The troubadour's song

by Patricia Werner

  "One last time, madam? I want to make sure you will remember what you are giving up."

  Then he reached slowly for her and tugged her nightdress upward. She did not protest, but raised her arms so that it came over her head. Her breath escaped raggedly at the sight of him, and her breasts tingled as he removed her shift. He bent to extinguish the lamp and then stood again to reach for her. His lips

  came to join hers, and his tongue thrust inward as his fingers gently pressed, making her gasp.

  Her heart lost control and she trembled violently as his manhood brushed against her thighs. Then he dropped to his knees and let his lips do the work of caressing her skin, his hands and thumbs fondling the mounds of her breasts as he explored.

  Her hands were on his shoulders of their own accord as his tongue made the fires burst forth within her. Then he arose again and led her to the bed. He seated her, but remained standing before her so that her hands were on his waist. With deft and unhurried fingers, he unfastened her hair so that it fell about her shoulders and then he gently laid her cheek against his hard abdomen.

  In a private rhythm that they had come to understand, she teased with her own mouth and tongue, pleasing him as he moved gently against her. His own grunts and moans of satisfaction let her know that he was full of desire.

  Then with his practiced mastery, he lowered himself, his knees against the feathered mattress, and entered her. They joined together, and her own erotic sensations flowed unhindered. Her breath panted to the same rhythms as his thrusts. Then he hunched over her, bracing himself with his hands on the bed in the final moments when his seed spilled into her.

  For a few moments they breathed heavily. He leaned down to take one nipple in a moist kiss that sent a bolt of lightning to her womb. Then he pulled himself away and inhaled a long breath. He stood before her in the shadows.

  "There, madam, I have given you everything of myself that I can. If you have a child with Count Raymond, who will be able to prove it is not mine?"

  His words stunned her, so that she lay, braced on her elbows, her mouth open, but staring at his silhouette in the dim moonlight. Her heart still pounded from their passion, and it took time for her poor mind to arrange the words so that they made sense. By the time she had understood what he'd said, he had replaced his clothing. He sat to put on his shoes.

  "You can't mean that," she finally said.

  "Oh, but I do."

  She sat up, reaching for her nightdress. She had been powerless against his charms, and he had claimed her. She still felt sorry for the bitterness that had passed between them in the garden, but now this. Was this his vengeance?

  She stood up, trying to summon words to accuse him. But he was out the door before words would come, and she was left with the shattered feeling that they had come to a terrible end. The slippery wetness trailed down her thighs in ironic witness to what he had done. She had taken no precautions before any of their lovemaking. It was possible that his seed would take root in her.

  Perhaps she had not cared before, thinking that if such came to pass, it would only be evidence of the love they bore each other. But now he meant to claim her in a different way. Thinking that she was destined to do her duty and wed Raymond, Gaucelm meant to have the upper hand. If Raymond bedded her very soon, there would always be the possibility that the child was Gaucelm's.

  "Fool," she muttered to the door that had closed behind him. And she saw the mistake she had made.

  If she were with child, she would be forced to marry Raymond or some other southern lord for appearance' sake. For now that her arguments had offended Gaucelm, it was doubtful that he would come running back to her, even if she humbled herself to him.

  Twenty- three

  When morning came, Allesandra had to drag herself from bed. The skies were heavy with rain, and the gray mist seemed to penetrate her heart. She let the maids dress her hair and help her dress, but she dreaded another conference.

  The moment could not be put off forever. And when it was

  time, she went into the hall, half hoping she could make herself somehow invisible, especially to Gaucelm, should he be there.

  But he was not there. She broke her fast on bread and cheese with Raymond and their entourage. Then when the tables were broken down, they were instructed to join Blanche of Castille in her private chamber. The musicians stayed behind, only Raymond and the other southern counts went in, along with Alle-sandra, because of the effect any decision would have on her lands.

  But when they assembled around the heavy, square table at which Blanche was seated, Allesandra perceived that all the real negotiating had taken place last night, probably in this room behind closed doors. What Blanche and Raymond said now were mere formalities. When Blanche returned to the point about the marriage between Raymond's young sister and the king's brother, she sent a stinging glance at Allesandra.

  But Allesandra had already given her opinions to her overlord and held her tongue. Her head throbbed, and the bread and cheese she'd eaten only sickened her stomach. She wished nothing more than for the formalities to be over with. She wished fervently to be away from Paris and back in her own demesne to let all that was familiar comfort her.

  "The king has been informed of these arrangements," Blanche said to Raymond so that all could hear. "And he agrees. If you are prepared to sign the treaty, we will proceed."

  Raymond nodded his head. "Let us read over the wording alone," he said. "We will sign the document this afternoon in front of witnesses."

  "Very well."

  One of Blanche's knights stepped forward to hold her chair while she arose. "My scribes will prepare copies of the treaty. Bishop Frosbier will announce the betrothal of Jeanne and Al-phonse. Until that time, the king invites you to make whatever use of the palace and stables you wish."

  It was done then, the peace was ratified. But Allesandra carried her forebodings with her from the room as they all retreated into

  the hall. She and Raymond stopped near a window cut in the thick stone, where a shaft of sunlight brightened the floor.

