Divided Alliances

Jennypher Armintrout

This story is a blatant use of other people’s characters, aka, Fanfic. No money was made, and no characters were harmed in the making of this Fanfic. My fondest appologies.

Richard leaned over the chess board and sighed. Only moments ago his older brother, Armus, had once again declared checkmate. Richard was determined to prove him wrong, and mentally made a list of all the possible moves he could make to get past his brother’s magnificent blockade of pieces. He wasn’t getting far.
A sudden commotion on the stairs broke his concentration.
"Richard, come on!" It was Eleanor, and she was in a hurry. Immediately Richard knew that this wasn’t just one of his little sister’s trifling interruptions. Something was terribly wrong.
"What’s happened?" Richard asked, standing and running up the stairs to his sister.
"Riders from the next village were passing through. They said a coach had been robbed, and some people were hurt." she explained breathlessly, her cheeks flushed with exertion.
Richard considered his sister and sighed. With her wild red hair barely tamed by the thick braid she wore and her green eyes flashing with trademarked stubbornness, there was no denying she was a Grey. "And I suppose you want to go help them?"
Eleanor pushed past him with a glare. "I didn’t expect your help, anyway."
"Help doing what?" A voice boomed from the other end of the hall. Richard and Eleanor turned to see Armus walk in, up from the kitchen with an apple, still celebrating his win.
"She wants to ride out and help the victims of a robbery, and get us all killed." Richard said, rolling his eyes.
"Where?" Armus asked, the expression on his kind face turning to one of concern.
"Are you daft? Father will kill us!" Richard protested. His warning fell on deaf ears, however, as Armus and Eleanor were already headed toward the stables.
"Are you coming, little brother?" Armus called.
Richard sighed. "I’ll come. But I won’t like it."

Bridgette blinked rapidly as she woke up. She didn’t remember stopping. Why weren’t they in the coach? She sat up and instantly regretted it. Her head throbbed and her vision blurred. Suddenly she remembered everything.
Father!
Bridgette crawled towards the overturned carriage and pulled herself up against it. She surveyed the scene on the other side of the cart and a wave of nausea racked her body.
The driver was dead, half pinned under the carriage. The horses had been stolen, and the carriage destroyed. What truly sickened Bridgette, however, was her father, laying on the ground not far from the driver, a huge gash from a highwayman's sword across his stomach.
"Bridgette..." he called weakly, and she dropped to the ground and crawled towards her dying father.
"Oh, father, what have they done to you?" Bridgette wept, placing a hand on her father’s arm.
"Bidgette, if they come back..." he began weakly, too exhausted to speak.
"I’ll go get help. Oh God, you’re bleeding everywhere." Bridgette sobbed, pulling a long strip of fabric from her torn dress.
"I’m beyond your help now, daughter." the old man wheezed.
"Oh father..." Bridgette sobbed.
"Bridgette, our land...don’t let it fall to your nephew...you must get to France, our line, our name-" his words were cut off by the sound of approaching horse hooves. "They’re back! Run, Bridgette, run!" the old man cried in fright, then was dead.
"Father!" Bridgette wailed, throwing herself across his still chest. The horsemen were getting closer. She stumbled to her feet and tried to run, but an arm reached down and scooped her up, holding her firmly around her waist. She screamed and struggled, but her efforts pushed her past the limits of exhaustion. She lapsed into unconsciousness as they rode away.

Sir Thomas Grey hurried into the castle yard, greeted by the pounding of horse
hooves. The early afternoon sun forced him to raise a hand to his silver brow to make out the figures approaching. The massive figure of his eldest son approached quickly, the slight figure of a girl bent slackly over the saddle in front of him.
"Father! We found her on the road! She needs help!" Richard called, catching up with his brother in time to dismount and help Armus pull the unconscious girl from his horse.
Without any thought to the reason she was there, Sir Thomas called for a bevy of servants to attend the girl. "Get her upstairs! There’s an empty room in the east wing!" Sir Thomas shouted, sending the flurry of servants after Armus, who was carrying the girl into the castle.
Richard stood aside and ran a hand through his auburn hair as the whirlwind of activity moved into the castle.
"Richard, what is the meaning of all this?" Sir Thomas asked angrily.
Richard turned to his sister to offer an explanation, only to see her run into the castle after the melee. Richard sighed, defeated.

