Daughter of War

by S. J. A. Turney

  ‘Lead on, de Vallbona.’

  Arnau bowed and, hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword, he strode along the passage and down the steps, the light padding of Titborga and the maid close behind. They emerged into the pleasant evening air, the oppressive heat of the day now gone but the chill of night yet to arrive. A few folk remained in the courtyard and they bowed and tugged forelocks as their lady passed with her servant and man at arms. As Arnau approached the ornate, rounded arch of the great hall, one of his peers stepped out into the space.

  ‘Stand aside.’

  The man at arms, in his mail shirt but without helm or shield, shook his head. ‘The Lord d’Entenza is in conference and does not wish to be disturbed.’

  Arnau felt the rustle of fabric at his side and suddenly Titborga was stepping in front of him.

  ‘The lord may be in conference, but he is in conference in my hall. You owe fealty to me, not d’Entenza. Step aside, lest I decide I am done with leniency for today.’

  Again, as Arnau had heard in her exchange with the lord on the day of the funeral, there was a steeliness in Titborga’s voice that was almost impossible to refuse and, though the man looked distinctly unsure and uncomfortable for a moment, he stepped aside with a bowed head.

  ‘My lady.’

  Titborga swept past him like a wave of nobility and into the hallway. A young serf stood beside the inner door, rooting around his nostril with gusto, straightening in a minor panic at the sight of the lady and her entourage bearing down on him.

  ‘My… my lady, the Lord d’Entenza—’

  ‘Get out of my way.’

  She motioned to Arnau, who increased his pace, advancing ahead of her and pushing the serf out of her path. She paused for a moment, while the poor serf floundered on the floor in a panic, and Arnau opened the doors. As she stepped up, she hissed, ‘Announce me.’

  Arnau stepped inside and cleared his throat.

  Bernat d’Entenza and Ferrer della Cadeneta were deep in conversation at the far end of the room – heated conversation, judging by their faces. There was no sign of a cloaked figure, but three men he did not recognise stood by the wall.

  ‘The Doña Titborga Cervelló de Santa Coloma,’ Arnau announced in a deep tone, ‘mistress of this castle and daughter of the late Lord Berenguer Cervelló.’

  He stepped aside and his lady swept past him like an unstoppable tide, Maria scurrying behind. Marvelling at her spirit and just a little nervous over the potential consequences, he marched down the hall behind her and came to rest as she did, facing the gentlemen, slightly behind his lady, at her shoulder.

  ‘Am I to be so disrespected that clandestine meetings are held in my own hall without my knowledge?’

  Della Cadeneta threw an unpleasant sneer at her, then turned to the Lord d’Entenza, indicating the new arrivals with a cursory sweep of his arm. ‘You see the problem, my lord. Elegantly illustrated by the young lady and her hired thug.’

  Arnau bristled, but kept carefully quiet.

  ‘I am a problem?’ she asked, her voice dangerous.

  Lord d’Entenza sighed. For the first time, Arnau noted signs of strain about the man. He genuinely believed he was doing the best thing for a spoiled brat of a girl. Arnau knew at that moment that there would be no shifting d’Entenza.

  ‘My lady, if you would kindly be calm,’ the senior lord sighed, ‘I will explain.’

  ‘Explanations be damned,’ Titborga snapped. ‘This snake pries into my every affair and now he seeks to undermine what little authority I have been allowed to retain.’

  ‘You see, my lord?’ della Cadeneta sighed. ‘There is no caging her.’

  D’Entenza shot him a hard look. ‘I have no intention of caging the Doña de Santa Coloma, della Cadeneta, and you would be wise to watch both your words and your tone.’ He turned back to Titborga. ‘Is it true that you sent your man to Barcelona?’

  ‘There would seem little point in denying it,’ Titborga replied acidly. ‘But then I fail to see why I should deny such a thing. I am still the lady of these lands and it is my perfect right to send a man into the city should I wish. You would deny me that?’

