“Raoul! Raoul, lad! Is it you indeed?”
“Yes, Maeve, it’s me.”
“Well now, let me look at you.” She held him at arm’s length. “Fine clothes,” she said. “And a ring too – have you been thieving or is it just glass?”
“It’s an emerald,” Raoul admitted with a rueful grin. “But it’s not stolen. It was my grandmother’s betrothal ring. She gave it to me just a few weeks ago.”
“My, you’ve done well, very well! I can see that.”
“I’ve been lucky.”
“Aye – flashing your pretty eyes at someone, I’ll be bound. Are you married? No, don’t tell me yet....Daniel, Connell!” She ducked back inside the cottage and yelled. “Get yourselves out here!”
“You’re not still travelling, then?”
“Not us old ones, not any more. The others are – Damona, Jean, all their young ‘uns, and old Pol, driving the cart – they’re still doing the old round. They’ll be back in a month or two I expect.”
“What about Cof?”
“He died – a year ago last Whitsun.”
“And doesn’t Connell go?”
Maeve frowned.
“You’ll see it a bit, lad. It’s a shame. It was all Mathurin could do to save his....But here they are!”
“Well, Raoul, I had a suspicion we’d see you again one day.” Daniel Guennec, one time leader of the band of mummers, took the younger man’s hand in a strong clasp. “You’re part of this to do up at the castle, are you? What’s going on?”
“I’m responsible for it, you could say. You knew about my connection with Radenoc – I’m going to take it back, with the aid of some friends.”
Raoul described briefly how his fortunes had changed in Palestine and who his present supporters were.
“Good luck to you, boy.”
“Hardly that, Daniel – I’m twenty-eight.”
“That’s a boy to me. And I don’t doubt that you’ll succeed.” Daniel grinned. “I always knew you’d take your proper place one day.”
“I wish I’d had your confidence, Daniel.”
Raoul suddenly realised that Connell had said nothing. Maeve and Daniel’s son, who must be eighteen or nineteen by now, was leaning up against the door-post and glowering.
“You remember Raoul, don’t you, Con?” For Maeve, the tone was gentle.
“’Course. Glad to see you.”
He didn’t look as if he was glad. With a jolt Raoul realised that the boy’s right leg ended just below the knee. A wooden peg was attached to it to allow him to walk but it was obvious why he could no longer be a tumbler or an acrobat.
“What happened to Gwen?” Raoul said. “You haven’t still got her, I suppose.”
“No. But I expect Mathurin has – I spent a bit of time with him...three or four years ago.”
“How...how did you hurt your leg?” Raoul had a sudden horrifying vision of Connell climbing a tree to disentangle the merlin’s jesses from a branch.
“He fell,” Daniel said quietly.
“I was doing one of your famous stunts and I got it wrong,” Connell said bitterly. “So now I’m a useless cripple.”
“Connell, you’re not!” Maeve’s tone was brisk. “Mathieu welcomes your help in the mill – Con’s arms and shoulders are very strong you see – and his uncle is getting old – he finds shifting grain sacks too much for him these days.”
The boy shrugged and went back inside the cottage, closing the door behind him. There was a silence.
“It’s hard to know what to say,” Daniel said. “He feels worthless – and I can’t blame him.”
“Could he ride a horse, do you think?”
“I don’t see why not – he still has the knee and as Maeve said, his arms are strong enough.”
“He could come with me – as a sort of squire. I have a lad but he’s really too young – he’s Félice de Fresnay’s eldest boy.”
“Oh, yes,” said Daniel with a grin. “I remember her well enough. The old baron’s son, is he?”
“He’s inherited the title, certainly,” Raoul said with a rueful smile.
“That’s all that counts, I’d say. But, about Con, if you could take him – and let him know it wasn’t for charity – then that might make all the difference. He used to be such a fun-loving lad, into all the mischief and with such an eye for the wenches – you remember.”
“I do. Have a word with him, will you and I’ll come down again tomorrow and see what he says.”
