The Du Lac Devil: Book 2 of The Du Lac Chronicles

by Mary Yarde

  Philippe had stopped to talk to Lord Jenison, a fellow member of the court, and it gave Josephine a chance to study Merton from a distance. Alden had gone up to him, and the two of them were talking intently. Merton was different, in every way. He was no longer the cocky seventeen-year-old boy that she had loved. There was a stillness about him now, that had not been there before. His face was freshly shaven, so unlike all the other men in court and his hair….dear God, what had he done to it?

  The King came out of the church. He looked terrible. He looked lost. Josephine felt compelled to go to him, but Philippe, who was still talking to his friend, tightened his hold on her arm considerably as if he knew what she was thinking. She could hardly cause a scene, so she remained where she was. Although her eyes strayed back to Budic. She had not realised, until then, that Budic was still dressed in the same clothes he had worn when he had raced to Anna’s chamber that fateful evening. He looked careworn and old. He had never looked less like a king.

  She turned her attention back to Merton, but he was no longer there.

  Long hours passed slowly before Josephine finally managed to shake off Philippe. She glanced back over her shoulder, thankfully everyone was still in the Great Hall, dining and talking. Every so often they remembered to raise a goblet to the deceased Queen and Prince of Brittany and of course to their King, may he have a long life, although nothing was said about his reign. No one had noticed her slip away.

  Budic hadn’t shown his face once. She had not seen him since the funeral Mass, and she was concerned. Raising the hood of her cloak, she stepped outside into the courtyard. A maid was busy filling up buckets from the well that was situated in the centre of the courtyard. Apart from her, the courtyard was deserted.

  She walked briskly through the courtyard and out into the Queen’s gardens. The herbs had taken a battering from the rain, and the perennial plants that Anna had always taken such pride in, hung limply from the weight of the raindrops on their leaves. Josephine hurried through the garden, barely noticing the smell of damp soil as she did so.

  She had a feeling that Budic would be at the cemetery and as she approached the sacred ground, she saw him.

  Budic was there, knelt down next to his wife’s and son’s grave. Taking a deep breath, and gathering her courage, she walked towards him, saying his name softly as she did so. He held his hand, palm up, to stop her from coming any further and he turned his face away from her as if he was ashamed of his grief. Yet, he could do nothing to stop his shoulders from shaking and a sob from being wrenched from his throat.

  Ignoring his silent plea, she stepped closer, reaching for the hand he held out. She grasped it tightly as she fell to her knees next to him, ignoring the dampness of the grass as she did so. He turned to her then and buried his face in her neck. She froze for just a moment, shocked by his actions, before wrapping her arms around him and holding him close.

  She had never seen a man cry before. She had certainly never held a man while he cried. It was a strangely empowering experience and was made especially more empowering because it was Budic that needed her. He had never needed her before.

  Budic sobbed, and she held him all the tighter, whispering soothing words that she doubted he even heard, for his grief was like a high wave in a storm crashing onto the shore, and there was nothing she could do to stop it, or halt its process. It would be. It was.

  Time pressed on, and his sobbing continued, and she realised that she, the drunk’s-daughter, was his only anchor in this raging tempest. She fancied that if she let him go, he would be set adrift and lost forever. So she held on. Holding him as tightly as he held her.

  “I want to see her one more time,” he cried, his voice pitiful and full of grief. He pulled a little away from her so that he could look down at the freshly disturbed earth. He started to rake at the soil of his wife’s grave with his fingers. “Just one more time,” he muttered.

  “You can’t,” Josephine said tenderly, placing her hand over his. “You have to let her rest now. You have to let her go.”

  “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” he shouted, snatching his hand from under hers and she jumped at his words.

  “I am not trying to tell you what to do…but, please...Your Majesty, you cannot disturb a grave. It is forbidden.” Josephine reached up and touched his face with her fingertips. “Please…” she said again. “Please, it is time to come away.”

  12

  Merton breathed in the fresh sea air and closed his eyes. The rain was soft against his skin, barely noticeable. He opened his eyes and looked out at the view. Below him was the beach where he and Alden used to race horses when they were children. It was strange, being here. It was almost like he had stumbled upon a past life. So foreign was it, to the life he lived now.

  “I thought it was you.”

  He turned swiftly at the sound of a woman’s voice, his hand automatically clasping the pommel of his sword. It was unusual for him not to be aware of his surroundings and he could not remember the last time someone had crept up on him. Stupid fool that he was, he knew better than to daydream.

  Lady Amandine Bretagne looked down at Merton’s hand and then back up to his face, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Should I be afraid?” she quizzed, her blue eyes sparkling a little in amusement.

  “Amandine?” Merton smiled a welcome. Dear God, he had forgotten how beautiful his brother’s widow was. He had always thought her stunning and the years since he had last seen her had done nothing to mar her beauty — if anything, it had enhanced it. He had never seen anyone with such blue eyes as she had. It was like looking at the sea on a bright summer’s day. Her hair was dark brown, almost black in certain lights, and fell passed her waist. Today she wore it in a braid down the length of her back. She was slim, a little too slim for his usual tastes, she wasn’t like Josephine, who was all curves, and she was nothing at all like Adèl. She was older than him by all of two years, and he could remember being slightly intimidated by her when he was a child, not that she would ever have known that, for he had been very confident and very good at hiding what he was feeling. But as a man, he could appreciate her beauty at last, without any feelings of bashfulness.

