The troubadour's song (9 page)

Gaucelm turned away from the bed to let his eyes circle the richly laid-out room. This castle was his reward for his loyal service to Count Simon, and it was well deserved. France needed to be made stronger still, and the conquest of the Languedoc would achieve that. The Church had made a crusade against heresy profitable.

There was a knock on the door. "Enter!" he called.

Enselm showed in a man of bronze far-eastern coloring and aged features. "The doctor, sire."

Gaucelm motioned to the bed, and the doctor went to examine Allesandra. In another moment, two women entered the room. The younger one of pale coloring and quick, frightened movements stifled a squeal by covering her mouth with her hand. The older, more solid matron frowned at the bed, but then evidently seeing that the doctor was making his examination, grasped the younger woman's other hand and guided her to the other side of the bed, where they waited. The older woman frowned in concern at her mistress, whose eyes were still closed, while the younger one looked as if at any moment she would join the lady of the castle in a faint.

Enselm joined Gaucelm near the fireplace and the two men exchanged hushed words.

"Fainted," said Gaucelm. "Overcome by her efforts. No doubt she'll recover. Is your search proceeding in orderly fashion?"

"Yes, sire," said the sergeant. "I've done as you instructed. The men understand there's to be no looting."

"That's good. I will reward them later."

Gaucelm continued thinking aloud to his trusted vassal. "I see no reason to destroy castle and lands that are now ours. This southern wealth will strengthen France. Make sure that if there are any infringements, no matter how minor, they are brought to my attention."

Behind them on the bed, Allesandra was beginning to stir. The doctor stood back and put his smelling salts into his cloth bag. He turned to address them.

From campaigning these two years in the south, Gaucelm now understood some Provencal. Although the dark-skinned doctor's speech was touched with an Arabic accent, his meaning was clear enough.

"The lady needs rest and nourishment, my lord. I'll prepare a sleeping draught for her woman to give her. She should not exert herself until she regains some strength."

"Very well," said Gaucelm. Then to the women, "Have her

bed made ready in the women's quarters. I'll bring her to you there."

The women scurried off to prepare, and Enselm escorted the doctor out. When the door closed, Gaucelm returned to Allesan-dra's side. She gazed up at him with heavy eyelids and moved one arm as if preparing to get up. He reached out and touched her shoulder, gently holding her back.

"Rest easy, my lady. The doctor has instructed that you are not to exert yourself. You need to rest."

She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again, allowing her eyelids to fall shut. She was not asleep, he could tell, only resting, regaining her strength. The glow from oil lamps and firelight cast a honey-colored halo about her. Even thus clad, he thought her beautiful. He resisted the impulse to touch her face again, but remembered its texture and the way the soft, thick hair curled about his fingers.

For an instant ... but then he pushed the thought away. They were enemies. In the morning she would be forced to turn over to him records, keys, acquaint him with the running of this estate. She would not like it, but he dearly hoped she would be cooperative. He did not want to use extreme measures. If he forced her, she would be harder to control later. And such was not his way.

But business could wait until tomorrow. At the moment he gazed at her lovely face. Then her eyes opened again.

Allesandra looked up to see the dark, handsome face staring down at her. His broad shoulders, clad now in tunic and loose-sleeved surcoat, looked nonetheless more powerful than when she'd first seen him in mail hauberk and brightly colored sleeveless surcoat. Thick, dark hair framed his brow and fell below his ears. By virtue of conquering her house guard, this man was now her lord, but she would never let those words rise to her lips.

"My soldiers," she croaked.

He straightened, relief that she had spoken now replaced with businesslike fierceness.

"Two were killed. There were some injuries. But your Arabic

doctor and his minions have been busy seeing to them. They are under house arrest in the tower but shall have provisions."

She felt the emotions twist inside her. How could it have happened so easily? All that she held of the Count of Toulouse, a good and just feudal overlord who was also a friend, now slipped from her grasp into the hands of these enemies! She shut her eyes again. Right now she was powerless, but she would wait and plot, send word to Raymond. They would overthrow the French. But she struggled to present a calm expression. Gaucelm Deluc must not see any of this.

