In the end, it was Duncan, bound at the end of the rope secured to the steeds on the shore, who freed the lady from the boughs. Her skin had paled to a sickly hue and the bruises from her fall were livid on her flesh. Her features were contorted, a clear indication that she had died in pain, and her eyes were open. She looked so wretched and broken that Duncan not only crossed himself before he touched her but said a silent prayer for her soul. He closed her eyes then, and despite the tug of the river, tried to ease the grimace from her face.
It was hard not to find Lady Eudaline’s justice harsh in this case, even if it had been meted correctly.
Yet it was here, in the river as he freed a dead woman from the clutch of dead branches and the whirl of the river, that clarity came to Duncan’s thoughts. Lady Azalaïs had arisen this morn, much as any other, and had chosen to read while she awaited the awakening of others. Now she was dead, young and cheated, to Duncan’s view.
There was no telling when one faced one’s last day.
There was no reason not to savor every moment and every pleasure.
He felt a warmth flood through him. Radegunde was right in her joy, in her fearless embrace of every day’s pleasures and torments, in her desire for adventure and experience. Radegunde was right to celebrate whatever happiness could be claimed each day, to greet the dawn with delight, to refuse to worry about any pending doom.
The present should not be set aside, surely not for the potential of unhappiness in the future.
He had been a fool.
He should savor every moment with his Radegunde, and ensure that they both held rich memories of this time together. He knew there was only one way to reassure his lady and earn her forgiveness. He was not a man to speak of his feelings, but he realized that in this instance, he would have to do as much to make amends.
Would she believe him?
He must ensure that she did, one way or the other.
Duncan lifted the corpse free, newly resolved to hasten back to the keep. He carried Lady Azalaïs to the shore with no small effort. He slipped once, but lost neither his burden nor his footing, and was relieved to be free of the river’s chill waters. Duncan was glad they had brought a shroud, for it was unseemly that many should see her thus. The other men were silenced by the sight of the noblewoman, all of them wet to the bone and sickened by the task.
When she was wrapped, he saw one of the men in service to the house wipe away a tear. “She was a good woman,” that man murmured. “Sweet and kind.”
“A sparkling gem.”
“Lively and possessed of a musical laugh.”
“I never heard her laugh,” Duncan said, thinking these traits had little to do with the woman who had seemed as insubstantial as a ghost. Indeed, he had scarce noted her presence in the hall, so quiet had she been. Her garments clung to her body, emphasizing her slender figure. At least, she had not been with child.
On this day, Radegunde would have no babe’s passing to mourn.
“She was much changed after her marriage,” offered the third, and the first two frowned at him.
“I will not speak ill of the dead,” said the first. “God bless her soul.”
The prayer was repeated and the lady’s slight weight lifted between them. They had not brought a cart, and Duncan thought it unseemly to bind her to a saddle. In the end, a makeshift hammock was slung between two of the steeds and the corpse placed upon it. They did not make great speed, but in a way, Duncan thought it fitting that their return be slow, like that of a funeral procession.
Even if he chafed to be by Radegunde’s side.
The villagers turned out to line the road as the party approached, more than one clearly stricken as the procession passed to the bridge. They had heard the tidings then and were aware of the burden that Duncan and the men carried. They were so silent that the horses’ hooves seemed uncommonly loud, and even the growl of one man’s empty belly carried far.
Duncan and the men carried their burden onto the bridge, moving even more slowly. Duncan saw that the priest stood at the gate to the keep, waiting to welcome the lady home. Lady Ysmaine and Lord Gaston stood behind him, their expressions solemn, then Lord Amaury, Lady Marie, Lord Millard and Rohese.
He wondered then who would prepare her for burial and hoped that Radegunde was not assigned this task.
They were at the midpoint of the bridge when the sentry cried out. “A party arrives!” Duncan turned with the other men to see a small noble company galloping along the shore toward the village, taking the same path their own party had followed just the day before. The standards bore the insignia of Valeroy.