  D’Entenza rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘Why must you all test me at every turn? I can hardly wait to return to Fraga.’ Titborga opened her mouth to say something regrettable, but did not have the chance as the lord continued. ‘I have been informed that you seek legal counsel to overturn my decisions and lock horns with me before the king. I have told you before that I will not have you defying me, no matter how proud your lineage or how much I respected your father. I was somewhat undecided with regard to della Cadeneta’s request but, by God, lady, you have made the decision easy. Have your maid pack your essentials. I will have the rest taken care of.’

  ‘My lord?’ Titborga said, and her voice sounded for the first time uncertain, wavering.

  Arnau felt the crevasse of failure opening beneath them.

  ‘You will leave Santa Coloma on the morrow and travel to Cadeneta where you will await the arrival of your husband-to-be.’

  Titborga’s eyes bulged. ‘That is impossible. Unseemly. Unacceptable. You cannot farm me off into some dungeon where this rapist will dishonour me each day before and after a wedding.’

  Della Cadeneta took an angry step forward, hand going to his bliaut where Arnau presumed the hidden knife lay concealed. Lord d’Entenza threw out an angry arm towards the man. ‘Hold, della Cadeneta. If you lay one finger upon her now, I will presume she is not far from the mark with her accusation, and I will act accordingly.’ He straightened. ‘The death of my dear friend Berenguer was a wretched and sobering event and we should be mourning his passing with all appropriate gravitas. Instead I find myself mediating amid a group of squabbling children.’

  He pointed at Titborga.

  ‘You, Doña, have lands and money and a good, old name. Moreover you have the spirit of your father and a mind to match the shrewdest philosopher. But you also have an unseemly stubborn streak of which I do not approve. We live in a dangerous age, Titborga de Santa Coloma. God and the king both require that we do what we must to pursue the cause of right, to drive the heretic from our shores and to let peace and prosperity settle once more upon the land. This cannot be done with hot words and able administration. Good lands need a strong knight to lead them, and there are plenty of strong swords in the service of Aragon who could achieve great things for the kingdom had they your advantages. Della Cadeneta, current childishness notwithstanding, is one such lord. With his sword arm and your resources, you will make a powerful asset for the king. It is my duty to see that happen. You will go to Cadeneta as I command, and you will marry Don Ferrer as I order. There will be no further argument on the matter.’

  As Titborga’s mouth opened in an ‘O’ of astonished fury, ready to unleash a fresh tirade, Arnau bridled at the insufferably smug face of della Cadeneta.

  ‘And you,’ snapped d’Entenza, rounding on the leering noble. ‘You will not touch the woman until you are wed. You will not even breathe near her, because if I learn from any source that you have deflowered this virginal daughter of the great Berenguer de Santa Coloma I will have you riding the Judas cradle before the sun lowers. Do you understand me?’

  Della Cadeneta gave his lord a sullen nod.

  ‘Good. Have some of your men join a party from Santa Coloma and prepare to escort the lady to your home. While there she will be accorded every honour that her rank and sex demand. The same penalty awaits you if I hear my instructions have not been followed.’

  Della Cadeneta’s eyes closed to slits and he glared through them at the trio in the hall. D’Entenza threw out a finger towards Titborga. ‘I see you nocking a new arrow to your verbal bow, young lady. Do not try my patience further lest I be tempted to let your husband do as he wishes.’

  Arnau tensed, waiting, but a moment later Titborga turned without another word or a bow and stormed from the room. Arnau caught just a moment of the sheer sense of victory up
on della Cadeneta’s face before he too turned and followed his lady from the hall.

  Chapter Four

  The journey to Cadeneta, a village nestled in the forested hills of the Prades range, was some sixty miles through the Catalan hinterland, totalling three days of slogging through the heat of the day. Not for Titborga, of course, who rode in a covered carriage with Maria. But Arnau rode with the rest of the company, the horses raising a cloying dust cloud in the dry Iberian summer.

