The troubadour's song

by Patricia Werner

  Her heart rattled, and she felt a sheen of fear dampen brow and palms, but she lifted the dish and began rattling the clapper as she and Raymond started to limp across the bridge. When they reached the middle of the arched structure and could be seen on the other side, Raymond raised his voice and whined out, "Unclean, unclean." Then he rattled his clapper louder. She took a lopsided step and echoed his words in a tinny voice.

  Now the sleepy guards on the other side were aroused. They mumbled among themselves and one came forward. "What's this?" he asked. "Lepers?"

  There followed curses that indicated their plan was working. The French soldiers thought that the townsmen set the lepers out on purpose, to infect their camp.

  "Get back!" the guard shouted. "Those bastards have sent their lepers here. Make a path to send them through as quickly as they can go."

  More shouts went up, muffling the cries of the two posing as lepers. Then came the threat they had expected. "Let's kill them" came an angry voice.

  Allesandra's heart stopped, and her throat went dry. But she continued on, cowering as anyone would when threatened with death. But Raymond stumbled forward, pretending to lose his balance and fall toward a gathering of soldiers. They hastily sprang out of the way. She saw that he was careful not to fall to the ground, lest his healthy flesh be revealed. She reached out to help steady him as they stood for a moment as if awaiting their fate.

  She rattled her dish to cover the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears. At any moment someone might see through their ruse and take the risk of uncovering them.

  But the fear of contagion was too great. A scoffing voice replied to the threatening one, "And who would bury them? You can catch leprosy off the dead as well as the living, you fool. Unless you want the sickness, stand clear."

  Seizing their chance, Raymond led her slowly forward. How difficult it was not to break into a run and flee down the dark path that opened up before them, as in the distance the shout was carried forward, "Lepers, let them pass."

  And so they stumbled slowly, clapping their dishes and calling out in a whine their warning, "Unclean, unclean."

  It took a great effort to maintain the gait and the whining voice. And when she bumped into Raymond, she feared that one of

  them might fall accidentally. But neither must their movements appear too quick and give them away.

  They were nearly to the end of the camp when heavy boots came tromping behind them. Her breath stopped as she thought surely the captain of the guard had seen through their ruse and now came after them. She glanced out of the mask to see who was about to capture them. Then in great agitation she saw that it was none other than Gaucelm bearing down on them from the other end of the camp.

  They'd almost reached the end. Beyond a line of torches planted in low earthworks was the dark and open plain. Out there, robbers, wild boars, and any number of expected dangers awaited them. But that was preferable to being taken prisoner, stripped of their disguises and then executed, their heads carried on a pike to dissuade their own people from resisting the French king.

  "Where did these people come from?" called Gaucelm to the guard who had followed him.

  Allesandra felt sure all was lost. She and Raymond continued to mince forward, but stopped calling their warnings as they listened for what Gaucelm would say. She sent up a silent prayer and avoided looking at his face. Surely if anyone would guess their plot, it would be he. He knew they'd been in the town. He knew the townspeople would want to be rid of them. Would he take the next leap of thought and figure out that this was only a disguise?

  "They came from the town, sir," the guard was explaining. "No doubt set out to infect our camp with their disease."

  She hunched over, giving a pitiful picture indeed. Raymond continued to hobble in the direction of the earthworks and rattled his dish threateningly. For a moment it seemed to be the only sound nearby. Other night sounds, the rustles from within tents, the soft clop of a horse's hoof in the distance, the wind coming from the river, all seemed to fade into the background.

  Gaucelm was near enough that she imagined she could hear him breathing. She could feel his eyes penetrating the darkness and knew him to be considering. She only risked glimpsing his

  feet and the hem of his gown, for he still wore his own disguise, which he had used to get into the town. She dared not raise her eyes for fear he would recognize her even thus dressed.

  Then from the distance came another sound. She looked up when she heard it and could not help but see Gaucelm turn his head. He had heard it, too. He turned to stare beyond the torches at the darkened plain.