Lord Amaury stepped forward with evident concern. Duncan and his party passed through the gates with their burden and Lord Amaury crossed himself before striding across the bridge to greet the arrivals.
Duncan surrendered the lady’s corpse to a pair of waiting maids. Two of the men from his party continued to carry the slight burden to the church along with the maids. Duncan then glanced back at the arriving party to see that one rider had dismounted.
It was Radegunde’s brother, Michel. That man seized the halter of a white palfrey to lead it through the village, his own horse falling behind. Lady Richildis rode the white palfrey, followed by a pair of maids and a woman who Duncan realized was Mathilde. It was her posture that revealed her identity, though he could not discern her expression until the party started across the bridge.
Mathilde met Duncan’s gaze, then scanned the keep, clearly concerned. Duncan gave the reins of his steed to a squire, then strode after Lord Amaury, hoping he could relieve Mathilde’s fears, whatever they might be.
“What is amiss?” Lord Amaury demanded with quiet heat when he was alongside his lady wife. He took the reins from Michel, who bowed and stepped back.
“Mathilde saw a shadow,” Lady Richildis murmured. “A portent of doom.”
“And rightly so,” Lord Amaury replied. “For Bayard’s oldest daughter, Azalaïs, is dead this very morn.”
Both lady and wise woman crossed themselves and Michel looked back with dismay, then did the same.
“She had the book,” Lord Amaury said quietly.
“Poor girl,” Lady Richildis said with a shake of her head. “Then you were right, Mathilde, yet we did not arrive in time.”
“The shadow is not banished,” Mathilde said with conviction. She gripped Duncan’s hand and he anticipated her question.
“Radegunde is hale enough, if vexed with me this morn.”
Mathilde smiled. “I have no doubt you will win her regard anew.”
“I fully intend to do so.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you, Duncan MacDonald.”
“There is another matter upon which I would have your counsel, Mathilde,” Lord Amaury said, then quickly recounted the tale of the hunting gloves.
“God in Heaven,” Lady Richildis said. “May we be glad that you told such tales to Radegunde, Mathilde! Imagine Ysmaine’s repute if she buried a third husband! Though the fault would not be her own, I can fairly hear the tales that would be told of her.”
Mathilde’s expression was grim. “I would like to examine both book and gloves, if it can be done.”
“I laid claim to the gloves,” Lord Amaury said, then turned to Duncan, his manner expectant.
“I shall endeavor to retrieve the book, my lord,” Duncan said with a bow.
“Surreptitiously, if it can be done, Duncan,” Lord Amaury said, his lips barely moving.
Duncan nodded as the party continued to the gates.
“I thought to arrive for a feast not a funeral!” Lady Richildis exclaimed, making a clear attempt to disguise the reason for her arrival. She dismounted when she was in the bailey with her husband’s aid, then seized Lady Ysmaine’s hands. “My child, what a trial has come to you!”
Duncan spied Radegunde behind her lady and so he saw her joy at the arrival of both her mother and brother. He smiled when she glanced his way, but she averted her
gaze.
Fortunately, he had the perfect plan to earn her favor anew.
First, though, he had need of a bath.
Chapter Nineteen
Lord Gaston had not taken the book, nor had Lady Ysmaine. Radegunde had asked at the first opportunity, and had considered the possibilities while Duncan had been gone.
Who had laid claim to the book?
Did its disappearance mean there was yet a villain in Lord Gaston’s hall? Radegunde feared it to be so.
She was beyond glad to see her mother and brother arrive in the party with Lady Richildis. More assistance with this riddle could only see it solved sooner.
“And so you are vexed with Duncan,” Mathilde whispered when mother and daughter first embraced.
Radegunde pulled back to eye her mother. “Did you learn as much in a dream?”
Mathilde smiled. “He told me of it.”
