The troubadour's song (21 page)

could not have seen what had happened on the other side of the wall, she told him, "Simon de Montfort has fallen. He's being taken away by his men."

The soldier gave her a look of admiration and awe.

"I know it, madam," he said. "I pulled myself up to my feet to see just after you dropped the weight. Simon de Montfort was hit, and it was you who fired the shot."

They had won the day. The French were flung back. From her position on the wall, Allesandra saw Gaucelm take de Montfort's pennant and carry it, leading the men in retreat. The siege was lifted. Toulouse was saved.

Just how badly de Montfort was hurt, they did not know, but now other men-at-arms came along to where Allesandra stood. A bowman who'd been firing above her on the turret shouted as he descended the outer stairway.

"There she is!" he cried, pointing to Allesandra. "That's her. She fired the shot that took de Montfort from the field."

Jean de Batute appeared in the crowd and lifted offhis helmet. He was grimy and covered with blood, but little of his own.

"My lady, is this true? Were you operating this mangonella? For surely it was a great stone that hit the enemy general and turned the sortie into a rout. You are the heroine of the day."

She was at once lifted onto their shoulders and carried down the spiral stairs and out into the courtyard before the walls. There the word had spread that this was the woman who fired the shot that took down the great French general. She stared at the crowd waving and cheering her.

"I was unhorsed," Jean said, when they at last set her down. "But I saw the Raymonds chasing after the French. How far they will chase them and what vengeance they will take we cannot know until they return. But it is a great day. My lady, you will be remembered in history for your actions." And he knelt before her.

Allesandra was too stunned to find words. Everything since she'd bound the soldier's wound had passed around her as if unreal. She remembered being determined to do her part to throw

off the French, to prove herself a worthy vassal of her lord, the count. She had no idea just how great would be the consequences.

"I cannot believe it," she finally said. "Let us pray that Count Raymond and his son have continued good luck."

As the wounded were attended, and the dead carried to their families, Allesandra went among the people to help with the wounded. The townspeople worked into the evening. Torches lit the streets and market square by the time she retired to her chamber to wash the grime and blood from her limbs. She replaced the torn chemise, put on a clean gown, and dressed her hair.

When she went down to the hall, Christian and Jean gave her the news at once.

"Madam," said Jean. "We've just heard. Simon de Montfort is dead. He died instantly from the blow of the stone you fired from the mangonella on the wall. You fired the shot that killed him."

Thirteen

Allesandra stared at them, her lips parted to speak, but she found no words. Jean had been among those who'd ridden out with young Raymond to vanquish the French. He'd lost his horse but fought hand-to-hand at the gate. Peire and Christian had helped chase the French soldiers across the plains with the Raymonds and Christian had brought back the news.

"We ran into unexpected reinforcements," he said. "The count of Foix was just coming to our aid, and when his men saw the French fleeing, he closed in on their flanks. More of the French army went down. The knights we captured to be ransomed told us that de Montfort is dead."

At the mention of knights captured for ransom, her heart fluttered uneasily in her chest. And she still had not fully ab-

sorbed the fact that she herself had killed the general of the crusading army.

"Don't you see what this means?" said Christian. "We have broken the back of the crusade. The men with de Montfort had completed their obligatory forty days of service, and at the news that their general is dead, they will make for their homes."

"Surely they will not just all leave," said Allesandra. "There are other worthy leaders among them." She tried not to show her own guilt in regard to the one she knew.

"That may be true," replied Christian. "But none with the passion and greed for the crusade that de Montfort had."

Passion and greed, she reflected. Perhaps that was true. Gaucelm was proud to have won his lands, but would he stay and fight to hold them now that his general was dead? She remembered how he had spoken of loyalty. He would gladly do what the king of France and what Simon de Montfort asked of him. But did he care to lead a crusade? If she knew him at all, she thought he would weigh the possibilities of any move he made before he committed more men to his plans. She would have to wait and see. But first she must find out his whereabouts.

