Devin woke much later. The barn was silent. And yet some small sound outside had roused him. He went to the window. The house was dark and still. He turned to go back and lie down, when a slight movement caught his attention. A man was standing under the trees behind the house, partially obscured by evergreen branches. He stood in shadow and Devin would never have even noticed him if he hadn’t turned to scan the area around him. Devin leaned against the window frame to watch.
A moment later, two other men approached, leading horses. The lone man handed over an envelope or paper, which flashed brilliant and white in the moonlight. They stood talking a few minutes before the two with the horses faded into the surrounding woods as silently as they had come. The remaining man glanced quickly around him and walked directly toward the barn.
Alarmed, Devin whirled around, intent on waking Marcus. But Marcus’s blanket lay discarded on the hay. His bodyguard was gone.
CHAPTER 10
Divided Loyalties
Devin snatched a knife from Marcus’s stash and resumed his former position, lying on the hay next to Gaspard. Determined to defend his friend to the death if necessary, he listened, as footsteps crossed the barn floor below them and then stealthily mounted the ladder.
He had never been trained to fight. His older brothers were done tussling for supremacy by the time he had been born. Jean was already an attorney with a son of his own, André was in his first year at Coreé University, and both Jacques and Ethan had enlisted in Llisé’s army. The only brother left at home was Mathieu and he tended to be almost as bookish as Devin. With fifteen years separating them, a brawl would never have occurred to either of them. And yet, here he was with a knife in his hand waiting for an unknown assailant to attack.
The intruder reached the top of the ladder and Devin sat up, brandishing his weapon.
“My God, Devin,” Marcus gasped. “You scared the hell out of me!”
“Well, you scared the hell out of me!” Devin replied, scrambling to his feet. “I woke up and you were gone and then I heard someone coming up the ladder!”
“I had to piss,” Marcus replied. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Devin stood facing him, the knife still in his hand. He had two options and neither of them appealed to him. He could call his bodyguard a fraud or accept his explanation and forget what he had just witnessed out the window. Candor won out.
“You’re lying,” Devin said, breathing hard. “I saw you meeting someone at the edge of the forest. Who was it?”
Gaspard groaned and sat up, turning to stare at them. “What in God’s name is going on? It’s not morning already is it?”
No one answered him.
“Who did you meet?” Devin demanded, his eyes locked with Marcus’s.
His bodyguard’s face was white. “I met no one, Devin. God, can’t a man take care of personal business without you making a scene?”
Devin gestured at the window. “I watched you. I know what I saw.”
“Give me that knife before you hurt someone,” Marcus snapped, taking a step forward. He grabbed Devin’s wrist, extracting the weapon with a sharp twist of his hand.
Devin winced and stepped back, one hand massaging his wrist. Gaspard stood up, placing himself between them.
“What’s going on?” he repeated.
Devin was furious. “I wakened and went to the window. I saw Marcus meeting with two men in the trees before he came back up here.”
Gaspard sighed and swiveled to look at Marcus. “Is this true?”
“I took a piss,” Marcus snarled. “I didn’t realize I needed permission from Monsieur ‘High and Mighty’. While I was outside, I saw no one. I spoke to no one.”
Gaspard turned back again to Devin. “Are you certain you saw Marcus? How clearly could you make out faces from here?”
The explanation was so obvious that it shook Devin. He had never seen the mysterious man’s face. There had been nothing in his stance or manner that had made him think of Marcus. It was only when his bodyguard appeared at the top of the ladder that the suspicion had formed in his mind.
“I’m not certain,” he stammered, unsure now of what he had actually seen. “I saw a man coming here to the barn and then Marcus climbed up the ladder.”
Marcus wheeled and left them, descending the ladder with the skill of a cat. Devin let out a shaky breath as Gaspard went to the window.
“Well, life with you is never boring, I’ll say that,” Gaspard remarked. “What woke you up anyway?”
