The marriage ceremony would be a simple affair. Isabel’s religion was part of her life, as it was for everyone she knew. Each day started with Mass in the manor chapel. As Isabel had often witnessed the exchange of marriage vows by others, she knew the ceremony was to take place on the porch of the chapel. A worship service would follow so that the couple could begin their marriage with the blessing of God.
At dawn, the residents of the manor, as well as Chetwynd’s troop, were waiting inside the chapel. On the porch, the small wedding party stood together while Lord Theodoric gave his consent to the match. Father Ivo prompted Lady Isabel and Lord Chetwynd as they solemnly exchanged their vows. Isabel hadn’t expected to be moved by the ceremony, so she was surprised when she had to force her words through a suddenly constricted throat. She fought hard to hold back tears.
Biting the inside of her mouth, Isabel reminded herself that Chetwynd had no doubt already sworn an oath of devotion to someone else. This ceremony was merely a few words that released her from the authority of her father and placed her under the authority of Lord Chetwynd. Looking from the smiling face of her father to the solemn face of Chetwynd, she feared she was exchanging one uncaring master for another.
As Father Ivo led them down the aisle to the front of the church, Chetwynd placed his hand gently on her elbow. The contact eased Isabel’s tension. She appreciated the kind gesture from the stranger she was marrying. As she knelt and bowed her head, she prayed their journey together would honor them both.
When they walked back down the aisle to exit the church, the small chapel was filled to capacity. Merchants, tenant farmers, and soldiers were crowded together on the benches and stood at the back. Isabel searched for Emma, and when she saw her, she relaxed and smiled for the first time. Emma returned her smile and wiped away a tear. It was done.
The entire service had not taken much longer than the usual morning worship. A meal was set up in the great hall, and it was eaten quickly. The marriage ceremony was forgotten in the excitement of preparing for the coming journey.
The caravan consisted of thirty-two soldiers, six squires, and a few serving men and women. There were also a few young wives who were allowed to travel with their husbands, as they had no children. Isabel had already become familiar with some of the faces, and she observed how efficiently the group worked together.
The presence of Isabel and Marianna, newcomers to the tightly knit group, gave rise to a certain amount of curiosity and watchful waiting. Clearly the veterans would withhold judgment until they saw how well Isabel and Marianna traveled and whether their presence would slow the progress of the journey. Making good time seemed to be everyone’s major concern. After spending the late spring and summer on the Spanish March, the travelers were eager to return to their homes.
Lord Chetwynd had suggested they take a litter for Isabel and Marianna, but Isabel declined his offer. She preferred riding her own horse to bumping around in a litter. She had not been exaggerating when she told Chetwynd that first evening that she was an accomplished rider. Although she enjoyed riding astride as men on the farm did, she also managed well with both legs to the side, a method more appropriate for her position.
Since everyone was eager to depart, the goodbyes were short. Lord Theodoric and Lady Winifred bid the couple a brief, formal farewell. Emma was the only one who lingered at Isabel’s side.
“Are you excited, Lady Isabel?”
Taken aback by the formal address, Isabel stared at her friend. “Emma, I’ve not changed because I have a husband.”
“It’s hard not to see you in a different light now that you’re married to Lord Chetwynd.”
Isabel poked her friend with her elbow and was rewarded with a giggle. “I don’t feel any different, Emma,” she said, frowning at her friend. “I hope I can live up to the person I’m supposed to be.”
“You’ll do just fine.” Emma glanced over at Lord Chetwynd as he conferred with his second-in-command. “He looks a robust man, Isabel. I predict he will be heating up your bed before many nights have passed.”
Isabel’s face warmed at her friend’s words, and she prayed the others nearby were too busy to notice the exchange. She wondered what Emma would think if she told her friend about seeing Chetwynd removing his clothes at the pond. She couldn’t help smiling at what Emma might ask or say about that revelation.
Emma hadn’t missed her sly grin. “What?” she asked.
“Nothing. Has Father Ivo approached you? He said he’d give you lessons.”
Emma’s eyes lit up. “Yes, and he said to bring the babe. I hope it’s not too difficult for me to learn.”
“When you get tired of trying to follow the words, just ask him a few questions about his days with King Charles. He’ll start telling you tales of his days at court.”
The friends embraced one more time, and Emma helped Isabel onto her horse. Lord Chetwynd approached them, making it clear he intended to ride beside her. A lump formed in Isabel’s throat as she watched Emma move away.
Chetwynd distracted her, explaining the route they would be taking. The caravan was headed eastward to the Rhone River, and from there they would follow the river north.
“The road is in good condition,” he said. “It’s an ancient trade route first used by the Greeks and Romans, and later restored by Charlemagne. If the weather is good, and there are no unforeseen accidents, we should reach Aachen in two weeks.