"Gaucelm Deluc," she said, deciding that her companions would find it logical that she should ask of him, since he had been in control of her demesne. "What of him?"

"Not among those captured, which is too bad," said Christian. "For he comes from very good family, close to the French king. Surely he would be worth a fine ransom."

"Yes, a pity," she said, trying to hide her mixed feelings. "If he is not captured, then where is he? Will he circle round to take refuge in my castle, I wonder?"

"There is that chance," said Jean, "which is why we must ride at once to see you safely reinstalled there. Your old garrison can be gathered from among the forces here. If Gaucelm Deluc returns, we will be there to give him a good fight."

She agreed that they must ride as soon as feasible. If there was a chance for her to regain her lands, she must not waste a moment. "How soon can we be off?"

"We must let men and horses rest. But we can rise two hours before the bells of the churches ring prime and be a good way along the road by dawn. Deluc's forces will have to rest as well."

"Very well. I will make the preparations."

Then she reached out to take each of them by the arm and look gratefully into their loyal faces. "My friends," she said with much emotion, "I thank you for this."

"My lady," Jean said with a smile upon his battle-stained face. "It is nothing. A good troubadour never refuses aid to a damsel in distress."

She smiled at his words. "I suppose one could say that I am in distress."

"Indeed," replied Jean. "Until we regain your lands for you, one could say so."

She exchanged kisses with them both, cheek-to-cheek. Their devotion touched her. She was the traitor, for even now Gau-celm's fate concerned her as much as her own life. Even for that, she would never back down from attempting to regain her lands. That much was bred into her. But as she left her two heroes to go and pack for the journey, she sent up a small prayer for Gaucelm's safety, hoping her thoughts would reach him, wherever he was.

After a rest, Allesandra and her little band of men-at-arms rode through the next day and into the night. When they crested the hill for their first view of the castle the following evening, Allesandra held her breath. No French pennant hung from the battlements.

The gatehouse stood open to their entrance where they found many of her household guard back on their posts.

"What has happened?" she asked her steward Julian, who hurried out to greet them in the courtyard. He explained the circumstances as grooms came to care for the horses.

"After you left, my lady, Gaucelm Deluc took a corps of men to answer de Montfort's call, leaving only a small garrison here.

When news reached us of Toulouse, your own men who had sworn fealty to Deluc at a time when it was expedient, arose to overthrow the French sergeants who were in charge. They surrendered immediately on the condition that they be allowed to retreat and join their general in the field. We let them go because Deluc had not been unduly cruel to us."

"Then the demesne is once again in our hands. Oh, thank you, Julian. Send the men to me in the morning. I want to personally thank every one of them who arose on my behalf."

"As you wish, madam."

"Oh, Jean, Christian, I can hardly believe it."

"The tides of fortune have turned then," said Jean. "The French are retreating—at least, so it seems."

He glanced about the walls at the towers as if suspicious that some of the treacherous Frenchmen might still be lying in ambush for them.

"We must learn what has happened elsewhere tomorrow," she said. "It is too much to hope that this hateful crusade is over. Do you really believe that the death of one man can mean so much?"

"Simon de Montfort was a great general," said Christian. "France will be lost without him. Few other men accomplished as much as he with such small forces. Few other men had his eye for enemy weakness and his ability to make quick decisions, his courage, and his tenacity. He was the reason our people have struggled and lost ground these two years."

She thought, but did not say, that those decisions had been aided by his comrade Gaucelm Deluc. But as to whether Gaucelm would take up the staff of the crusade himself, she thought not. He was a leader, respected by his men. He was an adventurer, yes. But he did not have the ruthless quality of a de Montfort.

"Perhaps you are right," she agreed at last. "We are free of them ... for now."

"And the other counts surely will drive away the French on their doorstep," added Jean. "The only man strong enough to bring another crusade south is King Philip himself, and rumor

has it he has spent his treasury on his wars with England. It is doubtful he can come south without funds from somewhere. Yes, I think we are safe for now."

