The Shattered Rose Page 0,152

of me to record such things. But it is a strange matter they pass at first. Like something from the bottom of a pond, but sticky."

Galeran counted the sheets. Five of them. "Is it all here?"

"Everything I could think to relate. The bad as well as the good. Like the three nights he kept us all up when he was teething. Like the way he would bounce in time to a drum . . ." Her eyes were still searching his anxiously.

"I didn't give it to you sooner because I wasn't sure . . ."

"No. You were right. I wasn't ready. But now . . ." He had no words for what was in his heart. "Now ... I thank you . . ." Suddenly unable to speak, he gathered her into his arms. "Thank you. Oh, God, thank you."

She held him tight, stroking him. "In a way," she whispered, "I, too, never mourned him properly. It all whirled out of control so fast. ... If you will, perhaps we can read through this together. And weep together."

He nodded his head against her shoulder, parchment crushed tight in his hand, and prayed that his son - now surely an angel in heaven - intercede for them. Surely they deserved happiness, and the gift to be of benefit to the world. And perhaps, if God was truly good, one day another child, theirs to enjoy in peace and harmony.

Later that night, after tears and laughter, with a picture of his son filling his heart, Galeran made love to his wife. Not as he had dreamed of on the way home from Jerusalem, in a healing blast of released need. Not as they had done since, trying to cobble the tattered fragments of their love together as best they could. But in wonder at each other, that what had been so good could become, through the crucible, a richer, deeper treasure.

Epilogue

Jouray, Guyenne, September 1103

Aline went out of the fortified house that was her home, searching for Raoul, who was somewhere in the fields checking on the grape harvest. She carried little Hubert on her hip, though at just over a year, he was wriggling to get down.

"In a little while, love. I want to find your father and tell him the news."

She hurried down a path edged by flowering bushes. The number and richness of fruits and flowers here still astonished her. There were times when she longed for her bleaker homeland, but not so many. And even if she were homesick, she would never want to be anywhere but near Raoul.

She just hoped peace continued so he'd never have to travel far from her.

A silly thought for the wife of a warrior, and one she did not trouble him with except to scold when he injured himself practicing.

As he had just the other day.

She'd deliberately bound his arm so tight, he could hardly move it. He'd grumbled about that, but made it an excuse to lie passively beneath her last night while she inflicted her every whim upon him.

Thinking about it, she chuckled, and Hubert chuckled too.

"Papa!" Hubert called, pointing.

The child had inherited his father's long sight, for there indeed sat Raoul on his horse, overseeing the workers, who were gathering the plump, juicy grapes into baskets.

Some of the previous night's whims had to do with plump, juicy grapes.

She did enjoy harvest time. . . .

Aline dragged her mind off such thoughts, or she'd be wanting to seduce her husband in the fields. Again, She'd done that more than once, and would have done it today if it weren't for the child.

Raoul heard his son and waved. In moments he cantered over to them.

"Trouble?"

"The very opposite!" Aline waved the letter. "Jehanne was safe delivered of a son three weeks ago."

He swung off his horse and took his son in his arms. "That is good news.

Read it to me."

Dearest cousin,

I send you the best and happiest news, that we were blessed with a healthy son on St. Giles's Day. The labor went easily and he was born with the dawn. We have called him Henry, for the king had something to do with our happiness, and his favor could be useful one day. He is not very like Gallot, being dark-haired and -eyed as far as we can tell.

Donata loves her little brother, and calls him Henny. Of course, she wants to hold him all the time, but she is too little yet to do so without supervision. She is bright and mischievous, and everyone says she is just like me at that age. I will have to teach her to think before she acts.

All is peaceful here, God be praised, since the failure of Duke Robert's invasion, and King Henry has established firm law throughout the land.

This spring his queen gave birth to their first child, so, God willing, England can look forward to peace and prosperity.

I hope that soon you will travel with one of Raoul's family's ships to Stockton and visit us up here in the bleak north, for I long to see you again, and your child.

Your devoted cousin,

Jehanne of Heywood

Hubert was increasingly restless, so Raoul put him down to explore. "God truly does seem to have smiled upon his people. There were times, you know, when I doubted Galeran and Jehanne would find their way again."

"But they had trust." Aline stepped over to wrap her arm around her husbands waist. "With trust, anything is possible. Have I told you I trust you?"

He kissed her. "Every day, in every way. As I trust you." A wicked twinkle entered his eye, warning and exciting her. "In fact, I might trust you enough to let you tie me up."

"Tie you up!" She stared at him, growing hot at the thought. "Er ... is that a hint?"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps it's a warning. Since you trust me. Why don't you go back to the house and plan your strategy while I sit and contemplate sweet, plump, juicy grapes?"

Aline watched him ride away, even more tempted to ravish him in the fields, then picked up her son and hurried home, making plans, and very much looking forward to the coming night.