Devin shook his head, as he joined him. “I don’t know. I was suddenly wide awake. I’m not even sure why I went to the window.”
They watched Marcus skirt the yard, moving silently from place to place. Moonlight gleamed on the knife blade in the darkness, and Devin shivered.
Gaspard put a hand on his shoulder. “Are certain you were awake when you saw all of this, Dev?”
Devin knew what Gaspard was thinking. It was an old problem, one that had started in childhood and become nearly unbearable his first year at the Académie. He’d wake from a sound sleep to see some ordinary thing in his bedroom transformed into something terrifying. The illusions faded in seconds but he’d often wakened his parents, and then Gaspard, screaming or confused. Sometimes the episodes had even been accompanied by sleepwalking.
As a student, he’d sought out André’s advice and been referred to his friend Pierre Verstegan, a prominent psychologist. Verstegan had listened to his symptoms and diagnosed the malady as “waking dreams,” an acute form of “night terrors.” He had asked if Devin indulged in laudanum or opium, as a great many of his friends did, citing their penchant for causing hallucinations. When Devin had voiced his loathing for using drugs for entertainment, Verstegan had told him the condition could also be brought on by fatigue or anxiety. He’d prescribed a glass of wine and a mild sedative before bed and Devin had found immediate relief. While he no longer followed Verstegan’s recommendation, he’d been free of the disturbing episodes for almost a year. Not even final exams had sparked a recurrence.
“You were exhausted tonight. Do you think it’s possible that you imagined what you saw?” Gaspard suggested gently.
Devin had to accept the possibility that Gaspard was right. And yet, he remembered the roughness of the barn boards as he leaned against the window frame and the cool air on his face. But then, that was what had always made his dreams so terrifying. Everything seemed completely believable for the few moments the illusion lasted.
Marcus returned, disgruntled and annoyed.
“There is no one about. I checked the barn and the yard and even the edges of the forest. I don’t know what you saw and heard but if there was someone out there earlier, he’s gone now.”
Gaspard presented his explanation tactfully. “We’ve discussed the possibility that it may have been a dream,” he said. “Devin was very tired when he went to bed.”
Understanding softened Marcus’s scowl. “Ah,” he said. “Your father did warn me about that. He said you’ve had vivid nightmares since you were a little boy.”
Devin flushed. The condition was embarrassing enough but it made his uneasiness about Marcus’s activity seem far less plausible. If Marcus was really hiding something, Gaspard had just unwittingly discredited Devin as a witness to it.
And yet, Verstegan had told Devin something else that might have bearing on the situation. He’d claimed that Devin’s terrifying visions might play out fears that his waking mind refused to consider. If tonight’s incident had, indeed, been a “waking dream” the rational explanation was that Devin no longer trusted Marcus.
CHAPTER 11
Suspicion
Devin couldn’t sleep the rest of night. From the occasional snores coming from both Gaspard and Marcus, his companions had no similar problem. He kept going over the incident with Marcus in his mind. He would probably never be certain whether he had actually seen his bodyguard outside or not. The trouble with waking dreams was that, for an instant,
a chair could be transformed into a monster or a friend into an assailant. Though the images were short-lived the uneasiness they inspired tended to linger. All that was left after last night’s incident was suspicion and animosity on both Marcus’s and Devin’s part. It promised to make the next few days unpleasant, if nothing else.
Birdsong broke the silence long before the darkness faded into a gray dawn. Devin finally sat up and brushed off a few persistent wisps of hay. Gaspard lay sound asleep but Marcus opened a wary eye. He rolled over without comment when he realized that it was only Devin disturbing his sleep.
Devin went down the ladder and out into the yard determined to ascertain for himself if any evidence lingered to suggest a clandestine meeting last night. The overcast sky promised rain and the dirt in the yard was already damp and muddy. Tracks from cows and wagons marred the ground making it impossible to determine who might have loitered there a few hours before. He had just completed a circuit of the courtyard when the door to the house opened.
