by Rachel Bard
Earl Hamelin spurred his way through the group, oblivious of whose horse his steed jostled or whose ribs his elbows poked.
“Well, Sir Richard, we are honored that you are here to greet us, though I suppose you won’t stay for long. I understand that the local lords around Angoulême have holed up in the city and are daring the English to try to take it. What fools!” In his scorn he tossed his head and snorted like a horse. “But you’ll soon show them, eh nephew?”
“As a matter of fact I’ve already showed them. It took us only six days to lift the siege of Angoulême, and those foolish lords are even now on their way to Winchester to submit to my father.” He looked around at the knights, the ladies, the duenna and the tutor, and embraced the whole group in his wide, sunny smile. “So, since I am now fortunate enough to have time to accompany my sister to Saint-Gilles, perhaps I should learn who my companions will be. My good uncle, would you make the introductions?”
He would indeed and got most of the names right. Richard greeted everybody with a polite little nod of the head and appropriate greeting, but his eyes lit up and lingered longest on Lady Beatrice. She blushed at his gaze and lowered her eyes. “Becoming modesty,” thought Lady Marian, who had observed the exchange of glances. “But calculated, I fear.” Then she glanced at Lady Gertrude. The duenna’s wise old eyes moved from Beatrice’s face to Lady Marian’s. The two women looked at each other a moment, thinking the same thing: “We’ll have to watch that one.”
If Joanna had seen any of this she gave no sign. Richard helped her up onto her horse and she rode proudly by his side up the hill to the palace, as full of chatter as any little sister reunited with her favorite brother.
Chapter 6
After a few days in Poitiers, pleasant as the spacious old palace was, Richard was chafing to be off.
“If we’re to meet King William’s people in Saint-Gilles on time,” he said to Joanna, “we’re going to have to break camp.” The brother and sister were sitting on a bench in the palace garden.
He eyed Adelaide, Beatrice and Charmaine, who were strolling in the garden, holding dainty parasols and twittering like ecstatic sparrows when they bent to take in the sweet scent of lavender. The duenna, old Lady Gertrude, had settled on a bench to doze in the sun.
“Your frivolous ladies will have to tear themselves away. It’s high time we marched on.”
Joanna didn’t answer at once. She was remembering playing in this garden as a very young child, when Eleanor was in residence at Poitiers. She remembered warm lazy afternoons like this one. She looked up at the high stone walls that gave welcome shade on a hot summer’s day. From three tall cypresses along the wall, sparrows and finches darted in and out, chirping loudly as though to drive away these interlopers in their private space.
“I suppose you’re right,” she said reluctantly. “Lady Marian was feeling quite unwell when we arrived, but she’s better now. When do you think we should leave?”
Lady Marian and Earl Hamelin walked into the garden in time to hear these last words.
“Nonsense, Joanna,” said the former with asperity. “I wasn’t feeling unwell. No more tired from the journey than the rest of you.” She flounced her skirts and sat on a bench.
“The sooner we leave, the better,” said the earl. “That’s my opinion, anyway.” He sat at the other end of Lady Marian’s bench and looked crossly at a sparrow that was bouncing up and down on a cypress twig near his head. He shook his fist at it. The bird flicked its tail and flew to the next tree.
The earl had been trying to think of ways to make himself indispensable so Richard wouldn’t decide he was superfluous and send him home. So far he hadn’t come up with anything except to second Richard’s every order. On the other hand, he fretted, maybe it was better to be as inconspicuous as possible.
The former strategy seemed the right one now. Richard stood up quickly.
“That’s settled, then. Uncle, get the word to the supply sergeant and the carters that we’ll leave tomorrow morning. Lady Marian, tell the chateleine that we’ll want a fine meal this evening. Roast pig would go down very well. And I’ll see that the captain of the knights has his men ready.” He strode off toward the palace.
“Now that’s what I call a man of action,” said Lady Marian admiringly.
