She still felt shocked by what he had done and understood why he had kept it secret from his twin. Owain and Kate had been just as secretive where her parents were concerned and she knew that she must forgive them. She sighed. How many more secrets might be revealed before she could put the past behind her?
‘Anna, where are you?’ She started at the sound of Raoul’s voice and rose to her feet.
‘Ahhh, there you are,’ he said, coming towards her from the direction of the stables. The sun shone on his bare head, burnishing his foxy hair so that it shone like copper. ‘I have had word that the kings of England and France are about to make peace. I deem this a good sign, so we will ride for Amiens. Hopefully we will be able to prevent Jack from making a fool of himself.’
Anna’s relief was intense. ‘Thank you, Raoul. You are Jack’s good friend.’
Raoul said ruefully, ‘If he believed that, Anna, why did he not tell me it was Gaston de Briand who was responsible for his suffering?’
‘He has his reasons.’
Her half-brother gave her a piercing stare. ‘Yet he told you, Anna. That tells me something about you both.’
‘Perhaps that we have suffered and grieve for the loss of loved ones,’ she murmured, placing a hand on Raoul’s arm. ‘We must be on our way.’
‘You feel strong enough to make this journey, Anna? I could go alone,’ he said, as they crossed to the stables.
‘I wouldn’t have a moment’s peace if you left me behind.’
Raoul nodded as if her reply did not surprise him. ‘I have a fine little mare that will do you well.’
Anna thanked him. She had no notion of how far it was to Amiens, and dreaded to think what might happen if one of their horses threw a shoe or something else should happen to prevent them reaching Jack in time. She could only pray that they would find him before it was too late.
It was two days later that Jack woke to the sound of a trumpet blast. He threw back his cloak and prepared to face the day ahead. He had needed to stiffen his resolve on the journey several times, tempted to turn back and tell Anna that he was sorry to have shouted at her and to ask her forgiveness. He could not forget her passionate response to his lovemaking and longed to repeat the experience. Yet neither could he dismiss the vow he had made and he felt torn in two. He missed Anna’s company more than he would ever have believed. Even when they had travelled miles without conversing, he had been conscious of her nearness and, without realising he was doing so, had drawn comfort from it. He exchanged greetings with a soldier before stepping out of the tent, and squelched his way across the sodden ground to the latrines. He had arrived too late the previous evening to enter the city, but after getting into conversation with a couple of English soldiers, he had been offered ground room in their tent out of the rain. But, more importantly they had provided him with information.
It was the first day of September and apparently the kings of England and France had recently met in Picquigny on the River Somme to make peace. Rumour had it that they had already come to terms and that Edward was to receive a lump sum of seventy-five thousand crowns to defray the cost of the English army here in France—as well as a yearly tribute of a thousand crowns. The latter depended on his withdrawing his demand to the throne of France, so bringing to an end the Plantagenet claim that had resulted in over a hundred years of intermittent fighting between the two countries.
Good news for trade, thought Jack, looking up at the sky. The rain had stopped and the sun was trying to break through the clouds. He lowered his gaze, to peer through one of the gaps between the tents, in the direction of the gates of Amiens. They were open. Whether he would find the Comte de Briand inside the city walls was another matter altogether. It was possible that he could have left Amiens for Picquigny. Suddenly, it occurred to him that he could take the peace treaty as a sign from God that it really was time he himself made peace with the past. He felt certain that Anna would see it as such a sign for him. He sighed; if he had any more such thoughts, he would be changing his mind about confronting Briand. Was that because Anna had taught him there was still much in life worth living for—music, beauty, friendship, good conversation, food and drink and the pleasure to be found in her arms?
A shadow crossed his face. He must stop thinking in such a way and remember his enemy’s face twisted with glee as he had spoken of Philippe’s death. Jack felt a curl of anger in his gut and his hand strayed to his sword, then dropped. He must get his horse and go into the city and break his fast. He needed to boost his strength for what lay ahead. He would go to an inn he remembered and eat and drink there.
The cathedral of Notre Dame towered over the streets of tall houses and, as Jack entered the city, memories flooded back of the sound of its bells waking him each morning. The house had been situated in the district of St Leu and he recalled Philippe playing with the wooden figure of a knight that the husband of a friend of Hortense’s had carved for him. Tears pricked the back of his eyes and then his mouth set in a harsh line. His son’s death must be avenged. After he had eaten he would visit the house where he had last seen his son in the hope of feeling a sense of his presence. Then he would go in search of his murderer.
It was a short while later that Anna set eyes on Amiens. The English camp was in disarray. Tents were being folded and put in carts; campfires were being doused and men and horses were milling about all over the place. Obviously now the hostilities between the kings of France and England were over and the peace treaty signed, the English soldiers would be leaving in droves for the port of Calais. But that was of little interest to her, concerned as she was about Jack. Raoul had shown less concern and she had sensed that he believed that she had got matters confused somehow. Any qualms she might naturally have felt at travelling alone with the half-brother she scarcely knew had been allayed by Raoul’s overriding good manners and protective attitude towards her.
