Joselynd’s expression returned to its usual bland pleasantness. “But you should not be asking me, my lady, not when you have someone who has suffered so much for love in your midst.”
“Who?” Mina demanded, and for a horrible moment she thought Joselynd was going to say Roger.
“Sir Albert.”
“Sir Albert?”
“Yes. Do you not know the tragic story of his past?” Joselynd asked with patronizing superiority.
Mina glanced ahead, then decided she would have to put up with Joselynd’s condescending manner if she was gomg to learn about her husband’s friend, so she shook her head.
“Well,” Joselynd began eagerly, obviously more anxious to reveal what she knew than to exasperate Mina, “he was a great champion at tournaments not so many years ago. He comes from a noble family, although not a great one, and was making quite a name for himself when he met a woman. She was the wife of a wool merchant who had come to live near the castle of the lord to whom Albert had sworn fealty at that time, Lord Gervais. Anyway, she was said to be quite beautiful—a merchant’s wife, if you can imagine—but whether she was or not, she managed to captivate Albert completely.
“Unfortunately, as I said, she was married, and her husband was a horrible brute. Albert asked her to run away with him. She wouldn’t. She claimed it would be dishonorable. Really, a peasant concerned about honor. It’s too ridiculous. I think she was afraid Albert was too poor, even if he was a knight, and then where would she be?”
Mina did not share Joselynd’s opinion of the impossibility of a peasant’s ability to possess a sense of personal honor, but she remained silent. She was feeling both sorrow and pity for Albert, and wanted to hear the rest of his story. Maybe if she knew it, she could help him somehow.
“Albert kept begging her to go with him,” Joselynd continued, “especially after the lout of a husband beat her terribly one day. I gather he just about killed her. Nevertheless, she continued to refuse, despite all Albert’s entreaties.
“Then Albert discovered why the husband had been so savage. The woman was with child, and her husband accused her of an adulterous relationship. He said he wasn’t going to raise another man’s bastard. Apparently this was not the truth. Albert had never made love to her. Maybe if he had...but she was clearly a clever thing, denying him to ensure that he wanted her even more.”
“Perhaps she did not wish to commit adultery.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? She was nothing but a merchant’s wife,” Joselynd said with a dismissive sniff. “At any rate, when Albert managed to get the woman to tell him everything, he went berserk. He found the merchant and in his anger, killed him.
“He was more than justified, according to everyone in Bridgeford Wells, but incredibly, the woman took a different view. She told Albert what he had done was murder, because her husband couldn’t win against a trained knight. She said she was guilty, too, of committing adultery in her heart if not in fact, and although she had certainly wanted to leave her husband, she didn’t want him dead because of her.
“Albert implored her to marry him. Pleaded on his knees. Just think! A nobleman on his knees to a merchant’s pregnant widow! Anyway, she still refused, because of the baby. She was afraid that Albert would hate her child, or resent it.
“Albert tried to convince her otherwise, to no avail. The woman disappeared. Nobody knew where she went, and he never saw her again. Afterward, he went to Europe and fought in a few tournaments, but never with the same zeal as before. He was barely earning enough to keep himself and didn’t seem to care very much whether he lived or died when Sir Roger became his friend and offered him a home.”
“Did Albert ever try to find her?” Mina asked softly.
“Yes, but it was as if the ground had opened up and swallowed her,” Joselynd answered.
“How is it you know so much about him?”
“Oh, it’s common knowledge. A minstrel made up a ballad about it all. He used a different name for the knight, yet everyone who knew anything about Sir Albert Lacourt recognized him in it. It all sounds rather ridiculous, doesn’t it? A knight getting so worked up over a merchant’s wife?”
“I think it’s very sad and very wonderful,” Mina replied, looking ahead at the gray-haired knight.
“Well, love certainly didn’t do him any good,” Joselynd said with another sniff.