“He’s always been like that,” said Joanna. “I’ve never been able to keep up with him. But I do think he might say ‘please’ a little oftener.”
“With a smile like his, who needs ‘please’?”
Joanna noticed that Richard had paused to speak to her ladies. He must have given them the news that they’d soon be leaving; their faces fell. But they cheered up when he said a few more words and held out his arm for Lady Beatrice. She accepted it and they made their way toward the palace, with Adelaide and Charmaine tripping along in the rear. The duenna woke and followed them.
Dinner a few hours later was as festive as Richard could have wished. All the ladies, even Joanna, had dressed in their best, aware they wouldn’t have another chance for weeks or months. Richard and Joanna sat at the center of the head table, on the dais of the great hall. Joanna was in emerald green, with a pearl-and-emerald tiara crowning her brown hair, shiny from Lady Marian’s brushing. She looked more grownup than she felt. Richard wore his gold crown and his red tunic and leggings with the aplomb of a king. Lady Marian on his right looked quite drab in contrast, though she’d donned her finest gray silk gown. Earl Hamelin on Joanna’s left was almost blinding, in a purple tunic with long crimson sleeves which more than once came dangerously close to immersion in his soup.
Not only was a roast pig presently borne in on a silver platter, but it was followed by four peacocks roasted to crackling crispness, with their brilliant tail feathers restored to them so they looked as though they’d been draped in rainbows.
“Remember, Joanna, when our mother held that grand state dinner for the papal legate, and she ordered the fowl dressed like that? I thought it would be amusing to see if the cooks could recreate her menu.”
“No, I don’t remember that, I must have been too young. But I do remember how long those dinners lasted and how noisy they got.”
“Yes, but, in spite of all the tootling of flutes and drumming of tabors and loud talk, you usually managed to fall asleep before the pies and cakes came in.”
She made a face at him. He grinned, and turned to say something to Lady Marian. Earl Hamelin bent forward and waved his arm to get Richard’s attention. “Prince Richard, how long do you think we’ll be on the road south?”
“If we didn’t have the baggage train, we could be in Saint-Gilles in two weeks. But I expect it will be a month or more before the whole household gets there. It will be up to you, uncle, to keep them moving.”
The earl leaned back, and though she was almost enveloped by the sweep of his sleeve as he withdrew his arm, Joanna heard his sigh of relief. She’d been aware of his anxiety about whether he was to stay with the party. On the whole, she was glad to have him along. She’d gotten used to his foibles and knew he meant well.
“Some of those mule drivers are as lazy as their beasts,” said Richard. “You’ll have your hands full, uncle, urging them on.”
“That, and making sure we don’t take any wrong turns,” said Lady Marian. The earl pretended he hadn’t heard.
Joanna was feeling drowsy when the last tart had come and gone and when the servants were bringing in pitchers of sweetened wine and platters of figs and dried apples. She dragged herself to her feet, rubbing her eyes.
“Well, at least I stayed awake until the end of the feast this time,” she said to Richard, “but now I’m going to bed. And if we’re to leave early tomorrow, shouldn’t you do the same?” Lady Marian rose too.
“Now you sound just like my mother,” said Richard, but with good humor. He waved them off, turned to his right and beckoned to Lady Beatrice to move into Lady Marian’s vacated chair. “But surely my three pretty maids aren’t going to desert me.�
�
“Oh no, it’s early yet,” said Adelaide. She was the least pretty of the three, with a rather long face and eyes just a bit too close together.
“I’ve finished my packing, so I can stay up as long as I like,” said Charmaine, tossing her head so her blonde curls danced.
Beatrice said nothing, but slid into the chair next to Richard. Earl Hamelin took advantage of the shuffling of places to move down and sit between Adelaide and Charmaine.
Beatrice cast Richard a quick glance and a smile, then turned to whisper to Charmaine.
