“Aye.”
She smiled, the beautiful smile he had only seen her give others before. “God speed you then, Adrien. I will be anxious to see your lady.”
He nodded and admitted, “She is quite fond of you.”
She stood a bit awkwardly for a moment, then said, “Good night, good journey, Adrien, and thank you again.”
“Good night, Danielle,” he told her.
She turned and left him. A moment later, he smiled. He was actually acquiring a fondness for the little temptress.
Maybe there could be peace between them after all.
But later that night, he tossed in the grip of a deadly nightmare. He knew that he dreamed, but could not awaken. He was caught in a tumultuous battle. Trumpets sounded, steel clashed, horses screamed, and men cried out in anguish. And there she was. In the midst of it. Walking barefoot through the battlefield, her ebony hair streaming down her back, caught in the winds of war. The battlefield, he knew somehow, was in France. And she walked determinedly through a field of blood, avoiding the flashes of steel that came her way.
He awoke with a start, soaked in sweat, swearing at himself that he could become so seized by a nightmare. He rose, paced the floor, drank deeply from a bottle of wine, and lay back down. But he could not sleep. He lay awake until the first cock crowed.
He wondered what had disturbed him so that he should have such a violent dream. Then he realized that he was worried. The horse he sought to save, the mare she loved so very much, had been a gift—not just from a Frenchman, but from the French king.
Chapter 8
IN ALL HONESTY, DANIELLE admitted to herself, living in Gariston was pleasant. Sir Thackery was wonderfully old and wrinkled and kind, and anxious that she should be pleased with everything. Monteine and Lady Jeanette were pleased with the fortress, as was Dr. Coutin, who tended to think most places not in France to be entirely barbaric. Though his chief concern was his countess, he was quickly seeing to the aches and ailments and injuries of all the people.
Adrien had not been gone two days when Danielle came to the stable to see Star and discovered Monteine there, shaking her head with amazement at the mare’s journey to recovery. “Milord MacLachlan is really quite amazing,” she murmured. “You should make peace with him.”
Danielle shrugged. He’d saved her horse; she was grateful.
“He is a powerful knight, milady, and he will hurt you if you cross him. He’s very strong, a valued warrior—favored by the king.”
“Monteine,” Danielle said wryly, stroking Star’s nose, “you are the one who has always reminded me that the English—such as Adrien!—are the enemy.”
Monteine nodded. “Aye, but—”
“You don’t know the half of what he has done!” Danielle said softly, remembering the anguish and humiliation of being dragged over his knee. “I am grateful for what he has done for Star, but I’m afraid he remains the enemy.” She felt a twinge of guilt. Except for his fury against her, he could be decent and intriguing at times. But she couldn’t forgive him because she couldn’t allow herself to forget her mother’s death. Lenore had been everything to her, and Lenore had made her vow to remember Philip. “I must always fight him,” she added softly.
“Listen to me, Danielle, please,” Monteine begged. “Once, you know, you used to listen to the things I taught you.”
“Monteine—”
“The entire court is speaking of a marriage between you.”
“There will be no marriage.”
“Danielle, it would not be the worst thing in the world. He is young and vital, and very handsome.”
Danielle smiled, setting her hands on her hips as she stared at Monteine.
“There will be no marriage—he has assured me so.”
“Then you are both fools!” Monteine said wearily.
“I must one day return to Aville, and then, if I choose, I will marry a French noble.”
“Danielle, you are a ward of the English king! Kings will have their way. You must take care, and be more courteous to Laird MacLachlan.”
“I should take care?” she demanded, her temper suddenly flaring. “He blamed me for his own carelessness in that wretched saddle episode!”
“Danielle, it was not carelessness when he was nearly killed because of the loosened girth on his saddle.”
“I’m telling you,” Danielle began angrily, “I did not do anything—”
“But I did,” Monteine interrupted quickly, her cheeks flushed. “I undid his girth. I was anxious to hurt an English knight, any English knight.”
