The troubadour's song

by Patricia Werner

  "And many of the southern towns have already surrendered. Many of the great lords are dead."

  Andre's drumstick stopped midair. "I see where you are headed. Only Toulouse now holds out. Whoever is here must be sent from the count of Toulouse."

  "The old count is too ill to fight or travel, but there remains the son, who will inherit the title."

  "Surely he would not make such a journey himself when he could send informers?"

  "Perhaps." Gaucelm ate silently and only took enough wine to clear his palate but not to muddle his thinking. Something niggled at him, and he found himself staring at the upper landing as the servants brought down empty dishes.

  After the dishes were cleared and the table taken down, the men donned cloaks and Master Wykes led them through the streets to the guildhall. Gaucelm did not waste the walk, but took a mental accounting of what he saw. As he expected, he found no weakness. An even greater reason to find a way for Avignon and the king to compromise.

  In the silversmith's lane, they came to a tall building of post-and-beam construction, rising straight between its older neighbors, which leaned slightly. As they climbed the stairs to the hall, they could hear the din of voices, which ceased one by one as the newcomers' boots sounded on the stairs. They came out in a large room, with fire crackling in an enormous hearth at one end

  of the room. The men stood in groups around a long table as Master Wykes brought the two unofficial emissaries forward.

  "Fellow councilmen," he began, "I have here two knights from the French king who claim they have sneaked into our city more to do a favor for ourselves than to help the king. They fully realize we could keep them hostage and faced that risk. For that reason, I agreed that we would give them a fair hearing."

  "Perhaps if we don't like what they have to say we can still keep them as hostages," suggested one of the councilmen.

  "We can do that," agreed Master Wykes. "I think that how honorably we behave toward them will depend on how honorably they behave toward us."

  The sour little man who was so anxious to make prisoners of them pinned his mouth shut.

  "It seems that we have been chosen as arbiters of this unfortunate war," Master Wykes went on. "Earlier today two other respected guests appeared here and I gave them sanctuary. They have agreed to meet these two French knights and offer their views to this assembly as well."

  The mayor's provost now came forward, a thin elder with an aristocratic bearing. His fur-lined surcoat was of the finest wool. "If you please, Mister Mayor, introduce us first to these two French knights. What are their credentials?"

  Gaucelm and Andre introduced themselves, though they could see that with all their impeccable northern lineage, the burghers' polite nods did not hide their own pride at being self-made men in trade.

  "And who are the other nobles who come from the South?" the provost asked.

  Master Wykes's young servant, who had obviously been given prior instructions, now marched to a door that led off the hall and opened it. Two cloaked figures entered the room.

  Gaucelm was ready for who he thought it was. And indeed the alert young man with the proud bearing resembled his father, the count of Toulouse, with whom Gaucelm had once parleyed. But he barely heard Master Wykes announce that young Ray-

  mond of Toulouse had arrived among them a few days ago, for his usually controlled face lost its pose of neutrality as he stared, stunned beyond belief at the woman who revealed herself from behind Raymond's shoulder.

  Allesandra stepped into the room and removed her cloak. She was garbed in a tasteful dark-blue gown with a surcoat of the same color. Her hair was covered by an ivory-colored veil, and a linen wimple covered her throat. But as modestly as she was dressed, her face portrayed her nobility in the lift of her chin and the smoothness of her brow. A thousand thoughts flew through Gaucelm's mind as he stared at her, and he could see at once that she was prepared for this meeting. Her unruffled bearing told him she had known that he was here.

  Allesandra slowly lifted her eyes from the floor to meet Gaucelm's intense gaze. He looked astonished. She had braced herself for this moment, but now that they were forced to meet in so public a manner, she struggled to control the thumping behind her ribs. She was aware that the mayor was introducing them now to the other councilmen and to the unexpected emissaries from the North. But for her there was no one else in the room.

  Then Raymond was speaking and she re-collected herself. She felt the high color on her cheeks but that would be excused by the tense situation confronting them. She had to look away from Gaucelm, though she felt his eyes boring into her.

  The two parties sat down on benches with Master Wykes at the head of the table. "If there is anything to be said here that has not already been said, let us get on with this. I am not pleased that our town has been besieged. Neither do we wish to allow an army to march through our streets. Can a compromise be reached?"

  After a look at Allesandra that she interpreted as one of anger, Gaucelm began to speak. Since he had arrived at Master Wykes's house she had listened to his conversation through her partially

  opened door. She had seen him dine and had watched him converse with his friend, who seemed to regard her now with puzzlement. But it still took all of her fortitude to face him across a table in the midst of strangers. She had wanted to see him again, but not this way. She tried to calm her racing thoughts, for she was no fool. Their situation was dire. Perhaps the seriousness of it only fueled her desire to speak to Gaucelm alone. But she stiffened her spine and paid attention.

  "The king wishes to make use of your great stone bridge, which leads from the heart of your city to the other side of the Rhone. He insists on the fulfillment of that promise. He has not said so, but perhaps if you allow only the king's guard to do this, it will satisfy him. The vanguard of the army has already marched across the wooden bridge. I cannot promise it, but perhaps we can persuade him this is a likely solution."