Mina thought of Albert’s gentle goodness, his concern for his friend’s well-being, the respectful way he treated her and all the other women of the castle, whether noble or not. “Didn’t it?” she murmured before nudging her horse forward and leaving a confused and dumbfounded Joselynd behind.
On the dawn of an August day as Mina sat on a stone bench recently added to her garden, she disconsolately created a pattern in the dirt with a stick. It was quiet here, save for the low, contented clucking of the chickens and the occasional squawk of the geese. Here she could be alone and think.
For the past few days, she had had ample opportunity to observe her husband being charming toward another woman and to think about Albert’s story. Like Albert, Roger was unfailingly polite, extremely pleasant and consistently concerned for Lady Joselynd’s well-being. The only thing Mina could not be sure about was how Roger actually felt about the woman.
Toward her, his wife, he was coldly courteous and invariably brusque, as if she were a guest—and not a welcome one. She didn’t even know where he spent his nights. She was afraid to guess and more afraid to find out.
So she had endeavored to ignore him, and sometimes succeeded when she was busy in the hall or in the kitchen. Then her mind would not recall the passionate moments they had shared in their bedchamber. Unfortunately, a thing as simple as the sight of Roger’s discarded tunic would bring back the uncontrollable memory of his caresses.
Sometimes, too, especially while she was here, she remembered Roger talking kindly and tenderly to Hollis. How easy it was to imagine him speaking so to a son of his own. A son who would be her child, too. A son who would be like his father, strong, resolute... and charming to beautiful women while being obnoxious to his wife.
With angry swipes, Mina destroyed the pattern she had made in the dirt.
There was one other thing of which she was certain, and which added to her misery. Sir Albert’s manner toward her had definitely changed. He was as kind and gracious as ever, and yet there was a coldness in his eyes when he spoke to her that upset her.
The explanation had to be that Roger had told his friend what she had done on their wedding night, and Albert thought she was in the wrong. Albert’s reaction was not at all surprising, really, considering he was her husband’s friend first, nor did it alter her opinion concerning her original act, but she regretted the loss of his good regard and wished Roger had not exposed her deception.
Now more than ever she wanted Albert’s friendship. There were things she wanted to ask, and he was the only one who might have the answers. Things about love, because it had slowly dawned on her that perhaps the reason she could not rid her mind of Roger was that he was too firmly in her heart. After all, if she cared nothing for him, he could be easily dismissed.
So she had to admit, to herself at least, that she did care about Roger, very much. Was that love? Was it love that made her so jealous of Roger’s attentions to Joselynd that she wanted to scream? Was it love that made her weaken in his presence, to the point that it took every particle of her self-control to appear otherwise? Or was it fear that her husband’s respect was lost forever?
Was it love that she could remember so clearly the time they had spent in each other’s arms and that she so desperately wanted to repeat? Or was it merely lust? A desire of the flesh?
The garden gate squeaked open. Startled, Mina half rose, wondering who had come to interrupt her peace and for a moment fearing it might be Roger.
It was Reginald, who usually slept very late. He was wearing a plain tunic and chausses, and his hair was uncurled, brushing his narrow sho
ulders as if he were trying to imitate Roger or the baron. The expression on his face was one of unfamiliar determination, until he saw her. “Mina!” he gasped, surprised.
“Yes,” she replied. “What has brought you here so early?”
“I ... I ... uh...” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder before coming inside and shutting the gate. “I wanted to speak with you.”
She didn’t think that was strictly true, nor did it explain his early rising. “About what?”
“About Lady Joselynd,” he said nervously.
“Yes?”
“I hate her!” he snarled with a sudden vehemence that was all the more shocking considering it was coming from the usually mild Reginald.
In truth, however, Mina couldn’t think of anyone who liked Lady Joselynd, except Roger. She was forever fussing about the way her chamber was prepared, or the food that might upset her sensitive stomach, or her clothing that required such special care, always using that childlike, breathy tone of voice. Many a time in the past few days, Mina had wanted to shout at her to be quiet and go away.