Later that evening, after dinner, Armus quietly made his way to the girl’s room.
Pushing the door open only as far as was necessary he slunk in, and took a seat on the trunk at the foot of the bed.
Armus sighed. He had no idea what he was doing there. Worst of all, the feeling of helplessness that was setting in was completely unfounded. He hadn’t even spoken with her. The only time he had seen her conscious was when she had tried feebly to run from them as they approached the wreck of the carriage. He looked at her now, and saw no traces of the girl he had seen on the road, her face streaked with mud, terrified beyond all belief. Now the girl was propped up against mounds of pillows, her fair hair fanned out like a halo of cornsilk around her pale face. Her lips were tinted blue and her face looked waxy, like a doll. She hadn’t woken up since they had arrived at the castle, and the physician wasn’t due until the end of the week. He dropped his head into his hands and silently prayed that the girl would be all right.
Maybe it was something about the room. It had been his mother’s sick room, and
Sir Thomas had locked himself in the same room for weeks after her death. That had been one of the most lonely times in Armus’s life. If this girl didn’t live it would open up plenty of old wounds at Covington Cross, and the Grey family had seen enough pain to last them for decades.
Bending over the sleeping figure, Armus brushed a few strands of hair from her damp brow, then stood and quietly left the room, snuffing the candles as he did so.

Bridgette woke up, frightened. The room around her was dark, but she knew she was not at home, and although she couldn’t remember the past few days, she knew she was not yet in France.
She stumbled from the bed and searched for the door thought the darkness, bumping into what she assumed was a chest of drawers along the way.
The hallway before her was dark, but not as dark as the room behind her, and she found her way easily, once her eyes adjusted.
At the end of the hall there was an open door to the left, and light spilled out into the dark corridor. She blinked rapidly at the contrast of light and dark that made her head throb and her vision cloud.
Edging slowly down the hallway, Bridgette leaned forward around the door. Sitting in a chair against the wall was a young man with tousled auburn hair, polishing a sword. Bridgette watched him for a few moments. The light shining off of the blade was almost hypnotizing, and she became so absorbed in watching him that she forgot she was hiding. The man turned the sword over in his palm and frowned. He ran his finger along the blade, and grimaced.
"Damn." He cursed, holding his finger up in front of his face, and Bridgette gasped when she saw blood running down the man’s hand.
Richard looked up, startled, just in time to see the slight form of a girl duck behind the door, and Richard stood and followed her, ignoring his bloodied hand for the moment.
Bridgette huddled against the wall, her heart beating fast, her breath coming in short little gasps as she watched the shadow of the man growing larger in the beam of light from the door.
Richard looked down at the girl huddled in the hallway, her eyes fixed on the floor in front of the door. Not sure what to say he managed a feeble "Hello".
"Please, I beg of you! I have no money left! It was all in the carriage! Please let me go!" The girl shrieked, scuttling across the hall on her hands and knees.
Richard grabbed a candle from his room and brought it into the hallway. It took him a moment to realize that it was the girl they had picked up on the road that morning. What was absolutely clear was that she was terrified.
"Please, sir, don’t kill me!"
Richard moved slowly towards her, and she backed up against the wall. Richard stopped and stared down at her. She was young, almost as young as Cedric, Richard noted, thinking of his brother who was asleep down the hall. "Don’t be silly," Richard began gently, "no one is going to kill anybody."
The girl stared at him with wide eyes, still distrustful. Richard took a few steps closer to her. "Don’t touch me!" She screamed, and Richard stepped back. The girl sobbed softly, not looking at Richard. "You killed my father!"
Richard knelt down by the girl, put one hand on her shoulder. "I didn’t kill your father." he whispered.
"Yes you did. You killed my father and robbed our coach." she insisted, with the stubbornness of a child.
Richard turned her to look at him. She avoided his eyes directly until he gently cupped her chin and turned her head to face him. "We didn’t kill your father. We heard about your accident and brought you here. You were badly hurt."
A light appeared down the hallway. The friar was standing, a worried look on his round little face, holding a taper by the staircase. "Master Richard, is everything all right?"
Richard stood, helping the girl up as he did so. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked down at her feet. "Everything is fine. Go and fetch my father, if you would please."
The girl looked up at Richard and sniffled a bit. "I’m sorry." she said, looking down.
"It’s all right." Richard said. He wanted to put his arms around her to comfort her, to show her that she was safe. He quickly turned away from her, unsure of what to say next. "What is your name?" he asked the girl, as if they had met in the village by chance, or under more favorable circumstances, at least.
The girl stared up at him, as if mesmerized. "Bridgette," she said, almost whispering, "my name is Bridgette."
"Richard, what is happening? Is everything all right?"
Richard looked up quickly. It was Sir Thomas, holding a candle, the friar and Armus following behind him.
"Everything is fine." Richard said, stepping away from the girl quickly. "She’s just had a scare, that’s all."
Armus stepped forward quickly and took the girl by her arm. "Let’s get you back to your bed." He said. Richard watched him lead the girl away, never breaking her gaze as she walked down the hallway.
"Well, this was quite enough excitement for one night, lets all go back to bed." Sir Thomas said, trying to make light of the situation. Richard nodded dumbly and went back into his room.