  She had always been a big part of his life and as he had grown the two of them had become friends. When he was fourteen she had decided enough was enough, and he needed to learn how to dance. She had taken it upon herself to teach him and then spent most of the time laughing at his complete and utter incompetence. “You can handle a sword, but not a woman,” she had once said to him mockingly. He had closed the distance between them, kissed her hard on the mouth to shut her up and to show her that he could, indeed, handle a woman. She had whacked him on the arm her face flushed in embarrassment and then she continued to instruct him as if the kiss had never happened. But he remembered it.

  “You’ve cut your hair?” she noticed. Merton, like all the nobility, used to wear his hair shoulder length, but now he wore it very, very short. It wasn’t fashionable, but when had he ever cared for fashion?

  “I got fed up with all the lice,” he stated, smoothing his hand over his shorn head, laughing as she screwed up her nose in disgust. She swat him with her hand, just like she used to when he teased her, and he caught it, raising it to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. “I missed you, Amandine. How’s life?”

  “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

  They stared deeply into each other’s eyes, and just for that moment Merton allowed himself to forget everything except for her. It had been a very long time since a woman had aroused his interests romantically, but she did.

  “Can I have my hand back now?” she laughed nervously, and he knew he blushed as he let her hand go. He could not remember the last time he had felt the heat rise to his face. What was she doing to him?

  “I’m sorry. I’m just…” Merton took a deep breath and turned his back on her to look at the view again and hoped that the redness in his face would cool from the slight breeze t
hat was coming off the sea. “I was just thinking how strange it was to be back.”

  “You have been away a long time,” Amandine said, moving to stand next to him. “I always loved this spot,” she said, looking out at the view.

  “Me too,” Merton said, looking at her from the corner of his eye. “The service this morning was lovely, don’t you think?”

  “You were not stood with your brothers. I didn’t even know you were here until I saw you in the courtyard earlier.”

  “Budic didn’t want me there, and I wasn’t about to cause trouble. So I stayed out in the rain.”

  “Why wouldn’t he want you there?” Amandine asked. He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “Oh,” she said, for like everyone else she had heard the stories. But the stories seemed so far-fetched that she had never believed them.

  “Oh, indeed. You know, you really shouldn’t be out here alone with me. People will talk.”

  “Are you concerned about my reputation?” Amandine asked, amused by the idea. She was no longer a Du Lac. Her every action wasn’t scrutinised like it used to be.

  “No, I was concerned for mine. I have heard about beautiful women and how they can corrupt absolutely.”

  She struck him with her hand again. “I forgot you were so annoying.”

  “Can you stop hitting me? I am sure I haven’t done anything to warrant such abuse,” Merton said in mock outrage, rubbing his arm where she had hit him, even though it didn’t hurt. He had forgotten how easy she was to tease and how she always retaliated with acts of violence.

  “I knew it was a lie,” she said, ignoring him and looking back out at the view.

  “Knew what was a lie?” Merton asked, touching her gently on the arm when she didn’t answer, and turning her so she looked at him.

  “What they say about you.”

  Merton could not hold her gaze. For some reason, Amandine’s belief in him affected him far more deeply than Adèl’s condemnations ever could.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. If you like, I can say I believed every word. I might even have a crucifix about my person somewhere to ward off the devil,” she began to pat down her clothes as if in search for one.

  Merton couldn’t help himself, he chuckled, and he looked back into her face and saw her answering grin. “If those in court knew what you were really like, you would be banished,” he widened his eyes as he spoke and she giggled.

  Her laughter faded, it was so good to be in Merton’s company again. She had not realised just how much she had missed him. He had only been seventeen when he had left, now he was a man, and she could not help comparing him to her aged husband, which was a wicked thing to do, she knew that, but she could not seem to help it. She was drawn to Merton. She always had been, although she had never acknowledged it. His sense of humour had been infectious back then, and she, like many other ladies of the court, had loved to be in his company.

  “How did you find out about the Queen?”

  “I didn’t know. We were retreating and um…” Merton pulled absentmindedly at his ear, and he smiled like a boy who had been caught in the middle of a mischievous act. “Brittany seemed a safer option than Frank. Clovis doesn’t like me. I have no idea why not,” he stated with a grin. “I found out about Anna when I got here,” his smile faded. “It’s a true tragedy.”

  “You should have seen Anna when she held that baby, I had never seen her so happy. And Budic…he was a different person. Unrecognisable. He smiled all the time and he laughed.” Amandine’s eyes began to shimmer with tears.

  “Sshh,” Merton couldn’t help himself, he reached up and gently caressed her face with his rough, calloused thumb. A tear spilt from her eyelashes and slid down her face. Merton wiped it away with his fingers. “Don’t cry,” he whispered, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her. “You know I can’t bear it when you cry.” She came willingly into his arms. He kissed the top of her head and the years rolled away as he allowed himself to remember the last time they were together…

  AD 496 Benwick.

