The Du Lac Princess: (Book 3 of The Du Lac Chronicles)

by Mary Anne Yarde

  “I don’t want it,” she said, handing the necklace back to him.

  Philippe nodded his understanding, barely in control of his emotions. “Know that no one else will ever wear this. It will always be yours. I just… I wanted to see it around your neck just the once. I wanted to pretend that everything was as it should be. As I want it to be.”

  Amandine found that she wanted to give him reassurance, pat him on the head, tell him it was fine, he hadn’t done anything wrong. But he had. He had condemned her the moment he had set his sights on the throne.

  There was nothing left for her to say, so she curtsied and turned to leave. She wanted to be where no one else was so she could think back over her life, relive precious memories in her mind so that she would go to her death feeling thankful for those who had graced her life. Mostly, she wanted to be alone so she could cry. Maybe if she cried all her tears now, then she would have none left when they came for her and took her to the gallows. But then she realised that there was one more thing she had to ask before she left. A last request. She turned back around. Philippe was staring at her with such sorrow that it was as if she was already dead.

  “I know I have no right,” Amandine stated. “But I must ask a favour of you,”

  “If it is in my power, then I will grant any favour,” Philippe said, his eyes, like hers, filling with tears.

  “I want to be buried next to Merton,” a tear slipped from her eye and she wiped it away with her fingers.

  He gasped at her request, and a pained expression crossed his face. For a moment he said nothing. Instead, he turned away from her to replace the necklace in its silk purse. Philippe pulled the drawstring closed, and the necklace was once again shut up in the dark, and yet this time there was no room for hope. The necklace would never see the light of day again. He picked up the blue ribbon and crossed over to her. He took her hand and tied the ribbon around her wrist. “I will oversee your burial myself. Be assured that you will be buried next to him. And when the time is right, and all of this has been forgotten, I will order that both of you be brought into the protection of the cemetery.”

  “No, don’t order that, leave us where we lie. The Church wanted neither one of us in life. I don’t want her to have us when we are dead,” Amandine said, feeling a resigned but also a strange sense of relief that at last this was all coming to an end. Merton said he would find her in the next life and she knew he was a man of his word. She should not look at her execution as a curse, but as a blessing. She wondered if she kept telling herself that, then it would be true.

  “I envy Merton, you know,” Philippe said, sniffing back his tears. He let go of her hand and took a step back away from her.

  “Why would you envy him?” Amandine asked. “Merton is dead.”

  “I envy him because you love him, even in death.”

  “If I loved you the way I loved him, would you still follow the orders from the Pope? Would you still see me die?” Amandine knew that she was clutching at straws, but it was worth a try, and she wanted to hear his answer.

  “Yes,” he answered, shame flickering over his face.

  “I see,” Amandine said sadly. “Then you are right to envy Merton because he was a better man than you can ever hope to be. He wasn’t afraid to stand up to tyrants.”

  Philippe looked wounded by her words. Amandine could have said more, but she wasn’t the type of person to twist a knife. She had said her piece. “I pray that you find a love like Merton and I shared with your new bride. I pray that you will always stand by her side and never forsake her, the way you have forsaken me. I wish you all the happiness in the world, Philippe, I really do. Take care of yourself.”

  And then with a borrowed will, she walked out of the King’s Chamber with her head held high and her dignity intact.

  27

  Goon Brenn, The Kingdom of Cerniw.

  “Thank you, but I cannot eat it,” Sampson said as Tegan begrudgingly handed him a bowl full of soup.

  “You don’t know what you are missing,” Yrre said, tucking in with enthusiasm. “By the gods’ woman, you can cook.”

  Tegan beamed at Yrre’s praise, before turning back to Sampson and offering the bowl to him again. “You are hungry,” Tegan said, stating a fact. “And I am a good cook.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Yrre muttered between mouthfuls.

  “I take my substance from the cup of the Lord,” Sampson replied.