“You’re up early,” Adrian commented, as he thrust his arm into his jacket sleeve.
Devin shrugged. “I had trouble sleeping last night.”
“Not enough wine before bed,” Adrian diagnosed with a laugh. “My father claims a drunk never misses a good night’s sleep, while a sober man lies awake and counts his transgressions.”
“He’s probably right,” Devin agreed good-naturedly.
“I hope our celebrating didn’t keep you awake,” Adrian replied. “My mother and the aunts were still chattering long after I went to bed.”
Devin shook his head. “I didn’t hear them. Thank you again for taking us in last night. Would you allow me to make a donation toward the wedding preparations?”
“And incur my mother’s wrath?” Adrian asked. “Hospitality is an obligation not a choice. Don’t shame her by trying to compensate her for good manners.”
Devin smiled. “But surely there is something I can do to thank her?”
“Would you stay for the wedding?” Adrian asked, picking up a bucket and carrying it to the well.
Devin followed. “Thank you, but I’m afraid our plans won’t allow time for that. I hope to be in Lac Dupré by tomorrow night.”
Adrian hooked the bucket onto the rope and began to lower it. “It’s too bad that you will miss Armand.”
“Armand Vielle?” Devin asked.
Adrian nodded. “He is coming here for the wedding.”
“But I was going to Lac Dupré to hear him!” Devin protested.
Adrian beamed. “Then stay, please. Armand plans to share some of the Chronicle at the wedding reception.”
Devin shook his head. “I can’t impose like that.”
“The entire village is coming and my mother asked me to invite you especially.”
“Not Aunt Genevieve?” Devin asked.
“Oh, Aunt Genevieve plans to snag you at breakfast. Your place beside her has already been staked out. Be careful she doesn’t drug your coffee and carry you off to her bed.”
Devin laughed. “I’ll trust you to defend my virtue!”
“What virtue?” Gaspard asked, coming to join them. “You lost whatever virtue you possessed at the Université along with the rest of us.” He put an arm around Devin’s shoulders and spoke close to his ear. “You should be aware that Marcus is watching you from the loft window. He saw you looking for tracks.”
“Let him watch,” Devin replied. “I’ve yet to convince myself that I didn’t see horsemen in the yard last night.”
The pail of water splashed onto the ground.
“You saw horsemen here?” Adrian asked in alarm.
Gaspard waggled a hand. “Maybe ‘yes’, maybe ‘no.’ Devin’s not the most reliable witness when he’s half asleep.”
Adrian left the bucket lying on the ground. He leaned back against the stones of the well, frowning. “Perhaps, you’d better tell me what happened.”
Devin told him what he’d seen, omitting his suspicions about Marcus. “My friend,” he added, hoping his bodyguard was in earshot, “went down to the yard to investigate but he saw no one.”
Adrian grunted. “This is worrisome,” he commented, bending to retrieve the bucket. “In Ombria, in case you haven’t noticed, only rich men own riding horses. A man on horseback generally means trouble for a small farmer like my father. It could be the shérif, a soldier, or the tax collector and none of them are men I want outside my house in the middle of the night.” He turned to look at Devin. “You’ll do me a favor?”
“Of course,” Devin said.
“Let me know right away if you see them again?”
“It’s the least I can do,” Devin replied.
“Be aware, Adrian,” Gaspard said with a playful look at Devin. “That this is an undocumented sighting. Don’t concern yourself unless there are further incidents.”
“Still,” Adrian said, hefting the bucket down from the wall, “Devin saw something in the yard. I think it bears investigation.”
Devin smiled. It was nice to be believed without question.
CHAPTER 12
Armand Vielle
Ombria’s Master Bard arrived just before supper. The promised rain had fallen by the bucketful all day and Devin had spent most of the afternoon in the tavern playing endless games of cards with Gaspard. By late afternoon, the rain departed, driven before a cold wind. Clouds gave way to brilliant blue sky and sunshine. Mist spiraled up from every stream and valley, shaping spectral figures that drifted and glided through the pine woods as they walked back to Adrian’s. And out of the mist, his storyteller’s cloak swirling around him, strode Armand Vielle.
