“I’m sick of hearing how you saved my life and Elizabeth’s! I’m sick of being grateful to you every moment of my life. I’ve served my time of being your little brother. I’m a grown man now, and I can make my own decisions.”
“Brian,” Roger whispered. “I never meant to ask gratitude from you. You and Elizabeth have been my whole life. I have no one else. I never wanted anyone else.”
Brian sighed and his anger left him. “I know you didn’t. You’ve always been good to us, but it’s time now to leave you and get out on my own. I want to marry Mary, and I mean to do it.” He turned away. “Tomorrow I will take the women home.”
Roger began shaking as soon as Brian left the room. No battle or tournament had ever left him as weak as this confrontation with Brian had. Moment by moment he’d seen his dear, sweet little brother change. He’d seen Brian’s blind adoration of his big brother leave him.
Roger collapsed in a chair and stared at the tiled floor. Brian and Elizabeth were all he had. The three of them had stayed together, a strong force against Edmund’s evilness. Elizabeth had always been independent. Her angelic face hid a strong nature, and she’d often stood up to Edmund. But Brian had always looked to Roger for love and protection. Brian was content to allow Roger to make all his decisions for him. And Roger loved the role. He loved Brian’s worship of him.
But tonight he’d seen that adoration drain away. Brian had changed from a sweet, loving young boy into a hostile, demanding, arrogant man.
And all because of the Montgomerys!
Roger didn’t know when he started drinking. The wine seemed available, and he took it without a thought for what he did. All he could remember were Brian’s cold eyes and that the Montgomerys had even cost him his brother’s love.
The more he drank, the more he thought of all the troubles the Montgomerys had caused him. Alice’s lost beauty seemed to be a direct insult to him. After all, she was his relative. Judith and Gavin had toyed with Alice; worst of all, they’d laughed at her—just as they laughed at Roger. He could hear the taunts of the men at court, where he’d gone after his battle with Stephen. “I hear you made a play for that little chieftess of Montgomery’s. Not that I blame you from what I heard, but were you so hot for her you sought her at the cost of Stephen’s back?”
Over and over the words came back to him. King Henry’s son had just married a Spanish princess, and the king did not want his good mood spoiled by Roger’s unchivalrous activities.
Roger slammed down his pewter tankard on the chair arm, and a piece of the carving fell away. “Damn them all!” he cursed. Brian was ready to throw away years of love and loyalty for a woman he hardly knew. He thought of Bronwyn’s trick of laughing at him when he’d tried to make love to her. A whore’s trick! Just like Mary’s trick of telling Brian she wasn’t of the church. Brian seemed to think Mary was pure, worthy of marriage, but she was clever enough to be able to seduce an innocent boy ten years her junior. Did she hope to use him to gain her freedom, or was she trying for the Chatworth wealth? The Montgomerys were making a habit of marrying great fortunes.
Roger rose unsteadily to his feet. It was his duty, as Brian’s guardian, to show his little brother what lying bitches all women were. They were like Alice or Bronwyn. None of them were sweet and gentle, and certainly none were worthy of his brother Brian.
He staggered out of the room and up the stairs. He had no idea where he was going, and it was only when he reached Bronwyn’s room that he paused. A vision of her black hair and blue eyes floated before him. He remembered every curve of her lush body. He put his hand on the door bolt before he remembered the way her cleft chin jutted up at him in defiance. He moved away from the door. No, he wasn’t drunk enough to be able to withstand her ridicule of him. It wasn’t possible to get that drunk!
He went up another flight of stairs to the top floor of his house. His problems were caused by that slut who dressed as a nun and enticed his little brother. Her evil ways were causing the break-up of his family. Brian said that tomorrow he was leaving the Chatworth estate. He was going to marry a Montgomery and leave Roger. As if the Montgomerys didn’t have enough family already, they were going to take Roger’s!
Roger lifted the bolt from the door of Mary’s room. The moonlight was streaming through the window, and a night candle burned by the bed.
“Who is it?” Mary whispered, sitting up in bed. There was fear in her voice.
Roger tripped over a chair, then sent it crashing against a wall.
“Who is it?” Mary said louder, her voice beginning to shake.
“A Chatworth,” Roger growled. “One of your jailors.” He towered over the bed, looking down at her. Her long brown hair was twisted into a braid. Her eyes were wide with fear.
“Lord Roger, I…”
“You what?” he demanded
. “Aren’t you going to welcome me to your bed? Isn’t one Chatworth as good as another? I can release you as well as Brian. Come, let’s see what you have that has enticed my brother so much.”
Roger grabbed the cover Mary held clutched to her neck and tore it from her. He stared in a glazed way at the prim cotton gown she wore. Most women wore nothing to bed, yet this woman, a harlot supreme, wore a gown. For some reason this only angered Roger more. He grabbed the collar of the gown and tore it off of her. He didn’t notice her body or listen to her when her terrified screams began. All he could hear was Brian saying he was leaving his home for this woman. He’d show Brian what a whore the woman was and that she wasn’t worth his dear little brother’s affection.
He fell on Mary’s plump, innocent body in a mindless state. He removed only enough of his clothes to perform the deed. Her legs were held rigidly together and he had to pry them open. Her screams had subsided into a whimper of terror. Her body was as rigid as a piece of steel.
It was no pleasure to rape her. She was dry and tense, and Roger had to pound against her to gain admittance. It was over in seconds. The drink and the emotion he’d spent worked together to exhaust him. He rolled off of her and collapsed on the bed beside her. Now Brian wouldn’t leave him, he thought as he closed his eyes. Next Christmas, Brian, Elizabeth, and he would be together, just as they always had.
Mary lay quite still as Roger rolled away from her. Her body felt violated, unclean. Her first thought was of her brothers. How could she face them again when she was what Roger had called her over and over, a whore? Brian could never again sit with her, talk to her.
Very calmly, she rose from the bed. She ignored the pain in her body and the blood on her thighs. With great care she pulled her only gown over her head. It was a simple thing of dark blue wool, a gown the sisters had made for her. She looked about the room for one last time, then walked to the window.
The cold night air blew into her face, and she breathed deeply of it. She lifted her eyes toward Heaven. She knew the Lord could not forgive her for what she did, but then neither could she forgive herself for what had happened. “Good-bye, my brothers,” she whispered to the wind. “Good-bye, my Brian.”
She crossed herself, put her hands across her breasts, and jumped to the stones below.
The animals of the Chatworth estate sensed something wrong before the people did. The dogs began to bark; the horses became restless in their stalls.