The troubadour's song (4 page)

Simon's eyes now rested on the faces of each of the town's representatives in turn. "Those of you who answer the questions put to you of the bishop's court will be spared. If you say you know nothing of heretics and are proven to be a liar, you will suffer the same,fate as unrecanting heretics themselves." He paused while his words sank in.

Finally, the mayor, a substantial-looking man of medium height, got to his feet and spoke. "We hear you, my lord, and we abide by the king's overlordship and to any he may appoint to govern our fair town."

He lifted up the heavy, clattering keys to the city gates and to the count's palace.

Simon stepped forward and took them from the solid burgher, whose well-trimmed beard and the hair curled beneath his ears now ruffled in the breeze. Simon handed the keys to the bishop and then knelt for a blessing.

Gaucelm itched for the ceremonies to be over. There was still much to be done, and he stole a glance back at the town above

them. A gentle slope rose from the market square up through the new town. Church spires, chimneys, and roofs rose toward the citadel at the top. He suddenly remembered the woman fleeing the battlefield, and something told him she was important. Gaucelm did not know himself to be prescient, but some sort of warning came to him.

As soon as the ceremonies were over and Simon mounted again, Gaucelm caught Simon's ear. "The citadel, my lord. Is it secure?"

"You saw our standards flying from its ramparts. The leaders we vanquished from the field surely will not take refuge there. I will not be so merciful if I find them in person."

"No, but there may be other persons there who we must not let slip away."

"Oh? And who might that be?"

"I'm not sure, my lord. But the counts' women may remain."

"Hmmm. You are right. I'm sure that my lieutenants will have arrested any nobility they have discovered there. We will question any such prisoners at once."

Gaucelm did not speak. But he knew the knights left to secure the castle could only arrest noblewomen if they knew them to be noble. He urged his horse a little faster, hoping Simon would keep up the pace.

When they entered the archway at the bottom of the citadel and dismounted in the courtyard, one of Simon's men came to report.

"We have secured the palace, my lord." The sergeant was a reliable enough man to Gaucelm's knowledge, plain thinking and honest, but not given to subtleties.

"Good. And who is in residence?" asked Simon.

"The count's wife, my lord, Marguerite Borneil. She awaits you in the great hall."

"Very good. Anyone else?"

The sergeant betrayed some puzzlement as he continued to

report. "She was with another lady when we found her, my lord. A friend who says she's from Rouen. She speaks French."

"I see. But you doubt her word?"

"It's not for me to judge, sir, but her accent is not northern."

"Ah, I see." Simon turned to Gaucelm. "Well now, this sounds interesting. We shall have to see who this French-speaking woman is. Come."

They followed the sergeant inside and up a circular staircase. Gaucelm blinked to accustom his eyes to the darkness of the tower, lit only by oil lamps in sconces placed at intervals along the curving stone wall. They came to a door guarded by several French soldiers who stood aside to let them pass.

As they passed through the small guard chamber beyond, Gaucelm began to pay closer attention. As Simon's chief advisor, Gaucelm made it his business to notice everything. One never knew when remembering some small fact would help them later. Whenever he moved through a palace such as this, he noted the passages, entries, and especially how many exits there were from a given place. And where enemies might hide. They'd been in and out of the citadel since yesterday, but Gaucelm was still aware of the dangers lurking in a place where they were not wanted.

The next door led them to the great hall, a large room now well lit by tall, pointed arched windows on one side of the room, green wooden shutters thrown outward on their iron hinges. The opposite wall was covered with painted wall hangings. The rushes on the floor had been freshened. Men-at-arms stood at attention at the edges of the room, guarding their prisoners, a small knot of women near one window.

Gaucelm walked the length of the room with Simon and then stopped before the women, some of whom were seated on stools. But two of them sat on the broad window seats. One stood at their approach, and the women on stools rose and walked a little distance off. While Simon addressed the lady of the castle, Gaucelm strove to see the other woman's face, which was in shadow.

