She consulted Father Sebastian about what she should take with her. He gave her a graphic description of how cold the winter would be on Mont St. Michel, and accordingly she packed only her velvet dresses and the warmest cloaks. That evening Robert came early and brought the white-robed Benedictine with him.
"Lillyth, you have traveled with Father Sebastian before so you know you can put your complete trust in him. I have a fleet of ships strung out along the coast, but I think you would be best to travel on the coast road until you come to Havant. I have some ships at anchor there. Remind me to give you letters to present to the captain, Father. The best course is into the Channel Islands, past the tip of St. Helier and into the Golfe de St. Malo. I will also give you dispatches for Mortain, Father, it is only a few miles inland from Mont St. Michel. I would greatly appreciate it if you would find out how things go in Mortain for me as soon as you have seen that Lillyth is comfortably established."
Robert walked with Sebastian to the door and said in a low voice, "See me tomorrow and I will give you enough money to make your journey easy. Look after her for me." Father Sebastian nodded and took his leave.
Robert stretched out before the fire and took Lillyth's hand. "I won't be here either after tomorrow. There is trouble in the north. Some men who have been outlawed and put to the horn are rising up, gathering sympathizers every day, and they have to be put down. I have ignored them long enough."
"Saxons?" asked Lillyth.
"I am afraid so, dearest. I know how concerned you must feel when something like this happens."
"Nay, my lord, my only concern is for your safety," she protested, and added silently, Dear God, don't let Guy have to go.
Gently he took her into his arms and looked deep into her eyes. As if he could read her mind he asked, "Lillyth, were you in love with Montgomery?" His voice sounded ragged.
Her eyes widened in surprise. "I ... I thought I was."
"I have never asked you what happened at Godstone. I did not want to pry."
"I deeply appreciate that you asked no questions of me, Robert. Must you do so now?" she pleaded.
He bent forward and softly took her mouth. He murmured against her, "Did you love him more than me?"
She floundered for an answer that would satisfy him. "Robert, there is a vast difference between you. I don't only love you, I like you."
"And him?" he asked.
"I hate him!" she said so vehemently that Robert was left in no doubt how deep were her feelings for Montgomery.
Chapter 26
Only relief, vast relief, did Lillyth feel at leaving. After endless delays about luggage by Bette, who wouldn't stop fussing, the party of three was escorted to the coast by a group of Robert's soldiers who traveled back and forth regularly. They had a more direct route to the coast which went straight south from Berkhamstead. They did not go near London, nor Godstone.
Lillyth was taking her white mare for her own use, as well as Zephyr. They had extra horses with them because it was a long, hard ride. It took them fourteen days of riding to reach the coast with long rest stops because of Lillyth's condition. It was not a beautiful time to travel, but the roads were dry from cold frosts and, amazingly, the weather held fine.
They stayed at an inn for four days until the ship was readied. Lillyth remained close to quarters because a seaport was a rough place to be in these days, although she would dearly have loved to walk along the beach in the sea air. Finally, on the fifth day, she was settled in a small cabin with Bette, and they weighed anchor.
Guy had worked his people double time until the harvest was reaped, then announced his intentions of going back to Normandy. But by the time the myriad of preparations for winter were all attended to, it was late November before he was free to leave. His brothers offered to go with him, but he refused them curtly and said he was traveling alone. At the same time that Lillyth was embarking from Havant, Guy also found a ship that would take him to France, but his destination was St. Valery, the place from which the great Norman army had set sail the year before.
One day out in the Channel they met up with an early gale, and his ship was blown off course to the west. At one point, just after the gigantic storm had settled down, the two ships came within sight of each other. Then, when the Channel took on a calmer attitude, his ship swept back eastward on course, and Lillyth was taken inexorably on toward her lonely destination.
She was violently and inelegantly sick from the moment her feet touched the deck. She had been ill a few times in her life, but nothing, she thought miserably, was as bad as seasickness. During the storm she was torn between fears of dying and then fears of not dying. She prayed silently, then aloud, then screamed blasphemously, fists raised and clenched, until all her strength had been spent. Then she lay shivering in her bunk and wished with all her heart that Guy was with her to lean on. She found herself praying for death, then frantically tried to cancel her prayers, because she would never see the face of her love again, and also because she wanted more than anything in this world to hold his child in her arms.
When the danger was past and her fear had abated, she was back to hating him once more. The ship came into harbor and the little party disembarked. Father Sebastian said, "When the tide is up, Mont St. Michel cannot be reached before morning. We will spend the night at Barre le Heron. We will need a guide to take us across the great sandbanks. Only a few know where the quicksand lies."
Lillyth was silently appalled at the sight of the island with the great tides rolling around it. The next morning did nothing to dispel her apprehension as she viewed the flat infinity of sand. Small rocks jutted everywhere, encrusted with mussels and other shells, and tiny crabs crawled in profusion.