But that Reginald should feel so! Joselynd had gone out of her way to be nice to him. She had seemed fascinated by whatever he uttered, which was a feat that had actually come close to making Mina have some grudging respect for her. She had deferred to his wishes whenever possible. She had spoken for hours with him about his clothes and showered him with so many compliments, Mina had been ashamed for her. Yet never once had Reginald so much as hinted that he had found her company onerous. She said as much now.
“I was just being nice,” her half brother protested. “I mean, I didn’t want to hurt the poor girl’s feelings. It’s not her fault that the baron thinks she should marry me. And she’s nice enough, in a boring way. I mean, all she wants to talk about is clothes!”
Mina had to stifle a smile at that, since clothing had been Reginald’s major preoccupation prior to coming to Montmorency Castle. “So I presume this means you are not willing to obey the baron’s wishes regarding a marriage?”
Reginald got up and paced agitatedly. “That’s the problem. No, I do not want to marry her, although she’s very pretty and certainly understands fabric.” He halted and looked at Mina with his pleading, sorrowful eyes as if he were a puppy begging for a bone. “How can I tell the baron I don’t agree?” he pleaded. His expression grew more hopeful. “Do you think Roger would tell him if I asked?”
“I don’t know what Roger would do. However, if you don’t want to marry Joselynd, you should tell her right away, before she goes on making a fool of herself.”
Reginald cleared his throat awkwardly as he sat beside her. “That was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t have the heart to disappoint her. Could you, would you, please? You’re a woman, you’ll know better what to say. Please, Mina?”
Mina didn’t relish the idea of being related to Lady Joselynd in any way, so she was truly delighted to think that Reginald had not been persuaded by the young woman’s artful campaign. She was also quite certain that the sooner Joselynd knew the futility of her situation, the sooner she would leave and take her breathy, pouting demands elsewhere.
Yet should it not be Reginald who spoke to her? And should it not be Reginald who made his feelings known to the baron?
That was the honorable way, but as she looked at Reginald with his desperately pleading eyes, she realized that the clever Lady Joselynd might cry or somehow manage to upset Reginald so much that he would overlook his objections and find himself betrothed. Nor could she imagine Reginald standing up to the baron. “Reginald,” she said slowly, “this is what I propose. I will speak to Lady Joselynd, if you will go to Roger with your request that he intercede for you with the baron.”
“But you’re Roger’s wife, and he might listen to you.”
I would not be so sure, she thought. She said, “He knows the baron better than you, so he would know best how to express your reservations about the match. Don’t forget that you are a nobleman from a fine family, Reginald, and don’t let Roger bully you. You don’t have to marry anybody you don’t want to, and I’m sure Lady Joselynd will have plenty of other prospects.”
“Yes, yes, you’re quite right. About Roger and Lady Joselynd both. But you promise you’ll talk to her for me?”
“I promise.”
Reginald gave her a swift, hearty embrace that caught her off guard. “Thank you so much, Mina! I mean, this is so kind of you, and it’s such a weight from my shoulders! I didn’t know what I was going to do!”
The garden gate creaked again. “What is it, Hilda?” Mina asked the maidservant who stood on the threshold.
“Oh, here you are, my lady. Good morning, my lord,” she said with a pleasant, if somewhat flustered, smile. “I came to tell you that the cook says we can’t have the dumplings Lady Joselynd asked for today. He hasn’t got the right kind of flour.”
Mina muttered an expletive that made Reginald blush. “I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I am so tired of worrying about Lady Joselynd’s tender stomach and wondering what she will and won’t eat. I’m sure Thorbert has aged ten years since she’s arrived.”
Hilda smothered an amicable giggle. “And I’m sure Aldys and I never want to see those gowns of hers again, either. I’ve never had to take such care of clothes before.”
“You’ve done an excellent job,” Reginald said kindly.
“Only because you told us what to do,” Hilda answered with a warm smile.