  Allesandra felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck. There was something out there. What could be moving across the plain in the dark?

  A great shout ripped the night, and suddenly an army rushed toward them on foot. A line of archers scrambled up the earthen embankment built by the camp that day. And as they let fly with their arrows into the surprised French camp, lances were thrown by the second line of men-at-arms. A knight on horseback led a charge through the ranks of foot soldiers, who were spaced to allow the horsemen through. Then all was a melee of confusion as French soldiers grabbed whatever weapons were to hand. Some of the common soldiers still wore their quilted vests or leather coverings, but many had already shed even those.

  The carnage was immediate, and Allesandra froze in horror. She watched Gaucelm draw his sword and defend himself from a knight on horseback. She stopped breathing as the knight thrust toward Gaucelm, who sidestepped and brought his sword down hard to clash with the other knight. Men fought all around her and when she finally turned around, she'd lost sight of Raymond.

  She scanned the tangle of fighting men, afraid that he'd been wounded and was being trampled at this moment under the hooves of a horse, or lay with an arrow in his chest. Then a horse moved from in front of her and she saw him some yards off. He had seized a weapon, his face mask was cast aside, and he was thrusting and slashing at the French. All pretense of being a leper was thrown off.

  She picked up the hem of her own gown and tried to flee out of the way. It was all she could do to stay out of the way of the blows being delivered all around her. Great thuds and cries filled

  her ears, and blood ran on the arms of soldiers and splashed on the horses' caparisons, some of which she now recognized as being from Toulouse. She'd been at the site of sieges before, but the horrific din of battle was greater by ten times here on the ground amidst the fight.

  Dust flew up to sting her eyes, and in wiping them to try better to see, her face mask came away. She never really knew where she dropped it. Still, her garment must have marked her as a civilian, so no soldier from either side attacked her directly. She was only in danger of flying weapons from every direction, rearing hooves, and those who flung themselves to the ground with aery.

  She scrambled between them toward the embankment, thinking to take refuge there, and retrieved her dagger in case of need. She glanced again to see Raymond holding his ground. His gown was ripped, his hood tossed back, but he slashed and wounded all the Frenchmen who came his way.

  Then she found a spot on the rise of embankment just above two fallen southern men-at-arms. Seeing from the stare of their open eyes that they were dead, there was nothing she could do to help them. Her heart in her throat, she looked anxiously at the spot where she'd last seen Gaucelm. He was not hard to find. Having picked up a shield from a fallen soldier, he now cut a wide swath all around him with his ringing, merciless sword.

  Her mind stopped working; the rage of battle was too great for anything but trying to survive. Yet she could not leave for fear that something awful would happen either to her overlord Raymond, or to her beloved enemy, Gaucelm Deluc.

  As more of the fighting came her way, she clawed farther up the earthworks until she knelt near the top. Some of the southern knights had been unhorsed now and fought on foot. One such suddenly spotted Gaucelm, and with a great growl, charged through the rest on
foot to send his sword straight at Gaucelm's throat. But Gaucelm saw him and quickly parried the thrust.

  Now the two strong knights engaged in their own battle, metal clashing. Then, gripping each other, they tangled and fell to the

  ground. Allesandra held her breath as with a grunt, Gaucelm pushed his attacker aside and was first to his knees. But the southern knight brought his sword upward, slicing at Gaucelm's thigh. The attacking knight rolled and then got to his feet again to rush at Gaucelm once more.

  Without thinking, Allesandra held her dagger ready, thinking she might throw it at the attacking knight if he were near enough and Gaucelm's life was threatened. Then Gaucelm swung his blade in an arc, the weight of the blow causing the knight to drop his sword. The knight grunted and stumbled forward, but drew a dagger from his belt. He made a lunge, the dagger aimed at Gaucelm's side. But with a blow to the side of the head, Gaucelm knocked the man backward to sprawl senseless on the ground at Allesandra's feet.