A broad stripe of sunlight lay across her lap, and he would have taken her for a young man if he didn't know better. For the leggings and knee-length tunic she wore were the same as she'd worn on the battlefield. But a graceful hand lay atop the mantle that had been tossed aside and now trailed down the low steps leading to the window seat.

While Simon addressed Marguerite Borneil, whose simple clothing did nothing to hide her own nobility, Gaucelm continued to watch the face hidden in shadow in the recess of the window.

"Madam," said Simon. "I have word that you are the lady of the house."

"I am, my lord. And in my husband's absence I am castellan. While it is true that my husband is Count Raymond's man, he would wish me to be an honorable loser in this hateful war. I place my household in your hands, since I must. I give you my word we will prove reliable prisoners. I only beg mercy and not cruelty in your treatment of us."

"There will be no undue cruelty if you cooperate with us, madam. You are aware of my mission. I seek to assist the Holy Pope in eliminating heretics. You will be questioned and expected to hand over all heretics known to you, but I will leave it to the bishop and his court to conduct the investigations. I am here only to secure the castle."

Marguerite lifted a heavy ring of keys from the folds of her mantle. "Take these, my lord. We have nothing to hide."

Simon accepted the keys. "I thank you, my lady. I expect housing and food for my troops, and fodder for the horses. The town will give us supplies from the merchants as we need them."

Marguerite lifted a hand and the steward approached and bowed. "This is Pantier, my steward. He will see to all your needs. I will arrange a supper this evening in your honor."

While all this was going on a few paces from her, Allesandra watched warily from her seat by the window. Her jaws were still clenched in anger, for her plans had gone awry. No sooner had she ridden into the courtyard of the castle, than some of the French soldiers had commandeered her horse and marched her

into the castle as a prisoner. There'd been no time to change her clothing. Recognizing her for a woman, they'd put her under house arrest with Marguerite until the commander could appear and decide what to do with them.

She admired Marguerite's coolness in addressing the iron-willed, sly Simon de Montfort. For though the French commander was only of medium height and build, she sensed the icy fire in his veins and the heartless cruelty that lay just beneath his hauteur. His dark mustache and short, pointed beard emphasized his angular, haughty face.

There was a different quality to the knight who stood with de Montfort quietly observing everything with his alert, dark eyes fringed with dark eyelashes in a clean-shaven face. He'd removed his helmet and arming cap to reveal thick dark wavy hair that was cut below his ears. His broad brow spoke of intelligence. Well-proportioned eyebrows and a long, straight nose spoke of nobility, and pleasing lips remained shut until his commander spoke to him. But she was distracted from her observations by de Montfort, who now glanced about the room.

"I understand there is another woman of class present! Who might that be?"

Allesandra tensed.

The tall, dark knight now spoke in a musical baritone voice. "Here, my lord," he said, and gestured toward where Allesandra sat.

How did he know? she wondered. For she did not miss the nuance of victory in his tone. She was so startled by his words that her mouth parted in surprise and she straightened. Seeing that she would be better off confronting the two Frenchmen with her hastily concocted story than appearing recalcitrant, she rose from her seat and stepped down to join them. Marguerite introduced her the way they had planned.

"My lords, this is my cousin by marriage from Rouen, wife of the master mason of the cathedral there. She has been visiting me at this most unfortunate time."

Allesandra was fortunate that she spoke French. Like Mar-

guerite, she had been educated by a tutor who foresaw the day when the southerners, who spoke Provencal, might need to be conversant in French.

While the northern country had a name, France, the southern principalities had been too fragmented politically to call themselves any one regional name. However, the war had united the southern lords to a greater degree than before, and now they accepted the appellation Languedoc for convenience.

"Well, Gaucelm," said Simon, "a lady from Rouen. One of our own. A good Catholic no doubt."

She did not miss the challenge in his demanding voice, but she strained to appear unruffled. "Yes, my lord."

The knight called Gaucelm took a step nearer and spoke. "I have spent much time in Rouen. Perhaps I have seen the cathedral upon which this lady's husband works."

