard."
The four of them left, scarcely noticed by the revelers. Upstairs, the solar was blessedly quiet. As soon as the door closed, Alan swung around, breaking the grip on his arm.
Ignoring the other men, he spoke directly to his sister. "In the name of God, Meriel, what has happened? If you are here willingly, why did you tell no one at Avonleigh?" His voice broke. "They told me you were dead."
Her face pale, Meriel sank into a chair, shaking her head miserably. "I'm sorry, but... I had an accident. I remember nothing before the last few weeks."
Adrian went to stand by Meriel, one hand protectively on her shoulder. "Are you sure that she is the woman you think she is? Could you not be mistaken?"
The handsome stranger gave him a look of furious disgust. With one finger he brushed back Meriel's hair, showing a small scar on her right temple. "This was made by a stone when she tripped and fell. And this..." He pulled back a trailing silk sleeve to show a thin, almost invisible scar on her left forearm. "Meriel was bled here when she had the fever."
As if she was used to the man's touch, Meriel did not draw back. She just stared up at him with her brow furrowed, trying to remember what intimacy had been between them.
Adrian's fingers tightened on Meriel's shoulder. He felt as if he had received a mortal blow and his life's blood was gushing forth onto the floor. Harshly he asked, "What are you to Meriel? Friend? Lover? Husband?"
"Of course not," the stranger snapped. "I'm her brother. Have you no eyes?"
The relief was so intense that Adrian's knees weakened. He studied his visitor, the height and powerful build that were so different from Meriel's, then the finely cut features. "You are right, I might have guessed. It is strange, you look as Norman as Meriel looks Welsh, yet the likeness is unmistakable."
Meriel spoke, her voice thin. "Will you stop talking as if I am not here?" She turned to the black-haired stranger. "You say you are my brother. What is your name? What is my name?"
The stranger knelt before her, his voice gentling in the face of her distress. "You are Lady Meriel de Vere and I am your brother Alan. Our father William held a manor called Beaulaine in Wiltshire. Our mother was Welsh and you are the very image of her. She died some years ago. You and I are the youngest of five children. For the last two years you have lived with me at my manor of Avonleigh. When I was away serving my lord, you ruled in my absence. You remember nothing of this?"
She shook her head, her great blue eyes stark. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "but I do not."
Alan had thought that learning Meriel was alive would mean unbounded happiness, but he had never imagined a scene such as this, nor dreamed how much it would hurt that she did not know him. Remembering the silver mirror he had bought, he pulled it from the pouch on his belt, where he had carried it as a talisman since learning of Meriel's disappearance.
The earl silently stepped back as Alan put his arm around Meriel's shoulders, then held the mirror up so their faces were reflected side by side in the polished silver. His sister studied the reflection. The deep blue eyes, the black hair, the planes of cheek and jaw told the story.
"I see," Meriel said softly. She raised her gaze to Alan, an expression of wonder and rising joy on her face. With utter simplicity, she leaned forward and put her arms around him.
Alan hugged her back with desperate relief. While Meriel might not remember, at least she accepted him.
She loosened her arms and gave him the sweet smile that was the essence of Meriel. "Earlier today I was wishing that I had a brother to see me wed. I am grateful that you found me on this of all days." Her expression became troubled. "I am very sorry that you thought I was dead. It must have been dreadfully difficult for you. If it was through a failing of mine that you heard such evil tidings, I ask your pardon with all my heart."
Alan shook his head. "I am sure the fault was not yours. You were ever the kindest and most considerate of sisters. That is why everyone at Avonleigh was sure you must have died. It was unthinkable that you would have gone off without a word."
Then Alan swung around, his voice low and dangerous. "But you, my lord earl, have a great deal to answer for. It is said in Shrewsbury that you found Meriel in the forest and kept her prisoner until she promised to marry you. How dare you do such a thing to a girl of gentle birth!" His voice roughened. "And what the devil did you do to her, that she remembers nothing of her life and family?"
