She served, or ordered Hyatt’s table to be served first, then the English knights, then the knights of De la Noye who were now workers, and finally the castlefolk who took their meals in the hall. Her step was slower, but her vision more acute than ever.
When she had returned Derek to his mother’s rooms, Perrine was there to take him. Faon was not in evidence in the chamber. The boy’s leg had been bandaged, and Perrine surprised Aurélie with the news that within Faon’s modest household there was a woman who was skilled in healing. She was old and doddering, but carried many herbs, balms, odd samplings of roots, weeds, and animal parts for her use in creating new cures. Why, Aurélie wondered, had Hyatt brought the boy to her? Aurélie’s own skills with tending the injured or sick were very modest. She had learned a few things from Perrine, and while not afraid to try her best on any malady, she did not experience a great deal of success. It was for that reason that whenever there was a visitor, a troubadour, juggler, aristocrat, monk—anyone from another town—she questioned them about remedies they used.
Why did Faon’s woman fail to share her healing skills with the rest of the castle? Those who knew the arts of tending the sick or hurt were usually a generous lot who held themselves above taking sides, but applied their talents to anyone in need. That was the way of her people … but perhaps not the English.
She waited until she was satisfied that the room was served before taking her place beside Hyatt. She met with Faon’s hostile glare briefly, then turned her eyes to her plate. The food was tasteless to her, the conversations going on all about her sounded distant and garbled. In her mind, as in her heart, there was a faint thudding like a faraway drum, and all else was dark.
A month, she thought vaguely. A month gone, many to come, and I am too confused to make sense of all this.
“Pass the lady wine,” Hyatt commanded.
She did not look up and he impatiently filled her goblet. She took a modest slice of meat, tore off a fistful of soft bread, and lazily swirled the gravy around her bowl.
“What ails you?” Hyatt asked harshly.
“I am tired, milord,” she said, sighing.
“Only tired? What bites at you now?”
She sighed and looked at him. “There is nothing, Hyatt,” she whispered.
Hyatt covered his displeasure by lifting his cup. He ate his fill, drank liberally, but his eyes were drawn to Aurélie more often than he liked. He was deeply troubled by her peculiar slowness, quietness, professed tiredness. Before even questioning her, he had noticed the way her head bent lower than usual, and not in a posture of obedience, but almost sadness. Her eyes seemed focused on a distant point, and she stared unseeing.
Hyatt had seen her beaten, raised up, chastised, praised. He had seen fury rage in her blue eyes, just as he had witnessed their sparkle when she had cleverly foiled Faon. And he had seen her moist, parted lips in the aftermath of passion. What he saw on this night was entirely new. It was a draining of the spirit. He had not counted on anything, her tenacity, her wisdom, her subjugation, her joy; but he had believed there would always be spirit. He had learned to recognize it in the men he trained and had seen it in very few women. It was like a candle glowing behind a drape; a light that shone from within that nothing could extinguish.
When the platters and bowls were emptied, Aurélie supervised the cleaning of the tables and floors. She loosed the hounds to pick up the scraps and sent the boys for dry wood, though a blazing hearth was unnecessary. Dying torches were replaced with new ones and pitchers were filled for one last cup of ale. The sun went out like a doused flame and darkness subdued the activity in the room. She took a place beside Guillaume on a bench and asked him if he was well, if he had any needs. Her voice was painfully soft.
Before Guillaume could answer, Hyatt stood before them. Many of the knights, squires, and pages had begun to leave the hall to seek out either late night chores or bed.
“Guillaume, your seneschal, has worked with me for many days,” Hyatt said to his wife. “His talents far surpass simple warring skills.”
Aurélie looked up at him. “A seneschal has more to do than hold the wall, my lord. During times of battle, Sir Guillaume fights well, but when there is no siege, he has managed the castle and selected the archers and guards. Every chore in De la Noye must be understood by a castellan.”