“Indeed?” This confession did little to improve Radegunde’s mood. “It seems he is less taciturn with you than with me.”
“Or that he speaks aright. You are vexed, as you seldom are.” Mathilde put her hand through her daughter’s elbow and they followed Lady Ysmaine and Lady Richildis to the hall. Radegunde saw her mother’s eyes narrow as she studied Lady Ysmaine and she caught her sidelong glance. Radegunde nodded and her mother smiled in understanding. “It is good then that I have come.”
“Surely my lady’s tidings are not the shadow you glimpsed?” Radegunde whispered.
“I hope not.” Mathilde gave Radegunde’s arm a little shake. “And do not tell me that it was a portent of you casting aside the love of a fine man.”
“There is the nut of the matter. He has never said he loved me.”
“Because it is clear in all he does.”
“Nay, he loves his dead wife.”
“Why do you say as much?”
“He would leave me behind when he rides for home!” Radegunde flung out a hand. “He instructs me to remain here until his return.”
“He fears for your future,” her mother said with surprising caution.
“So he insists.” Radegunde sighed. “I would be with him, Maman. I understand that he may not return, but I would share every moment possible.”
“It is not so foul for a man to wish to protect you.”
“Maman! I thought you would take my side in this. He has spoken of his love for his dead wife, but said naught of any for me. I would know the inclination of his heart.”
“Do you not see it in his deeds? He pledged a handfast to you.”
“And he did not wish to continue our relations, for fear that I should conceive a child.”
“Truly?” Mathilde nodded approval of this notion. “It is not so bad for a man to defend a woman’s future either.”
“I refused his inclination,” Radegunde said. “You should know it. I declined to take the herb you sent to me.”
Mathilde surveyed her daughter. “You take a risk.”
“I would willingly bear his child. I love him! There can be no half-measure.”
Radegunde was surprised that her mother frowned. “Make no mistake, child, for I do not regret a one of you, but my life would have oft been simpler if your father had either remained with me or abandoned my bed completely. I could not resist him or his touch, but it is no easy path to be a mother without a man at one’s side.”
“You think I err?”
“I think you know enough of the world to make your own choices,” Mathilde said mildly. “And I think that if you are left alone with a babe, it will not be by any choice made willingly by Duncan.”
“Because he would do his duty by me.”
“Indeed.”
Radegunde sighed. “But what if Duncan defends me only out of duty?” she asked. “What if he truly does still love his lost wife?”
Mathilde shook her head with a confidence Radegunde could not share in this one matter. “Love is not thus and you know it. He could love both of you.”
“I would have him choose. Or at least love me best.”
“And there is your error,” Mathilde said crisply. “That is pride and not love. Do not repeat my mistake, Radegunde.”
“I do not understand.”
“I loved your father. I still do. I was convinced that he loved me, but he kept secrets from me.” Mathilde looked thoughtful. “And so in my audacity, I erred. I bade him choose between his secrets and our match.” She shook her head. “He did not make the choice I believed to be inevitable. And so, by demanding more of his love, I was left with less. For a while, he came for pleasure, but then no longer.” She held Radegunde’s gaze steadily. “I cheated myself, for I did not know what burden he carried. It is clear that it was greater than his love for me, and when I insisted that he choose, I lost.”
Radegunde was surprised by this confession. She believed that her mother never erred, so was shaken to learn otherwise. “Surely you do not advise me on the merit of patience,” she said, hoping to make her mother smile.
Mathilde did smile. “I speak of trust, Radegunde. Where there is love, there should be trust.”
“I would have him make a sweet confession to me.”
“And if you press him overmuch, you may cheat yourself of it. There is naught amiss with a man being slow to confess what is in his heart. Duncan’s deeds speak the truth most loudly.”
Radegunde grimaced. “I should still like to hear the words.”
Her mother smiled. “And I pray that you will hear them before the Yule.” She kissed Radegunde’s cheek. “Do not torment the man for his honesty or the honor he does you, and think twice before you compel a choice.”