"Here we are." Armus said quietly as he steered Bridgette into her room.

He watched her as she went to the window and gazed out over the keep. After a long moment she looked back at him. "Thank you. For all your kindness."

Armus felt something akin to hope fill his heart. This beautiful, fair creature standing in the moonlight had spoken to him, really spoken to him, not out of duty or politeness.

"If there ever is anything...anything I can do..." Armus offered quietly.

Bridgette stared back at him unblinking. "You could persuade your father to help me get home."

"And where is home?" Armus asked, faltering for a moment.

"France." she said simply, looking away.

Armus stared at her, slack jawed. "France?"

Bridgette ran to him, grasping his arms as if for support. "Please, I need to get to France. I need to get there safely. The only way I can do that is by continuing on to Dover, so that I may sail to Calais. Please, your father will listen to you, won’t he? He will listen to you more readily than he will listen to an enemy, he must!"

Armus put one arm around the girl as she fell against him, sobbing.

"I will see what I can do..." he said, absently smoothing her hair away from her face.

Bridgette fidgeted with the dress Eleanor had leant her.
"I think it might be a bit too tall for me." Bridgette said shyly. Eleanor laughed.
"Oh, I think it will do for now. Cedric and Richard went out to find your trunks and to..." Eleanor started, but stopped herself. Richard and Cedric had gone to supervise the burial of the coachmen and Bridgette’s father, and to find what belongings the highwaymen had left behind.
Bridgette looked down for a moment, then composed herself. "Thank you, Eleanor, but really, your family shouldn’t be going to all this trouble."
Eleanor smiled. "Are you kidding? I’m certain that Grey must mean trouble." The girls laughed a moment. Eleanor grabbed Bridgette’s hands, dragging her toward the door. "Father wants to see you this morning." Eleanor said, a smile spreading across her face. "He also spoke with my brother this morning."

Bridgette stopped, her face pale. "Already?"

Eleanor gave Bridgette a puzzled look. "Why wouldn’t he. My brother was quite smitten with you on the road, and father expressed concern over... well, your safety, for one, and we thought it best that you two marry quietly."

"Marry?" Bridgette gasped, steadying herself against the door frame. "It’s impossible."

Eleanor smiled. "We understand that you don’t have any property... but it’s all right, Richard is the second son. He will inherit reasonably... the way he’s been running the castle I wouldn’t doubt that he would have his own manor to look after soon."

