deRothchild - A Mediaeval Romance

Bobbi had an arm buried in the cow up to her elbow, manually manoeuvring the breeched calf. Finally, her gentle twist managed to release the calf and it was expelled from its mother in a rush. She landed on her backside with the bloody calf cradled in her arms.

"We did it!" she gasped, smiling up at John who had been assisting her.

John was Exmoor's acknowledged animal healer and farmers would send their ailing animals to him. Bobbi assisted him once in a while because she was interested to study the animals and learn his skills. She knew that John was uncomfortable having the Countess soiling her hands helping him but as usual, Bobbi got her own way. There was no naysaying her once she'd decided on something.

The cow's labour had lasted through the night and she was exhausted. Gratefully passing the calf to John's assistant, she got up and looked ruefully at her soiled gown and blood smeared hands and face.

"I need a bath," she said with a chuckle.

"You certainly do my lady. And a rest," John said empathetically.

The Countess had started helping him almost two years ago but he was still uncomfortable with it. It wasn't right! The Countess shouldn't be troubling herself with such work. And he shuddered to imagine what the Earl would say when he returned... if he returned, he amended.

John sighed when he thought of the Earl. Lord Alexander had been gone for more than five years and most at Exmoor doubted he'd ever return. But the Countess refused to accept that and so her people humoured her and pretended they all believed, as she did, that he would come back one day.

In the beginning of the King's campaign in France, regular letters had come from the Earl, informing the Countess and Lord Anthony the progress of the war. But at the end of the second year of the Earl's absence, they received word that the Earl and a company of his men had gone missing, presumed dead. They later found the bodies of most of the Earl's company but for a remaining few men. The Earl's was never found either.

John remembered how the Countess had been prostrate with grief for almost a year after that. Lord Anthony had been as grief stricken as his twin sister. He had sent out agents and spies to find out the fate of the Earl. All the deRothchild brothers too had gone to France but no word had been heard of the Earl. After a while, the search had been called off and most simply assumed the Earl had died.

But not so the Countess. She'd fly into a rage when anyone tried to convince her that the Earl had died and after a while, the people who loved her never mentioned it again. When she made remarks like 'when the Earl returns', they smiled and simply agreed with her.

In the past five years since Alex had been gone, Bobbi had grown into a beautiful, regal lady. Her grace, courage and bravery beyond compare. No other lady in the land could hold a candle to her and her people all loved her and simply wanted her to remain happy. If clinging to the hope that the Earl would return kept her happy, then they would indulge her.

Because of her beauty and wealth, within a few months of the Earl's disappearance, suitors had been lining up for her hand. All had been turned away. Bobbi had been so angry at the suitors, her knights had turned them away before the Countess lost her head and ordered an attack on them, provoking unwanted war.

"Wake up sleepyhead!" Tony said loudly, bounding into Bobbi's room.

"Ugghhh... go 'way," she replied, pulling her blankets over her head. Trust Tony to disturb her sleep.

"C'mon, its past noon!" he said cheerfully, whacking her bum through the blankets.

"I just got into bed, you pig!" she replied, still under the covers.

"Oohh... poor little countess all tuckered out?" Tony teased in a babyish voice.

"What do you want?" she grumbled, sitting up.

"Nothing important. Just wanted you to get up and keep me company at lunch."

"OOhhh! Get -- OUT!" she yelled, flopping back down and pulling the blankets over her head.

Then she heard an amused chuckle ... a woman's amused chuckle! She peeked out and spied Annette standing at the door, her adorable little twins peeking from behind their mother's skirt.

"Annette!" Quickly bounding out of bed, she hugged Annette then bend down to gather the twins in her arms and kissed them exuberantly.

"When did you arrive? Who else is here? How long are you staying?" Her words tumbled over in her excitement at seeing her sister in law and niece and nephew.

"I'm here too and I'm staying for a while -- " Jacques said in amusement, coming through the door. Before he could say more, Bobbi had jumped into his arms and hugged him, stopping his words.

Tony laughed at seeing her excitement.

After twirling her around, Jacques set her back on her feet. Looking down into her excited face, he asked, "you're never going to change, are you?"

"Nope," she assured her brother, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before turning back to Annette.

