Brant watched, as Richard gave the friar coins for performing the ceremony, before walking the holy man, to the door. A serf waited there, to escort him back to the village.
Then Richard approached Brant, and asked, “What do you mean, you will not seal the bargain?”
“Just what I said,” Brant replied. “I have no intention of bedding the child, either.”
So saying, Brant returned his attention to the wine. He was quite angry, that he could be forced into such a situation. All his life prior to this, only his sire had ever had any power, to control Brant's activities. As Lord of his lands, Brant was used to being the ultimate authority, over others. He still had no idea, what would be an appropriate means to punish the shadowy figure, who was right now, sipping wine near the hearth, with her back to him.
Richard had intended to play this by ear, to ferret out the younger man’s intentions, in consenting to the marriage. Clearly, he could not rely on Brant honoring it, even so far as, to see to the Lady’s safety, until Avery had been dealt with. Right now, the groom was glowering at the Lady's back, as if he wished to run her through with his lance. If he were allowed his freedom now, all their efforts, could come to naught.
Hoping that the belligerent young man, might be a little easier to return to the dungeon, given some time to indulge in some spirits, Richard asked, “You do not find the Lady attractive?”
“I do not know, or care, what she looks like. I will see to her safety. Beyond that, all I care about, is seeing that Avery’s forces are not increased,” Brant stated, belligerently.
Brant watched as his bride rose from her chair, and moved into a doorway off the hall. Having seen the bride’s movements himself, Richard turned, and followed the Lady.
“Are you well, My Lady?” Richard asked, as he entered the small sitting room.
“I am fine,” she replied. “I certainly need not fear, that he may hurt me intentionally in his anger. However, if we are not full and truly wed, nothing prevents him from denying the marriage, as forced on him. It is not like I can tie him to the bed, and force him, like a man can with an unwilling maid.”
“If he were restrained, it might be possible, to get him to respond to you. There are ways to tease a man’s body that make it difficult to resist,” Richard said, slowly measuring her reaction. Perceiving her reluctance, he continued, “but those things are whores tricks, and not for a Lady.”
“I cannot attempt to rape the man. He is angry enough, already,” Isabel stated. "This is certainly, not the way I ever imagined my wedding. Left to choice, neither one of us would be here, right now."
Richard watched as she closed her eyes, and slowly massaged her brow, showing some measure of her distress.
“Well, there is no choice then. We will have to see what we can accomplish, with just the documents, and witnesses, to the wedding,” Richard said. “For the time being, your new husband, must continue to be a guest in the dungeon.”
As he finished speaking, their eyes meant in apprehension, over what it might take to return the large, arrogant man to the dungeon.
Richard returned to the hall. Isabel followed, to stand in the dark doorway, where she could watch her husband’s reaction, to their decision, without being seen. As he approached Brant, Richard inconspicuously gave the prearranged signal, to the four other men, to prepare for possible trouble with their prisoner.
“I have discussed your unwillingness for a true marriage, with Isabel. The Lady assures me, she is unwilling to attempt to rape you at this time,” Richard stated, pausing to gauge Brant’s stunned reaction. Then, he continued, “However, the Lady cannot take the chance, that you will deny the marriage, as forced on you. Therefore, we have no option, other than to insist that you remain here, for the time being. Unfortunately, to see that you do remain here, you will have to be returned to the dungeon.”
The realization that agreeing to a token marriage, would not gain his release from his captors, sunk in as the guards approached him. Dreading more time feeling helplessly trapped, with no control over his situation, Brant lunged at one of the guards, knocking him to the floor. He attempted to roll over the man, and rise, to run toward the door. However, the flattened guard managed to grasp his leg, slowing him enough, for the others to join in the melee. Isabel watched as they struggled violently, for several minutes, before her groom was subdued enough to bind his hands, and feet. Even once bound, he continued to struggle, and yell epithets, about that devious witch, until he was gagged.
The guards then lifted the still struggling, angry beast, and carried him out of the hall. From her vantage point, Isabel could see that Brant had acquired several bleeding wounds, during the fight. She said a prayer of thanks, to God, that Richard had the forethought, to see that no one had any weapons on them. Someone would surely have been killed, if her new husband had had access to one.
For a moment, Isabel's mind settled on a comparison of the strong arrogant man she had just wed, and his repulsive cousin, Niles. Both men possessed dark hair and blue eyes. There any similarity ended. Niles though tall, was a rather flabby specimen with a haughty dandified air, that conveyed a belief that others should pay him deference, because of his superior position in life. She smiled, recalling her sire had once referred to Niles as a pompous ass. Whereas Niles’ cousin Brant, though possessing an equally arrogant demeanor, was a strong muscular man. He would garner respect from his ability to end your life, with his large powerful physique. Isabel did not recall her father ever mentioning Brant, although he knew Lord Eric, Brant's sire. She wondered if her sire had ever met her new husband, and what he thought of him.
Isabel moved into the hall, instructing her maid, who had been present for the wedding, “Go tell them to leave him bound, until his wounds are seen to. It would not do, for him to get sick from an infection.”
“It would be nice, if he were not quiet so difficult,” Richard commented.
“He is a knight. A warrior. A Lord with vast land holdings. He does not take orders. He gives them. In his position, you would likely do the same,” Isabel said. “You need to work fast. We cannot hold him for long, before some one gets suspicious, and figures out he is missing.”
As Richard nodded in agreement, Isabel turned toward the stairs up to the bedchambers.
Esme was startled awake, by a hand being roughly placed over her mouth.
“Be quiet if you care for the health of your maid,” the man who’s hand covered her mouth said, as he tipped his head to the side.
Esme looked in the direction he indicated, to see her maid, Mary, standing in front of a second man, who had one hand over the terrified girl’s mouth. His other hand held a dagger, at Mary's throat. As her frightened gaze drifted further, Esme recognized her mother standing back in the shadows.
“Peggy, get that rope, and tie their hands,” the man holding Mary captive ordered, and Peggy moved to comply.
As she tied Esme’s hands, Peggy happily gushed, “Baby, you just need to cooperate with Avery. He will not hurt you. This is the only way, to get rid of that damned brother of yours. Then you will be the only heir, to all your father’s properties, and we can be together, all the time.”
The young girl’s mind raced over what had just been revealed to her. The man holding the dagger at Mary’s throat, was her brother’s enemy. Her mother was conspiring with Brant’s worst enemy, to kill him. While Esme had been suspicious of her mother, she had never wanted to believe, that her mother had helped some one take her beloved father from her. Now she knew Peggy had. When her father had been killed, Brant had been there to help her through the loss. Now, Peggy was helping these men, try to take her brother from her, too.