Hyatt pulled a stool from nearby to sit with them. “You work well, even now,” Hyatt said to the older knight. “Though I think I know the reason. Like your mistress, you work for De la Noye and not for me. How long has it been since you have resided in the seneschal’s house?”
“Since your coming, my lord,” Guillaume replied.
“Where do you sleep?”
“In the rooms behind the stable.”
“And your wife?”
“She is ordered to Mistress Faon.”
“Where does she sleep?”
Guillaume shrugged, confused by the questioning. “On a pallet on the floor in her anteroom, to be close when called.”
“Perhaps you would like your home again,” Hyatt offered.
Guillaume stiffened slightly and even Aurélie tensed. She worried that it was too much to ask Guillaume to defend De la Noye on Hyatt’s behalf. “My lord, I should like a room with my woman, but I cannot pledge fealty to Edward of England.”
“Did I ask it of you? You should hear me out, Guillaume, before you decide I am a fool. Can you pledge fealty to Lady Aurélie?”
“I did that many years past, and hold the oath as sacred.”
“So be it. On the morrow I must take a troop northwest toward Limoges to judge the progress and mayhap lend aid to Edward’s armies. I shall leave Sir Girvin to protect the hall, but I do not wish to overtax him with Aurélie’s protection. Yet this you have attempted for a dozen years and, most times, done well. If I give you personal arms, will you guard her?”
“Hyatt, I am safe in my own …”
“Will you?” Hyatt asked Guillaume, cutting her off.
“Yea, Sir Hyatt. That is my wish even if you do not ask it of me.”
“Good. Know these things; should you decide to escape, go far and fast, for I have good horses and can find you. Aurélie might be brought home, but it would be over for you and Perrine. If you allow another near her, if another man touches her in my absence, ’tis treason and wives are killed for the crime. And finally, if you plot against my rule of the castle while I am away, I will take De la Noye again, and I will take her with much more violence than before. Do you understand?”
“ ’Tis only Lady Aurélie I would serve and protect, Sir Hyatt. I do not have the means to fight you … or pledge to you. But I can pledge to the lady herself.”
Hyatt chuckled lightly, checking eyes with Aurélie. She held confusion in hers. “Guillaume, I swear it is the first time I have been relieved to hear someone assure me they will not pledge to me. Forsooth, I could not trust your oath to me, but I think you will do right by her. And ’tis best for her that things proceed as they are.” He stood from his stool. “The planting does not require me, the horses to be pastured for mating are selected, and apart from hunting parties that Sir Girvin will command, I am freed to go about my duties for Edward. Be it a week or a month, serve the lady’s needs and upon my return, you shall have your house and Perrine.” He held out a hand to Aurélie. “Come. I am not at ease when you whisper with your old castellan.”
She went with him to the stair, allowing herself the luxury of looking over her shoulder to give a quick smile to Guillaume.
Until learning that he would leave De la Noye, it had not occurred to her to question him. Once in their chamber, she studied him as he removed his clothing and carefully placed it away.
“Why do you reward Guillaume?”
“Reward him? You misunderstood. I gave him a weighty chore.”
“But you will give him the seneschal’s home, and Perrine.”
“ ’Tis his home,” Hyatt shrugged. “I have displaced as few as pos
sible.”
“The seneschal’s is the richest single home in the keep. What of Girvin?”
“He is happier with the horses. Girvin prefers to ride and would not stay behind now, but that I insist. And Guillaume knows each nook of this place.”
“Perhaps you should have wed him, Hyatt.”
Hyatt threw back his head and laughed heartily. “A worthy notion, woman, but I think he would not bring me as much pleasure in the dark of night.” He looked at her squarely, but she did not even smile. “You, however, have proven lively sport … when you forget yourself.”
His hand ventured near and she turned away from him, taking a few steps to put distance between them and then, facing him again. “Sir Hyatt, did you bring your son to me for tending, or was it another trick you play?”
“Trick? The boy was badly hurt … and, I think, maliciously.”
“You thought I did it?”
“I did not accuse you.”