"I'm so happy you're here! It's been ages since we've seen you. Is Ron here? Stephen and Maggie?" she asked about Annette's husband and her eldest brother and his wife.

"Ron is downstairs," Annette replied, her French accent making even the ordinary words sound exotic. "Stephen and Maggie couldn't come. Stephen didn't think it wise for Maggie to travel in her condition."

Bobbi nodded. Her sister in law, Margaret, Duchess deRothchild was heavily pregnant and had miscarried her last two pregnancies. It was understandable that Stephen didn't want his wife to travel.

"Let me get dressed and I'll be down soon," she said, heading to her wash basin. On the way there, she passed Tony and smacked his arm hard.

"What's that for?" he exclaimed.

"That's for not telling me they're here."

When she reached the hall, she saw Ron was in earnest discussion with Sir Reginald - head of the Exmoor forces, Sir Ian and Sir James -- the heads of Tony and her '20'.

She rushed to Ron and gave him a hug. She opened her mouth to greet him but noted his serious mien.

"Ron? What?" she asked worriedly.

"I'll talk to you later, Sir Reginald, Ian, James," Ron said quickly to the knights. They left with a bow and Ron led her aside, beckoning Jacques and Tony to join them.

Ron held her shoulders tight and looked intently at her. "Bobbi ... we've had word regarding Alex. We believe he's still alive."

She just looked uncomprehending at first. Then his words sunk in. She started trembling and she could feel her tears starting.

"Oh thank god. Thank God!" she cried fervently, her tears flowing. "He promised he'd come back to me," she continued in a trembling voice before collapsing in Ron's arms, her sobs muffled against his chest.

* *

'He's coming home'

Alex was finally coming home. After five long years of agonising wait, her husband was coming home.

The first lead her brothers had had was tenuous at best but they had doggedly pursued it. After months of exhaustive searching, they'd finally received encouraging news. Her brothers hadn't wanted to raise her hopes so they'd kept it secret from her. Only once they'd gotten something positive had they dared to inform her.

And now Luke, Chris and Jacques were in France to bring Alex home.

Alex, her husband. She'd been married to him from the age of thirteen but in reality they weren't yet truly husband and wife. Their marriage had never been consummated. In the brief few months they'd had together, she'd been too young and Alex too honourable to force her into something she clearly wasn't ready for.

She still remembered the vow he'd made to her on that long ago day after they were married:

'Roberta Antoinette deRothchild, on my honour as a knight and a man, I promise you now and for as long as I shall live, I shall never ever hurt you, physically or emotionally... And I will never ever force you, physically or emotionally to do something you do not want, or are not ready for'

Alex had proven what a truly good man he was, in word and deed during the next few months they were together. Never once had he hurt or forced her. As her husband, he had every right to, but he never did. He treated her with respect, indulged her like a beloved little sister.

She had clung to the promise he'd made to her on that last night before he left to join the King in France through all these long, hopeless years of waiting:

'I promise you this, I will do everything in my power to come back to you, my beloved lady'

As long as he had breath left in his body, she knew that he'd do anything in order to come back to her.

Alex honours his promises to his dying breath.

~ * * ~

Five years ago...

CHAPTER 1

The signed marriage contract was passed to the Lord Chancellor who carefully perused it before passing it to the King. His Majesty looked at it briefly and said, "The marriage contract between Lady Selena Warbrooke and Sir Philippe deRothchild has now been agreed upon with all pertinent conditions drawn out and confirmed. I trust this matter is settled and we can see an amicable end to this conflict?"

The King looked around the table, exuding an almost palpable air of relief. This conflict -- the King was reluctant to call it a war, though it was widely accepted as such in the whole nation - between the two families had been going on for two generations but in the past year had escalated to such a brutal extent that his Majesty had had no choice but to step in.

It was now being resolved in the time honoured tradition of joining the two families in marriage. The king fervently hoped that with the birth of a child from the couple -- as stipulated in the agreement -- this conflict would finally be over. He needed the support from these two powerful and rich families for the security of the nation.

"One more item I think, your Majesty." The low, modulated voice of the Lady Isabelle, Dowager Countess of Warbrooke came to him from her position on the left side of the table.

The King held his breath in apprehension. Lady Isabelle, matriarch of the Warbrooke clan masked her hard nature in the sultry beauty which was still very much in evidence even though she was past forty years of age.

