Free The Warrior and the Dove - A Short Novel (Medieval Chronicles) by Julia Byrne Page A

the right to protect her. Everything else
could be sorted out later.
    Then it was
Annith’s turn to repeat the words that would bind them for life. Her voice was
very soft, but steady. She may have had doubts, but her beautiful eyes gazed
into his as she promised to honor and obey him. Hugh tightened his fingers
around hers, trying to convey understanding, comfort, even warmth to counteract
the chill of this bare little place. The amount of trust she was placing in him
was enormous. Not only was she trusting in his belief that she wasn’t already
married; physically, emotionally, legally, she was giving herself to a man she
barely knew. At a time when she didn’t even know herself. No wonder she was
trembling.
    He wanted to
sweep her up in his arms and tell her everything would be all right, that he
would honor his vow to cherish her for the rest of his life. But then Father
Robert was asking for the marriage ring, and he drew in a deep, controlling
breath as he produced the ring that had belonged to his father. Made of gold,
heavily chased, the wide band was far too big for Annith’s small hand, but it
would do until he bought her something more fitting. She glanced at it, before
looking up at him as he pushed the heavy jewel onto her finger. He held it
there as Father Robert pronounced them man and wife, then he bent and kissed
her gently on the lips.
    They knelt
together for the final blessing, and then he was helping Annith to her feet and
turning toward Martin and Herleve.
    His earlier
doubts apparently put to rest, Father Robert smiled benignly as Herleve brushed
away sentimental tears.
    Seeing them,
Annith smiled for the first time that morning. “Oh, Herleve,” she said, and
with a quick glance up at him, withdrew her hand from his and embraced the
older woman.
    “Don’t mind me,”
he heard Herleve say, as Martin caught his attention.
    “What is it?” he
asked quietly as they moved several paces away to speak privately. “Has someone
been asking about Annith already, at this hour?”
    “Nay,” Martin
said in the same low tone. “But during the service just now something occurred
to me.”
    “What?”
    “My lord—”
Martin seemed to brace himself. “Do you intend this marriage to stand?”
    Hugh’s brows
snapped together. “Of course I do. What the devil brought on that question?”
    “I mean no
offence,” Martin assured him hurriedly. “But how binding is such a union when
Annith has married you under a name not her own? What if she was already
betrothed? She told us last night, after you left, of her doubts on that
score.”
    “Ah.” Hugh’s
frown cleared. “She married me in good faith as Annith, so the marriage is
binding as far as that goes. She has been her own proxy, if you will. As for a
former betrothal, I doubt she would have spoken any such vow if the match was
distasteful to her. She may be gentle, but she’s not weak. ’Tis the most likely
reason she fled, rather than capitulate.”
    Martin pursed
his lips as he considered. “Aye, that makes sense.”
    “Good. And
praise God you didn’t leap up in the middle of the service and voice those
doubts. ’Twas difficult enough explaining matters to Father Robert without
giving him the entire story.”
    Martin laughed
and they returned to the others. Hugh took heart at the way Annith turned to
him immediately. He held out his hand and, for the first time, she placed her
hand in his without hesitation.
    “Let’s make our
farewells in the sunshine,” he said, and gesturing to Father Robert to lead the
way, they walked out to the bailey where his men were waiting with the horses.
     
    *         
*          *
     
    The small
procession left a few minutes later, Hugh in the lead on his black destrier
with Annith beside him on a rangy gray mare. The animal wasn’t the best-looking
horse in the castle stable, but she was rock-steady. Six men-at-arms, riding at
a discreet distance, brought up the rear, followed by two