“But you brought him directly to me, when there is a woman in Mistress Faon’s service who is more skilled than I. Was it to see if I would show my guilt upon spying the injury? Did you expect me to fall before you in shame? Hyatt … do you think I could do such a thing … to a baby?”
Hyatt did not answer, but kept his gaze level with hers.
“Hyatt, do you love Mistress Faon?” she asked brazenly.
“Nay,” he replied easily, void of emotion.
“Do you love me?”
“Nay.”
“Why do you keep her here?”
He raised a brow. “Do you know the answer, chérie?”
“Aye.” She lifted her chin. “You set us apart, placing yourself in the middle, and you wait to see who will win.” She shook her head. “You will be disappointed. I shall not enter the fight, Sir Hyatt.”
He took two steps toward her. He touched her cheek with a finger. “You misjudge me again. If Faon thinks to fight for me, it is a useless battle. And I do not wish for you to pierce your own heart with love for me. I shall not pity you, but watch it bleed. In time you will understand my ways. I am capable of truth and honor, and my word is as good as hard silver, but I do not love women. It is beyond me.” He cocked his head. “But I have found, chérie, that oath and honor are more valuable than love. Be grateful that I grant you these.”
“You do not even pretend to trust me.”
“ ’Twould do you a grave disservice to offer you trust and thus place my life in your hands. It would make me weak, and I am not certain you know how to handle that kind of power. Nay, I do not trust you. Neither am I so suspicious that I must keep you chained to be sure of you.”
“A man who lives without love and trust is weak, Hyatt. Not the other way around.”
“My ways serve me well enough.”
“Truly? And what about your son?”
His face darkened as if a cloud passed between him and the sun, but it was night and only two candles lit their room.
“A son is worthy of all these things: love, trust, honor, oath, and silver. A son does not pass a fickle moment when love is lost, as with a woman. A son takes his father’s name, heart, arm, and hews of these things a life. Yea, Aurélie, I love my son. And I suppose I will love more sons. Even yours.”
Aurélie winced slightly at the slur, but the words confused her. “Hyatt,” she said softly, “if there is love between a father and son, why is it not possible for a man to love a woman? Especially the woman who would bear children to your name? Why, then, do you call yourself bastard, when Lord Lavergne tells of your true family?”
His eyes were as dark as a starless night. “I have found many loyalties possible between men, until women twist their hearts with jealous fingers. There is great loyalty possible between father and son unless stabbed and torn by a woman’s treachery. I shall not fall prey to such, for I shall not place my promises to my son in any woman’s hands—not yours or Faon’s. In my experience, it is the woman who cannot remain true, and in her wrath, separates even fathers and sons.”
He turned his back on her and went to sit before the fire, occupying a stool and staring into the flames. He did not acknowledge her as she put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You have either known too many women, sir knight, or too few.”
Chapter Seven
Hyatt rode with forty men and left sixty behind. They traveled with purposeful slowness along the best roads to judge the lie of the land and to keep approaching armies in sight. The worst of the fighting was north of Limoges and in Aquitaine the English now had a strong foothold. Still, Hyatt’s army passed through little sects of houses that were dusted with the aftermath of a ruthless army’s passage.
He halted his troop before a group of six partially standing houses and a burned barn. A dozen ragged peasants hid fearfully behind the rubble. Hyatt could see no evidence of farming tools, stock, weapons, or even cookery pots. “Come out and name yourselves. We mean you no harm; there is nothing here and I have no desire to kill defenseless serfs.”
A long moment passed before an elderly man appeared. He approached Hyatt warily, the others staying well away from the monstrous, horsed knights. The man was dressed in ragged chausses and a dirty and torn tunic, and used a staff for walking. But he wore a sculptured silver beard that spoke of some previous prosperity. That and a glitter in his intelligent eyes were the only signs Hyatt had to read.
“Is this your village?” Hyatt asked.
The man’s lips curled in a bitter smile. “Where do you see a village, sir knight?”