  Every mile that brought them closer to Cadeneta and brutal matrimony made the young Doña of Santa Coloma slightly more obstinate and troublesome, and made Arnau a little more desperate and twitchy. All three of them, lady, maid and guard, knew that once they were ensconced in the Lord della Cadeneta’s home there would be little chance of freedom. They knew that, given Titborga’s currently weak position and d’Entenza’s temporary support of her would-be husband, there would be no recourse. The lady would be little more than a prisoner, or a prize, the maid ignored and Arnau essentially enrolled into the service of a man he hated.

  There was precious little opportunity for the three of them to discuss options during the journey, with the lady and her maid in the vehicle and Arnau following on with his horse. The rest of the column had been carefully constructed of della Cadeneta’s men, ever watchful. The cur had limited Titborga’s own entourage to one maid and one man and had simultaneously managed to persuade the Lord d’Entenza that his involvement was entirely unnecessary. The high lord had been only too happy to leave the arrangements in della Cadeneta’s blood-stained hands and thus, apart from the three of them, the entire caravan of wagons, horses and carriage belonged to the corrupt maggot. The only bright aspect of the journey was that della Cadeneta himself was not among them. The man had been detained by d’Entenza on a number of matters and would follow on in days, allowing Titborga a little breathing space as he left the journey in the hands of his captain.

  The first night they had stopped in some backwater of which Arnau had never heard, in an inn that smelled of sweat and burned meat. The young man had sat at a table in the corner with the two women and eaten a wholesome, if somewhat plain and boring, meal. Titborga had asked quietly how they could perhaps cause the column to halt and turn around, but even a whispered comment had been enough to draw a few looks from their escort, and Arnau had been forced to caution the lady to silence while in the company of della Cadeneta’s men. At the end of the meal, while most of the Cadeneta soldiers caroused in the bar, the captain of the company had the ladies escorted to a room and guards put on the door. Arnau had made his way up but had been forbidden from entering the ladies’ room on the grounds of ‘propriety’. He had spent an impotent and frustrating night in the bunk room with half a dozen drunken soldiers instead.

  The second day had dragged them ever closer to the Muntanyes de Prades and the village of Cadeneta. The Ordal Hills through which they had travelled much of the first day were now left behind, and they moved along a wide valley, then across another small hilly range and back down towards the plains.

  That was where disaster – or more properly, a blessing – struck. The captain had been content that they were making good time and would reach Cadeneta easily by the evening of the third day. Then, rattling down through a landscape of brown and grey slopes, the carriage had struck a rock jutting from the verge and the wheel had broken. Though the iron band around the wheel’s circumference remained intact, two spokes had snapped. The captain had tutted irritably but refused to let such minor damage slow them. The driver had warned him that the wheel would not bear the vehicle’s weight like that, but the captain had been adamant – he wanted to reach Cadeneta, and would not allow such a thing to cost them precious time. They had set off once more and gone less than a hundred yards when the wheel rim had cracked and two more spokes snapped. The wheel broke entirely and the carriage crashed to one side, terrifying the horse pulling it and almost jerking the animal from its hooves. The ladies inside had screamed in panic as the whole column halted and men rode back and forth, shouting commands and queries.

  It had been so farcical that it drew a laugh from Arnau. Amid the chaos of shouting men there were several distinct voices. The captain, snapping angrily at everyone and laying the blame squarely with the carriage’s driver. The driver, reacting with ire and blaming the captain for not heeding his opinion. Maria the maid crying and nursing bruises where she had been thrown against the side of the carriage. Titborga demanding that the captain do something about her discomfort. Utter chaos.

  Finally a man was dispatched to the nearest village, and returned an hour later with a wheelwright, who looked the damage and the carriage over and announced that he had a wheel he could fit to the carriage in his store, but it would take an hour to get there and back with the replacement, and then at least an hour to fit it. The captain had demanded that the local do it in half that time, and the wheelwright had responded that he’d be happy to do so, if the captain would just move his village a little closer. The captain had fumed and ranted. Arnau had laughed.