  Gaucelm drew breath and stood up, his sword at the ready to look behind him for the next attacker. But all around him were engaged in their own battles. He made a full circle to assess the ground around him and then looked down again at the southern lord he had knocked aside, in case the man was about to regain his senses. Finally, inevitably, Gaucelm lifted his eyes and saw her.

  Her hair flowed loosely down her back, dirt and blood were splattered on her hem, a fierce gaze on her stunned face, and the dagger ready to stab any man who came near to take advantage.

  The dagger made him pause halfway up the slope, and when she saw his glance, she lowered it. Their eyes met again, while behind them the heated battle still raged. Then he was up the slope, reaching for her other hand, and pulling her to her feet.

  He said not a word as he sheathed his sword, then led her down the other side of the embankment and pulled her down to huddle low in the grass and brush, protected from the dangers beyond.

  "You must get away from here," he said fiercely.

  She reached for his face. "Are you all right?"

  He grasped her hand, his eyes drinking her in. Then he kissed her palm hastily. She saw the pain in his eyes. Then he was on his feet and strode toward the opening in the embankment back

  toward the battle. For a moment, she thought he planned to leave her there, and she followed for a few steps to see. Then she saw him grab at the bridle of a frightened horse that had dashed this way. Its rider was somewhere in the melee beyond.

  He got control of the rearing beast and then brought it her way. As the wild-eyed animal stretched its neck back toward where it had lost its rider, Gaucelm said to Allesandra sternly, "I must get you to safety."

  He knelt and indicated that she should use his knee to climb into the stirrup and then into the saddle. Her leper robe was not quite as full as the gowns she normally wore for riding, but her leggings protected her skin from scraping on the leather skirt of the saddle. Once mounted, she extracted her feet from the stirrups, so that he could mount behind.

  Still holding the reins, he pulled himself up behind her and then turned the horse away from the battle. Once away from the fighting, the horse did not seem to mind taking them where they wanted to go. There was enough moon now to see the ground, but they could not risk riding very fast. They struck out across the plain, and then turned south when they came to a cart track.

  Allesandra did little but hang on and catch her breath. Hugging her with his arms and guiding the horse with the reins, Gaucelm breathed heavily from his own exertion. He said nothing as he concentrated on guiding the horse safely.

  When they came to another crossroads, Gaucelm turned east again. He finally spoke. "We will be safer this way in the lands of the empire."

  She understood what he meant. If they were discovered together in any of the counties of Languedoc, it would be assumed that he had abducted her, and he would be taken prisoner. And if discovered in French territory, what was to keep Gaucelm from making her identity known and holding her for ransom?

  She said nothing, but squeezed the sides of the horse with her thighs to keep balance. She needn't have worried, for as they jostled along, she was secured by his strong arms around her. Her back was against the damp cloth of his merchant's disguise.

  As they got farther from the scene of battle and regained their breath, she became more aware of their closeness. His head rested against her ear and she tentatively couched herself against him. He pressed his arms around her and better fit her against him. She closed her eyes, amazed at this twist of fate.

  Where they were going she did not care, though silently she wondered about Raymond's fate. She felt a pang of guilt at abandoning him. But he had seemed to be holding his own. And when Gaucelm had swept her away from danger, all her instincts were to go with him.

  She fought to still the ever-present conflict that came to her every time she was with Gaucelm. Duty and passion battled within her with as much tempestuousness as the clash of enemies behind them. But as Gaucelm held her closer and guided the horse along the road in the moonlight, there seemed little to do but accept him as her rescuer.

  He did not seem satisfied to stop until they had traveled for quite some time. An hour or more had passed and she jerked awake, realizing that she must have dozed against his shoulder. They still traveled carefully, and now all sounds of battle were left behind. She gave a little shiver, for the night air chilled her, and she stared into the darkness where only dim shapes were visible from the road. Brigands and highwaymen might stalk this road, and they had only Gaucelm's sword and her dagger to protect them.

