Medieval 02 - Forbidden

his wrist restrained him.
    Duncan didn’t notice. He was looking at the amber again, lost in its cloudy depths. Sometimes he almost believed he could see Amber there.
    Sometimes…
    A peregrine called softly. The trill was too sweet to have come from a falcon’s throat. It hung in the air like light made into music.
    Duncan looked up.
    Erik stood nearby, his uncanny peregrine on his wrist.
    “I will match Ariane’s dowry,” Erik said.
    For a moment life flared in Duncan’s eyes. Then it died, leaving him darker than before.
    “’Tis generous of you,” Duncan said tonelessly, “but Baron Deguerre would go to war if his daughter were jilted by a Scots bastard. In the end it would be the same—Blackthorne lost because of a broken vow.”
    Erik looked to Dominic.
    The Glendruid Wolf nodded reluctantly.
    “Deguerre was furious at having to wed his daughter to a nameless bastard knight,” Dominic said slowly. “If Duncan refuses Ariane, Deguerrewill go to war against both of us. And he will have King Henry’s blessing.”
    “Ariane and I will be wed in five days,” Duncan said. “It matters not. Amber is gone .”
    For a time there was no sound but the crackling of the fire and the distant moan of wind. Then Ariane took up the harp again. The tune she played caught the mood of the room with eerie accuracy: frustration and grief, a cold trap irrevocably closing, grinding life and hope between its cruel teeth.
    Simon looked from his brother to the aloof Norman heiress. His mouth flattened into a grim line. Then he turned to Dominic once more.
    “I’ll marry the Norman wench,” Simon said curtly.
    Though Duncan didn’t look up, the harp music stopped in a jangle of startled notes.
    “What did you say?” Dominic asked.
    “We will present it to the world as a love match,” Simon continued, giving the last two words a sardonic emphasis. “A drawing together of hearts that resulted in elopement. We defied English king and Norman father equally. For love , of course.”
    The irony resonating in Simon’s voice made Meg wince, but she raised no argument.
    “What do you think?” Erik asked Dominic.
    “King Henry won’t object, for he will get what he wanted,” Dominic said slowly.
    “Which is?” Erik asked.
    “Deguerre’s daughter wed to a noble who is loyal to King Henry,” Simon said bluntly.
    “And Deguerre? Will he object?” Erik asked.
    “No,” Dominic said. “Simon is my brother and my strong right arm. As such, he is a more advantageous mate than Duncan of Maxwell would be.”
    “Lady Ariane,” Erik said. “What say you?”
    “I understand now why Simon is called the Loyal,” Ariane answered. “What a treasure such fealty must be, more precious than rubies…”
    Ariane plucked two strings. The purity of their harmony vibrated in the room for a moment, then died to a haunting whisper.
    “I would prefer a nunnery to the marriage bed,” Ariane said, “but neither my father nor God has seen fit to offer such to me.”
    “Nor can we,” Dominic said bluntly.
    “‘A drawing together of hearts…’” Ariane repeated.
    Her hand flashed, her fingers raked, and clashing cords filled the silence.
    “Duncan. Simon.” Ariane shrugged. “One man is much the same as another. Proud and cruel in equal parts. I will do my duty.”
    “You deserve a better wife than this cold Norman heiress,” Dominic said to Simon.
    “Blackthorne deserves better than war, brother. And so do you.” Simon smiled thinly. “Surely marriage can be no worse than the sultan’s hell you endured to ransom me.”
    Silently Dominic clasped his brother’s shoulder.
    “I will do what I can to sweeten your life,” Dominic said simply. “I had hoped for a better match for you.”
    “You’ll find none richer nor more useful than Ariane, daughter of Baron Deguerre,” Simon said.
    “I meant that I had hoped to find a woman who would love you as well as bring you wealth.”
    “Love? God’s teeth.” Simon looked sideways at his brother. “When I can hold love in my hand, see it, touch it, and weigh it, I’ll worry about its lack. Until then, I’ll take a good dowry and count myself lucky.”
    Shaking his head and smiling at the same time, Dominic turned to the one man who had yet to agree.
    “Duncan?” Dominic asked.
    Duncan didn’t look up from the gemstone that lay on the table beneath his cupped hands, shielded from all other eyes but his own.
    “Duncan,” Dominic said in a clear voice. “Do