  In the event, it took a little over four and a half hours from the initial break to get the carriage back safely on the road. Arnau had watched the craftsman work and had swiftly formed the opinion that the man was being deliberately slow just to irritate the captain. When he had finished and waited for his payment, the captain had passed over only two thirds of the sum requested, holding some back for what he termed ‘deliberate delays and troubles’. Arnau had chuckled into his glove as the wheelwright simply took up a great heavy hammer and held it over the spokes of the replacement wheel threateningly. Bellowing his displeasure, but in no position to argue, the captain had paid over the rest of the sum and the wheelwright went on his way. As he left, Arnau had flicked a couple of extra coins to the man for the entertainment.

  The effect of the accident on the journey was profound. That night they stayed in another grotty inn somewhere a good ten miles short of their goal for the day. The captain had been so irate by the end of the day that he had retreated to his room with two bottles of local wine and not emerged even for food. Consequently, not having been given orders to the contrary, the guards allowed Arnau into Titborga’s room that evening, where they discussed their options in subdued tones.

  ‘We can clearly rule out damage to the carriage as a cause to turn back,’ sighed Titborga.

  ‘There will be no turning back, I’m afraid, my lady,’ Arnau replied. ‘We have covered thirty miles or so already. We are somewhere around halfway, and it would be as easy now for the captain to plough on than to return. I regret to say that this column is now irrevocably bound for Cadeneta. And if there were ever a chance that the captain might consider a diversion or an alternative, I think we can confirm that after today there is precious little chance of that.’

  ‘Will we make it to Cadeneta tomorrow?’

  Arnau shook his head. ‘The captain will push for it, but he will not succeed. Cadeneta is some five miles up in the Prades hills, if I remember the maps correctly, and we still have thirty miles to go. We might reach the edge of the hills if he is determined enough, but no sane carriage driver would risk the hill roads in failing light. No, we will have another night in an inn like this, and then press on the next morning, arriving at around noon, by my estimate.’

  ‘Then I have just one day of liberty remaining,’ Titborga huffed. ‘I task you, then, Arnau de Vallbona, with effecting my escape in the little time we have left.’

  Arnau’s frown was deep. ‘Doña?’

  ‘I will not submit and meekly enter the house of a man who will rape me and steal my family’s lands. My father, God preserve his soul, would disown me for such a thing. I will not reach Cadeneta.’

  ‘My lady, what other option is there?’

  Titborga straightened in her seat. ‘Before we left Santa Coloma I completed a set of documents that will see all the lands of my family donated to the Church. Perhaps even a life of service to Our Lord might suit me? I have o
ften considered it, and increasingly so these past few days. And should there be no other way, I shall die without feeling that loathsome touch, and my estate will go to God and not to that lout.’

  Arnau felt his flesh chill at the thought. ‘My lady, you cannot take your own life. The fires of hell await anyone who stoops to such a thing. Besides, the Church might refuse the lands of a suicide on principle. This is foolish.’

  ‘If the worst comes to the worst, Vallbona, I shall not take my own life. You will.’

  ‘Doña—’

  ‘You will put a blade through my heart as you would a critically injured comrade on the battlefield. I shall not be denied heaven, and you will have released me. You will then take the documentation and ride for Barcelona, where you will lodge it with the cathedral there.’

  ‘Doña, this is too much to ask.’

  ‘Do not baulk at this, Vallbona, for it is too important. But fear not, for I do not intend to shuffle off the mortal coil so easily. I intend yet to live and thwart della Cadeneta.’

  ‘Now that I will drink to,’ Arnau said with feeling, and took a swig of wine from his cup. ‘But how?’

  ‘Tomorrow eve will be our last chance,’ she repeated. ‘Unless something unexpected occurs during the journey, we must be prepared. We will flee tomorrow night. You must have horses ready for the three of us. Saddled and harnessed and somewhere in the open.’

  ‘My lady,’ Maria said in breathless worry, ‘I cannot ride.’

  ‘With angry soldiers intent on harm behind you, I suspect you will learn fast,’ Titborga responded.

  Arnau was shaking his head. ‘It is madness, Lady. Where will we go? None of us knows this area well. To the south somewhere is Tarragona, but none of us has a connection there. Our only allies lie back at Vallbona and Santa Coloma, and that would just be walking into the lion’s mouth once more. Flight with no planned destination is foolhardy, my lady.’