  "So," she said. "It is accomplished at last."

  "Yes," he said. His face was set, his lips hardened into a straight line. When he spoke, he gazed out, staring without interest at the rooftops on the He de la Cite.

  "You think I have betrayed my people," he said without any accusation. It was merely a statement.

  Her shoulders sagged. "I see that you had no other choice. We are to be swallowed up by the French monarchy."

  "Perhaps it will be for the better in future generations."

  "Better for who? Oh, I'm sorry, my lord, I will not irk you by offering barbs at every turn. Indeed, I fear I shall turn into a bitter old woman because I am too attached to a world I thought I would never lose."

  She fought the twist of her heart inside her and leaned on the cool stone window seat.

  "I could not make our people suffer more bloodshed. Perhaps the French rule will not be too hard to bear."

  She gave him a sharp glance and shivered. "We have not seen the end of it, my lord," she said in a hushed voice. "We will be made to submit to the Church. The bishops will descend on us to squeeze out every trace of heresy. Many will suffer."

  He glanced about to make sure they were not overheard. "We will try to help them get away before that happens."

  Allesandra pushed away from the window opening. "Then may I have permission to return home? I need not stay to witness the treaty. I have given you what advice you needed, my lord. The agreements are made."

  He nodded. "As you wish. Take an escort and return to Toulouse. Take the news with you. Have it cried in the town. Meet with the town council and tell what I have done. They will not be so surprised."

  "Yes, my lord."

  His gaze seemed to return from the difficult place to which

  his mind had wandered and he studied her in a more personal way. "And you, my lady? What of your life?"

  She remembered Gaucelm's accu
sations of the night before and stiffened her jaw. "My fate is up to you, sir."

  His mouth relaxed into a gentle smile. "We will have to discuss that when I return."

  She swallowed. He would no doubt renew his suit for her hand. Perhaps Gaucelm was right; by declaring where her loyalty lay, she was in danger of trapping herself into a marriage out of duty. But then, according to the troubadours, when was marriage ever based on love? Love was a romantic notion to be shared between lovers. Marriage was a political responsibility between nobles.

  Tears suddenly threatened at the edges of her eyes and she made a small nod and retreated. She found her way to her chamber and then sent the maid to find Jean de Batute.

  When he came to wait on her, she told him what had happened. "I've been given leave to return home. The count must stay here to sign the treaty. Will you escort me?"

  "Of course, my lady," replied Jean. "I will make sure we have a good party of men-at-arms to travel with you. When do we ride?"

  "At dawn tomorrow."

  He left her to make arrangements. Thinking that tomorrow's departure would allow her time to find out what had happened to Gaucelm, she returned to the hall. But Gaucelm was nowhere to be seen at dinner, and foreboding began to fill her. She tried to find a way to ask indirectly and finally had to admit to Raymond what she wanted to know.

  He did not give anything away by his expression, but she felt that he must know why she wanted to know what had happened to the knight Gaucelm. After the meal, while the musicians were playing, he came to seek a word "with her.

  "The knight Gaucelm Deluc has left Paris, so it seems," he told her in a casual manner. "He has been sent to escort the pope's legate on the Church's business."

  Allesandra's spine prickled. "So, it begins."

  She shook her head bitterly. In all their times together, she never imagined that Gaucelm cared much for religion. His loyalty was to the Capetians and their kingdom. But perhaps his own bitterness had made him engage in service to the Church.

  "Thank you, Raymond. I just wanted to know."

  She started to turn away, but Raymond laid a hand on her arm. "Allesandra, forget him. I know there was love between you. But I think that you are too noble to bow to love that is so foreign to all you believe in. You would be doing the House of Toulouse a great honor if you would become my wife and sire me a son. The dynasty would continue in spite of treaties and kings."

  She trembled at his words, tears glistening in her eyes. "I know, my lord." Her words choked her throat and she looked down. "I will think on the matter."

  He released her. "That is all I ask."

  At dawn the next day, Allesandra left Paris with Jean de Batute and an escort of their own soldiers. Her heart was heavy, but she was soon distracted from her own trouble as they stopped at inns along their route. Everywhere the gossip was about the peace that had been signed with the count of Toulouse. She overheard comments about the counts of Toulouse being worthy foes. Some expressed pride that France had managed to bring the rich lands of the Languedoc within French boundaries.

  Jean tried to keep her from listening to the talk. But when they came to the River Lot and had to wait for the ferry to return from the other side, Allesandra got her first breath of a chill wind.

  There was no mistaking a bishop's carriage, and the crosses emblazoned on caparisons and shields of a religious retinue. Allesandra and Jean sat on their mounts, their soldiers stretched in a line behind them as they watched the white horses led from the ferry, pulling the ornate carriage behind. Several long-robed priests followed on foot. The water carried voices across, though the words were indistinct as the party of churchmen, guarded by knights, struggled to form up on the bank.

  The figures moved about, small from this distance, but gold glittered off a tall mitre as she saw a bishop descend. Evidently, the embankment was too steep, and even His Holiness was forced to walk. The man turned for a moment, and she almost felt as if he saw her where she sat her horse. She felt a shiver. Then he turned and picked up his robes to climb after the carriage, once the horses reached the top.