“Good lad, Raoul. It’ll make all the difference.” Maeve suddenly chuckled. “I suppose from what you said I should be curtsying and calling you ‘my lord’ now.”
“Don’t you dare!”
He swept her up in his arms and kissed her soundly on both cheeks.
“It’s good to see you again, lad,” she said somewhat breathlessly when he’d set her on her feet again.
“We’ll speak to Connell,” Daniel assured him, gripping his hand in farewell.
Raoul was just outside the village when he saw a lone figure on horseback following a somewhat erratic path through the marshes.
‘That rider will come to grief,’ Raoul thought. ‘Is he mad or drunk?’
Choosing the most direct route with little regard for his own safety, he ran swiftly towards the horse, leaping across bogs and liberally splashing himself with mud. When he was close enough, he grabbed the bridle, only then realising that the rider was a woman – Anne de Bourbriac.
“For Heaven’s sake, my lady, what are you doing?” Raoul demanded.
She shook her head. She was crying, her eyes blinded with tears.
“Let me go,” she said. “I have to leave, to get away or I shall perish.”
“Where are the children?”
“Safe – with their father. I can’t stay there any longer and he won’t let them go.”
“This is something to go with Bertrand, isn’t it?”
Anne’s shoulders shook as a fresh wave of tears overcame her.
“Look, I can’t talk with you up there and me down here,” Raoul said. “I’ll help you down and we’ll tether your horse to this bush. That’s better. Now, tell me what’s distressing you.”
Gradually he coaxed the story out of her. At first Raoul thought that Bertrand had tried to seduce her and that she, disliking him, was unwilling. He wondered grimly whether he was about to be plunged into a repetition of the past – having to fight Lord de Courcy to save a woman’s honour. But as Anne spoke he realised that the situation was more complex. She didn’t dislike him, she loved him, wanted to be his, but she could see no way of being his mistress without sacrificing her principles.
“I have always done my duty,” she said. “And I have tried to be good. If I do what I know is wrong I shall start to hate myself – and in time I might hate him, too. I look after his children – how can I tell them to obey God’s law if I am breaking it myself?”
“What has Bertrand said to you?”
“Nothing really. He has made his feelings plain, that’s all. What else is there to say? I am not someone he can marry. All I can do is to get away, to avoid temptation by leaving.”
“You certainly can’t go on your own. You’d have ended up drowning in a bog before you had gone much further.”
“That might not have been such a bad thing.”
“Isn’t despair a sin?”
“You’re right,” she said wearily. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I shall speak to Bertrand myself,” Raoul said, helping her back into the saddle.
It was late evening before the opportunity arose. To meet with Léon on the agreed day they needed to set out at dawn in two days’ time. During the next day all the horses, weapons and baggage would have to be made ready. Once they had met up with Léon, a message would be sent directly to Gilles, stating Raoul’s intentions. After all the arrangements had been agreed by the barons who were to ride with them, Bertrand offered Raoul a final cup of spiced wine in his own pr
ivate quarters.
“What do you intend to do about Anne de Bourbriac?” Raoul asked him bluntly, taking his cup and moving away from the fire.
“What do you mean?”
“I am aware that you...desire her.”
“Of course I do. I have made no secret of that.”
“What do you intend to do about it?”
“Really, Raoul, what is this? One might have thought you were the girl’s father, the way you’re talking – ‘Are my intentions honourable?’ Is that it?”
“Are they?”
“God’s Teeth! I think she’s kind, sweet-natured, beautiful. I like her; I want to lie with her. Is that any cause for this interrogation?”
“She’s also virtuous. If you bring her to your bed she’ll never forgive either you or herself.”
“This is the first time I’ve heard you preaching about morality and sin!” He began to laugh then sobered as he met Raoul’s stern gave. “How do you know how she feels about this?”
“She told me.”
Briefly he described his meeting with her in the marsh.
