Captives by Emily Murdoch Page B

is no more. Edith was his wife, but she was also Harold’s sister.”
    Fitz almost choked on the wine that had been brought to them warm and spiced straight from the fire. When he had managed to regain his ability to speak, he spluttered, “Harold’s sister? The man who claimed the crown and was defeated by our King William in the invasion?”
    Osbern nodded. “The very same. So you can see why she is no longer allowed to marry. Many do not realise that she is still in England – they assume that she travelled with her rebellious brothers to Ireland.”
    Fitz sighed. It was a desperate end to her life; this woman who had once had it all.
    “What is to become of her?”
    “She is living with the nuns here,” Osbern said nonchalantly. “It is expected that she will take holy orders before too long.”
    Fitz nodded. That would certainly solve the problem for them. Anyone who married Edith now would have a claim to the throne… a claim that King William would never allow.
    “So, brother,” Osbern said, slapping down his goblet and giggling slightly as the wine slopped over the sides, “how is your wife?”
    Fitz’s stomach clenched. He had managed to forget the matter of his family for several days now.
    “To tell you the truth, I know not,” he confessed. “I have not been in Normandy these last two years, and it has been difficult to get letters safely across the sea.”
    Osbern raised an eyebrow. “Do you not miss them?”
    Fitz opened his mouth, and closed it again.
    “God’s teeth, man, do you not even miss your children?”
    “They are children no longer,” Fitz said softly. “My eldest is married, and now my youngest two –”
    “The girls?”
    “Yes, the twins. They are nearing sixteen summers – they are almost due to be wed to young men themselves. They are not children anymore.”
    Osbern looked at his brother knowingly. “You do not mention your wife.”
    “Adeliza?” Fitz thought about the woman who he had been sharing his life with for so many years. “It is not that I do not miss her.”
    Osbern waited for Fitz to complete his sentence. “But?”
    “But what?” Fitz took another large bit of the meat cooling in front of him.
    “Surely you must have some tender feelings for her?” Osbern looked amazed.
    Fitz smiled wearily. “Osbern, did you ever take a woman?”
    Osbern looked outraged. “Brother, I am a man of God!”
    “Yes, but that has not stopped many others.”
    “True,” Osbern admitted, “but it has been enough to stop me.”
    “Then you do not understand what it is to be with a woman you cannot love.”
    Fitz almost bit his tongue in shock that he had uttered those words aloud. His brother’s jaw had fallen in horror.
    “William FitzOsbern,” he said angrily, “I cannot believe that you just said such a thing of your lady!”
    “Forgive me,” Fitz said quickly, “it was a sentiment stemming from tiredness and too much wine.”
    Osbern looked at his brother carefully, and then nodded curtly. But he did not speak to him again, and turned instead to speak to the chaplain sitting on his other side.
    Fitz cursed himself silently. It had been many years since he had been able to speak so with his brother, and of course, he had managed to insult him. He sighed; he should not have spoken so about Adeliza, but the truth remained that the little affection that he had had for her when they were young had soon drifted away. It was like that, with important marriages, he counselled himself. No one expected a love match in these days.
    Fitz was roused from his thoughts by the sound of something that he could not possibly be hearing. It sounded like horse’s hooves – but there was no way that a horse could be this close to them.
    The doors were flung open, and a man dressed in armour astride a horse was silhouetted in the darkness. Fitz smiled wanly. At least his ears were not giving out.
    Gasps were made all around the room as the man on the horse gently nudged his