"Safe," said Allesandra, full of relief and touched by the loyalty of her knights.

And yet of her beloved enemy, she wondered. Even now her traitorous heart pined for him. Her body yearned for a touch that once known, she would never be able to forget.

She trembled to think that her victory had cost her his love. Could life really be so cruel?

"I wish to be alone now," she said to her good friends. "I am very tired."

"Rest well, my lady," said Jean. "You have earned a good sleep."

She left them and climbed the stairs. Tonight she would sleep in the great chamber as was her right. And there she found Isa-belle and Marcia making the room ready with fresh linens. Herbs scented the room, and the oil lamps had freshly trimmed wicks, which gave a soft glow to the room. Marcia dropped another log onto the fire.

"My lady," said Isabelle, coming to curtsy before her. Marcia did likewise. Both of them smiled in great relief.

"We are glad to see you safe at home at last," said Marcia.

She kissed them both and let them help her out of her clothing. They brought ewer, basin, and towels, and when she had bathed, they dressed her in a comfortable gown for lounging. She had to admit it felt good to be pampered again after the battle and the hard ride.

"I am anxious to tell you all the news," she said to her companions, "but tomorrow. I am very tired now."

"That is to be expected, my lady," said Marcia. "But we have heard that you are a heroine."

"And the French soldiers vanquished from here," added Isabelle. "Our guard here was very quick thinking to act in concert."

"I am very glad for that," said Allesandra.

"Now we will leave you. Sleep well." Isabelle gave a great

sigh and shook her head as if giving expression to these trying times.

After they left her, Allesandra sat down before the fire to contemplate. So much had happened. She stared at the fire a long time, reliving the events of the past few days in her mind. She finally dozed where she sat in the chair, but was awakened by the clatter of horses into the courtyard and got up to open the shutters.

Below two horsemen were dismounting. With their mantles about them, she could not tell who they were. However, after they'd exchanged words with sleepy grooms and headed toward the tower entrance, she thought she recognized Peire Bellot from the bulk of him. But the other horseman was still hooded when they went in the door.

She moved toward the bed, still drowsy, and turned back the covers. Not thinking that the two men would want to speak with her tonight, she was surprised when there was a light knock, and a voice called out, "My lady, are you awake?"

Befuddled, she walked to the door. "Peire? Is that you. I saw you . . ."

She opened the door and then stood, mouth agape. Peire and Christian did indeed enter, but in their wake was none other than Gaucelm, himself. She came instantly awake, while he looked around the room as if to ascertain that they were alone. Then he pointed to the open shutters, and Christian went to close them.

She stared at them. "How is this possible?"

"He ambushed me, my lady," said Peire, though none too loud in case any curious guards stood outside the door. "We had chased the French from the field with Count Raymond. I was pursuing a few knights through the forest. The growth got too thick to move quickly, so I had to slow down. This man dropped from the trees and pulled me from my horse, holding a knife to my throat. I have to say it would have been impossible, but that he surprised me."

The big knight looked sheepish that he had been bested by the clever Frenchman.

"I did not harm your friend," said Gaucelm. "I needed him for a hostage. I knew the instant the general was dead that our cause was lost. We had to retreat. But not before I came to see you, my lady. I owed you that much."

He moved near to her but then clenched his gauntleted fist. She saw at once that he had not revealed to the troubadours just what their relationship was. Fortunately, she was too stunned to give anything away. She managed to find her voice.

"I am surprised, but I thank you for not harming your . . . hostage."

"Your men at the gatehouse knew my name and my voice," said Peire. "And so we were admitted. Glad I was to see the castle was back in our hands, anyway."

She glanced at her two friends, who stood frowning. She knew that they were not about to leave her alone with Gaucelm Deluc until she ordered them away. The situation brought a smile to her lips, which she managed to turn to an expression of relief that all were safe.