Charmaine nodded and said, “Prince Richard, we’ve heard that you are a very accomplished troubadour. Won’t you give us a song? It would be such a pleasure to all of us here.” She looked down at the ten or twelve knights and ladies at the tables below the dais. They appeared to be absorbed in their own conversations and goblets, but one bold knight who happened to have heard Charmaine called out, “Yea, Prince Richard, let’s hear a verse or two!”
That was all it took. Richard gestured to his page to bring his viol, stood up, plucked the strings softly, and began. As Joanna walked from the brightness of the banquet chamber toward the dim hallway outside, she heard his clear, sweet tenor voice. “Oh hear my plea, my lady fair…” She turned and saw the light from the candelabra behind him making a halo around his golden hair. She saw him bow his head to address his song to Lady Beatrice at his side. She saw Beatrice place her hand on her bodice and, as though transfixed, look up at Richard with a half smile. Joanna blinked. She was too sleepy to try to figure it out.
Lady Marian, who had also turned for a last look, took Joanna’s hand and led her out.
“Oh dear,” she murmured.
Chapter 7
After weeks of hard riding they finally arrived at Saint-Gilles. Richard had been stern about starting the days an hour after dawn and not calling a halt until dark. Earl Hamelin was just as assiduous in urging on the baggage train. He enjoyed his position of power, even if only over mules and muleteers.
But when they reached their goal there were no Sicilian ships waiting for them. The whole party halted on the broad esplanade along the shores of the Petit Rhône, the river that was the town’s link to the Mediterranean.
The sun was just setting and in the gathering dusk everybody stared at the placid river in disbelief. All they saw were fishing boats coming in to anchor and workboats bringing field laborers home from the other side of the river.
Richard scowled. Joanna thought he looked just like her father when he was mightily displeased, lashing out at the nearest person.
“This was certainly the date we agreed on, wasn’t it, uncle?” Richard snapped. “You must remember, Joanna. Didn’t the king promise to have his ships here no later than mid-November? And here it is the nineteenth and no sign of them. I can’t hang around waiting on some lazy sailors who could still be in Sicily, for all we know. I must get back to Aquitaine.”
Alan Broadshares saw his young mistress flinching at Richard’s harsh tone. An old soldier in England’s service, he wasn’t intimidated by Richard’s mercurial temper. He knew it would subside as suddenly as it arose.
“Maybe those fellows over there can tell us something,” he said, pointing down the quai. Four seamen had just come out of what looked like a tavern. They were laughing, bellowing and swigging in turn from a long-necked leather bottle. Alan dismounted and approached the group. The conversation got even louder, with much gesticulating and pointing toward the south, toward the boats in the river and toward the town behind them.
“They’re sailors who are stuck here in Saint-Gilles because there’s been a howling bad storm out at sea,” Alan came back to report. “One of them rode up from Saintes-Maries this morning and he said he’d never seen such high waves. He said he didn’t see any boats or galleys out in the thick of it, so he supposed any that had been caught by the storm had either gone down or had managed to find a protected cove to ride it out.”
Richard’s face got even darker with his displeasure.
“Sicilians are good sailors,” said Brother Jean-Pierre. “I expect they knew enough to take shelter. Maybe they even made it to the mouth of the river and are on their way now.”
“Sorry, but they aren’t,” said Alan. “The man said his road took him along the river all the way to Saint-Gilles, and he saw no galleys.”
“So here we are, left to cool our heels and twiddle our thumbs,” Richard grumped. “Well, let’s make the best of it. Uncle, what do you know of the town? Where will we spend the night? There’s an abbey, I believe?”
The earl struck his hand against his forehead and looked anguished. Though he’d been thoroughly briefed by Archbishop Richard about the lodgings they would find all the way from Winchester to Saint-Gilles, for the life of him he couldn’t remember what he’d been told about Saint-Gilles.
Joanna came to his rescue.
“Yes, there is an abbey. Brother Jean-Pierre told me about it once. It was founded by Saint Gilles himself years and years ago. But I don’t know if it has rooms for travelers. I hope it does so we can stay there and tomorrow I can see the saint’s tomb.”
