“Without my permission, yes.”
“Oh, I should have your permission! I wouldn’t think of it otherwise.”
She turned on me, her eyes sparkling with anger. “Do you believe, for one minute, that I would allow you, a vagabond, a landless man, to make love to me?”
“Of course.”
“Never…unless you take me by force.”
“Don’t keep harping on that idea. It sounds too much like an invitation. No, no matter how much you expect me to, I shall not. I shall wait. The kisses of a woman who has been humbled are the sweeter for it.”
“You are the most egotistical man I ever met.” Her tone became cool. “We will discuss the subject no longer.”
“If I discuss it, you will leave me?”
“I cannot escape you, you know that.”
“A satisfying thought, is it not?”
We rode on in silence until finally I said, “A true gentleman is at a disadvantage in dealing with women. Women are realists, and their tactics are realistic, so no man should be a gentleman where women are concerned unless the women are very, very old or very, very young. Women admire gentlemen, and sleep with cads.”
How far we had come I had no idea, but we had ridden most of the day. During our occasional stops, we gave the horses a chance for fresh air also, and I took time to study the construction of the tunnel. It seemed to have been built at intervals over an extended period. Judging by the masonry, I believed the tunnel must have been built for some distance, and then work ceased for many years and then was begun anew. From place to place the styles of the masonry were different, and even the materials.
No doubt it had taken several hundred years to complete it, but there need have been no shortage of manpower during that time. Yet wars and political confusions within the Church may have caused stoppages.
We came upon old entrances walled up and several places for escape from the tunnel; yet where they emerged, I had no idea nor time to investigate.
At one of the places where we stopped for fresh air, we shared our bread and meat, but she remained cool.
“What is your given name?” I asked.
“I am the Comtesse de Malcrais.”
I smiled. “You can call me what you wish.”
“I have several ideas about that!”
“Good! You have imagination, at least. Share them with me? What would you call me?”
“An unmannered peasant, a boor, an impossible, ungallant person—oh, I could think of many things!”
“Well, not bad, but they are rather the usual names, are they not?”
“I expect you are accustomed to them.”
“I have some names for you, too.” She stiffened, her nostrils flaring a little, her lips tightening. “You are beautiful; you have a very provocative mouth, one that was meant for kisses. Your shoulders are lovely. As for your legs…I haven’t seen enough of them to express an opinion, but probably they are ugly.”
“They are not!”
“I am sure they are. However, you have a warm color, especially right now, and very, very beautiful eyes.”
“You make jokes.”
“No, you are beautiful. Your lips would be very soft to kiss, very warm, and I think—”
She got to her feet. “It is late. I think we should be moving on.”
“Of course.” Helping her into the saddle, I felt her arm stiffen. I mounted, and we rode on in silence. When next we stopped for air it was dark and the air was colder.
“We are close now, Comtesse.”
“My name is Suzanne!”
“Yes. We are close now, Comtesse.”
She lifted her chin at me; then we rode on until we came to the end of the long tunnel, and there was a stable there, too. Like the first it had been long unused.
“I do not know what lies outside. We must be prepared for anything.”
I drew my sword.
“All right,” she said, “I am ready.”
Reaching up, I took hold of the ring. For a moment, I hesitated, then I pulled on the ring.
As the door grated and swung slowly open, I stood with my left hand holding the bridle, my right hand gripping my sword.
34
THE DOOR SWUNG on its counterbalance, and we stood in a vaulted, deserted room. All was dust, a few ancient boards piled against a wall, and cobwebs. The room seemed not to have been entered for years.
There were arrow ports, and as we walked our horses across the room, I peered out. It was dark and still. The air from the arrow ports was cold.
The view was that of a narrow street, a crooked street where we could see but a few yards in either direction. Unbarring the door, we went outside, closing the door behind us.
The door had been so rigged that when it opened, the bar lifted automatically, and when it closed, the bar fell into place once more. Mounting, the Comtesse and I walked our horses along the street into the town.
All was dark and quiet. We needed shelter and a place where we could remain out of sight until the von Gildersterns’ caravan arrived if it was not already here. And we needed food.
We found an inn on the outskirts of town, one that gave indication of being well-appointed. The common room was crowded, and the host came to us at once. His glance was hard and suspicious.
“Is this the inn patronized by the Hansgraf von Gilderstern?”
His manner changed. “Hah? You are a friend of the Hansgraf? This is not the inn to which he comes, but I know him well. He came often to the inn of my father, beyond the walls. He will be here for the fair?”
“I am a merchant of his caravan. I left him at Montauban to meet my sister. We are to join him here.”
“Ah? You were not at St. Denis? We heard he was there.” He turned. “Pierre! To the yard! See to the merchant’s horses!”
He took up a massive ring and keys. “I have a fine room. I was saving it for the Hansgraf, hoping to get his business. I hope you will recommend us.”
“See that we are not disturbed, and notify us at once when the caravan comes to town.”
