Demetrius (Brethren Origins Book 2) (3 page)

“I would ask the same of ye, given our futures are inextricably intertwined, and I shall enjoy political prestige with thy union to His Majesty’s knight.  If thou dost rob me of my chance to advance at court, then I shall repay ye, in kind.”  His once boyish charm ceded to an implacable visage, which portended doom.  “As I inherited the estate and title, and thou art my property, to do with as I deem appropriate, I shall dispose of ye like so much useless rubbish, if ye dost force my hand.  The choice is thine.”  Gerwald shrugged.  “So, what say ye?”

“I submit thee dost offer no real alternative, brother.”  Reality struck her between the eyes, and grim acceptance settled as a bitter pill in her throat.  Uttering a silent entreaty for divine intervention, she waited for a sign.  When no adventitious bolt of lightning struck her on the spot, she sighed.  “As per thy decree, I shall wed Sir Demetrius.”

“Ah, thou hast made me very happy, and we shall put the unpleasant business behind us and never speak of it again.”  All smiles in the face of her downfall, he drew a box from beneath his cloak.  “Now I should present a gift from thy groom.  I understand thee didst meet him.  Notwithstanding the circumstances of thy acquaintance, which I might deem amusing had ye not flouted my prerogative, how didst ye find thy new lord and master?”

For a few minutes, she pondered the query, as she studied the carved wooden box.  With hair as black as a crow’s feather, an olive complexion, chiseled features, and pale, silvery eyes unnerving in their clarity, her one-time ally possessed a quiet and unassuming nature, in startling contrast with his stature.  Indeed, the man manifested a mountain in size, yet he had been thoughtful and gentle when she begged for his assistance, which he offered without request for recompense.

“In truth, I know not what to make of him.”  After untying the blue ribbon, she lifted the lid and revealed a spectacular gold brooch nestled in a bed of red velvet.  “
Oh
—how extraordinary.”

“What unusual markings, and the craftsmanship is masterful.  And look at the size of the gems.  It must be worth a fortune.”  Peering at the jewelry, Gerwald snickered.  “Thou must have made quite an impression upon him, in so little time.  Did he touch ye?”

“How dare ye insult me with such nefarious claims.”  In a fit of pique, she snapped shut the tiny chest.  “I was raised in a convent, and I am chaste, in all things.”

“But ye were alone with Sir Demetrius before the King’s guards arrived.”  Her brother’s expression sobered.  “What happened between ye?”

“Naught beyond simple conversation, as he knew not my identity.”  In vivid detail, she relived the brief exchange and their shared devotion to duty.  When Athelyna stumbled upon Demetrius’s tent, she thought him a much prayed for deliverer.  Instead, he was her downfall.  “Yet he was nice to me, when he could have turned me away.”

“And he tried naught inappropriate with ye?”  Gerwald narrowed his stare.  “He sampled not thy wares?”

“Thou dost Sir Demetrius and I a grave disservice with thy offensive speculations, brother.”  Nay, she fretted not in her husband-to-be’s company, as he gave her no reason to fear him.  As for her relation, he presented an altogether different quandary.  “Wherefore hast thou done this to me?  Wherefore hast thou sold me in bondage to another man?  What hath I done to ye, that thou dost treat me thus?”

“But I am blameless in regard to thy misfortune of fate.”  He swaggered to her trunk and foraged through her personal belongings.  With a scowl, he stood upright, strolled to the entry, opened the door, peered into the hall, and snapped his fingers.  “Thou were born a woman, and that is no fault of mine.  As thou hast correctly asserted, thy possibilities are limited to wife, mother, peasant, artisan, maid, nun, or whore, and the final determination of which must perforce yield to my inclinations.”  A servant, carrying a burgundy velvet gown, scurried into the room.  To the domestic, Gerwald said, “Dress Mistress De Moutiers for dinner with His Majesty, and plait her hair, as her current style is too severe to garner favorable notice.”

“Aye, sir.”  The maid curtseyed.

“I am to sup with the King?”  Athelyna came alert.  “I am to make my debut at court?”

“Indeed, thy presence is requested at a feast in thy groom’s honor.”  He snickered.  “And do not be too angry, Lily.  I selected Sir Demetrius because his reputation, as well as that of his allies, is impeccable, as I would not surrender ye to just anyone.”

“If thou art concerned for my well being, then wherefore dost ye forfeit me?”  Was it possible her brother regretted what he did?  Could she persuade him to void the arrangement?  “It is not too late, if thou dost lament thy actions.  The sisters would take me back, mayhap with a reduction in my dowry, if thou dost need the money, and I should be forever obliged.”

“Nay.”  And so her optimism dwindled to naught.  “Thou wilt bathe and garb thyself as befits thy station, and thou wilt charm and entice Sir Demetrius, so I will take my leave.”

Ear-splitting silence fell on the luxuriously appointed accommodation, with its counterpane, draperies, and pillow coverings of matching rich blue damask.  The hand-tooled mahogany furnishings bespoke wealth and power, in stark contrast with her modest room at the convent.

A small army of attendants conveyed an ancere and warm water to the washing area.  Against her reticence, she complied.  And as she shed her humble attire, so she abandoned her dreams.  Naked, stripped of her dignity and her ambitions, she mourned as the maid polished and primped Athelyna for her date with destiny.

Anon, she gazed at her reflection in the long mirror, and the woman staring back looked naught like the aspiring nun.  Bedecked in the new garment, which featured a scooped neckline that bared far more than she ever would have dared, a bodice laced so tight she could scarcely draw breath, long sleeves, billowy lappets, and a skirt that dragged the floor, she almost did not recognize herself.