Bridgette stared at her in disbelief. "Richard?"

Eleanor nodded enthusiastically. "Come on, father is waiting."

"Yes, I do need to talk to him rather urgently, it seems." Bridgette said, following.

Sir Thomas stood when Eleanor and the visitor entered.
"Father, this is Bridgette." Eleanor said, and Bridgette gave a feminine bow.
"Oh, there’s no need for that, Bridgette, come, sit down." he said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. "Eleanor, you can leave us now."
Eleanor backed from the room and closed the door, sure to leave it open just a
crack, to aid her in her eavesdropping.
Sir Thomas shuffled some pages on the desk around. "Harvest records." he said apologetically, "I’ve been working on them forever, it seems."
Bridgette smiled, but was thoroughly confused at the man before her. He seemed so noble and commanding, but at the same time kind and perhaps a bit confused. He
finished stacking the papers in no order at all and took a seat across the desk from her.
"Now then, what I wanted to see you about...." he began, then remembered what it was he was going to say, "I’m sorry about your father. I’m sure this must be a terrible time for you. I want you to know that you may stay here as long as you may need."

Bridgette nodded quickly. "Yes, thank you, that is very generous."

Sir Thomas nodded, smiling. "My son, Richard, has spoken to me about a marriage arraignment, which I think will be beneficial to you both."

"Beneficial? I have no property, I must confide... no landholdings...I know nothing about business. I could be nothing more to your household than a stone around your collective necks. I thank you, Sir, for your kindness, but for your sake I must politely refuse." Bridgette said, looking down at her hands, which were twisting the delicate brocade of her gown.

Sir Thomas smiled. "Don’t worry about being a stone around our necks. Our home is your home, my family your family, if you will have them. You will be wishing to contact your family, of course."
Bridgette looked down. "I have no other family."
Sir Thomas hurriedly thought of something to say. Bridgette beat him to it. "I would rather just continue on to France." she blurted out, then cursed herself for saying anything.
"France? You were traveling to France then?" Sir Thomas asked, now genuinely interested in the girl. "For what purposes, may I ask?" Bridgette started to reply, abruptly cut off by Sir Thomas. "Oh, what a stupid question, you were obviously going home. Perhaps I should ask why you were in England, during this war time."
Bridgette sighed. "My father owns a small piece of land... it’s complicated. My nephew is trying to... please, it’s all just family business. I must return to France. There is a man there that I am supposed to wed in less than a fortnight. I have to leave here as soon as possible. You have my word that I will send you money when I arrive in France if you give me a carriage and guards for safe passage
to the channel. A boat is waiting for me there."
Sir Thomas studied her pleading face for a moment.
"I beg you sir, I must get to France. I know we are enemies, but....think of your own daughter! Wouldn’t you want her safe if you died abroad?" she said, her large eyes filling with tears.
Sir Thomas considered for a moment. "Yes, of course. You can be assured that we will utilize every resource possible to assure your safety.."
Bridgette sighed with relief and smiled. "Thank you sir, thank you very much!"

Armus was waiting at the door when the girl exited Sir Thomas’s study. She looked wan and pale, yet somehow relieved as she passed. "Bridgette-"

"Armus, what can I help you with today?" Sir Thomas called from inside the study.

Bridgette turned and smiled at Armus. "It is....taken care of." she whispered, putting two fingers to her lips and blowing him a kiss before turning and hurrying up the stairs.

"Wait, Bridgette, would you let me show you the castle today?" he called after her.

She raced back around the corner. "Yes, yes, come to me later." she said quickly, and ran away before he could reply further.

Armus turned towards the study, his mind racing to think of an excuse for canceling his meeting with his father.

Bridgette sat looking out the window, on the uncomfortable stool she had stumbled over at the end of her bed the night before. She jumped, her reverie broken by a knock on her door. "Yes, come in." she called quickly, smoothing her hair down.

"Bridgette, you are looking lovely this morning."