Radegunde could see the merit of that advice. If she forced Duncan to choose, and he was not prepared to confess his love, she would lose even their time together before the Yule. She wanted every day and every moment in his company, for she would cherish each memory after he departed.
She and Mathilde reached the hall where Lady Ysmaine was calling for a restorative cup of mulled wine for her mother.
“It is a bit cold here in the hall,” Lady Richildis said with an elaborate shiver. “Could we not sit in the solar?”
Mathilde turned and grasped Radegunde’s hands. “I will go with the ladies,” she said quickly. “Once Lady Richildis knows what you have confided in me, she will want to be reassured that my portent did not involve Lady Ysmaine’s condition.”
“But I can tend my lady…”
“Do not let this dispute with Duncan fester, child. It is a disagreement and no more, so does not merit such influence.”
“But what should I say to him?”
Mathilde reached into her bag and removed a ball of the rough soap she made each fall. She placed it in Radegunde’s hand. “If ever I saw a man desirous of a bath, it is Duncan MacDonald on this day. Surely he deserves some solace for seeing such a grim task completed?” She closed her hands over Radegunde’s. “Let him speak and do not fear either his words or his heart.”
Radegunde hoped that her mother’s conviction was not misplaced. Mother and daughter shared a smile, then Radegunde kissed her mother’s cheeks. She gripped the soap and ran into the bailey in search of Duncan.
* * *
Duncan feared he would never get the stench of death from his skin and his garb. He could not court Radegunde’s favor in such a state, which made it doubly vexing.
He had rolled the great tub into the corner of the stables and brought water to it pail by pail, with help from Laurent and Hamish. He dismissed the squires and stripped down when the tub was half-filled. The water from the well was cold and he shivered as he stepped into it, then closed his eyes and ducked below the surface. He scrubbed himself all over with a rough cloth, but the scent was not readily dispelled.
Duncan began to suspect that the smell was in his memory, but still it sickened him. A young woman, dead too soon. Another needless death. His gut churned as he wondered whether all came awry.
Was his ill fortune the shadow
that Fergus saw in the future? Had that fated day arrived? Duncan did not like that he and Radegunde had parted badly. He felt unsettled and agitated as seldom he did. The loss of Gwyneth had been devastating, but Duncan realized that Radegunde had not just claimed his affections but had stolen his heart clean away.
He could not imagine being without her.
He could not even bear a disagreement with her.
She was the very blood of his heart.
Yet he feared that a sweet confession might be ill-timed. If he was to lose his quest to set his past to rest, he wanted Radegunde to fall in love again, to be happy, to marry another. If he confessed his love to her, she might be sufficiently stubborn to hold fast to his memory and cheat herself of what he saw as her due.
Curse his father and his wretched ambitions! Duncan scrubbed, not caring if his skin was left raw.
What was the shadow discerned by Mathilde? The same as the one that haunted Fergus, or another? Duncan shook out his hair and eyed the filthy water, knowing he could not change it himself without treating all the bailey to a view of his nudity.
Or donning his soiled garb again.
And he could not summon the squires. Laurent was truly Leila and Hamish had been summoned to serve Fergus.
Duncan’s irritation rose as he washed his face yet again. His annoyance was disturbed by an unfamiliar scent.
Not death.
Not river filth.
Duncan opened his eyes to find a bar of soap held before him.
In a woman’s hand. His heart leaped for his throat.
Radegunde smiled when he met her gaze. “I think you will make little progress without it.”
Had he been forgiven? How? Why? Duncan found that he did not care. “I thank you, lass. Where were you hiding this marvel?”
“Lass?” Radegunde echoed. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him but there was a twinkle in the depths of her gaze that gave him much encouragement. “If you are going to speak to me as if I were a stranger, I shall see you drowned in this tub, Duncan MacDonald.”
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