Adrian watched his new brother-in-law with wry respect. Though he was alone in a castle surrounded by Adrian's men, Alan de Vere flung his challenge without fear. Even if there was not the family resemblance, that heedless goshawk courage confirmed that this was Meriel's brother.
He drew a deep breath, wondering if the day of reckoning for his crimes against Meriel had arrived. "The story you heard in Shrewsbury is essentially true, though more complicated than the bare facts. I did discover your sister in the forest when I was hunting. Meriel had been slightly injured in an accident. She was on foot and carried a falcon, and a game bag that implied she had been poaching.
"She claimed to be a Welshwoman on her way to Lincoln. I doubted her story." A faint smile touched his lips. "Your sister is a terrible liar. Not knowing who she was, and concerned for her safety, I was reluctant to turn her loose."
Puzzled, Alan de Vere glanced at his sister. "Why did you say such a thing?"
Her voice barely audible. Meriel said, "I don't remember." She rubbed her temple, looking so forlorn that Adrian took her hand again. Her cold fingers gripped his convulsively.
Richard had been leaning on the edge of a table, his arms folded across his chest. Now he said, "You mentioned Avonleigh. That's part of Theobald of Moreton's honor, isn't it?"
When de Vere nodded, Richard continued, "Lord Theobald is a follower of the king, while Adrian supports the empress. Could Meriel have been concerned about possible repercussions to Avonleigh if she identified herself? Particularly since you were away?"
Sir Alan frowned. "It seems like something Meriel might do," he said slowly, "if she had reason to be concerned."
Honestly bewildered, Adrian said, "Why would she think I might attack a manor without cause?"
"With all due respect, Adrian, your demeanor is not always such as to inspire trust," Richard said with dry amusement. "But that may not be the correct answer. It's merely one possibility."
"A plausible one." De Vere's eyes narrowed. "I want to hear more about the 'accident' Meriel had. How was she injured so badly that she remembers nothing?"
"She had a fall," Adrian said tersely. Before de Vere could inquire further, he continued, "I am sorry for the distress your sister's disappearance caused you and your household. I swear that if I had known Meriel's true name and residence, I would have returned her
safely to her home, then asked to marry her in the proper manner.''
His fingers tightened on Meriel's. "The circumstances were unfortunate, but that is in the past. Your sister freely consented to marry me. The match is a good one in a worldly sense and you will have no cause to complain of how I treat her." He paused to let that sink in, then said with cool emphasis, "Since the marriage is an accomplished fact, I hope you will accept it with good grace."
Alan de Vere's deep blue eyes, so like Meriel's, gleamed with fury. "You expect me to accept with complaisance the fact that you have seduced or ravished my sister? Never! And the law is on my side, for the Church says a marriage that results from an abduction is invalid, even if the man later frees the woman."
The atmosphere was explosive. Adrian felt his stomach tighten, knowing that the legal and moral ground was very soft beneath him. But that was merely the law. If Adrian had to defy the pope, the king, and the empress to keep Meriel, he would do so. "I neither ravished nor seduced your sister," he said, deciding that it was time to use his strongest weapon. "Meriel, do you wish to go with your brother?"
Her dismayed gaze shot up to his. What she saw in Adrian's face reassured her, for she stood and walked to her brother, taking his hands in hers. "Please, if you have a care for me, do not try to alter what is done. Adrian is my husband. He has been all that is kind and I love him dearly. Can you not accept that for my sake?"
It would have taken a heart of stone not to be moved by her plea. De Vere's anger faded, leaving his face sad and empty. "Very well, Meriel, if it is truly your wish. But remember that you have a home at Avonleigh. If you ever change your mind, if anything at all happens, you will always be welcome there." His voice shook a little. "And perhaps... you might visit us."
"Of course." She smiled up at him warmly. "It's strange. Though I do not remember any of the past, I know that we have been close and I pray that we will be again. Perhaps, in time, I will remember more."