“Are you bound to Edward or John?”
“I was bound to my family and Guienne, and there is much brutal discussion about whose land this is. Yesterday this belonged to France, today to England, tomorrow … perhaps Rome.”
“To England, now and forever, old man.”
“Yea, that is what I am told.” He looked at the rubble behind him. “I was told by the man who left us this, that England claims it.” He spat in the dust. “You will rend a hearty tithe from this.”
Hyatt leaned down and stared closely into the old man’s eyes. “You should have surrendered and pledged, old fool, and perhaps something would be left for you.”
The man threw back his head and let go with a wicked laugh. “Hah! Do you see a wall or bridge? A castle or donjon? Do you think this meager lot was ready to raise scythes to fight the English strangers? We are farmers. We are decent folk with no time for the arguments of kings, popes, and knights. I met the force at the cross in the road and pleaded for mercy. They burned everything that stood, slew everything with two legs, and led away everything with four legs. Your English brother has a fine pot of chicken brewing in some war camp, and yonder we have buried a score of babies.”
Hyatt straightened in his saddle. “How many resided here?”
“Over fifty.”
“And how did you survive?”
“We fled, O great knight. We hid ourselves deep in the wood and came back when there was no more smoke. No one was left to live and there is nothing with which to rebuild. How does England hope to profit from this conquered land? Do you sell the bones of the dead and drink their blood?”
Hyatt bristled slightly at the sarcasm, but did not let it show. Yet he despised the carnage that he saw for the very reason the man had named. It had been a foolish tactic to level the land and people to this degree, when a clever knight could use them well. Even this little village, though a minor quest, could wrest pâtis payment of a few livres in exchange for the protection of the nearest men-at-arms. Buried in crude mounds behind the ash there were probably boys who would have made decent pages and squires and girls who would have worked and bred more.
Here lay a common mistake of men bred for fighting. Chevachie, total war, was useful in its place. A king could be ruined as his lands were destroyed and nothing was left from which he could wring a tax or tithe. It was a method painfully learned by the English knights at war with the Scots, and the battle tactic had depleted the French king’s stores, m
aking France more vulnerable to Edward’s onslaught.
But there was also a code of honor among the knights—that death would not occur upon surrender. Pillage would be the reward of conquerors till the end of time and all valuables were fair game, but with life the people could rebuild. The man who destroyed this village could have had all the booty he could carry without killing almost the entire town. It was, with some, like a parasite in the blood, a heat to slay the enemy, whether in a fair contest or otherwise. The sad fact was that women and children were frequently sacrificed when the men of the town raised up arms in a fight already lost, but Hyatt was more than wary of a man who would kill a child for the sheer love of murder. Yet it was a defect quite often overlooked if armies were engaged in a serious war.
He knew it was useless to chafe at the misdeed, for this was a common malady within the knighthood of men. He had known many who bragged at the flow of blood they could leave on the dirt, then bemoaned their lack of coin when the wreckage they claimed did not produce. Only a few had the true principles of lords; the hard-learned ethics necessary for good leaders in high places. Few men could feel a victor’s zeal unless they had slain many.
Hyatt meant to draw his winnings from a full purse, not a pile of ash.
“Do you remember the arms of the English knight?”
“Yea, he carried two snakes on a lily. And unlike you, only one in his troop had the Gascon tongue. He commanded his men in Anglo-Norman.”
“He took no prisoners?”
The man hung his head, sad rather than angry for the first time. “Everyone is accounted for,” he murmured with a catch in his voice.
Hyatt knew, as did those men who rode with him, that the knight to destroy the village was the same one they rode toward. Sir Hollis Marsden had been bound toward Limoges, where a keep of great strength and wealth was rumored to be unconquered. Hollis meant to add that parcel to his conquests and gain much of the king’s favor, for he almost always won in battle and seemed to be rich enough to supply good armaments to his men and their squires. But Hollis’s wealth would be depleted soon if this was how he used his weapons and soldiers.