"And the bishop's inquisitors, when will they come?"

He glanced at her quickly. "Are you so anxious to be questioned?"

She closed her lips, a muscle twitching in her cheek. Gaucelm gazed at her face and then lifted himself off the bed and stepped down.

"Let us not consider such matters tonight. I will take you to your chambers where your women will help you to bed. Rest well tonight, madam. Tomorrow is time enough to discuss the future."

Her eyes flew around the chamber that had been hers until now, but she said nothing. She was too proud for petty argument; she would spend her breath only where it mattered.

"If you are ready, I will take you now."

She attempted to rise, but he put out a hand.

"You are still weak. I will carry you."

She opened her mouth to protest, but his strong arms had already slid under her and she could not help but grasp his shoulder for support. She had not been in a man's arms since her husband had died, and the sudden feel of muscular flesh affected her.

She blamed it on the dizziness of her faint. But when she lifted her left arm to clasp her own hand about his neck, her fingers brushed his hair. His face was dangerously near hers, and she felt her heart turn over in her chest. A sudden grief penetrated

her heart, and the weakness of her state overcame her. She bit her lips and hid her face in his shoulder, giving up the struggle.

Gaucelm, too, responded to the feel of the woman he carried in his arms. As he'd gazed at her lying so helplessly on the bed, his body had told him that he found her desirable. He knew he should not consider her feelings in any way. She was his captive, her property was now his. But Gaucelm was a courtier and found the seduction of a woman more pleasant if done in a civilized manner.

He entered the women's quarters and carried Allesandra to a bed they had made ready. Nearby, a brazier filled with coals warmed the room. As he placed her there, he laid her head on a tapestried pillow, and her eyelids fluttered weakly.

"She is awake," he said to her female attendants, "but weak. See that she gets rest and nourishment."

Then he turned on his heel and retreated.

Allesandra was beginning to revive, but waited until the door shut before she roused herself.

"My lady," said the young blond Marcia Pruniaux, "are you all right?" She flung herself to her knees, grasping the bed covers.

Allesandra raised herself to lean on pillows they tucked under her back and shoulders. She was feeling better now, and when the matronly Isabelle Beguinot handed her a cup of warm broth, she sipped it. How comforting to know that her old friends were here to aid her.

"I will be well," Allesandra answered, trying to smile reassuringly at the two women who leaned over her and who surely had much to tell her. Marcia frowned in concern as she knelt beside the bed.

"But tell me how the castle was taken," said Allesandra as she took a sip from the goblet of wine with the doctor's sleeping powder in it. "I must know."

Isabelle sat down on the edge of the bed, concerned first that her mistress would be well. Her tale was a matter-of-fact one,

told in a tone that could repeat harsh facts when the need was upon her.

"A single rider appeared at the gate this morning. He called to the gatekeeper that he had a message from you. The drawbridge was let down, and he was admitted. But he killed the gatekeeper before the watch knew what was happening. His companions had been hiding in the moat and came across the bridge to fight the other guards. In the confusion, the rest of Sir Gaucelm's men appeared out of the woods and flew across the meadow and drawbridge and into the courtyard."

Allesandra closed her eyes. "And then what happened?"

"There was a brief skirmish, but our men were outnumbered. Sir Gaucelm's men quickly ascended the towers and the walls, and when they were in his control, our guards had no choice but to surrender."

"They would have fought to the death," Marcia quickly put in in her high, young voice. "But this Sir Gaucelm ordered the fighting stopped and for our soldiers to throw down their weapons. Seeing as how it would accomplish nothing to keep on fighting, they finally did so."

"At least there was no slaughter," Allesandra said after a long sigh. "Still, I should have been here."

Isabelle patted her hand. "I doubt you could have done anything, my lady. It was a surprise attack, and we were outnumbered. Besides, you had gone to help Count Raymond."

