“Then it is true? About his mother’s . . .” She faltered, uncertain how to put the question delicately.
“Her adultery? Aye, it’s true. Before his birth, his mother indulged in an illicit affair with a lowborn freeman—the castle huntsman. To this day, it is not known whose offspring Ranulf is, although I have my opinion. Ranulf resembles Yves de Vernay too closely in appearance and character to be anyone else’s son.”
“You seem to know Ranulf well.”
“Better than most. We fostered together as boys in the same Norman lord’s household.”
Ariane nodded absently. It was common for a son born into nobility to serve his knightly apprenticeship in another lord’s household.
“From the first,” Payn remarked, “Ranulf excelled at the rigorous training given us. He regularly defeated the other squires, even me, and we all deferred to him. He was large for his age, and his bearing lent him stature, yet his success was due to more than physical advantage. It was as if he were driven to prove himself better than anyone else. Not that he acted the bully, demoiselle.” Payn smiled thoughtfully, as if in remembrance. “Indeed, Ranulf was first to defend the least powerful among us, and more than once championed weaklings against a brutal fist. But none of us knew him well. He had few friends, for he kept to himself. Years passed before he told me the story of his parentage, and then solely because he considered me his friend and too much wine had loosened his tongue. It was not a pretty tale.”
His expression pensive, Payn sipped his wine, while Ariane waited impatiently for him to continue, her sympathy aroused.
“Yves de Vernay was . . . shall we say . . . a bitter man? He slew his wife’s lover and nearly slewher. For her transgression, he locked her away in a tower cell for the remainder of her life. The Church, as you may know, no longer considers adultery sufficient cause to terminate a marriage. As for her babe, Lord Yves could never look upon him with other than loathing, which was doubtless a blessing for Ranulf. He escaped notice till he was a boy of four, when he had the misfortune to be brought to the lord’s attention. Yves . . . resolved to punish the despised son for the mother’s sins. His method—to flay the body in order to purify the soul.” Payn looked directly at Ariane. “Ranulf’s back bore the brunt of his rage.”
“Mother of God, those terrible scars,” Ariane whispered, her voice faint with horror. “What manner of man would do that to a child?”
“Monstrous, was it not? His noble father sought to drive the devil from him, to purge the demons from his soul.”
“Demons—but he was just a boy! A babe! Entirely innocent of his mother’s misconduct.”
“Aye, a boy—but endowed with a man-sized vengeance. For two years Ranulf endured the torment, until he was sent away to foster. He was liberated from his father’s cruelty then, but he never, never forgot. His scars run far deeper than those on his back.”
Ariane gazed at him in despair, as well as bewilderment. “Sir Payn . . . you spoke true—it is a dreadful tale. But why do you tell me?”
“I wished you to know what manner of man Ranulf is, the factors that have forged him into the man he is now.” Payn’s answer explained little, and even less when he added, “I wished you to understand why he has good reason to be wary of noblewomen.”
Frowning in puzzlement, she nodded. “I am listening.”
“It is my belief . . . Ranulf’s reluctance to wed you stems from his deep mistrust of ladies of your class. He never said it in so many words, but I felt sure he feared you.”
“Feared . . . ?Me? Whyever would he fear me?”
“I am coming to that, my lady.” Payn smiled faintly at her expression. “You see, Ranulf learned long ago to put no faith in women. He considers most to be without honor. First his mother’s adultery, which rendered his life a living hell. Then his later experiences . . . Well, I suppose I should elucidate. You have seen Ranulf’s charm. He can—”
“I beg to
differ,” Ariane interrupted stiffly. “I have seen little evidence ofcharm in Lord Ranulf.”
“Well, perhaps he would not attempt to charmyou, demoiselle, under the present circumstances.”
No, he would attempt it with any womanbut her, she thought with a twinge of jealousy, remembering how Ranulf had a ready smile for the castle wenches.
“His flair with females, then. Women seem to flock to him like bees to honey, despite his harsh countenance. I have never quite understood his appeal, I admit,” Payn added with a wry, self-deprecating smile. “Ranulf does not have what you ladies would consider masculine beauty.”
Not beauty in the common way, Ariane reflected. It was his raw, magnetic masculinity that was beautiful. That virile, dynamic, charismatic personality was a potent force, impossible to ignore. That, as well as the bleakness in his eyes that until now she had never understood, prompted much of his allure. Every woman would want to be the one to tame him, to soothe the beast within him—and to offer him comfort. She had felt the primal, instinctive yearning herself, beneath her fear and fury.
“Pray continue, my lord,” Ariane murmured noncommittally.
“Very well. As I said, Ranulf excelled at military training. He was knighted at seventeen for courage in battle, but after he earned his spurs, he stayed on to serve his foster lord. He was a third son, with no expectation of inheriting the vast estates of Vernay. And as you know, a landless, penniless, unproven knight has few choices. But then . . . a scandal ensued. In short, his foster lord’s wife attempted to seduce him.”
“The lord’swife ?” Ariane stared in shock. “The lady of the keep?”
“Yes. Ranulf was entirely innocent of the charges, I am certain. After his past, he refused to cuckold any man, especially his own lord. Nor would he fight his overlord, even though he was called a coward for refusing. He left the lord’s service in disgrace rather than accept a challenge at arms. In truth, he did the man a service, for Ranulf would have won with ease. At any rate, I gave up my position to follow him.”
“You must have thought highly of him.”
“There is no other lord I would serve,” Payn said simply. “As it turned out, the decision was a boon for us both. We spent two years on the tourney circuits in Normandy and France, growing rich from the ransoms we won, and the years afterward fighting as mercenaries for Count Geoffrey of Anjou. We helped Geoffrey wrest Normandy from France, and helped make his son Henry duke.”