She felt her face warm. She had never set foot in Rouen, but called to mind drawings and illuminated pages of the cathedral that her tutor had shown her long ago.

"Perhaps, my lord."

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly and his eyes glimmered. But his challenge was not cruel like that of de Montfort.

"When I was there, the roof had not yet been raised, nor the spires completed. Tell me, is it finished now?"

"Not completely, my lord"

She had no idea, but she could lie about finishing touches even if this knight with the disconcerting presence attempted to trip her up.

Simon de Montfort interrupted. "And does this master mason have a name?"

Fortunately, Marguerite supplied a name, for Allesandra was too busy thinking up possible answers for the imposing Gaucelm, whose piercing eyes challenged her.

"My lord General, allow me to present Elisabeth Chavanne. Her husband is a cousin of my husband's," said Marguerite.

Gaucelm had not taken his eyes off Allesandra, who struggled

to lower her gaze and curtsy to the French commander. The sooner she and Marguerite were left alone, the better. But she feared they would be kept under guard, and she would have no way to escape. Every moment she remained here placed her own demesne in more danger. For she was certain that once Muret was secured, the French army would waste no time laying claim to the lands farther south and west toward the Pyrenees, which bordered on the kingdom of Aragon.

"I am honored, sir," she said, eyes still lowered.

"Hmmm," uttered Simon. "If you are, as you say, no enemy of King Philip of France, then I have no reason to restrain you. It is odd, however, to find a French woman from the North residing here in the south at such a time. Such sympathizers with the southern nobility are rare. And in man's dress at that."

"She was mounted and on the field, my lord," said Gaucelm. "I saw her this morning."

Allesandra was startled. How could he have noticed her when he was busy directing an attack? But she did not deny it.

"I see." Simon de Montfort clasped his gloved hands behind his back. His boot scraped on the rush-covered plank floor as he came to stand more directly in front of her. "So, a northern lady who takes so much interest in a battle as to be present when our forces attacked. On which side was she fighting, Gaucelm?"

"She was riding for the river when I saw her, my lord."

Gaucelm had not precisely answered Simon's question, and Allesandra quickly took advantage of it.

"I can easily explain my ride this morning, my lord. I had been out helping a sick forester and his wife since yesterday. I had no knowledge of the attack until I came upon the armies by the river. When you saw me, I was no doubt engaged in trying to cross the river to get out of harm's way."

She allowed herself a glance at Gaucelm. When their eyes met, she thought she saw a challenge flicker there. Her story gave her more courage, but the heartless Simon de Montfort quickly threatened her again.

"How noble of you," he said, crossing in front of Gaucelm. "Then again, perhaps you were in the forest ministering to heretics."

Three

Allesandra lifted her chin. It was on the tip of her tongue to strike back with a venomous insult, for she did not like this Simon de Montfort. Under normal circumstances Marguerite would not stand for having one of her guests insulted thus. But they were prisoners of war. Already their tangle of lies might end up strangling them if they did not find a way for Allesandra to escape back to her own home. So she tempered her words with a false sweetness.

"My lord, if the people in the forest are heretics, it is their business, and they hardly shared their beliefs with me."

"Hmmm, perhaps. Well, I'm afraid I cannot remain here to discuss these matters. Gaucelm, these women are under house arrest. They may move about the castle freely, but they may not communicate with anyone outside until the bishop has seen them. I leave you to make arrangements with Lady Borneil for the garrisoning of our men here. I must give orders regarding booty."

Gaucelm nodded and Simon turned to bow to the ladies. "I accept your invitation to supper, my lady."

Then he turned on his heel and marched back through the hall. His guards held the doors for him to pass through.

"Does this inconvenience come as a surprise to madam?" Gaucelm asked Allesandra.

There was still that annoying challenge to his otherwise attractive voice.

"I—" Allesandra hesitated Then with stronger words, she stated her true feelings. "Time was when a woman could travel

safely with only a few retainers, and go on journeys and pilgrimages. Now armies march across the land, and one must fear for one's safety."