"We, the Warbrookes are giving up a daughter for this ... peace," she said with a slight sneer. "Shouldn't the deRothchild reciprocate on this?"

"We are giving up a brother," Ronald deRothchild said in protest.

"Hardly giving up I would say. Selena comes with a Baronetcy, Philippe is merely a knight."

"What do you want Countess?" Stephen deRothchild asked in a hard, flat tone.

"We are already giving up a daughter, we would be willing to also give up a son ... for your sister."

"No way, damn you!" The protest this time came from Philippe, his green eyes bright with fury. His sister Roberta, more fondly known as Bobbi, was only thirteen. The mere fact of her existence was something not widely known even today, her nine brothers protected and shielded her from the very thing that was happening now. They knew the title and wealth she brought with her would make her a hotly contested prize. To further protect her, their late father had betrothed her before she could even walk.

"My Lord! Please control yourself," said the Lord Chancellor.

"I'm sorry your Majesties, my lords," Philippe said, taking a deep breath to calm himself and bowing his head to the King and Queen, Lord Chancellor and High Priest.

"I apologise for my brother's language," Stephen said, "but I agree with his sentiment. Our sister is but a child, she is not yet of marriageable age."

"On the contrary, your grace. The lady Roberta is already a woman, is she not?" asked Sir Damien Butterfield silkily. Damien was the eldest son of Lady Isabelle, from her first marriage to Sir William Butterfield. The deRothchilds had objected to his being present at the negotiating table since he was not a Warbrooke, but Lady Isabelle countered by saying that he had been adopted by Lord Andrew, the late Earl of Warbrooke, and so had every right to be present.

Damien's remark was met with consternation and noticeable anger from the deRothchilds. Bobbi had become a woman just a few weeks back, the fact that the Warbrookes knew about it spoke volumes about the drawbacks and the comprehensiveness of servants' gossip.

"Bob -- our sister brings with her an Earldom, hardly to be compared to a Baronetcy," Ronald said in an even tone, which belied the hard look in his hazel eyes. The Earldom of Exmoor, inherited from their maternal grandfather came to Bobbi's husband upon her marriage.

"I agree," said Lady Isabelle. "Which is why we will consent that your sister retain her name and that her children would also take her name. The Warbrookes will not be taking the Earldom away from your family."

"What about the estate that comes with it?" Stephen asked.

"That would also remain to your sister and her children. Our son shall only be a trustee during his lifetime."

"No!" This time the objection came from Luke, the fourth deRothchild brother. The five oldest were representing their family at this negotiation. Stephen, the eldest, who carried their late father's ducal title; Ronald, the second brother, Philippe, Luke and Christopher, third, fourth and fifth brother respectively.

The negotiations had been going on for more than a month, presided over by the Lord Chancellor and aided by the High Priest. It had been a difficult process, neither party willing to give in but pressure from the King had finally brought both parties to a reluctant agreement. The marriage of Philippe and Selena had been agreed upon to seal the peace. But now, the Countess was putting another element into the process and it was a wholly disagreeable one as far as the deRothchilds were concerned. None of the brothers were willing to sacrifice their sister.

"Why only bring this up now, Countess?" Christoper asked quietly. He had been silent thus far, letting his older brothers take the lead in the negotiations.

"We couldn't bring it up earlier, could we?" It was Damien who replied, an insincere smile on his face. "Your sister was ... ah ... unavailable, before."

There was palpable tension and deep anger among the deRothchild brothers when they realized that Damien was referring to the recent death of Marcus Carmichael, Bobbi's bethrothed. Luke in fact, looked on the verge of jumping across to the Warbrooke side and throttling Damien. Both Ronald and Christoper, who sat on either side of him, were clutching his arms.

"Roberta is but a child," Stephen reiterated in a hard voice.

At this, Lady Isabelle gave a faint disbelieving look and turned to the Lord Chancellor. "Your majesties, my Lord Chancellor. If would be unfair to the Warbrookes if the deRothchilds cannot be truthful during this negotiation."

The Lord Chancellor turned an enquiring look at the five brothers. "Your grace?" he enquired of Stephen.