  Jean was the first to speak. "We will find out in Cahors where they are bound."

  "Indeed."

  She had not seen Gaucelm among the escort, and again she wondered where he had gone. But there would be many such entourages of religious orthodoxy winding into the southern lands, now that Raymond had promised his help in finding heretics. Having had one such hearing forced upon her at her own castle when Gaucelm had been castellan, she could well imagine the disquieting effect a whole army of inquisitors could bring upon their lands.

  At length the ferry crossed to carry them into the town of Cahors. They dismounted at an inn and Jean went inside to make arrangements. Allesandra handed her horse to the groom and then looked to her left along the street. The end of the narrow street became a window on a scene being enacted upon the church steps beyond.

  The bishop's coach had halted and the bishop descended. Allesandra slipped along the street to get a better look. Several priests had come out from the impressive church with square towers rising above the houses and buildings crowded along its sides. She couldn't hear the words, but she could see from the gestures that introductions were being made. Two other impressively garbed churchmen had descended from the carriage and stood to one side. Even from across the road, Allesandra could see the haughty expressions on their faces and felt uneasy looking at them.

  As the evening fell, lamps were being lit at the church portal and flickered at the stained-glass windows. A religious confer-

  ence was about to begin. Jean came up the street to join her, and following her glance, he ascertained what she was watching.

  "Ah, there they are. I heard at the inn. The pope has wasted no time in sending his inquisitors southward. The iron grip of the church."

  His words were bitter and tense, and Allesandra only shook her head. "They will not be popular here, but Raymond has promised his protection."

  She turned back in time to see Jean's eyelids close halfway at her last remark, but he said nothing. She wondered if he'd already picked up more gossip at the inn, but her head was aching from the long ride that day, and more than anything else, she wanted to rest.

  After refreshing herself from a basin and ewer in her room, she descended to join Jean and the others for a meal. She found the inn strangely quiet. There were knots of patrons who whispered over their ale and their food, but as soon as she passed between them, they guarded their words or looked aside. Some such inns could be rowdy of an evening, but an eerie pall had fallen over the guests here.

  Of course Allesandra could surmise that the mood of the town was darkened by the arrival of the inquisitors. For now the trials would start in earnest again, and property would be confiscated. Punishments meted out. Raymond thought he could satisfy his part of the bargain by handing over just a few who openly professed to be heretics. But somehow she felt that he was wrong. And what part was Gaucelm going to play in all of this now?

  "Madam, you have hardly touched your food," commented Jean after he had picked his trencher clean and broken off pieces to toss to the dogs.

  "The wine was bracing," she said, and sighed heavily. "I saw a small garden at the back of the inn. I feel the need for some fresh air. I think I will walk there before I retire."

  Jean glanced about the company and then lowered his voice to speak. "I would advise against going outside tonight, madam."

  She looked up sharply at the ominous trace in his words, and

  suddenly wondered what he knew that he wasn't telling. Nevertheless, she took his advice and retired to her room.

  "Have the horses ready at first light, Jean," she said. "And tap on my door when you rise. I doubt I'll oversleep, but I want to be gone as soon as there's a gray light to ride by."

  "Very well, my lady. Sleep well. Do not let any of the city sounds disturb you." He glanced over his shoulder and again she did not miss the warning in his words. "And k
eep your door barred."

  The wine and the little food she had eaten did not lull her mind. The quiet evening in the dining room of the tavern with the averted gazes and the pent-up energy held some meaning. And then her mind returned to the sight of the Church's inquisitors, come to disrupt the fabric of a society that now must bow to a king. She shivered but nodded to Jean and closed the door, sliding the bar across it. Then she made ready for bed.

  All the hard riding of the last week made it easy to fall into a deep slumber. No cries in the night woke her. No alarms were given to rouse a sleeping town. And she was wide awake as darkness began to lift its curtain the next morning. She was dressed and opened the door when Jean came to knock.

  They went down through, a silent inn and outside where the morning air refreshed the normal smells of a walled city. And at the city gates, they had to rouse the gatekeeper to let them through. Then their horses trotted briskly out to the road and away. Daylight lay claim to the day, and they slowed to a walk. Jean said little, and it wasn't until they had stopped to water their horses near a stream late in the day, that the news caught up to them. A traveler pressing to reach his home where the Garonne flowed into the Aueyron stopped to exchange a few words.

  "We are bound for Toulouse," Jean told the stranger. "We were at Cahors last night."

  It was always wise to refrain from telling anyone that Allesan-dra was a noble lady with vast lands in case strangers decided her party was worth robbing.

  But the ruddy stranger, whose clothing was made of good

  cloth and whose horse was not just a common nag, eyed them with interest.

  "Ah, then, if you came from Cahors, perhaps you left too early to hear the news."

  "What news is that, friend?" asked Jean.

  The traveler looked over his shoulder, though they stood in a clearing just off the road. And there were no other travelers in sight but themselves. "There was a group of inquisitors arrived there."