Isabella tidied her hair and donned a veil and Amaury straightened his tabard before the Lord and Lady de Montvieux emerged to greet their guests.
It wasas Amaury had always hoped his wedding might be.
He stood with Isabella in the space that would again become the chapel, built on the foundations of the original. The floor had been rebuilt with timber from the forest and he was keenly aware of his father and his forebears in the crypt below. He felt that his marriage would be built on the foundation of tradition and legacy, on the history of Montvieux and the reputation of its lords. He felt that his father watched the proceedings with approval. There was much yet to do, but with Isabella by his side, Amaury believed any obstacle could be conquered.
The priest, newly arrived to Montvieux from the bishop, presided over the exchange of their vows. He was young and active, a fitting addition to the holding and a responsible shepherd. Amaury liked him well, and so did the villagers.
The count and his countess, along with their four daughters stood at the front of the company, Amaury’s brothers and his comrades alongside. He knew he did not imagine Roland’s sidelong glances at the count’s daughters, nor that one of them – Thalia, the oldest and perhaps the boldest – openly glanced back at Amaury’s brother.
From this vantage, since the chapel as yet had neither walls nor roof, Amaury could see the fields, newly tilled with the winter crops, the rich soil turned in dark lines. He could see the forest to the south, the leaves of the trees turning golden, and the village of Montvieux, as well, its thatched roofs in the sun. He could hear the mill turning and the rush of the river. He could feel the gentle wind of a cool autumn day and note that the blue of the clear sky was the perfect foil for his lady’s silken gown.
Aye, he could lose himself in the smile of his lady wife, be awed by the confession that she carried their first child, and marvel that good fortune should come to him in such abundance. For years, the dream of returning home to Montvieux had sustained him, but he had never imagined that such joy would surround him, even here.
It was all because of Isabella, his clever, loyal and steadfast wife, the woman who held his heart securely in thrall, the lady who was his partner, his love and his companion forevermore.
Amaury knew he would never tire of surprising her, of granting her gifts simply to witness her delight.
And he had one more for her on this day.
They made their vows again, her hands in his, their gazes locked, then it was time for the rings. Isabella smiled and removed his small ring from her hand. “The better that you can give it to me again,” she murmured with a smile, but Amaury placed the ring back on his own smallest finger, where it had been for years.
Isabella’s confusion showed, but the count stepped forward in that moment, having fulfilled a commission from Amaury as expected. On the older man’s outstretched palm were a pair of gold rings, one larger than the other.
Amaury lifted the smaller one and held it before Isabella’s astonished gaze. It was of small circumference but sufficiently thick to cover half her knuckle. He let her read the inscription carved into its surface, turning the ring before her. When she flushed and bit her lip, her eyes sparkling as her gaze rose to his, he knew she had read it all.
Vous et nul autreit said.You and no other.
He held the ring between his finger and thumb, lingering over each of her fingers in turn. “In the name of the Father, of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” he intoned, then placed the ring upon her finger.
Isabella’s satisfaction was clear as she took the companion ring, marked with the same inscription, and repeated his gesture, finally sliding the ring onto his own finger. On his middle finger was the signet ring of Montvieux and the two, he thought, looked well together.
He bent down to kiss Isabella, knowing that every step of his journey had brought him to this place, had brought him home to this lady and their shared future at Montvieux.
The kiss, predictably, kindled the fire within him, a telling reminder that the ardor between them gave no indication of fading at all.
“All hail the Lord and Lady de Montvieux,” the count called and there was a roar from the assembly, followed by applause unexpected in a chapel. The count coughed lightly. “You must not forget the nuptial gift, Amaury,” he said quietly and offered a velvet pouch.
Amaury smiled, for he had not forgotten it. He gave the bag to Isabella who opened it with care. He watched her eyes light at the sight of the circlet he had commissioned for her. Though her mother’s circlet was a simple band of gold that suited her well, he had ordered this one as a memory of their first exchange of vows.
She turned it in her hands, admiring it, then offered it to him. When he held it, she removed the circlet she wore and he placed this one upon her head. The gold contrasted beautifully with her dark hair, and the daisies, each carefully formed of gold and nigh covering the band of gold that supported them, sparkled in the late sunlight.
“A coronet that will never wilt or fade,” she said with shining eyes.
“Exactly thus,” Amaury agreed, and bent to kiss his lady wife yet again, his heart filled to bursting.
Aye, on this night, they would feast and make merry, but it would take all of their lives to fully celebrate the blessings that came to him at Montvieux.
That was, in Amaury’s view, precisely as it should be.
EPILOGUE
It was late May at Montvieux, and spring was welcome for it had been reluctant to arrive. The weather had been stormy since March, with days of cold rain and winds that whistled around the newly constructed tower of the keep.
The keep itself was not yet a tower, in truth, though Amaury knew it would be so before long. For the moment, the structure was comprised of one sturdy and large rectangle, a space that was being used as the great hall, with a dungeon beneath. The actual great hall would be constructed atop this space, then the solar above that. The wooden hall they had built the previous year had become the stables, though already there was an extension upon that building.
The masons were yet camped beyond the fields, for their labors were only partially done. Amaury knew they would likely be in residence for years and loved how Isabella smiled when he told her of his plans for Montvieux. They talked often of it, planning in detail and modifying those plans before the masons created them in stone. She possessed a practical knowledge of kitchens and such details that perfectly complemented his ownunderstanding of defenses. Together, and with the expertise of the masons, they designed a keep that would withstand the ages.
A wide stairway was being constructed at this time, one which would sweep up to the second floor. Tapestries had arrived from distant markets and been safely stored until they could be hung in the hall. There were two fireplaces planned for the great hall on opposite walls, as well as one on the lower floor, which was completed. The fire within it cast a welcome warmth at that end of the chamber. Carpenters and painters already prepared the ceiling beams for the great hall and planned their ornamentation of flourishes, fleur-de-lis and the occasional dragon.