Bridgette gasped, turning quickly at the sound of Richard’s voice. "Richard, I wasn’t expecting you." she said, hurriedly standing and hurrying towards the door.

"What we were able to salvage of the wreck is already on the way here. I was hoping I’d catch you before it arrived. You’ve talked to my father?" he asked, leaning against the door frame, a smug look of victory on his face.

Bridgette closed her eyes in exasperation, pressing a hand to her temple. "Yes, I did. I must say right away that I think it is a bad idea. It’s unfair to you."

Richard sighed, loosing the nonchalant facade. "He told me that, too."

"Richard, I’m sorry." Bridgette said, turning and resuming her place by the window.

Richard followed her, kneeling beside the stool. "Bridgette, don’t worry. I know I’m only the second son, but I can provide safety for you, and beautiful things, anything you would need."

Bridgette laughed, turning away. "All I must do in return is be a willing and submissive wife, at your side when you may need me and safely tucked away when you don’t."

"No, it wouldn’t be like that!" Richard began, and started over, running a hand through his hair. "I would care for you. Not just in material things, but I would truly care for you."

Bridgette turned towards him again. The pleading look on his face, coupled with the memory of his tenderness the night before weakened her resolve. "I will accept your proposal."

Richard sighed with relief. "Thank you. I promise, I shall be a good husband." he said, kissing her hand. "I will leave you now to your...well, I must speak with my father."

Bridgette watched him go. She felt giddy, as if she would burst out in hysterical giggles and cry at the same time. She certainly had not expected to feel anything for this man, but the prospect of marrying him certainly did not disgust her.

Suddenly she felt sick to her stomach, remembering her father’s dying concerns over his land. "What have I done?" she cried out loud, dropping her head into her hands.

A soft knock on the open door startled her. She looked up to see Armus, a concerned look on his face.

"I’m sorry, is everything all right?" he asked, "Would you like me to go?"

Bridgette shook her head, brushing tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. "No, no. I’m only....upset."

Armus nodded. "I understand." he paused, and the silence seemed deafening. "Would you like to see the castle?"

Armus had planned the tour of the castle meticulously, from the kitchens to the stables, and finally to the breathtaking view of the entire Grey landholding from the battlements.
"It really is beautiful here." Bridgette said, looking out across the fields.
Armus nodded, never taking his eyes off of her. "Yes, it is." he said, and Bridgette blushed, understanding his double meaning.
"Your sister tells me you were in the crusades." Bridgette said, eager to change the subject. "Were you away long?"
"Eight years." Armus said, looking away from her.
Bridgette shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say next. "I....That’s a long time to be away from your home."
Armus nodded. "Well, anything for king and country." he laughed bitterly, making both of them uncomfortable. Armus took a deep breath. "Bridgett, I know you’ve been through a great loss, and I know what you are going through. When my mother died-" he stopped, cursing himself for babbling on.
The blood started pounding in Bridgette’s ears as she realized what Armus was going to say. She turned away, desperate for air. "Armus, I appreciate all that you and your family have done for me, really-" she said breathlessly, steadying herself on the wall of the ramparts.
"Please, let me say this." Armus said, turning towards her. "Bridgette, all I’ve wanted to do, ever wanted to do since I saw you that day on the road is care for you. It might sound rash, and, and unadvised, but even in this short time today, talking to you, I-" he saw the expression on her face and sighed. "I know you don’t feel towards me the same way I feel towards you, but in time-"
"I'm to be married to your brother. It is as your father wishes. I don’t know why, but somehow...it is as I would wish it to be as well." Bridgette said softly. The words hung in the air between them for what seemed like forever. Armus nodded, and with out a word, walked away.
Bridgette dropped her head into her hands and cried softly.