They led their horses across the causeway and into the castle gateway. Above them the path rose steeply to where the buildings covered the highest point on the island. The castle was a simple affair, but the monastery was imposing. Their horses were stabled in the castle courtyard and inside there was only the dining hall, the gatehouse walls and a single tower in which Lillyth was given rooms. Later she would see the monastery and the first-floor alms hall where the poor received charity from the white-robed Benedictine monks.
The second floor held a graceful guests' dining hall and a magnificently lit scriptorium where the monks prepared books for their extensive library. The monks dined on the top floor in the refectory and beside this were arched cloisters for those who sought quiet meditation.
As one day blended into another Lillyth regained her health and strength. She spent many lonely hours in the lookout at the top of the gatehouse. The sea was sometimes gray and turbulent, and the wild cry of gulls brought a sharpness to her lonely idyll. Other times it was flat and oily and looked even more menacing than when it was rough. There was no fresh water on the mount, and every day horses took out empty casks and brought them back filled while the tide was low. To the south lay Arderon and to the north, Genets. Invariably her thoughts were brought back from their wandering by the homey noises of the hall, with its clatter of dishes and barking of dogs. There was nothing to do here but think.
The realization was soon brought home to Lillyth that she still loved Guy with all her heart and soul. She was hopelessly homesick and would have given ten years of her life for one glimpse of that fierce, proud face with the glittering green eyes. What did it matter that he had a wife? Fifty wives could not diminish the love she felt for him and him alone. What a fool she had been to throw it all away!
Why? she asked herself over and over, and could only think that it must have been her pride. Now she felt humbled and lonely but not alone, for didn't she have his gift there, beneath her heart?
The last remaining leaves had turned to magnificent red and brilliant yellow when Guy rode up to his home in late November. The dogs went wild as he came into the yard. He curbed their exuberance with a few stern commands and greeted his elderly retainer with a huge grin. The old man's eyes were sad, and tears stood in them as
he surveyed his lord.
"What is it, Gaston?" he inquired intuitively. The old man shook his head and said, "Come inside, my lord, and I will tell you."
He poured wine for Guy, and two little girls came shyly forward to inspect the stranger.
"Margarita? Angelique?" he inquired. "Don't tell me you have forgotten your father?" He held out his hand and the smaller one came forward slowly, her little dark face serious and solemn.
"Where is your mother?" He turned to Gaston. "Don't tell me she has deserted them?" he asked angrily.
"In a manner of speaking, my lord. I do not know how to tell you, my lord, but she is dead. She is buried in the little plot on the hill."
Guy sat stunned, his arm about his daughter. The housekeeper came bustling in to look for the children and stopped in her tracks.
"How did she die, when?" Guy asked, still not able to fully take it all in.
The man and woman exchanged glances and the woman said quickly, "It was a lung fever, my lord, she caught a severe chill. I nursed her for days but I could not save her." She did not give him details of the wild New Year's party, the drunken revelry, and that Margarite had lain outside in the snow all night before she had been found.
"How long ago?" Guy asked distantly.
"She became ill at New Year's, she died January tenth. It has been almost a year now."
For a moment he sat still, then blinked rapidly and seemed to hold his breath. "Did you say January tenth?"
They both nodded in agreement. He began to tremble. He had married. Lillyth on January twentieth, that made her his wife in reality. A warmth started in his chest and the waves spread up his neck and cheeks and went to his head. He stood up and swayed, he was so lightheaded. His man stepped quickly forward to assist him, but Guy threw back his head and laughed wildly. The children retreated and the man and woman exchanged glances again, this time fearing that the shock of the news had unhinged him.
He sobered quickly and said, "Tomorrow I would like to speak with everyone about my plans. I would like to thank you, madame, for looking after my daughters. I fear I have shamefully neglected them."
He bowed and went upstairs to a bedchamber and did not come down again until noon the following day. He inspected the fields and the outbuildings, took inventory of the livestock and harvest. Everything seemed small after Godstone. When he returned to the hall, the household was gathered. "I want to thank you all for carrying on in my absence. I intend to sell up here. You may stay if that is what you desire, or you may come to England with me. I will find a mademoiselle to take charge of the children and ready them for the journey to England. I must return there at once on personal business, but I shall return very soon, so you will have time to pack your things and prepare your families for the journey. If you have any questions, I will try my best to answer them."
With one set purpose in mind he rode back to the coast and took ship for England. The seas were rough, but he curbed his impatience as best he could at the number of days the voyage took, and when he finally landed, he headed straight for Berkhamstead without stopping at Godstone. It was December and the bitter winds cut into him as he rode north.
His spurs clanged on the stone floors as he went forward to his dreaded audience with Robert de Mortain. There was a deathly silence as the two men looked at each other. Each man tried to gauge the other's strength, and Robert was the first to lower his eyes.
"I have come for my wife," said Guy flatly.
"Your wife?" Robert asked with surprise.
"You heard me aright," said Guy coldly.
"She is not here," said Robert softly.
Guy crashed his gauntlets onto a table. "I demand to know where she is." There was so much violence, barely controlled, ready to erupt, that Robert sought quickly for words to defuse him.