Danielle stared at Monteine, dumbfounded. She bit her lip, realizing that Adrien hadn’t been at all foolish. He had known that his girth had been tampered with, and, of course, he would blame her …
“Monteine—”
“I’m so sorry. You must tell him, of course,” Monteine said, swallowing hard. “Oh, Danni, I’m sorry, I do love you, you know! I don’t want you blamed, I—”
“Monteine! You have every good reason to want to hurt an Englishman! The English destroyed your family, they left you with nothing, anyone can understand that!” Danielle said, adding slowly, “What I can’t understand is … why have your feelings changed? Why this confession?”
“He is not the Englishman to hurt,” Monteine said gravely. “I have watched him closely since we began the journey here. He has power and sway with the king, gained through both his strength and his wisdom. He is chivalrous—”
“Hmmph!” Danielle protested, barely looking up from the dressing she was changing on Star’s limb. Chivalrous, indeed! Dragging her over his knee! But no one knew about that, because it was too humiliating a tale to tell. Still, she was about to tell Monteine that Laird MacLachlan was capable of being extremely rude, when she was suddenly hailed by a masculine voice. “Milady!”
She and Monteine turned to see that Daylin had entered the stables. “The Lady Joanna has arrived with a small escort!”
Danielle patted the clean dressing on her mare’s injured leg and stood, looking over Star’s haunches at Daylin, a puzzled frown knitting her brow. “But Adrien just went for her—”
“Joanna came by way of the old Roman road, as we did. Adrien rode alone, and cut through the forests. They missed one another, I am afraid. But Lady Joanna is here, and Sir Thackery has brought her into the hall. She is anxious to see you. “
Danielle hurried from the stables to the hall where Joanna sat by the fire with Sir Thackery. Joanna rose, smiled, and reached out to Danielle who hurried to her, accepting her hug, then pulled away. Joanna seemed very warm.
“Are you well, milady?” Danielle asked anxiously.
Joanna shrugged. “A sore throat. And I am tired, I think. The queen has so very many children! Assisting her to pack for them all from place to place is often difficult! But I’m here, now, and tell me truthfully, Danielle, is it all right? Do you mind that I am here?”
“I am delighted that you are here!”
Sir Thackery cleared his throat. “I will leave you ladies to your court gossip and be about my business!” he said, bowing as he left them.
“What a dear, sweet, old creature,” Joanna said.
“I am quite fond of him already,” Danielle agreed. “But I am so glad to see you!”
“Well, I tried very hard not to leave you alone with that ill-tempered knight of mine!” Joanna told her.
“He is nearly human when you are about!” Danielle admitted, wrinkling her nose.
Joanna grew somber. “The king wants a match between you and Adrien. I wouldn’t hurt you, Danielle. You don’t mind that Adrien and I are so determined that we will wed?”
“Oh, good Lord! No! I shall be the first to cheer when you exchange your vows. Your beloved is the thorn of my life!”
“Ah, Danni, he is not so bad!”
“You love him—therefore, you are blind!” she said, yet did so lightly. He had saved her horse. “And, of course,” she added, “he loves you.”
&n
bsp; Joanna didn’t answer that.
“Joanna, he did bring about the fall of Aville, so it’s difficult for me to see him kindly. He can be a dragon, not that I want a monster for you—rather you than me!”
Joanna laughed. “Not such a dragon! Ah, Danni, if you could but understand what it feels like when he looks at me sometimes, when he touches me … sorry, never mind, I am wandering. I wish he were here! I’m longing to see him. But anyway … Danielle! You look happy here. Gariston agrees with you.”
“I do like it here. It’s almost as nice as—”
“Aville?”
“Aville is my home.
“This is your home as well.”
“Indeed, my father’s home. I heard such wonderful tales about him! Gariston is as warm and good as I always heard my father was. You will love it here as well, I’m certain.”
“Oh, surely I will. I am only sorry that Adrien and I missed one another, and that he is out there riding into danger for nothing. Danni, everyone is fleeing the cities! Death is everywhere.”
“I know!” Danielle said, remembering the friars with their wagonloads of dead, and the poor wretched hermit. “But we’ve no sickness at Gariston.”