Tension was in the air as they gathered for dinner that evening. Armus and Bridgette didn’t greet each other, and this did not go unnoticed by Cedric, Richard or Eleanor.
"Where is father? It isn’t like him to be late for dinner." Eleanor said, anxious to break the silence that stifled the air around them. No one answered her, and she let her eyes fall to the hands she kept folded in her lap.
Lady Elizabeth sighed as she surveyed the children sitting at the table. She tightened her hands on the parchment she held and hurried down the steps.
Richard, Armus and Cedric stood when Lady Elizabeth entered.
"Is something wrong with father?" Armus asked, noting the anxious look on Lady Elizabeth’s face.
"I’m afraid," she began, faltering, "I’m afraid there’s a bit of bad news. Riders came by today, and they brought this." she handed the parchment over to Armus, who opened it quickly.
"What is it?" Eleanor asked, and no answer readily came.
"It’s William. He’s dead." Armus said numbly, still staring at the letter, as if he could change the words there by force of will.
Eleanor began to cry. Cedric put an arm around her and wept with her. Lady Elizabeth, over come, wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
"Killed in battle...six months ago." Armus continued. He looked up at the stairs. "Father." he whispered, and ran from the room. Lady Elizabeth followed him.
"Armus, please, leave him! He’s not well!" Lady Elizabeth called after him.
Richard stood and looked at his younger brother and sister. Cedric looked up at
him. "I will find the Friar." He said, more to himself than to Richard, "Come on, Eleanor, come with me." Eleanor nodded and followed him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
Bridgette looked to Richard, who turned away from her. "I will," he began, his voice breaking as he struggled for control of his emotions, "I will be in my chambers. Excuse me." he finished with great difficulty, and ran up the stairs.
Bridgette looked around the empty room, not knowing what to do. A moment later Armus came back in, his face ashen.

"Can I do anything?" she asked him quietly. When he didn’t answer she went to him. "Please, Armus, tell me, how can I help?"

"Help your husband, my lady. Your duty lies with him." He said, standing. He bowed coldly and turned toward the kitchens, leaving Bridgette alone in the great hall. She looked at the staircase, following with her eyes the path that Richard had taken. She stood and quietly went to the stairs.

Richard sat up when he heard the timid knock on his door. He wiped his eyes. It wouldn’t do to let Father, or anyone else, see him crying. "Come in." He called, standing. The door opened slowly, just wide enough for Bridgette to slip inside. Richard sighed with relief and met her halfway as she walked across the room to him.
"Richard..." she began. She put her arms around him, and he leaned his head on her shoulder.
"I can’t believe he’s gone." Richard sobbed, letting himself cry openly for the first time since his mother had died.
Bridgette stroked his hair, marveling at the display of emotion that was so rarely exhibited by men. She kissed his forehead, unsure of what to say or do. "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry." she whispered.
Richard looked up at her, his eyes rimmed red, fresh tear tracks on his cheeks. He
stood up and straightened his shirt, but he didn’t step away from her. "Bridgette..." he
whispered, leaning down to her. He kissed her gently, touching his lips to hers, testing.
When she didn’t pull away he put an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him.
The kiss became more urgent, and she wrapped her arms around him. In that moment, all of her concerns, France, the man she was to marry, the family feuding, all seemed so far away. All thoughts of anything save staying there, in that very room, with Richard, fled from her mind.
Richard stepped away, his head swimming, his heart pounding. "Bridgette, you
should go. If someone looks for you..." he said, and kissed her again.
"I want to stay with you." she whispered, cupping his face with her hands.
Richard took a deep breath and tried to back away as Bridgette’s kisses trailed down his face and onto his neck. Her tongue darted out, tasting him. Richard knew he was a lost man then.
"Bridgette, you can't, we-" he began, and she pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.
He sighed and moved to close the door before pulling Bridgette to him for another kiss.

The candles were starting to burn down inside Richard’s chambers. A soft, warm glow made the room seem as if it were carved out of bronze. Richard and Bridgette lay in the tangle of the bed clothes, both tired but not wishing to sleep.

"Then mother comes down to pick some flowers, and there’s William and I, naked as they day we were born, boxing each other right there in the moat."