“She’s made everybody work much too hard,” Reginald said, walking toward Hilda. “The earlier she leaves, the happier we’ll all be.”
Mina suddenly had the distinct feeling that she was completely superfluous here, and that Reginald and Hilda wanted to be alone, or perhaps had been planning to be alone before she was discovered there.
Reginald and Hilda? No, she couldn’t believe it.
Then Mina looked again at Reginald and at Hilda, and believed it.
Not sure quite what to do or think about this unexpected dalliance—and wondering if that was all it was, or something more—she cleared her throat loudly. “I should be about my duties, and I thank you for telling me of Thorbert’s difficulty, Hilda,” she said. “Now you should be helping Aldys with the rushes, shouldn’t you?”
Hilda gave a guilty start and bobbed a hasty curtsy before hurrying away.
“Reginald, I want to ride later,” Mina said, noticing that Reginald’s gaze did not stop following Hilda as she scurried away. “Would you like to join me?”
“No, thank you, Mina,” he said with a heavy sigh. “You go too fast for me.”
“I don’t want you to be bored.”
“Never mind about me, Mina. I’ll be fine.”
“Reginald?”
“Yes?”
“I like Hilda,” she said, “and I don’t want her to be hurt, but she is only a serving wench.”
“I know what she is. Why should anybody hurt her? Has she done something wrong? Does she have to be punished?”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Mina assured him quickly. “I just couldn’t help noticing ...”
“That I care for her?” Reginald demanded, and once again her usually mild relative surprised her with his blunt, resolute tone. “I love her. I intend to marry her.”
“Reginald!”
“Don’t try to talk me out of it, Mina,” he said gravely. “I know you married because you very reasonably wanted to better your lot. However, I have no such needs. I love Hilda, and she loves me, and there’s no more to be said.”
“But how can you be so positive?” Mina protested halfheartedly, more confused than ever about the emotion of which he spoke. “She is nothing but a serving woman. She already has a child. You barely know her! I can see that the baron would forgive your refusal to marry Lady Joselynd for another noblewoman of equal or higher wealth or position, but to refuse his own relative for Hilda? And I think Roger would refuse to be involved in such a scheme, too.”
Reginald looked at her doubtfully, then straightened, grim resolution appearing on his youthful face. “Then I shall have to go to the baron myself.”
“You would do that for Hilda?”
“Yes.”
Mina stared at Reginald, overwhelmed by the change in him. Could love be this transforming, this powerful? “Reginald, tell me...” she began, and then she stopped, unsure how to proceed and unsure if she should reveal her curiosity to the young man before her who was, despite the apparent change, still Reginald. He could yet prove to be a foolish boy, and love nothing but a delusion. “You have only known her a short time to risk the displeasure of one so influential,” she warned.
“You didn’t know Roger at all before you married him.”
“Reginald,” she said gently, taking his hand. “Reginald, do you think I have a marriage to emulate?”
This time it was Reginald who looked startled. “Why, yes, of course.”
Mina shook her head. “No, I most certainly do not. Roger barely speaks to me. He pays more attention to Joselynd than he does to me.”
“He doesn’t like Joselynd. He’s just being polite.”
“You sound very sure of that. I wish I could be.”
“Albert’s fairly certain of it. You can trust his opinion, can’t you?”
“How do you know what Albert thinks?” she asked, a note of hope creeping into her voice.
“I asked him.” He flushed a pale pink. “I ... I was worried about you,” he confessed. “I mean, Roger can be fairly rude, and I thought I might have to speak to him about the way he talked to you. Fortunately, Albert explained to me that Roger is usually the most civil to the people he likes least.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Mina said.
“The way Albert put it, he said that Roger’s courtesy is like putting on your best garment for a guest. You are your true self when you’re wearing your most comfortable garments, not in your occasional finery.”
“What you’re saying is, if Roger is rude to me, it’s because he likes me?”
“It’s because you upset him, and if you upset him, he cares about what you think or do. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t. Do you follow?”
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