  “And you cannot eat at the table of the Devil…” Tegan added, bowing her head in recognition at not only Sampson’s faith but also his convictions.

  Sampson looked up at her in surprise, for he thought she would have no understanding of his religion. “I do not consider you a demon,” he added quickly. “It is just…” he glanced at the impressive display of weapons hanging on her wall as he struggled to find the right words.

  “If you don’t want to eat my food, then don’t eat it. You are a grown man. I cannot tell you what to do.”

  “Here,” she crossed the room and handed Sampson’s bowl to Garren, who accepted it with thanks.

  “Are you not eating?” Garren asked Merton a moment later when, like Sampson, he refused the bowl of food that Tegan offered.

  “I am not hungry,” Merton said. He fidgeted on the chair, trying to make himself comfortable. It had only been a couple of hours since they had all walked through the door. But so much had been said in such a short space of time that Merton felt physically and emotionally exhausted. All he wanted to do was lie down on the bed and go to sleep. But that wasn’t an option because although a lot had been said, there was still a lot more to say. He and Garren had spoken of many things, but they had avoided the subject of Amandine. Although Merton knew that it was at the forefront of both of their minds.

  “This is delicious, Tegan. Best I have ever tasted,” Garren’s praise was awarded with a beaming smile from the old woman.

  “There is more in the pot if you want seconds,” Tegan said.

  “I believe I will,” Garren said, grinning back at her. “Sampson, you really should try this.”

  Sampson didn’t answer. His hands were clasped in front of him, his eyes were closed, and his mouth was moving, although no words came out.

  Once the meal was over, Tegan gave them each a cup of hot, spiced mead. Sampson was content enough with Adam’s Ale.

  “To your health,” Garren raised a toast to Merton. Everyone else did likewise, and Garren took a sip of the mead.

  “It’s no health if the glass is not emptied,” Tegan said with a grin, her eyes sparkling with the dare.

  Garren chuckled, raised the cup back to his lips, and with several deep swallows drank all the mead. He sighed contentedly when he had finished and held out his cup for a refill.

  Tegan clapped her hands in delight and laughed.

  As the night grew colder, and the mead flowed, the conversation was, for a while, quite merry. But it wasn’t long before the excitement of the day, and the warmth of the mead started to have an impact. Soon, Yrre was asleep, sprawled out in his chair and it was not long after, that Sampson followed him. Garren watched with tender amusement as Tegan draped a fur over the monk. Tegan then said that she needed to do one final check of the animals and Garren found himself, for all intents and purposes, alone with his brother.

  “We need to talk about Amandine,” Garren said after a small uncomfortable silence. “We have spoken of everything else apart from her. You and she were…lovers.”

  “We both thought you dead,” Merton stated warily.

  “Sometimes I thought myself dead as well,” Garren replied.

  “I thought…” Merton paused. “She was so in love with you. When you didn’t return, it broke her heart. She used to go down to the beach and look out at the horizon for hours on end. Waiting. Waiting for you to return.”

  Garren closed his eyes at the image Merton’s words provoked. He didn’t realise Amandine had been so devoted to him. It made him feel shame for not lov
ing her back the same way.

  “I feared that it wasn’t me Amandine loved,” Merton admitted. “Everyone said you and I resembled each other. I thought she looked at me and saw you — obviously, things have changed. If she looked upon my face now, she would probably run for the hills and never look back.”

  “From what I hear, I don’t think Amandine would ever run from you,” Garren spoke from hearsay and also from what was in his heart. Those precious few hours he had spent with Merton today had shown him so much. He knew now why Alden was so protective of their younger brother. He could understand why a monk, who by the very doctrine of his God, should have banished Merton from his life, but had, instead, risked everything to find him.

  Garren could see what Amandine saw in his brother. Merton was, despite all the things that he had heard about him, honourable and kind and loyal. He was a man of deep emotion. Merton would give his life for those he loved without a second thought. All this time he had remembered Merton as a disobedient child, wilful and uncontrollable. But he had failed to see how much compassion his brother’s heart held. He could see it now. He saw it the moment he walked into the house.