He led the way to a comfortable room with two beds and a large fireplace. He knelt and lighted the fire upon the hearth.
He brought a pitcher and a bowl. “I would have known she was your sister,” he said. “You favor one another.”
“Merci. There could be no greater compliment,” I answered, smothering a smile at the shocked expression on the face of the Comtesse. “My sister is the loveliest of women.”
When he had gone she turned on me. “How dare he say such a thing! It is nonsense!”
“A good sign, I thought. People often fall in love with those who resemble them because they can imagine no beauty greater than their own. That may be why you are falling in love with me, because we resemble each other.”
“I am not falling in love with you.” Her tone was icy. “We are to sleep in the same room?”
“There is no other way. Had we asked for separate rooms, they would not have understood. It is not the custom for husband and wife, brother and sister, or whatever, to remain apart in strange inns. A woman by herself is in danger.”
“And am I not in danger here, with you?”
“That would depend, madame, on your definition of danger. Some people are afraid of one thing, some of another.”
“If you come to my bed, I shall scream for help.”
“Madame, if I come to your bed, I shall not need help.”
She removed her cloak with an angry gesture, and I took it from her and hung it on the wall.
“You were quick to tell them who you were, but why Montauban?”
“If one would remain hidden, Comtesse, one must be obvious, not mysterious. Had I not told them who I was and who you were, they would have been curious, which leads to imaginings. I identif
ied myself as a merchant here to meet a known caravan. My identity is established, and we are no longer of interest.
“Moreover, I did not want us associated with the road from Paris. If soldiers come searching for us, the innkeeper might have mentioned that we had come by that road, and they might have come to ask whom we had seen on that road.”
“You are good at this. It inclines me to believe you have often been a fugitive.”
“Beautiful women are the wives or daughters of powerful men. Naturally, I have been a fugitive.”
“Do you make a practice of this? Of running off with strange women?”
“All women are strange until they become familiar, but I have forgotten other women. How could even a memory be left after having seen you?”
“You are lying.”
“Perhaps, but even a lie may carry truth. It is a paradox, but is not all life a paradox?” I paused. “Now shall we lie down together and discuss paradoxes, life, and strange meetings by the wayside?”
Before she could reply, our meal was at the door, and we ate in silence, as we were both tired and hungry. As the warmth of the fire and wine crept into our tired muscles, I thought of her home. “Tell me about Saône,” I said.
“It was built long ago on the foundations of an earlier, Byzantine castle. It was to guard the southern approaches to Antioch. They built upon a promontory jutting out to the westward, with a gorge on either side. Two deep ditches were dug across the neck of the promontory, one of these to defend the approach to the gate, another to divide the castle into two sections in the event the first was taken.
“You know about such things, but the castles were built to defend land the Crusaders had won, and many of the Crusaders did not return to their homelands, but stayed to rule their vast estates in Lebanon.
“There are subterranean storage chambers for supplies; there are mills to grind grain, as well as wells and cisterns for water. The castles were sited so they could communicate with each other by signal fires, but if the distance was too great, they used carrier pigeons.”
“It must cost a fair amount to keep it all going.”
“We have income from a dozen villages and much land, but a few years before my father was killed he had to be ransomed from the Arabs, which cost many thousands in gold.”
“What will you do if you return to Saône? Will they not want you to marry?”
“I must, to hold the castle and the land, but there are others than Count Robert. He knows that, too, and will not want me to return to Saône except as his wife.” She glanced at me. “He will kill you if he finds us together.”
“What better place to die? In your arms, I mean.”
She was exasperated. “Are you never serious? You are in danger, far more than you believe.”
We slept in separate beds, but I was sure she had a knife and was prepared to defend herself, and I am quite sure she remained awake most of the night. I, on the other hand, slept deeply and well.
Knowing little about women’s thoughts, I have no idea how the Comtesse felt about me. She was, I suspect, ready to use the knife during the first hour and perhaps during the second. By the third hour I suspect she was wishing I would make some attempt so she could settle the matter and get some sleep. Her state of mind after that I would not attempt to assess.
When the sun came up, I went down to the common room and ate my breakfast, taking hers to her.
“Did you sleep well?” I asked, all innocence.
“I slept very well!”
“Good. The caravan should arrive today, and you must be rested for travel.”
During the afternoon, dressed in a cloth coat and cap, I risked a visit to the town. My clothes were such as a prosperous merchant would wear, so with the influx of people for the fair I was not likely to attract attention. However, I did a little advance work for the caravan and discovered the Hansgraf was well known here.
It was evening before I returned. The Comtesse was awaiting me. “How much longer must I be cooped up here?” she protested. “It is maddening!”
“Go now, if you wish. Count Robert may not be in the town, but I am sure he has spies here.”
“You might at least stay with me!”
“I have matters to arrange, but I thought you might prefer to be alone. It must be difficult for you to be in a room with a mere merchant.”