“Not here,” Joanna agreed. “Danni, could you show me to my quarters? The days have been hectic. I am very tired, and if you’ll excuse, I could sleep until supper.”
“Of course!” Danielle called out for one of the servants. Amy, one of the kitchen maids, appeared. “Is the other tower readied?”
“Aye, milady. I will summon a maid to escort the Lady Joanna—”
“Nay, Amy, I will see to her myself.”
She started to walk Joanna across the hall, but even as they walked, Joanna suddenly sagged against her. “Oh, Danni! I am even more weary than I thought! I can scarce stand!”
Danielle caught Joanna, calling out for help. Simms, one of the strong men who handled the heavy carcasses for the cooks, lumbered in and awaited further instructions.
“Simms, please, take her straight to my chamber—I think that is best,” Danielle commanded quickly, and followed along behind. When Joanna was laid out on her bed, she ordered Simms to bring a cloth and fresh, cool water and to send for Doctor Coutin. Simms left to do as he was told, and Danielle sat by Joanna, touching her forehead.
She had been warm before. Now she burned.
Simms returned with the water and stood in the doorway, his dark eyes now deep and wide with alarm.
“Bring the water, please!” Danielle said.
“I’ve touched her!” Simms moaned.
“Aye, so bring the water!”
Simms just stood there and Danielle hurried to snatch the water and cloth from him. She sat at Joanna’s side again and bathed her forehead and arms, her heart sinking.
She understood the terror Simms had felt.
They had thought themselves safe. Now the plague had come to them at last.
Doctor Coutin came and studied his patient.
“The Black Death?” Danielle said.
“Aye, milady. I am sorry. I’ll do what I can, but as you know, there is so little that I can do …” He hesitated, clearing his throat. “Lady Joanna did not bring it. The cook, your man from Aville, fell ill earlier. He died just moments ago, milady.”
“Oh, sweet Jesu!” Danielle whispered, and crossed herself.
“Those in the fortress are panicking, for the plague attacks so swiftly and is so merciless! Danielle, there are many falling sick, and I must attend to them. I pray you, you must help Lady Joanna.”
“Aye, I would not leave her! I will help her, stay with her,” Danielle assured him.
Joanna’s condition deteriorated rapidly, and while Danielle attended to her, she heard with horror what was happening throughout the castle. A groom dropped to the ground while walking across the courtyard; one hour later he was dead. Fanners, craftsmen, one after another, fell.
By darkness, there were three more deaths.
The next few days would be the worst, Doctor Coutin advised her. He knew well, for, like Danielle, he had survived the sickness himself and seen Aville through it. “Sometimes death is all but instant. Usually, those who will die do so within two to five days. Let’s pray God that most of our people will have the will and the faith and the strength to make their way through it.”
By the following morning, Sir Thackery and Monteine had both been taken ill.
The household had gone mad, it seemed. When Danielle tried to summon help from the kitchen, she found the maidservants there dancing with the grooms, many of them only half-dressed. She stared at them all in shock, and when Swen, one of the young grooms, saw her, he gave pause, but only for a minute.
“Death is coming, lady. Take what you will of life, because death is coming now.”
“Death will pass some by!” she cried out. “I have seen it come before, and some will survive! I need help with those who have fallen ill—”
Molly, one of the kitchen maids, her bodice fallen, her breasts completely exposed, giggled. “Some will die, some will live, lady.” Then a sob escaped her. “The boils! They form on me already! Oh, God, oh, God!”
“Doctor Coutin will lance them if you quit acting like a lunatic!” Danielle cried. She remembered Doctor Coutin’s words—the people had to have faith and strength for any of them to survive. Sir Thackery was ill; Doctor Coutin was busy throughout the fortress. She was countess here, and somehow, she had to force them all back to their senses.
The girl continued to laugh and cry. All around her, Danielle could hear the hysteria rising. Men had come in from the fields, men-at-arms mingled with the farmhands. It was only morning, and the whole of the kitchen reeked with the smell of spilled ale. Some had drunk themselves into stupors and lay where they had fallen. The others were ready to continue their mad, music-less dance, as if they could race their way into oblivion.