They both laughed so hard their sides hurt. "You loved your brother very much."

Richard nodded emphatically. "I still do. William was the only person I could really...talk to. Cedric is so young, and we have nothing really in common. Eleanor is... Eleanor. She’s actually improving. Believe it or not, she used to be quite a brat all the time. And with Armus away, well.... William was always there, to practice with, to play with."

"To hit." Bridgette laughed.

Richard laughed quietly. "Yes, that to."

Bridgette laid her head on his chest, suddenly quiet. "It seems strange, that my father is gone...I’m never going to see him, never going to argue with him..."

Richard absently stroked her shoulder with the tips of his fingers, kissing her forehead as he did so. "Servants will talk, you know."

"Servants will always talk. If we are to be married, then what is the harm?" Bridgette asked innocently, rolling over and pillowing her head on her hands.

Richard laughed, pulling her back on top of him. "You’re right. What is the harm?"

The next morning was bleak, both inside and outside the castle. A constant drizzle fell from a gray sky. Sir Thomas did not emerge from his chambers. Cedric, Armus, and Eleanor sat in the great hall, not speaking, but not wanting to be alone, either. It was Eleanor that finally broke the silence.
"Has anyone seen Richard this morning?"
Both Cedric and Armus looked up.
"For that matter," Cedric said quietly, "where’s Bridgette?"
Eleanor looked at her older brother, who said nothing, only stared into the fireplace. "I’m sure it’s just a coincidence." she said. "Richard was in his chambers crying all evening last, he didn’t even come to the chapel, he was so upset."
Armus didn't look up. "I wouldn't be so sure about that, Eleanor. While we are mourning one brother, the other is shaming our family name." he said quietly.
Cedric stood, outraged. "You can't be suggesting that Richard and Bridgette are, well-"
Armus stood, knocking the massive oak chair over, making both Eleanor and Cedric jump. "Go to her rooms. You’ll find the door open and her bed not slept in!"
"I thought you’d have more decency than to gossip like a kitchen maid!" came a shout from the stairs. They all turned to see Richard, glaring coldly at Armus.
"Where is she?" Armus asked through gritted teeth.
"She’s no concern of yours." Richard said, turning away from his brother.
Armus ran up the stairs and grabbed his brother by the arm. "I’ll decide what is and is not my concern!"
Bridgette was hurrying down the hallway when she heard the voices on the staircase. She stopped and flattened against the wall, not wanting to be seen.
"Would you stop acting as though you had a claim on her!" Richard shouted.
"Acting as if I had a claim on her?" Armus fumed, "I only care that my brother is treating the woman I love as if she was some common tavern wench!"
"The woman you love has a mind of her own, and she can chose who she keeps company with!" Richard shouted.
"Tell me, truthfully, if she wasn’t being forced to marry you, do you honestly think she would have come to you last night?"

"Stop!" Bridgette screamed, bursting from her hiding place. "I wish I had never come here!"
"Bridgette, wait!" Richard called, but she had already fled to her chambers.
Richard gave his brother a cold glance and charged up the stairs after her.

"Bridgette, please, open the door." Richard pleaded, resting his forehead on the sturdy oak. There was no answer. "Please, I know how upsetting this must be. Believe me, I never meant for it to get this, this-"
"I believe you."
Richard turned around, face to face with Bridgette.
"I was hiding in that cabinet." She said with a small smile, pointing to the huge cedar chest that stood at the end of the hall. "Richard, I must leave."
Richard inhaled sharply. "When?"
"Tomorrow. Three days at the latest. I need to be in France as soon as possible." Bridgette said, trying to be calm.
"But why? Is it because of...that? Last night? We can forget it, we can start all over!" Richard pleaded, and Bridgette sighed.
"No we can't!" she said, letting the tears come.
"But why won't you even try?" Richard asked, taking her hands in his.
"Because I'm going to marry another man. He is a wealthy Lord in France. My father arranged it, I was expected there yesterday." Bridgette said, still crying.
Richard turned away from her. "And you lied to me."