She did not reply to that. Today, she looked even more beautiful and had wrapped her braids about her head in a perfectly enchanting way, and she was wearing pearls. Knowing a bit about such things, I thought it was obvious they were worth more money than I had ever seen.
The Comtesse wore a clinging white gown, a close-fitting garment with tight sleeves above the elbow, falling wide and open below the elbow. With her dark hair and eyes she was astonishingly beautiful. How she managed with the small amount of clothing she brought with her, I had no idea. Yet the result was certainly worth the effort.
I told her about the town, a pleasant, walled town where our arrival had been accepted without curiosity, yet I was wary. Not for a moment did I underestimate the jealousy of Count Robert, who wanted not only the castle but the girl as well. The former meant the power equal to that of a crowned king, and the loveliness of the Comtesse was answer to the second consideration.
While in town I purchased a fur-lined tunic that came to my knees, and new leather boots that pulled on over plain hose. The boots came to just above the calf and were beautifully made. Walking in the town, I carried no sword, but I had two daggers beneath the tunic that could be reached through a slit in the front just above the belt.
There was knocking at the door. It was the innkeeper. He was visibly nervous.
“There have been queries about a lady. Knowing you for a friend of the Hansgraf, I said nothing about—about your sister.”
“Who made the inquiries?”
“Soldiers of a Count Robert. He rode into town this morning with about thirty men, and I am sure they will be back.”
“Do you wish us to leave?”
“Would you? But stay until the night. The Hansgraf should be here by then.”
Taking up my sword, I placed it conveniently on the table. Glancing again at the innkeeper, I decided to trust to his discretion.
“What I have said is true. I am a merchant of the caravan led by Hansgraf Rupert von Gilderstern. As you have guessed, the lady is not my sister. She was to be forced into marriage with Count Robert. A castle is at stake as well as the happiness of the Comtesse.”
He dismissed the explanation with a gesture. “It is nothing. Count Robert comes, he goes. In a lifetime I shall not see him again, but each year the Hansgraf comes to Provins, spends much money here, brings much business. He is a good man much respected. Do not worry.”
When he had gone the Comtesse turned quickly to me. “You must go! If you are found with me, he will kill you!”
It irritated my masculine pride that she thought me so easily killed. “Madame, we Kerbouchards do not kill so easily. This blade”—I gestured to the sword—“has taken the life of one baron not long since. No doubt it can take the life of another.”
“You killed a baron?”
“After we had taken his fortress by storm. Barons, my Comtesse, bleed as easily as merchants or peasants. This one bled like the thief he was. The Baron de Tournemine—”
“Tournemine?”
“Not a relative, I hope?”
“No, but a captain at the Castle of Saône once served him, a man named Taillefeur.”
“Trust him not. I believe he betrayed my father, and he tried to rob me. He is a mercenary without their virtue of loyalty. If he is not in the pay of Count Robert, I would be surprised.”
“I trust him.”
“Others have, to their cost. Once I nearly cracked his skull, and only wish I had struck harder.”
She was frightened. “If I cannot trust my own captains, then whom can I trust?”
I bowed. “You may trust me with your castle, your wealth, your life, but not too many nights in the same room with you.”
Her eyes were amused. “You have spoken so much of that, merchant, that I wonder if you are not just a talker.”
Stung, I started to reply, but she laughed, and turned her back on me. That white dress did admirable things to her hips, which were shapely, very—
A sudden uproar in the street took me to the window. Six men-at-arms clustered there, and with them was a tall, powerfully made man with a swarthy face and thick black brows. Nobody needed to tell me this was Count Robert.
Turning swiftly, I said, “Do you remain here, and make no sound. I shall go below.” Belting on my sword, I turned to the door.
She caught my arm. “No! Please! He will kill you!”
Bending my head, I kissed her lightly on the lips and regretted that I must leave.
“Wait for me. If I die, I take the memory of your lips with me.” Adding, for my own information, that I did not intend to die. Too much remained to be done.
Count Robert was approaching the steps when I appeared on them. “Stand aside,” he ordered, “I wish to mount the stairs.”
“At the head of the stairs,” I replied, “is one room. It is my room. You have no business there.”
“Stand aside, I said!” His black eyes were cold. “Or I shall spill your innards and walk over them to the room.”
“If you come up these stairs,” I said, “we shall see whose innards lie upon them.” I drew my sword. “Come, if you wish. You can bite on this steel.”
Coolly, he stepped back and motioned to the men behind him. “I do not fight with commoners. These do it for me.”
“An excuse for cowardice,” I replied.
Count Robert gestured at the men-at-arms. “Kill him,” he said.
“If they advance one step,” a voice called out in a haughty tone that once heard could not be forgotten, “I shall hang the lot of them, and you higher than the rest.
“I am the Hansgraf Rupert von Gilderstern, of the White Company of traders. This man is a merchant of our company.”
The Walking Drum (Louis L'Amour's Lost Treasures) Page 27