“My liege,” said Jean-Pierre, “Joanna is right, there is indeed an important abbey here. It has a hostelry because it’s necessary to lodge the bands of pilgrims who come here to do honor to Saint Gilles.”
During this colloquy the seamen had drawn closer to see who these fine visitors might be.
“And if you want a guide to the abbey, I’ll gladly take you there,” called one of them, a barrel-chested man with a bushy black beard and a wide, guileless grin.
“Thank you, my man,” said Richard. In the last rays of the setting sun, everybody could see that his face had brightened and so had his mood.
Before they began the ascent into the city Richard gave instructions to his companions. “Since we are all weary from the journey, a day or so of rest here will be welcome. But don’t wander too far. As soon as the Sicilian galleys appear at the anchorage, I’ll see you aboard, and then take my leave.” He turned to the hovering seaman. “Now then, friend, lead on.”
The jolly sailor, doubtless sensing there would be generous payment for services rendered, invited his companions to help him guide the large party. One ran back to the tavern for torches to light the way up the twisting cobbled streets.
Tired and sleepy, Joanna rode behind her brother and Earl Hamelin. They were discussing plans for the next day.
“I’m afraid I shall have to pay a call on Count Raymond of Toulouse tomorrow, if he’s in residence,” Richard said. “Queen Eleanor is worried that he may intend to claim some of our lands in Aquitaine that lie along his borders. She was quite firm in telling me to advise him against such a rash move.”
“Ah yes,” said the earl. “So you too must be firm. Would you like me to come with you? Two of us might make more of an impression on the count.”
Joanna tried to imagine the earl adding weight to any negotiations. She hoped Richard would discourage him.
“No, thank you, uncle. You’d be more help to me if you would keep one eye on the harbor and the other on our flighty young ladies. Don’t let them wander about unescorted and get into trouble. That old woman, Gertrude or Gawaine or whatever her name is, who’s supposed to look after them is as likely to decide to take a nap as to do her duty. I can’t imagine why my mother sent them along in the first place. They don’t seem to be especially suitable companions for my sister, and they certainly don’t do much in the way of waiting on her.”
“I believe it was Archbishop Richard of Winchester who selected them, not Queen Eleanor. They’re all highborn. He thought it would impress King William to see his bride-to-be accompanied by such beautiful and noble young ladies.”
“Well, uncle, the archbishop must have a different idea of beauty than I do. Although that Beatrice is worth a second look. Such blue, blue eyes—have you noticed? And the way she flirts and flutters her eyelashes. To my way of thinking she’s not quite
as naïve and innocent as she lets on.”
“To my way of thinking, Richard, she’s not nearly as attractive as Lady Adelaide. Now there’s a woman with character all over her face.”
“Yes indeed. The character of a very wellbred horse.” Richard let out a whoop of laughter so loud that it could be heard all along the train of travelers. The earl, pained, said nothing more.
When they entered the town square, a nearly full moon had just risen over the rooftops. Joanna looked up at the face of the abbey church that dominated the square. She saw three soaring arched entrances and a tall tower, shining like alabaster in the moonlight. All across the façade she could barely make out a profusion of carved figures. Some were tall and stately like saints; some were small and crowded together like sinners—with a few fearful beasts interspersed here and there. She looked for Brother Jean-Pierre to ask him what it all meant, but he was far behind her.
Their guide, who had disappeared into a side door of the church upon arrival, came out with several hooded monks.
“Now I’ve gotten you here safely, my liege, and these good brothers will see you all to your quarters in the hostelry.” He and his companions stood there expectantly.
“Yes, you’ve done splendidly, and I thank you,” Richard said. “Uncle, will you give these excellent men something to show our appreciation? I haven’t a farthing on me.”
The earl complied with a smothered groan. It wasn’t the first time Prince Richard hadn’t had a farthing on him.