With a hard glare at the Warbrookes, Stephen replied, "My Lord Chancellor, my sister may have matured physically but - she is still very much a child. She should not be -- she won't be ready for marriage for at least a few more years!"

The King sighed tiredly and turned to the Queen, mutely appealing to her. Before the Queen could speak, Lady Isabelle said, "There have been instances of young ladies marrying at thirteen. Slightly young perhaps but certainly not unheard of."

The brothers looked at each other and Luke answered for the rest and said emphatically, "No."

Ronald supported him. "Your Majesties, My Lord Chancellor. I'm sorry but we cannot accept this. Our sister is far too young."

"Then I'm afraid that our agreement with the deRothchilds is null and void. There will be no peace!" hissed the Countess. With that the Warbrookes all got up to leave.

"My Lady, my lords -- please!" said the Lord Chancellor tensely, getting up himself and extending a hand towards the Warbrookes.

Lady Isabelle whirled around and pointed at Stephen. "I am giving up my only daughter for this peace. Selena is but sixteen, a mere three years older than your sister!" she said angrily. "The title and estates she brings will go to you. We are not asking for even that much from you yet you make it sound like we are asking for the impossible!"

"You are asking for the impossible," Luke shouted. "There's a vast difference between thirteen and sixteen, and Bobbi was never a part of this negotiation!"

"Fine. Then on your head be it!" And with that, Lady Isabelle stormed towards the door, followed by the rest of her family. But her advance was blocked by the King's guards stationed at the door. The Countess turned and glared angrily at the King and this time the Queen spoke up.

"My Lady Isabelle, your grace," she said in a calm voice but which was laced with steel, looking from Isabelle to Stephen. "We have been more than a month at these talks, surely you don't mean for it to come to naught when we are so near an agreement?"

Lady Isabelle raised her chin and glared at Stephen. "We have done our part, your majesty. It is now up to the deRothchilds."

When the Queen's gaze fell on him, Stephen replied firmly, "Your majesties. Neither I nor my brothers wish to deadlock these negotiations. We also have done our part and have agreed to all the terms as stipulated in the original contract." Stephen stressed the 'original' part as this new development was totally unacceptable as far as he and his brothers were concerned. Not only was Bobbi far too young, Stephen knew she was still grieving over Marc.

The King sighed and turned to the Lord Chancellor in mute appeal.

"My lady, don't you think it rather unfair to the deRothchilds to change the terms at this late date?" asked the Lord Chancellor.

Damien made to speak but quieted at the touch of his mother's fingers on his arm. "I am sorry for bringing this up only now," Lady Isabelle replied in a conciliatory tone. "But as have been pointed out, we could not bring it up earlier."

Turning towards the deRothchilds, she continued with a sad smile, "I too was grieved to hear of Sir Marcus' death."

Luke gave a loud, disbelieving snort and opened his mouth to reply but the Queen held up her hand to stop him. Tension was already running high and the Queen did not want the situation to degenerate even further.

"My lady, please come and sit down that we can discuss this further," invited the Queen, gesturing to the Warbrooke party who were still standing by the door.

With a gracious nod to the Queen, Lady Isabelle gestured to the rest of her family to resume their seats. Once they were all seated, Lady Isabelle spoke, "Your grace, I am sincerely sorry for bringing this up only now, but our hands were tied before. It is also not my intention to deadlock this negotiation. But you have to agree that it is only fair that each family give up a son and a daughter in order to seal this peace. This way, none can say either side gained over the other."

Her voice was low and sincere as she looked at Stephen and his brothers - but met only hard faces and stony silence. She turned to the King and Queen in mute appeal.

"My lady, surely you do not expect the deRothchilds to simply accept this new terms?" asked the Queen. "As pointed out by his grace earlier, his family has agreed to all the terms of the original contract. I am of the same mind as the Lord Chancellor that to change the terms at this point is unfair to the deRothchilds."

"I realize that your majesty and I do apologise. But as pointed out, the Lady Roberta was unavailable before. And I believe I have a point when I say it is only fair for both families to give up a son and a daughter."

"Which son would the Warbrookes be giving up?" the High Priest asked, speaking for the first time.

It was a valid question as the older children of the late Earl of Warbrooke with his first wife, were all married. Lady Isabelle's children were Selena and her younger brother, Brian.