"Demand? How can you demand anything? When Lillyth came here she was ill and I took her under my protection." Robert realized with a blinding surety that Guy de Montgomery was the father of Lillyth's child, but he kept a wise silence.
Guy stood there, white-lipped, fists clenched, his eyes two burning coals in his head.
Robert continued, "To protect her from vicious scandal I sent her to France. She has gone into seclusion. I will not tell you where. The decision is hers; if she wishes to see you, she will come to you; if not, she is welcome to return here."
Guy turned on his heel and quit the hall, his mind seething with impotent anger. "What a damned mess I have made of everything," he cursed. He thought of Godstone and was consumed with longing. He would go home, perhaps he would be lucky and she would be there waiting for him.
As man and horse covered the miles, the feeling that he would soon be with his beloved again grew stronger with each hoofbeat. When he arrived he was mentally and physically exhausted, and when he experienced the full disappointment of not finding her there he was emotionally bereft.
He came down with an ague. It was the first time he had been sick for many years. The fever mounted dangerously and Alison nursed him unstintingly. When she heard his ravings for Lillyth, she knew in her heart she had done them both a grave injustice to let her daughter run away from him.
Christmas had come and gone before he fully recovered. The first day he was out of bed he visited Morag. This time he did not demand anything.
"Morag, I have put my house in order. Lillyth is my legal wife. Can you not tell me where she is?"
"She is in France," she answered.
"So Robert told me, if I can believe him."
"He spoke the truth."
"Tell me where in France, and I will give you food for a year," he promised.
She shook her head. "All I see is a huge stone fortress, surrounded by water."
A picture of Robert's castle in Mortain with its surrounding moat sprang into Guy's mind. That's where he would begin his search. "Will I get her back?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yes, but you will have to learn to share her love," she told him.
"Never!" he thundered, so savagely she stepped back in alarm.
Then she smiled knowingly. She would not ease his suffering by telling him it was his son he would have to share her with.
William was in London with his family, and Guy and his knights were required at court. He was in a turmoil of impatience to get back to Normandy, but it was many weeks before he was free to do as he wished.
At the first possible moment he took ship once more for France. He returned home immediately and set about finding a buyer for his property. Although more than two months had gone by since he gave instructions to pack up, nothing was in readiness, and he realized that without his firm direction and watchful eye, it would never get done, so the weeks stretched into each other without Guy finding a suitable buyer.
Since he felt anchored to the place anyway, he decided he might as well put his time to some useful purpose. He made a resolve to get to know his children. When he looked at their pinched, sad faces his heart contracted, as he compared them to the Saxon children he had seen back at Godstone. Even though the Saxon children were peasants, they were rosy-faced and happy. Most of them, in fact, were cheeky and full of mischief, and that was the way he wanted his girls to be. He took them riding with him, made a point of eating his meals at table with them, and every night when he went to bid them good night, he managed to tell them some bold adventure. He made sure the stories had some ridiculous parts, because he loved to see their tight little faces break into smiles.
As he touched his finger to a sleeping cheek, a longing for Lillyth swept over him that he could not control. He went for a walk in the icy night to chill the blood that was tormenting him from head to foot. Desire licked at his body like flames, scorching his nerve ends until he wanted to scream. He would wait only a few days more, then he would be on his way to Mortain to find her.
Chapter 27
Lillyth screamed once. The pain was so sudden and intense she could not help herself. Bette came rushing in. "Whatever is it, Lillyth?" r />
"My labor has started," she said slowly.
Bette wrung her hands. "Mon dieu, mon dieu, it is too early! Premature babies do not survive," she blurted before she caught herself.
Lillyth looked across at the old woman who had been everything to her for the last few months— mother, nurse, companion, servant, friend. "Bette, do not fear, the baby is not premature. I was with child when I came to Berkhamstead. Robert is not the father."
The old woman looked outraged. "What are you telling me? Who then?"
"He was a Norman knight. He conquered Godstone, where I lived, and became the new lord there. I fell in love with him against my will, and God help me Bette, I still love him."
'Did he throw you out when he got you with child?"
"Splendor of God, no, woman! He wants a son more than he wants anything in this world." Another contraction came, but this time she had been waiting for it.
When it passed Bette said, "It will be many hours yet, Lillyth. I do not think you will deliver before tomorrow."
Lillyth nodded. "The labor of love— help me to be brave, Bette," she pleaded.
To occupy Lillyth's mind, Bette asked, "Well, what went wrong if he loved you and wanted the child?"
"I did not say he loved me, Bette. I said I loved him. He married me in the church, but then I found out there was already a Madame de Montgomery!"
"You don't mean Guy de Montgomery, do you, child?" asked Bette.
"Ah-ah-ah, oh, it is passing, thank God. Yes, I am speaking of Guy, do you know him?" she asked, her face lighting up.
"He has been a friend of Robert's for many years. He is a lovely young man. Poor, but he always carried his responsibilities like a man, even when he was only a boy. I understand his marriage was not a happy one. Strange, is it not, that friends so often end up wanting the same thing? I have seen it often with brothers, too. They are always attracted to the same woman," she mused.