Devin stopped dead on the path.
Gaspard ran smack into him. “God, Devin have a care, will you!” he protested.
Marcus drew his knife and looked cautiously around them, in anticipation of some imminent threat.
Devin ignored them both and walked forward, his hand extended. “Armand Vielle?” he asked.
The bard bowed his tall frame dramatically. His gray hair curled around his ears. His beard was close cropped and still streaked with brown.
“The very same,” he said with a smile. “And you are?”
“Devin Roché,” he said. “We’re staying at the Devereaux’s.” He turned to introduce his companions. “This is Gaspard Forneaux and Marcus Beringer.”
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” the bard said, shaking hands all around. “And I believe I am nearly late for supper. Is that where you are headed, too?”
“Yes,” Gaspard replied. “And Adrian’s family has a houseful. If we’re late we may go hungry!”
They continued on toward the farm, talking as they walked.
“You are friends of Adrian’s, then?” Armand asked.
Devin was not about to misrepresent himself. “Only very recent ones. We were traveling through Briseé last night. The inn was full of wedding guests and Adrian’s mother very graciously allowed us to spend the night in their barn.”
Armand laughed. “Do you make a habit of sleeping in barns?”
Devin smiled. “No, but it was surprisingly comfortable and we appreciate the Devereaux’s hospitality. I’d planned to leave for Lac Dupré this morning to meet you and hear the Chronicle until Adrian mentioned that you were coming to the wedding.”
Armand bowed again, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m flattered that you would travel so far to hear it from my lips. But Adrian is well versed in Ombria’s Chronicle also, why didn’t you ask him to enlighten you?”
They had arrived at the crux of the problem and Devin hesitated, trying to ease into his request. “Because I needed to speak with you…”
He was saved from any further explanations. They had arrived at the farm and Adrian, who was carrying a load of firewood, saw them coming. He gave a whoop of delight and flung the wood down in the yard. Then he ran, hurling himself into Armand’s arms like a small child.
“Armand!” he exclaimed. “H
ow I have missed you!”
Armand pushed him back gently. “How’s my favorite student?”
Adrian smiled. “I’m well. How are you?” He frowned, tapping the walking stick that Armand carried. “Is your knee troubling you again?”
“Only when it rains,” Armand replied. “It’s one of the disadvantages of growing old.”
Adrian glanced at Devin. “So you’ve met my friends?”
“I have,” Armand said. “It seems Devin is interested in the Chronicle.”
Adrian smiled. “Then we’ll have to see that he gets his fill of it.” He put an arm around Armand’s shoulders. “Come and eat; my mother has been cooking for hours.”
At supper, Devin found himself, once again, seated next to Aunt Genevieve, although now Armand seemed to have drawn her attention, as well. The wooden table held far more people and food than it was designed for, and several smaller tables had been set up near the fire. The room was hot and stuffy. People were packed together so closely that it was impossible to move without bumping into someone else. Devin thought his mother would have been horrified at the noisy, chaotic meal where a dozen different conversations were going on at once.
After Devin had eaten, he slipped quietly outside. Marcus followed at a distance. Neither of them had spoken to the other since last night’s fiasco, which didn’t bode well for the future. They went to opposite corners of the yard.
Devin sat on the stone wall that formed a small courtyard in front of the house and barn. The laughter and conversation from the house was still audible but here he was shielded from the press of bodies and Aunt Genevieve’s soft inquisitive hands. He realized that by retreating he might miss the first chance to hear Armand tell a story but there was always tomorrow.
He was surprised, a few moments later, when Armand joined him, his cloak thrown over his shoulders and a mug of wine in his hand. The bard chuckled.
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