Bridgette choked back sobs. "I didn’t mean to...I....this all came at a very bad time."

Richard shook his head. "You can’t go."

"Please, Richard, I need to go!" Bridgette cried, grabbing him by the shoulders.

Richard pulled her hands away and moved away. "This is about Armus, isn’t it."

"Richard, I could never stay here. Your brother asked me..." she began, crying "I don’t know what I’m going to do. I want to stay with you, I do, but duty calls for me to marry someone else. Staying here would be impossible."

"This is about Armus." Richard shouted.

"No, it is not just Armus...my father’s lands are in danger." Bridgette try to explain, her English breaking up into scattered bits of French.

"I know about the lands. I never thought you’d be one to put money above...above...." Richard tried to finish with difficulty.

"Love?" Bridgette asked quietly. Richard looked away. "Is that it? Do you love me?"

Richard looked up. "I....yes I suppose that’s what I was trying to say."

Bridgette laughed. "You are a stubborn, pig headed man."

"I suppose I am. But I do love you." Richard said finally, with a chuckle.

"What am I going to do?" Bridgette asked, covering her eyes with one forearm.

Richard sighed. "I know what I want you to do...but I can’t force you. You must do what you feel is right. You must do what is in your heart."

Bridgette looked down. "You are angry with him. Your brother."

"I am. That is true." Richard said, looking down the hall.

Bridgette put her arms around him, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Please do not do anything....please let it be."

Richard hugged her tightly to him. "I will come to you tonight. But I must settle things with my brother." he said, pulling away from her and swiftly retreating down the corridor.

Bridgette said nothing, only watched as he left her standing alone.

Armus ignored the sound of the slamming chapel doors.

"Draw your sword, brother!" Richard shouted, unsheathing his own weapon.

Armus said nothing, but remained as he was, kneeling in prayer.

"Did you hear me?" Richard demanded.

Armus looked up, grim faced. "Have respect, little brother. This is a holy place."

"Profaned by your presence." Richard said, advancing. "Draw your sword."

"I don’t know what brought on this sudden need to see me dead, but I am occupied at present. So say your peace and leave me to my prayers." Armus sighed in exasperation.

"I want to know why you must try and win her from me! I want to know why you never cease to crush my every chance at happiness. I want to know why she...." he trailed off, leaning against the doors and slumping to the floor. "I want her to stay."

Armus turned away, unsure of what to say to his brother. "I think..." he began, but fell silent.

"You think I should stand by and watch her go to France. You still see me as a page at ten, smitten with the girl from the village who could beat me up." Richard said finally, laughing.

"She was better than the girl who ate worms, I can say that much." Armus said quietly, chuckling.

Richard stood, sheathing his sword. "That was William."

Armus looked down. "Yes. I wish I could have seen him again. All I remember of him was an over active nine year old, pretending to joust the apple trees in the orchard."

"He wanted to be like you." Richard said, patting his brother on the back. "We all did."

"Even Eleanor, I see." Armus said with a laugh, and the brothers embraced, finally at peace with each other again. "You know she must go." Armus said quietly.

"I know." Richard nodded, turning away. "I know."

Richard lead Bridgette to the outer gate at dawn.

"Don’t go, Bridgette." He said quietly, putting his arms around her.

Bridgette rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes filling with tears. "Please, don’t. I can’t bear it if you say such things."

Richard sighed and held her tighter. "I wish you every happiness"

"My heart will belong to you. Always." Bridgette said, kissing his cheek.

A servant stepped up timidly. "Your coach is prepared, M’lady."

Richard stepped back, smiling bravely. "Dover is far from here, you must start as soon as possible."

Bridgette nodded, and turned towards the coach. She turned back a moment, smiling sadly. "Good-bye, Richard."

Richard nodded, and watched as the coach driver snapped the reigns, driving out of the portcullis in a trail of dust. He turned and walked slowly back toward the castle, to the sounds of the household waking up, beginning another day as usual at Covington Cross.