“Let her go, Bertrand. Give her a suitable escort and let her go. It’s the honourable thing to do.”
“I can’t, Raoul. I can’t bear to lose her. I didn’t love Louise – why should I have? It was a marriage which suited our parents, not us. Our life together was an empty one – she was a good woman, I suppose, but I felt no warmth towards her. The other women I have had, mistresses, they have simply been a fulfilment of lust, nothing more. But Anne – she’s everything I ever wanted in a woman and never thought to find.”
A picture of Raoul’s own, very different ideal woman came into his mind and he smiled.
“And it’s not just me,” Bertrand continued, “it’s the children. Minette loves Anne – I can’t send her away. There’s only one answer – if she feels so strongly, I will marry her.”
“People will say you’re mad – she has no dowry and she can’t bear you any children.”
“I’m hardly lacking in wealth and power! I have two healthy sons already and, should anything happen to them, God forbid, I have four brothers. The Morbihan succession is not in doubt.”
Bertrand had stood up and now paced the room.
“Don’t rush into this,” Raoul advised. “She’s safe enough while we go west. Ask her to promise to stay and care for the little ones until you return.”
“I’ll do that – and I promised Minette to be back for her birthday – October 24th. If I feel then as I feel now, I shall ask her to marry me.”
Chapter Twelve
Raoul’s force set out two days later, as they had planned. The castle at Cléguerec, due north, had been chosen as a suitable meeting point though Raoul understood that the bulk of Léon’s forces were encamped further west.
Anne de Bourbriac brought the children into the courtyard to bid their father farewell. She looked calmer, Raoul thought. She had promised to wait at Morbihan for the Count’s return. Privately Raoul was sure that Bertrand would respect her virtue and marry her, but he made no further comment. Their separation from each other would do nothing to weaken their affections, he was sure. Bertrand’s silence and preoccupation during the first day’s ride was a good sign, he thought.
Connell, now suitably dressed in Beauchamp livery, had joined Raoul’s troop. He had a little trouble controlling his mount at first but by the time they reached Cléguerec, although stiff, he and the chestnut had reached an understanding. Although he rode some way behind him, Raoul could see something of the old animation in Connell’s face and he was glad that he had invited him to come.
“I don’t know why you had to bring him along, my lord,” Etienne objected as he assisted his master to disarm in the castle’s smoky hall. “I can manage everything by myself.”
“It isn’t a question of managing. Con is an old friend of mine.”
“But he’s a peasant.”
Raoul gloved hand struck the boy a stinging blow.
“Never speak like that again, if you wish to stay in my service.”
Tears had sprung into Etienne’s eyes and he gingerly put a hand up to feel his reddening ear.
“I...I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I suppose he’s your squire now and I’m just a page.”
“Let us dispense with titles, shall we? You will be more able to deal with stairs and steps than Con, so let us rather consider you to be a team, squire, page and groom, each one doing the best that he can.”
“Trouble, Raoul?” said Bertrand, handing his sword belt to his own squire.
“Not really. Etienne’s jealous.”
“Hardly surprising as he’s so young.” He turned to the youth in Morbihan colours. “How old are you, Claude?”
“Eighteen, my lord.”
“And you were my father’s squire, weren’t you?”
“I had that honour, my lord.”
“Well you may train my lad in courtesy, Claude,” Raoul told him. “I imagine you’ve learned proper respect.”
The boy bowed deferentially.
“I certainly hope so...sir.” The hesitation was very slight but Raoul looked at him sharply. The boy lowered his eyes and turned away.
“Who is he, Bertrand? Have you known long?”
“I imagine he was fostered with us as a page. There were always so many of them, I never really noticed. And of course I went to Tréguier as soon as I married. He’s a du Courmier, heir to a snug little fiefdom on the Norman border. He’s a confident lad; thinks well of himself.”
“A bit too well. I didn’t like the look in his eyes.”
“Pay no heed, Raoul. You don’t have to worry about a silly boy like that. I’m afraid my mother said a few scathing things about your...your origins. He may have heard them.”