  Merton watched as the waves crashed gently against the shore. He was meant to be at the harbour by now. Alden was keen to be off and would be annoyed at him for delaying the departure. They had a war to fight and a country to win back. But he had wanted just a moment alone, to say goodbye to Benwick in his own way, for he knew in his heart that he would never be coming back here.

  He had lost his best friend. Josephine hated him now, and he mourned the loss of her friendship. There was a terrible ache in his heart that he could not imagine diminishing with time.

  He blinked back the tears as he remembered their last words. Josephine thought he was going to propose. He could see the excitement on her face. He wanted to. She would never know how much he wanted to make her dreams come true. He almost said the words, despite… If there were any honour in him at all, he would have asked her to marry him, regardless of what Budic had said. He shook his head, silently cursing his cowardliness.

  It was the drinks fault. This whole mess. If it had not been for the drink, he would not have taken her to bed. Josephine had kissed him first, but he should have had the sense to push her away. He knew how she felt about him, how she had always felt about him. He wished he could turn back time.

  “Josephine has been promised to Marcus,” Budic had reminded him. It could have been worse. Marcus was a good man, and he accepted the drunk’s daughter with pleasure, as long as there was a dowry that went with her. It was Merton who had provided Josephine with a dowry, sacrificing his inheritance to do so. Budic said he could not spare the money, although it was his responsibility to provide one. Josephine had been distraught when she had found out that he had paid Marcus to wed her. But it wasn’t like that. She wouldn’t listen to him. She would not even try to understand. She told him to leave her alone. He had not wanted to, but what else could he do?

  He opened his eyes and took one long last look at the sea before he turned away. It was then that he saw her, sat down on the rocks, her knees curled up to her chest and her head was resting on her knees. Amandine. He should have known she would be here.

  He said her name as he walked towards her and she raised her head and quickly wiped at the tears on her face. She had just been widowed for the second time. Her husband wasn’t even buried, and Budic had already arranged another man for her to marry, the heartless bastard.

  Amandine rose quickly to her feet, not bothering to brush the damp sand from her clothes. And as he stepped closer, she mustered a smile.

  “I didn’t think I would see you again before you went,” she said.

  “I just wanted to see the beach one more time,” Merton said, stepping closer. She held out her hands to him, and he clasped them. Her hands were cold and so small compared to his.

  “You promise me you will stay safe and not take any stupid risks,” she said, trying her hardest not to cry. She could not bear the thought of never seeing him again. Life would be considerably duller without Merton du Lac in it.

  “When have I ever been known to take stupid risks?” Merton asked, forcing a smile from her lips with his words.

  “I can’t lose you as well, Merton,” she said, glancing away from him to look at the sea that had so cruelly taken away her first husband, Merton’s brother.

  “You are not going to lose me,” he tugged her into his arms, and she had clung to him, sobbing against his chest. “I’ll come back one day, I promise,” he whispered in her ear. But neither of them believed what he said. This was goodbye. They would never see each other again…

  “Why did they have to die?” Amandine sobbed against his neck. In answer, Merton held her a little tighter.

  “I don’t know,” he whispered back. “Sshh, I’ve got you. It will be all right.”

  “She was so happy,” Amandine mumbled. “It isn’t fair. Why do bad things always have to happen to good people?”

  “Bad things happen to bad people too. Believe me, I know.�
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  Instead of pushing her away, his words only brought her closer. Her hands crept up around his side until she was hugging him back. She hiccupped on a sob, and he pulled her closer still. He closed his eyes and savoured the sensation of being held. It had been so long. He had almost forgotten what it felt like.

  His fingers absentmindedly began to trace patterns on her back. She felt so delicate in his arms and for some reason she provoked his primitive need to protect.

  “You deserve so much more than Lord Bretagne.” He hadn’t meant to say that, and she pulled away from him. “I am sorry,” he said, already missing the feeling of her in his arms. “I didn’t mean to…”

  “Lord Bretagne is good to me. He doesn’t ask for much and whenever we are at Benwick he lets me come to the beach,” she smiled weakly, then bit her lip to try and stop the tears. “I should be content. But sometimes I think that I am not meant to be happy…”

  “Don’t think like that. You of all people deserve happiness.”

  “I had happiness with Garren.” She looked back out at the sea. “We were so young. I thought we had forever. Do you know what I would give for one more day with him?”

  Merton sighed softly. He envied Garren such a love. But then Garren had deserved it. He was a great man; that is what Alden always said. Merton couldn’t recall Garren being that great. He had disliked him as a child. Garren had a temper, not that Amandine had ever seen it, but Merton had felt his fury on more than one occasion. He had also liked his women and had many mistresses. Amandine did not know that either. But whatever Garren did he was the golden boy. He was loved and respected by all, and if he once or twice took it upon himself to discipline his youngest brother, then it was because his brother deserved it. As for the many mistresses, it was to be expected. His wife was too young to satisfy his needs, even though she was devoted to him.