Nervous, she wrung her fingers and paced, until the King’s guards came for her, and their fierce demeanor set her heart pounding.  In the narrow stone passage aglow in the soft light from cresset lamps, she summoned courage and marched in rhythm with her attendants.

The corridor opened to a vast expanse, which led to a minstrels’ gallery and a huge landing.  As she descended the grand staircase, she admired the pointed arches and columns featuring simple scalloped designs.  But when the escort ushered her into the great hall, and a low murmur swept over the cavernous assembly room, Athelyna swallowed her panic, strode before the large dais, and curtseyed.

“Mistress Des Moutiers, we are pleased thee could join us.”  The King caressed the stem of his goblet, as he studied her with unveiled interest.  “Turn around, and let us have a look at ye.”

With all eyes on her, Athelyna shivered but obeyed and rotated.  As she again faced His Majesty, she stumbled, but an enormous stranger offered support.  “Thank ye.”

“Ah, Sir Arucard, our chivalrous knight.”  The monarch smiled, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.  “Mayhap thou would introduce Mistress Des Moutiers to her new relations.”

“By thy command, Sire.”  Sir Arucard bowed and led her to a large table near the side wall.  “Mistress Des Moutiers, allow me to present my wife, Lady Isolde.”

“So pleased to meet ye.”  An elegantly garbed woman, not much older than Athelyna, dipped her chin.  “Art thou hungry?  I can have Arucard fetch ye a plate.”

“Better yet, perchance her intended should do the deed.”  Sir Arucard chuckled.  “Mistress Des Moutiers, permit me to make the formal introductions, as I understand ye unofficially met thy future husband, on the road to Chichester.”

“Arucard, do not tease her, poor thing.”  Isolde took Athelyna by the arm.  “Sit hither, by me, and ignore the men, as they might appear fearsome, but they have much in common with unruly children.”

“I am grateful for thy kindness.”  In that instant, she locked gazes with her one-time supporter, and the contempt in his stare left her dizzy.  “But I suspect Sir Demetrius is vexed, though I know not wherefore he is distressed.”

“If he is anything like my husband, I gather he is nervous about thy impending nuptials, but he will make ye a good and faithful spouse.”  Isolde snapped her fingers.  “Sir Demetrius, didst thou depart Chichester without thy manners?  Thy lady requires food.”  Anticipating vociferous rebellion and a sure beating, Athelyna stilled and uttered a silent prayer for redemption.  Then the engaging noblewoman peered at Arucard.  “My lord, wilt thou bring me a portion of the apple muse, as I am quite fond of it, and I shall express my appreciation in thy most favored coin, anon.”

“I am thy idle scullion, lying in heightened suspense to fulfill thy every wish, my lady wife.”  The giant winked, and Athelyna breathed a sigh of relief.  “Come, Demetrius.  Thou wilt discover for thyself, soon enough, as a mate thee art but a hapless servant in wait, and thy singular responsibility is to perform thy woman’s bidding.”

“I understand, brother.”  To her surprise, Demetrius glared at her.  “Unless thy bride doth have no use for ye.”

DEMETRIUS

CHAPTER TWO

At the sideboard
, Demetrius collected two trenchers and piled one high with a selection of seafood, various meats, vegetables, and fruits.  Then he heaped a portion from all eleven desserts atop the other platter.  As he turned and glanced at Lily—no, Athelyna, he contemplated her deceit, anger ignited in his chest, and he clenched his teeth.

“Thou dost look as though ye art displeased with thy bride.”  With a broad grin, Arucard snickered.  “Yet I find it curious that when ye recounted the tale of thy first meeting, thou didst neglect to mention her incomparable beauty.”

“What care I for her appearance, when it matters not in the grand scheme, as I have no wish to wed her or anyone else.”  As Arucard cast a familiar expression of skepticism, Demetrius groaned.  “Do not act surprised, as I made my feelings known, in Chichester.  And the woman lied to me, which diminishes her appeal.  Indeed, I do not find her the least bit attractive, as she doth not suit my taste.”

“I think ye dost protest too much, brother.  And as thou hast little experience with the female sex, I submit ye know not what doth and doth not suit thy taste.”  Arucard guffawed.  “Given the King commands ye wed the lady, thou must reconcile thyself to thy fate, and I assert ye could do worse.”  Then he gave Demetrius a nudge.  “Talk with her, as I wager she is just as apprehensive about the morrow’s ceremony as ye, and thou should smooth the waters.  Had I such an opportunity prior to my marriage, I would have done the same with Isolde, as we were complete strangers when we met before the archbishop.”

“Mayhap it would have been better for Athelyna and I, had we enjoyed a similar circumstance.”  Just a glance at her inspired additional ire mixed with reluctance, and he frowned.  “But I suppose thither is no avoiding the inevitable, so I will take thy advice.”

Yet naught required Demetrius do so with haste.

So he made the rounds of the cavernous great hall, nodding acknowledgements and shaking hands with notable members of court, delaying the woeful assembly, until Athelyna removed to one end of the long table.  That was his moment to strike, as he would have an explanation for her falsehood, and it was with that question he would initiate a discussion.

In silence, he placed the trenchers before his curious bride-to-be and sat across from her.  “Hither, I have brought ye some food, and I would have words with ye.”

“Sir Demetrius, wherefore didst ye not apprise me of thy estimable station, last night?”  With her brow a mass of furrows, Athelyna leaned forward.  “Thou didst seem so nice when ye introduced thyself, thus I find it difficult to reconcile thy omission with thy noble nature.”