“She doesn’t know I was a minstrel, does she?”
“No, no. But she knows from Tréguier that you were only knighted while on Crusade and that your title was the recent gift of the Duchess of Aquitaine. To her you’re...”
“An upstart.”
“Well, yes. And there may have been some mention of Armand de Metz. She’d met him in the past and noticed the resemblance. I tried to set her straight but you’ll admit, it’s a fantastical story.”
“Certainly.” Raoul gave a rueful grin. “After all, I’ve only believed it myself for about a month.”
“Quite so.”
Whether he believed in the legitimacy of Raoul’s claim or not, Roland du Plestin, Count of Léon, seemed happy to support Raoul in his attempt to seize Radenoc. They met in a small private chamber to plan tactics, on the night that Roland arrived.
“I’m afraid my brother, as former Count of Léon, encouraged Gilles in his neglect and exploitation of his lands,” Roland told him. “Armand had many faults but at least Radenoc mattered to him. Gilles holds nothing sacred.”
He described what he knew of the hardships and privation of the people; of their suffering at the hands of Radenoc’s steward and Piriac, Gilles’s sergeant-at-arms.
“You paint a grim picture, my lord. Have you visited Radenoc recently?”
“I would hardly be welcome. But Father Alain du Val, the local priest, is well known to me. I managed to arrange it that the previous incumbent, a corrupt and vicious man, was removed. Father Alain took his place. I wanted someone there that I could trust and who would at least attempt to watch over my niece.”
“Your niece?”
“Armand’s daughter Catherine. Her mother Francoise was my older sister.”
“Yes, I remember. A skinny child with odd-coloured hair.”
“You know Radenoc then? I understood from Tréguier that you’d been on Crusade.”
“It was many years ago. I was part of a troupe of wandering minstrels – I’d run away from my home, you see. With all the arrogant stupidity of youth I confronted my great-uncle and told him to hand over my inheritance.”
Roland smiled.
“I imagine he refused.”
&n
bsp; “You could say so.”
“I’m surprised he let you leave.””
“He didn’t intend to.” He grinned at the absurd memory of himself dressed as Catherine’s nursemaid. “I shall look forward to meeting the girl again.”
They rode out again the following day, meeting up with the rest of Roland’s force some thirty miles to the west. What had been previously a strong troop was now a sizable army. An ultimatum was sent to Radenoc. Raoul did not expect Gilles to capitulate without a fight but he knew that he must lure him away from the castle. Bertrand said he was a fool and that surprise would have been his best weapon. Raoul shook his head and said nothing: he remembered the legend well ‘The Lord of Radenoc cannot be taken in his castle’.
“What’s wrong with you, Etienne?” Raoul asked as the squire bent awkwardly to fill his master’s wine-cup.
He and Bertrand were seated in small clearing in the forest. Around them men were sitting round their fires, playing at dice, or rolling themselves into their blankets and settling down to sleep. The horses were tethered in a line some yards away.
“Oh, it’s nothing, my lord.”
“Come here.”
Etienne winced as Raoul ran his hand down the boy’s chest.
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s just a bruise, my lord. I...I...fell.”
“Have you been fighting with Con?”
“No, my lord.”
“Connell!”
The red-haired youth limped over from the horse-lines.
“Aye...my lord?”
Raoul frowned.
“No need for ceremony, Con. You never called me ‘my lord’ before.”
“Could be because you weren’t one before! What’s your wish...master?”
Raoul caught Connell’s wink and grinned.
“Seriously, Con, have you two been fighting?”
Connell’s smile faded. He regarded the younger boy solemnly for a moment then glanced at Bertrand.
“We had a few words, like, but that’s not for a day or two. It’s Claude du Courmier you want to speak to, Raoul, not me. Mind, he’s got a lovely black eye. And I don’t think me laddo here has broken anything, if that’s a consolation – I’ve strapped him up anyway, just in case.”
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