4 comments/ 7978 views/ 12 favorites deRothchild - A Mediaeval Romance By: MarsAres 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 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, 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. deRothchild - A Mediaeval Romance Ch. 02 Three weeks later... In a busy inn in one of the smaller towns in France two knights were talking. "Bad business with the Warbrookes and deRothchilds. That Countess of Warbrooke is -" "A vicious bitch," replied his companion calmly. Lowering his voice, the first knight replied, "I hate to agree - but you're right. The deRothchilds are doing everything for peace but she just wants the exact opposite." "And she's a greedy bitch at that. Don't blame the deRothchilds not wanting their thirteen year old sister to marry Damien Butterfield. If I had a daughter, I'd rather she be killed than marry such as him!" "So what are the deRothchilds going to do now?" the first knight asked. "Rumours are they're still searching for the children - their sister and the three youngest," replied the second knight. "Poor kids... the sister must be terrified out of her mind. They're still going to make her marry Damien you think?" "I don't think Duke Stephen has much of a choice. The Warbrookes are on a rampage. He tried to lessen the violence by appealing to the King and going ahead and marrying Philippe to Selena Warbrooke last week." "Didn't help, I take it?" asked the first knight. The other knight snorted and replied, "what do you think? The day after the marriage ceremony, Damien Butterfield led a force of five hundred Warbrookes and attacked the ducal castle." "He didn't?! That bloody bastard!" exclaimed his companion. "It was bad. Many deRothchild knights died and I heard one of the younger brothers was hurt .. or dead, I don't know." He opened his mouth to continue but was arrested by a loud crash. One of the young serving boys had dropped a stack of plates and was now being cuffed and loudly scolded by the innkeeper. * * "Tony, Tony, get up! I've got news," the young auburn haired boy called as he hurried into the old barn. He found his youngest brother sleeping, black hair rumpled on the hay. "Saint, where's Tony and Bobbi?" he asked, shaking Saint awake. "-wha..?" asked Saint sleepily, rubbing his eyes. "Tony! And Bobbi...where?!" Ray nearly shouted at Saint. "How the hell should I know," Saint replied in annoyance. "I've been sleeping, haven't I?" "Oh, you're hopeless," said Ray in annoyance, pushing Saint back. "What's got you all fired up anyway? And how come you're back so early?" "I heard something today, at the inn. It's about home Saint, and its bad." "No - nobody's dead are they?" Saint asked in a quivering voice. "I don't know." "What do you mean you don't know?! You said you heard!" "I just heard these two knights talking! What did you expect me to do? Just walk up and politely ask for more details?" Ray retorted. "We have to go home now, don't we?" Saint asked softly, his green eyes grave and troubled. "Aye," Ray replied softly, his own green eyes reflecting the worry and sorrow in Saint's. "And Bobbi has to marry Damien." "Yes, I'll have to marry Damien," said a soft voice from behind. Ray and Saint whirled round to see Bobbi leaning dejectedly on Tony, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. And Tony looked on the verge of tears himself, his arm tight around Bobbi. They reached the deRothchild's lands a week later, the devastation and suffering they could see around them only made matters worse. They were still dressed in the peasant boys clothing they had used as disguise since they ran away and nobody gave them a second glance nor impeded their progress. Bobbi rode on, grim eyed and unsmiling, her emotions under tight control. She knew she'd be a sobbing wreck if she allowed herself. All this was her fault, if she hadn't run away, the deRothchild's knights, retainers and serfs wouldn't be suffering like this. And she finally understood Stephen and the decisions he had had to make. It was an impossible situation and Stephen had to sacrifice Bobbi for the greater good. That did not make him love her any less, it only made it even more difficult to make the decision he had to make. As they approached the castle walls, they saw Luke supervising the clearing of burnt timber and rubble that has once been crofter's dwellings. Annette was among the injured nearby, sleeves rolled up and hands bloody as she attended to the sick and dying. Bobbi's rigid control crumbled then and she freely sobbed. Her limbs weakened and she slid off her horse, crumpling to the ground. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she whispered to no one in particular, sobbing in sorrow and guilt. Tony came and gathered her into his arms and she felt his tears mingling with her own. * * "One good thing at least came out of this last attack," Ronald said, then muttered darkly, "don't know whether the one good thing can balance this out." He looked down on Jacques, pale and still on the bed, his skin damp and flushed. They had all gathered in Jacques' room, loath to leave him alone in his condition. Jacques had been hit by an arrow, which had barely missed his lungs. To make matters worse, he had been flung off his horse when a rain of boulders came too close to where he was, breaking his ankle as well. He had been unconscious for three days then the fever had started and he'd start to rave. That had been a week ago. He was now dangerously weak, swimming in and out of consciousness, sweating with fever one minute then racked with chills the next. They were all worried sick about him. Since their return the day before, Saint had not left Jacques bedside even for a moment. He'd eaten in that room and merely pulled a chair, slumping into it when Maggie begged him to rest. Tony, Bobbi, Raymond and Saint had been updated by Stephen and the rest about the happenings since they left. Philippe had married Selena Warbrooke and was now staying with the Warbrookes until they moved to their own home. All the fighting had been at Damien Butterfield's instigation. Damien's unprovoked attack on the deRothchilds after Philippe's marriage had so enraged Hugo Warbrooke, the present Earl, that he finally took a firm stand, forcibly making Damien desist and personally taking charge of the Warbrooke forces and allies. He threatened his stepmother, the dowager countess, that he would not only disown Damien but also strip away whatever titles and estates given to him by the Warbrooke's and put her away as well if she went on plotting with Damien against the deRothchild's. But best news of all, Alexander Warbrooke arrived in England last week and agreed to the marriage to Bobbi to place the final seal on the Warbrooke - deRothchild peace. The marriage ceremony would take place tomorrow. If Bobbi and the rest hadn't arrived home, Stephen would still have gone through with the ceremony with a proxy. "Bobbi," Stephen said gently, looking down at her sorrowfully, "I'm sorry, but you have to go through with this marriage. There's nothing more we can do. I wish-" "It's alright Stephen. I understand. At least it's not Damien," she replied with a sad smile. "Thank you for all you've done." "He seems like a kind man," Christoper said, trying to sound cheerful. "Why, because he's kind to his horse and hound?" Tony said sarcastically. "Damn you Tony! There's nothing else we can do. If there was, don't you think we'd've done it?!" Christ retorted in anger. Tony glared at everyone and stormed out. Bobbi ran after him. Ron gave a pleading look to his wife and said, "Annette, you'd better - prepare - Bobbi about what to expect of marriage. And .. and .. oh damnit to hell, she's only thirteen, she's a child! What are we doing to her Steve?!" he yelled, glaring at Stephen. Stephen glared back, then turned to his wife, giving her the same pleading look that Ron had given Annette. Maggie and Annette glanced at each other, both understanding what the brothers weren't able to say. The thought of their little sister in a marriage with a man they knew nothing about - and in a marriage bed with that man - made cowards of men who thought nothing of confronting enemies on a battle field. And Maggie and Annette knew this stemmed from love of their sister, the sister they had cherished and protected from any and all harm. Now they had to willingly give that sister up to the enemy who would have absolute control over her - body, mind and soul - for the rest of her life. The next day dawned bright and clear and Bobbi woke with the sun. The marriage was to take place in the late morning, on the same field that had seen such bloody carnage only a few weeks back. All the deRothchild's and Warbrooke troops would be in attendance. The King, Lord Chancellor and High Priest had arrived yesterday. They would be attending to witness and bless the marriage. Bless! Thought Bobbi contemptuously to herself as she got out of bed. Some blessing this marriage is going to turn out to be. She knew nothing about Alexander Warbrooke except that he was nineteen, a knight and Annette assured her that he was good looking. As if his good looks would ensure the marriage to be a happy one. She was storming up and down her room when her maids and Nanny entered, to get her ready. "Now enough of those dark looks my little Bubbin," Nanny said trying to sound cheerful, using her old nickname for Bobbi. "This is your wedding day." "And it's the happiest day of my life, is it?" Bobbi retorted sarcastically. Nanny kept quiet and went on with the task of getting her ready like everything was fine. But every time Nanny looked at Bobbi, her eyes were dark and sad. As they were dressing her, Nanny lamented at her short hair. They had had to cut her bright red hair when they ran away so Bobbi could be disguised as a boy. When Bobbi was ready, dressed in a rich gown of cream, reams of finest Spanish lace covering her head and shoulders, she walked downstairs where all her brothers waited. She looked at her brothers, with a pang realised that Jacques wasn't there and stopped dead on the stairs. She whirled around and ran back upstairs, rushing towards Jacques' room. Opening the door quietly, she saw Jacques lying on the bed, a maid sitting on a chair beside him. To her eyes - or maybe it was just wishful thinking - his colour looked better. She went and sat beside him on the bed, the maid getting up discretely to give her privacy. With a gentle hand she smoothed his brow and was delighted to find it cool and dry. "Jacques?" she