Allesandra pressed her lips together grimly before replying, "I failed in that mission as well. The allies fled in disarray. At least Raymond and his son got away. Peter of Aragon was killed."

The other two women looked glum. Marcia went to the window and pulled the shutters against the chill of evening.

"They will have us all then, will they not?" she said.

Allesandra sat up a little straighter. "They will try to have us. But there is still hope."

Isabelle spoke. "They've already taken Beziers, Carcassonne, Lavaur. With Muret taken, they will threaten Toulouse next."

"They will not take Toulouse," said Allesandra fiercely. "It is

near the end of the campaigning season. They cannot hope to surround a city of twenty-five thousand people. And there can be no shortage of water in a city bordered by the Garonne. The only chance for Simon de Montfort's besiegers is that the Catholic citizens would open the gates for them. But he will find out that the people of Languedoc pay little attention to religious differences. Toulouse has struggled for a century to obtain independence. It will never accept the rule of an authoritarian bishop or a French count."

"But the fiefs of Toulouse are great," said Isabelle. "I am not sure the French will give up so easily."

"No," Allesandra conceded, "not easily."

"And what will you do now, my lady?" asked Marcia.

Allesandra clenched her fists. "I must act as this Gaucelm Deluc expects me to. If I cooperate with him, he will not execute me."

"What do you think he will want of you?" asked Marcia.

"My profits will go to his king, for one," said Allesandra. "But that is not the worst part."

"No," said Isabelle. "We will be descended upon by the bishop's inquisitors, no doubt. They will ask us if we are Cathar. If we say no, they will ask us who is. And if we lie, it will go very badly for us."

Allesandra's face burned. She lowered her voice as the coals in the brazier seemed to flicker. "That is true. We must act very quickly and cleverly if we are to protect those who need protecting. Perhaps we can help the believers find a safer place to meet if they insist on meeting."

"And how will you do this under the nose of the man who now rules your lands?" asked Marcia.

Allesandra gazed at her companions for a moment. "I will have to find a distraction."

"A distraction?" queried Marcia.

"We cannot expose our friends the Cathars, but there is something else our captor knows us to be famous for."

The women gazed at her doubtfully, but she gave them a sly smile.

"Our poetry. We will introduce Gaucelm Deluc to the ways of the troubadours."

Six

Allesandra was not disturbed with word from Gaucelm until late next morning, when a messenger appeared to say that Sir Gaucelm requested her presence at dinner that day. A normal meal should be served in the hall, and the lady of the castle must appear beside Gaucelm, acknowledging his overlordship.

Allesandra gave Gaucelm 's messenger a stony look but answered that she would comply. When he left again, she turned to her friends.

"He wishes to humiliate you before your own household," said Marcia, looking as if she might cry.

"He wishes to make a point," snapped Allesandra. But then she gathered her temper in. "We will concede his point, but we will work behind his back. You must all help me by appearing docile."

"What do you plan to do?" asked Isabelle from where she sat on a bench, keeping her hands busy doing some mending.

"I will find a way to go to the believers and warn them. It will be best if they do not meet so near the castle as they are used to. One of them can carry a message to Count Raymond. I must meet with him so we can lay a plan to overthrow these French."

"But that will be dangerous. The guards will be watching," said Marcia in a hushed tone. One never knew when one of the guards in the passageways outside might lean his ear against the thick wooden door to catch the women's words.

She gave a secretive smile. "I will appear at dinner this noon

resolved to my fate. I will hand over the keys to our lord and master, and then I will ask permission to hold musical entertainments and poetic competitions as we are used to do."

"Do you think he will grant it?" said Isabelle, not looking up from her sewing.

"I don't see why not. When he isn't out fighting, he enjoys music and poetry," answered Allesandra.

"How do you know that?"

Her expression was ironic as she replied, "I had the pleasure of dining with Sir Gaucelm and Count de Montfort, or rather the ^pleasure, especially in the latter case. They housed themselves in the Lady Borneil's castle at Muret and before I could get away, we were placed under house arrest. As hostess, Marguerite entertained them."