  The councilmen began to murmur among themselves and voice various arguments. Beside her, Raymond sat stiffly, a symbol of why the king was marching south. He said nothing, and Allesandra was as conscious of the southerners' desperate plight as she was of the determination on the face of the man across from her.

  She stole glances when she could, and each time, Gaucelm looked at her as well. The dark eyes seemed at first accusatory, then questioning. On the next glance she thought she saw regret. She was trembling now and gripped the edge of the table with one hand to hold herself steady. She did not trust herself to speak. Finally, Raymond had his say.

  "Gentlemen. You all know that this crusade is abhorrent to me. As a sister city, Avignon has always shown sympathy for Toulouse. I would beg that you do not abandon us now Do not let the king draw blinders over your eyes. He marches south to quell not only the eastern lands of the Languedoc, many of which are already cowed, but he will then turn westward and assault us once again."

  "He already knows your strength, my lord," observed the provost. "Has not Toulouse already thrown his armies off?"

  "We have. All the more reason for you to stand firm. The cities form the core of Languedoc resistance. If he can enter your gates, then so will he be able to enter all the others. For your own sakes as well as ours, I beg you, stand firm."

  They argued then about Avignon's position outside Louis's domain, but Allesandra's eyes were drawn to Gaucelm again, whose look she now read as his emotions roiled beneath his diplomacy.

  And for all she had been traitorously pleased to see him, the old bitterness surfaced as she gave half her mind to what the council was saying. She had spent more than a year telling herself she had forgotten the sudden passion that they had shared when thrown together in her castle. Her castle was back in her hands now, her lands prospering, her people enjoying the right to live their own lives. There was no way to let Gaucelm Deluc back into her life that would not change all that. There was still nothing for them, nor could there ever be. Perhaps that was why, when th
ey turned to speak to each other across the negotiating table in such formal tones, they looked at one another with so much sadness and longing.

  But even with the table between them, she felt his eyes graze her face. Felt the blood racing through her veins, felt her mouth go dry, so that she was forced to wet her lips with the wine a servant had set before them.

  As she swallowed, the liquid moistened her throat, but the sweet taste on her lips only reminded her of his lips on hers. As she struggled to take jagged breaths, she felt as if at any moment, he would reach slowly across the table to touch her fingers. Of course he would never do that in public, but her mind began to run away with the need she felt for him. Desire flooded her body, and she tried frantically to wish it away.

  But with every gesture Gaucelm made with his powerful shoulders, his muscular arms, he sent only one message to her across the distance that separated them. She remembered him as a man who took what he wanted. And she gleaned from the way

  he studied her without the others knowing, that in spite of being her enemy, he had to know what it would be like to lie with her again.

  Eighteen

  The voices around her were raised, as suddenly all the coun-cilmen in the room decided to express an opinion. The decorum of negotiation was lost as the hotheaded Avignonese put their pride ahead of all else.

  Wealthy burghers despised powerful nobles and kings. The guilds and merchants' communes had grown up out of a need to defend themselves against both secular and ecclesiastical lords. Their fathers and grandfathers had settled in the towns in order to escape feudal duties. Town dwellers had won freedom from the feudal system in exchange from paying annual taxes. No wonder that the bitterness remained.

  After translating for Andre, who did not understand Provencal, Gaucelm was drawn into the argument, still pleading for compromise. But fueled by Raymond's passion, the Avignonese did not give way.

  Allesandra watched with dread as Gaucelm lost patience and leapt to his feet. Raymond rose as well, urging the burghers to take the side of the southern towns of Languedoc and stand firm.

  Allesandra remained in her seat until to do so would have allowed her to be crushed in the excitement. She felt the swell of guilt that she had done nothing to help Raymond.

  However, it appeared he needed little help. At last Master Wykes succeeded in restoring order and then addressed the French contingent with a frown.

  "My lords. Go tell King Louis that we will not bow. We feel that if we open our gates to the king and that ecclesiastic who

  rides with him, it will be tantamount to acknowledging king and pope as our rulers. We have done what we could to allow him to pass, but we cannot bend to royal wishes. Such is not acceptable to us."

  The mayor crossed his arms across his chest and set his lips in a firm line. The council erupted again. An angry merchant shook his fist. "Let us keep these two as hostages until the king passes by. That will guarantee our success/'

  "Here, here," said another.

  Then the room was a din as the council insisted on keeping hostages while Raymond argued loudly that if they held hostages to force the king around the town it would do him no good. "That brings the king closer to Toulouse," he shouted, but he was drowned out.

  "Quiet, quiet," said Master Wykes, pounding his fist on the table until the voices subsided.

  "I gave these men my word that they would be released from our town. I do not go back on my word. Keeping them here would only anger the king further. I do not want to start a war, only to show our strength. The Frenchmen go to tell the king what we have said."