Swen the groom was grabbing for Molly’s half-naked form, and Molly was squealing again—this time with laughter. Danielle leapt upon the huge oak preparation table amidst half-kneaded dough, decaying meat, and drying vegetables. Tears of frustrated anger filled her eyes. If MacLachlan had been here now, none of them would have dared behave so badly, even if the grim reaper himself were whispering in their ears.
A cast iron pot lay upon the table and she clutched it up and gave Swen a sound knock upon the head with it. He slumped to the floor, rubbing his head, staring up at her, dazed. The sound of it seemed to echo about the room, and to her amazement, the maddened revelers suddenly went still.
“You may act like fools and give up all hope of life yourselves, but I will not allow my friends to die! Molly, get to a bed. Swen, if you would fondle her so, help her to it. Get wet clothes and cool her down. Some of you start cleaning up. Those who are sick, may the Virgin Mother pray for you. Those not afflicted must help. Now, get out of my way!”
She hopped down and left the kitchen, going to the well for the cold water she had come for. When she came to the kitchen, she saw that some of the servants had sullenly decided to obey her. “Doctor Coutin will come as soon as he can to attend to all of you.”
“Doctors can not save us from the Black Death!” Swen told her sadly.
She spun around. “Then a priest will come, and speed you on your journey to heaven or hell! By God! Can’t you all at least fight to live?” she demanded.
Blank stares followed her as she hurried away from them all, wearily aware that what could be done here, she would be doing herself with little able assistance.
With Lady Jeanette and a few servants left to help, she and Doctor Coutin moved from sickbed to sickbed, trying to do what could be done. She summoned all the barbers from the town—those who could still stand—to see that the victims’ boils were lanced. At Doctor Coutin’s orders, Danielle worked very hard to keep the afflicted cool, bathing foreheads, throats, hands, chests, backs.
Black crosses were drawn in ash all around the walls of the fortress.
By the
fifth night, the death toll within the walls of the town had risen to fifty. Miraculously, though, some began to recover.
Joanna continued to breathe, to fight for life, and Danielle hoped that since she had made it thus far, she had the will and strength to survive. She sat by her bed throughout another long day, keeping her body as cool as she could.
By the sixth morning since the Black Death had come to Gariston, Danielle could barely move. She’d had no sleep. She knelt down by Joanna’s bed, her fingers entwined with Joanna’s. She closed her eyes, and she must have dozed.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw that she wasn’t alone with Joanna anymore.
Adrien MacLachlan had returned.
Chapter 9
HE SEEMED INCREDIBLY TALL and strong as he stood by the bedside, staring down at Joanna, so beautiful now, so very frail and fragile with her dark lashes sweeping her ashen cheeks. He seemed indomitable, a tower of power, life, and health, his shoulders broad beneath the magenta sweep of his mantle, his thighs sturdy as oak. In the pale light of the early dawn, even his rich red-gold hair seemed dark. His features were taut and drawn, his eyes like a mirror of death itself.
Danielle’s fingers were still entwined with Joanna’s. Then Danielle realized why agony filled Adrien’s eyes.
Joanna had given up the fight at last. Danielle no longer needed to cool her from the fever. Joanna lay cold now, her fingers like ice. The fever had left her, along with the warmth of life.
Danielle had no chance to react, for Adrien MacLachlan let out a cry of grief, falling to his knees as well. He reached for Joanna, cradling her dead form in his arms, bowing his head over her.
Danielle struggled to her feet, backing away. She ached for Joanna herself, but she had been living in a nightmare between life and death for a very long time. She remained numbed, for Adrien’s grief was so very terrible and intimate. It was as if he hadn’t even noticed her yet, and she wanted very badly to slip away. Still, she couldn’t move. The seconds began to pass, and then the minutes ticked away, and still, Adrien embraced his dead lover. And finally, tears started to trickle down Danielle’s cheeks, damp and silent, and they seemed to break her from her paralysis. She started to slip quietly from the room, but Adrien suddenly reached out, his fingers curling around her wrist. He stood, and his tormented, glittering eyes met hers.
Heather Graham Page 13