  The horse pulled his head forward as if he smelled water, and soon after, she herself caught a moist breeze wafting toward them. Then she heard the rushing of water along a bank and strained to look ahead for river or stream.

  The sky to their right seemed to lighten a tinge, and she gave a gasp as she made out a monumental shape that traversed the river they had come to. Great arches stretched from one hilly bank to another, rising grandly in two tall stories, with a smaller set of arches on the top row. It was a Roman aqueduct, the heavy limestone blocks forming a channel across the arches where water had once flowed.

  Aqueducts were a familiar sight in these lands, but this one

  was especially well preserved. They paused near the riverbank and then Gaucelm judged it safe to dismount. He helped her down, then led the horse to drink. After tying the reins to a bush, he turned back to her.

  She felt vulnerable standing there in such a disheveled state in the first hint of morning. She ought to feel victorious that she'd drawn him away from battle, thus depriving the French of his abilities. But she knew as well that she was as much his captive as he was hers.

  He strode toward her now, and she trembled, not knowing whether to expect anger or pity. He stopped a little ways from her and gazed at her in the shadows, saying nothing.

  She could not find her voice for a long time. But in those moments she took in his features. Stronger, more mature, if that were possible. And she was filled with the need to touch his face. She shook her head helplessly and moved toward him just as he reached for her hand.

  "Oh, Gaucelm," she breathed. "I never thought to see you again."

  "Nor I you, madam," he said. And then he drew her to him and leaned down to kiss her lips gently. He did not crush her against him, but touched her face with his fingers.

  Her hands went to his shoulders, and she knew a great need that would not be held back. His face was inches from hers, and he parted his lips to kiss her again. This time his tongue lashed at hers more hungrily, and a runaway desire shook them both with their need.

  Nineteen

  "We must find shelter," he said when he lifted his head again.

  Allesandra was speechless, but struggled to gain control over

  her emotions as Gaucelm went to retrieve the horse. She saw

  the sense in his advice. Here, they were in the open and near the river. Until they decided what to do, it woul
d be best to avoid meeting anyone. She looked about at the hilly landscape of the unfamiliar territory as shadows began to recede. But she hadn't any idea where they were or what their course of action should be.

  The horse's hooves and the leather on the bottom of Gaucelm's feet crunched on the small pebbles of the riverbank. His chiseled face and the concentration of his dark gaze gave away nothing. He took her arm and led her up the bank. Not far away was a shed at the edge of a field, and as they got closer to it, they could see that fresh hay had been strewn in it, not long ago. But no one was using it now.

  Gaucelm scanned the horizon for a moment as he tied the horse. "We'll be safe here for the moment. There are no curls of smoke indicating a peasant cottage nearby. This must be used for herders driving their cattle to market. Come and rest."

  He arranged some bales of hay to provide further seclusion and comfort. He unbuckled the belt to which was attached the sheath for his sword, and laid it down. Then he pulled off his surcoat to spread beneath them. His movements were not rushed. He went out again to study the ground for signs that anyone had passed recently, and seeing none, he came in to find Allesandra seated on the hay.

  When he removed his tunic, her heart contracted at the sight of his muscular back. Blood had dried along cuts and scratches, and she bent to examine him.

  "You are hurt, my lord. Your cuts must be bathed. But we have nothing to dress them with."

  He turned around. "They are not deep and do not trouble me."

  The hardened muscles of his chest made her draw in her breath, and her hand came up to touch him. She allowed herself a secret smile of pleasure. He was standing in linen breeches tied at the waist by a drawstring, and she could not help but remember when she saw him thus last in the bedroom at the castle so long ago. Her pulse throbbed in her ears, but she was mindful of his wounds

  and wished to see them cleansed. Something of the same thought was evidently in his mind, as he held out a hand.