  Allesandra was pushed sideways in the crowd. She caught Gaucelm's eye and saw the angry flicker there. She set her jaw. Desires or no, she had no choice. She could do nothing to keep the hated French army from marching toward their lands. A sudden wrenching tore through her heart, and she blinked back moistness. It was a fantasy to think that he wanted to see her again. He had his duty as well as she.

  And then she retreated the way that Raymond had cleared a path for her. They went down the stairs and into the street. Master Wykes's servant waited to light their way home with his lantern.

  "Come," said Raymond. "Let us go. Now that the French army will know of my presence here, we are not as safe as these Avi-gnonese might think we are. If two French knights can slip into a fortified town and are allowed out again, what is to stop them from assassinating us in our beds? No, I think we have accom-

  plished what we must here. The town will stand. Louis will remain. But as soon as he learns I am here, he will make other offers."

  He said no more, knowing that the servant who led the way would repeat all this to his master. But when they reached the house and climbed the stairs to their rooms, Raymond stepped into Allesandra's chamber and shut the door.

  "We must depart from here. I have a feeling that our host will be just as glad to see us gone. Then he can tell the king that we have slipped away. He may be keeping his word now. But in weeks to come, he will be sorely tempted to hand us over to the French in return for relief for his town."

  "You are right," she said. "We do no good by staying here. Our people need us."

  She thought of the dark eyes of the enemy that she would see no more and stifled the feeling of injustice that she carried in her heart. She turned her mind to their plans.

  Master Wykes soon joined them and agreed that their presence was now dangerous.

  "Is there a way that you can get us past the soldiers?" asked Raymond. "Or are we trapped here?"

  His face was set as if he were prepared to face the entire French army by himself and fight his way through. Allesandra knew such a sortie would be foolish, but it was part of the brashness that endeared him to the citizens of Toulouse.

  "There is a way, if you will consent to a disguise that might in some circumstances be thought abhorrent."

  "What is that?"

  "We can get you as far as the wooden bridge in darkness. Disguised as lepers, if you are not afraid, you can face the French camp. They will think we set you out of the town walls on purpose, as a threat."

  Allesandra glanced at Raymond, who with a determined face considered the plan. She looked back at Master Wykes. "True, they would draw back in fear when they first saw us," she said. "But they could shoot us with their arrows from a distance."

  "No," said Raymond, understanding the ploy. "None among them would even touch our dead bodies for fear of the contagion. They could not kill lepers and leave the diseased carcasses to infect their entire camp. Instead, they will clear a path for us and send us through as fast as we may go, shouting abuses at us, no doubt."

  Then his eyes focused squarely on her. "But I would not force you into such a dangerous mission, my lady. Let me go alone. You can remain here under the protection of the town. It is my skin they want, not yours."

  She clenched her hands together. "It would be pointless to stay here where I can do no good."

  Raymond permitted himself a moment of wry humor. "You are the warrior who killed Simon de Montfort. Perhaps Avignon would like your services in that capacity again. Who knows? This time you might succeed in hitting the king."

  And remain behind walls where she would be constantly reminded of the man she could not have who fought on the other side.

  "No," she said. "I come with you, my lord. I have duties in my household and my people will need us should this army turn that way."

  Raymond set his chin. "Very well. Get us the disguises. We will go tonight as lepers."

  Coarse gowns were found for them, and Master Wykes's wife set about adding holes and singeing edges to make it look as if they'd lived in the clothing for some months. In their rooms, both Raymond and Allesandra were stripped to their linen undergarments. Both carried daggers tied to their girdles. Then they were given the tin dishes with metal clappers that rattled a warning to anyone who came near that the two making the sound were carriers of the dread disease.

  With cloth to cover their fac
es, cut with eye, nose, and mouth holes, it could not be seen that their faces were actually whole. Mistress Wykes cleverly cut a different finger off each glove and sewed the material together where the joint would be. By tucking

  their fingers under, the gloves would fit well enough to make it look as if their extremities had rotted and fallen off. Old leather shoes and leggings would cover legs and feet. After they were dressed, they practiced a halting limp and mumbling speech. The mayor passed judgment on their performance, and after reassurance from his two daring guests, he led them out again and through the streets to a gate that would let them onto the quay.

  He held out his hand to them both. "I wish you good luck. We Avignonese do not care much for the nobility, but you have shown great courage in coming here. And I daresay your exit will be a memorable one. We will send up prayers for your safety. Our archers are ready on the ramparts should any trouble befall you immediately you cross the bridge. But once you are out of their range, you will be on your own."

  He gave them time to reconsider, but Allesandra pressed his hand, speaking in a muffled tone through her face mask. "Thank you, sir. You have been most kind."

  Then Raymond waited for a sign from her that she was ready. Trembling, she nodded once.

  The door opened, and the moist breeze from the river bathed them. They slipped through in the shadows and stood beside the solid stone wall as the door shut again and locked behind them.

  She felt a tremor as they took their first step. Armed only with short daggers, they were now faced by an army of tens of thousands encamped on the other side of the wooden bridge that Louis refused to use. Their way lay to the south, and thus it was the vanguard they would pass through. The rest of the army still surrounded the town on the north and east on this side of the river.