  “Maybe I would have run from her,” Merton pondered aloud. “I would be too scared she would stay with me out of pity. And I couldn’t tie her to someone who one day soon may not even be able to walk.”

  “That would have been for her to decide, not you. And besides, you don’t know what the future holds. This may be as bad as you get.”

  “Budic was right, in a way,” Merton continued as if Garren had not spoke. “He said I was wallowing in self-pity. Perhaps I am.”

  “It is grief you are experiencing, not self-pity. You are allowed to mourn the life you once had. Just as you are allowed to mourn the woman you loved.”

  “I do not mourn the life I had. I hated it,” Merton admitted. “I didn’t like the monster I had become. I am glad he is dead. But I wish I were able to walk across a room without having to use a bloody stick. And I wish I had the strength to pick up an axe and chop some firewood for this mad old Druid who has taken me into her home. But I can do neither. What use am I now?”

  “You cannot think like that. You must concentrate on what you can do. Merton, you were a warrior. A bloody good one from what I hear of it. Just because your body isn’t able anymore, it doesn’t mean your mind is not.”

  “That is what Tegan says.”

  “Then your mad old Druid is very wise,” Garren grinned. “Alden will need men like you because war will come back to Cerniw’s shores. It is only a matter of time before Mordred brings his army here.”

  “Alden is more than capable of defending his kingdom,” Merton said.

  “I do not doubt it, but I think he would be less moody if you were close by.”

  “He is moody?” Merton asked.

  “He is a little bad tempered,” Garren replied with a grin.

  “He kicked you out of court, didn’t he?” Merton asked, amused.

  Garren chuckled. “Yes, he did.”

  “He can be such a bastard sometimes,” Merton grinned.

  “I think Alden feared I was after his crown, which I am not. Alden is welcome to it. I have been a slave for ten years. I don’t want to be a slave for the rest of my life.”

  “Being a king is a kind of slavery,” Merton agreed. “But there are privileges. The big Hall, servants, never left alone for a moment, the constant adulation.”

  “You just described Hell,” Garren stated with another grin.

  Merton chuckled. “Yeah, I did. Poor Alden. No wonder he is always in a bad mood.”

  “An ambassador from Philippe’s court came to Dor,” Garren said, turning serious. “He had a message for Alden. Alden was enraged. He threatened to cut the Ambassador’s head off.”

  “I would not have threatened. I would have just done it,” Merton said, and then he sighed as he remembered his limitations.

  “I dared suggest that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to listen to what the Ambassador had to say.”

  “I bet that went down well,” Merton scoffed.

  “Like a boat full of lead,” Garren said with a sigh.

  “Did you find out what the ambassador wanted?”

  “No. But the King of Dyfed had an invitation from Philippe to a feast at Benwick.”

  “Do you think that Philippe was going to invite Alden?” Merton asked, frowning at the thought.

  “Possibly. I don’t know.”

  “Who else has he invited?”

  “I don’t know,” Garren stated. “But I guess I could find out. Why? What are you thinking?”

  “Nothing,” Merton muttered, although he doubted now he would get any sleep tonight thinking on it.

  “Budic said he married Amandine off not long after I died,” Garren said, turning the conversation back around to his wife. “Is that true?” Pray God it is not.

  “Budic didn’t give Amandine time to grieve. No one could understand why not—”

  “I know why he did it,” Garren interrupted with a touch of anger. “He is a bastard,” he muttered under his breath.

  “I don’t think anyone would disagree with that analogy,” Merton said, and he took a sip of his mead.

  “Budic is a self-centred swine,” Garren continued. “It is why Anna…” Garren paused and looked at his brother. “…turned to me.”

  “Are you trying to tell me you had an affair with the Queen?” Merton asked in disbelief.