called softly. "I'm getting married today, to Alexander Warbrooke. Won't you open your eyes and wish me luck?" When his eyes remained closed, Bobbi choked back a sob and laid her head on his chest, taking what small comfort she could from the sound of his beating heart. That was how Stephen found her. With a sigh, he lifted her up gently from Jacques. "Bobbi, we have to go now. Everyone's waiting." "Alright," she sniffed, wiping her eyes and nearly ruining her veils. The bridal procession arrived at the field where the bridegroom and his entourage waited with the King and Lord Chancellor by the side of the High Priest who would be conducting the ceremony. Bobbi looked up and her eyes were drawn to a tall, blond man standing in front of the priest. He turned and even through her veils she could see his blue eyes, calm and piercing, seeming to take in everything about her in one quick glance. She quickly lowered her eyes and let Stephen help her down from her horse. She clutched Stephen's arm in a death grip, her other hand tightly held by Tony on her other side and they walked towards the priest. When they reached the priest, Stephen tried to prise her hand from his arm but she only clutched tighter. "Bobbi," he whispered in her ear, "we're here. You have to let go, Alexander is waiting." The panic-stricken look in the eyes she raised to him almost made him give in to his desire to take his sister and run as far away from this mess as he could. Instead, stiffening his resolve, he pulled her to him in a tight hug and said quietly, "I'm sorry Bobbi, I'm so sorry. You have to be brave my dear." Pulling away from her, he gently prised her hand from his arm and gave her a quick kiss. "Always remember that you're a deRothchild," he said smiling encouragingly at her and turned away, throwing a quick warning glance at Tony for him to let go of Bobbi's other hand. Tony glared at Stephen then turned to glare at Alexander Warbrooke, gave Bobbi's hand a quick squeeze before letting go. Bobbi watched them walk away with desolate eyes and drooping shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, raised her chin and turned to face the High Priest. She went through the marriage ceremony in a daze, her eyes fixed on her clasped hands, barely hearing the priest and had to be called at least twice every time a response was needed from her. The high priest had to actually touch her hand to make her unclasp them and present to her groom for him to place the ring on her finger. Finally she heard the priest say solemnly, "I hereby pronounce you man and wife." For a moment, her mind couldn't comprehend the words and when full realisation came, she froze in panic and then her whole body trembled and she barely managed to choke off the scream that rose to her throat. "You may kiss the bride." 'Oh please God, take me far, far away from here,' she prayed silently to herself, closed her eyes tightly and went perfectly still. She felt her veils being lifted, a pause, then a feather light kiss on her brow. Opening her eyes slowly she saw an arm raised beside her in her line of vision. Without looking up at her bridegroom she lightly laid her hand on the velvet clad arm. But try as she might, she couldn't stop the slight tremor in her hand. 'Remember that you are a deRothchild' Exercising all the control she could muster, she swallowed hard and raised her chin, managing to walk calmly beside her husband. Her eyes and ears registered nothing through the walk from the altar to the huge tent where the wedding mass and breakfast would be held. All through the mass - which she concentrated on like her life depended on it - she was acutely conscious of the warm presence beside her. Thankfully, never once did he touch her nor said a word to her. She was in such a state of jittery panic, she knew she'd bolt if he'd done anything of the kind. Finally the long mass was over and Alexander once again raised his arm to lead her to the breakfast table. Once there, through all the singing, music, acrobatic acts and other entertainment laid on for the King and the other wedding guests, she didn't even take a sip of water, sitting beside her husband staring down at the table as if turned to stone. "Bobbi." She heard the soft voice beside her and her heart leaped in gladness. Getting up quickly, she bobbed a quick curtsy in Alexander's general direction. "With my lord's permission?" she muttered quickly, grabbed Tony's hand and rushed out before anyone could say anything. Once outside, they quickly mounted the horses Tony had ready and rode away like the devils of hell were chasing them. They stopped at a favourite spot in the woods beside a stream and got down, Bobbi flinging away her veils and heavy overdress. She sat down, removed her shoes and stockings and sat with her feet in the river before breaking down in sobs. Tony came and drew her into his arms and she cried for a very, very long time. Tony had brought a picnic basket along and they played, ate and frolicked in that beautiful spot in the woods like they hadn't a care in the world. When the woods darkened with the lowering sun, they heard the sound of approaching horses. Tony and Bobbi looked at each other and both realised their brief borrowed time of carefree happiness was over. ~ * * ~