  “I might have done,” Garren answered awkwardly “Budic found out, and that was why he married Amandine off to that…” Garren couldn’t go on.

  “And suddenly it is all making sense. Tell me, Garren, did you love Amandine at all?”

  “Merton, she was a child when we married. She was a little girl pretending to be a grown-up. She was like an annoying little sister who wanted to follow me everywhere I went. I cared for her greatly, I loved her, but my feelings towards her was that of a brother, not a husband.”

  “Did you take her to bed?”

  “No,” Garren shook his head. “No, of course I didn’t. I… She was a child.”

  “She wasn’t that much younger than you,” Merton stated.

  “But she was still a child. On our wedding night, she didn’t even know what was expected of us.”

  “So you cut your hand and bloodied the sheets?” there was respect in Merton’s voice.

  “Yes,” Garren answered. “That is exactly what I did.”

  “I would have done the same. I probably would not have had an affair with the Queen, but…um…”

  Garren chuckled softly. “I admit that wasn’t my finest hour. In my defence, I loved Anna, and she loved me.” The humour vanished from his face. “Budic killed my son, he tipped a poison in Anna’s wine, and made her miscarry.”

  “And yet he still breathes?” Merton asked, anger flashing in his eyes at Garren’s confession.

  “He still breathes, for now…” Garren allowed. He was about to tell Merton of Josephine, but Merton interrupted him.

  “You had an affair with Budic’s wife. I fell in love with yours. What a family we are.”

  Garren shrugged. “You can’t always help who you fall in love with. I said this to Sampson, and I will say it to you, if Amandine were alive—”

  “She is dead,” Merton stated, his voice hopelessly sad.

  “If she were alive, then I would be the one to give her away at your wedding.”

  “You would have done that?” Merton asked, his voice breaking on the words.

  “No, I would have throttled you,” Garren laughed at Merton’s expression. “And then I would have stepped aside and let you have her. If that is what she wanted.”

  “Why? She was yours.”

  “Because I know what love feels like and I cared enough for her to let her go. I can see in your eyes how much you loved her. Who am I to stand in the way of that? I learnt a lot while I was away. I saw a lot. But this I know is true, if love presents itself, then you have
to grasp it with two hands.”

  Merton grimaced when he heard this old saying, but Garren didn’t notice and carried on talking.

  “It is a rare thing, Merton. Most people settle for second best, and they live a contented life, but when you speak of Amandine, I can see that she wasn’t second best. She was your everything…”

  “She was,” Merton agreed, his voice thick and heavy with emotion for he was not expecting that answer. “I know I am no longer a warrior, and you will think me foolish and try to stop me as Sampson is trying to do. But I am going back.”

  “Back to Brittany,” Garren guessed.

  “Yes. I cannot sit back and do nothing. I want to see those bastards hang. Will you come with me? Will you help me avenge Amandine’s death?”

  “You would need an army to stop me,” Garren answered.

  “That is the problem. I don’t have an army. If you were to come with me, I can not guarantee that you would live.”

  “We all have to die. It is just a question of when and how. But first, I think you need to talk to Alden.”

  “I don’t want to talk to him. He will try to talk me out of it,” Merton stated.

  “Of course he will. But I was hoping you could put in a good word for me before we left, just in case I do live. I don’t want him to think me a threat to his throne.”

  “That is something time will take care of,” Merton replied. “Alden’s trust is hard to win. He has been betrayed too many times to give it out freely. But if you want to be a part of his life, then you must win it.”

  “That is easier said than done. He banished me.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that. As long as you are not Budic or Wessex, I think you stand a good chance of keeping your head on your shoulders if you returned to court. Saying that, there might be a small, tiny, possibility of your neck becoming acquainted with an axe. But don’t worry, Alden isn’t that precise with an axe — he misses his target nine out of ten times — so your neck should be fine. Your head, however…”

  “Thank you so much for that image,” Garren said with a scowl, unconsciously touching his head with his hand.