As they entered the city, Anna gazed about her, hoping to see Jack. Raoul led her through the bustling streets directly to an inn and they went inside. There followed a rapid exchange between Raoul and the innkeeper to which Anna listened carefully. She had been practising her French on Raoul during the journey and he’d told her that she was improving. Yet he had often seemed secretly amused by what she said, without explaining why.
Now he turned to her with a smile. ‘You can stop fretting, Anna. Jack was here only a short while ago. According to the innkeeper he spoke of visiting a house in the St Leu district where he had once stayed.’
Anna wondered how he could be so cheerful. ‘Could it not be the house where de Briand is staying?’
‘That is highly unlikely, Anna. Gaston is a man of means and it is not the most salubrious of districts.’
Anna was puzzled. Then it occurred to her that the house might be the one where Jack had lived with Monique and Philippe. ‘Can the innkeeper direct me to this St Leu?’
Raoul spoke to the man and then turned to Anna. ‘We will stable the horses and leave our baggage here. Apparently the area is only a short distance away.’
Anna was relieved. ‘I cannot delay, Raoul. Please, if you will deal with such matters, then I will go in search of Jack now.’
Raoul sighed. ‘If that is what you wish, Anna, then who am I to prevent you? If you are not back here with Jack in the half-hour, I will come in search of you.’
They went outside and Raoul pointed in the direction she must take. She thanked him and set out for the district of St Leu. After the manner of their parting, she prayed that Jack would not be angry with her for getting Raoul to chase after him. But it was too late to worry about that now.
Jack was aware of a feeling of déjà vu as he turned a corner into the street where he had spent so many happy times. The street seemed unchanged by tragedy. Late marigolds bloomed in a tub outside the door of the house that he had rented and a dark-haired boy with his back to him was sweeping the step.
Jack dismounted from his horse and wished the boy, ‘Bon jour.’
The lad glanced up. His gaze fixed on the man’s scarred face and his eyes widened in trepidation. Jack swore inwardly. He had seen expressions bordering on curiosity, fear and distaste often enough. Only Anna had reacted differently, even touching his scars with such gentle tenderness. Not wanting to scare the boy, he turned his face so as to present his best side to him.
‘There is no need to fear me,’ said Jack in French. ‘I mean you no harm. I am only curious as to how long you and your family have lived in this house. Can you help me?’
Instead of answering, the lad dropped his broom and hurried indoors. Jack sighed and was about to climb back into the saddle and leave when he heard the lad talking. A woman answered him and her words instantly turned Jack’s world upside down. With a pounding heart, he was to about to mount the steps when a crone appeared in the doorway. She was carrying a stick in a threatening manner and the boy hovered behind her.
Jack realised that he recognised her and was swift to reassure her that he intended her no harm. ‘I once lived in this house. My name is Jack Milburn,’ he said hoarsely, his heart in his throat. ‘Am I right in believing that you are Hortense’s mother and this is…this lad is my son, Philippe?’
She screwed up her face and, followed by the lad, came down the steps and peered up into Jack’s face from rheumy eyes. Then she let out a shriek, dropped the stick and, turning to the boy, spouted forth a torrent of words, before giving him a push in the back that sent him scurrying past Jack.
Jack shot out a hand, but the boy managed to evade him, only to stumble and land at the feet of a woman in a green gown. She bent over him and helped him up. ‘I hope you are not hurt, young man?’ she asked.
The lad gazed up into her concerned face and appeared to be dumbfounded by the sight of her. Then he glanced at his father and hung his head.
‘Anna!’ cried Jack, staring at her in amazement. ‘How did you get here?’
‘I rode, of course.’ She smiled. ‘I came to stop you throwing away your life.’
‘What!’ He felt in a daze and could do no more than stare at her and his son. Her hands rested firmly on the lad’s shoulders. ‘Are you all right, Jack?’ asked Anna, her smile fading. ‘You look…’
Jack found his voice. ‘Shocked? I am. But not for the reason you might be thinking. Anna, this lad is my son, Philippe.’
Anna blinked. ‘How is this possible?’
‘De Briand lied! That is the only answer! He lied, knowing it would intensify my suffering.’
‘If this is true, then…’ Anna’s voice trailed off. She was struck by the wonder of it and what this must mean to Jack. She gazed down at the boy and, taking a deep breath, said gently in French, ‘Look up at me, Philippe, I want to see you properly. I am Lady Anna Fenwick and a good friend of your father.’
Slowly Philippe lifted his head and stared at her. The fearful expression in his dark eyes touched her deeply, and she smiled to reassure him. She was aware of a tingling sensation in the nape of her neck and down her spine. ‘By the Trinity, Jack, he has your eyes and your mouth.’
‘Does he?’ said Jack, feeling a sudden dampness behind his eyes. ‘I didn’t get a proper look at him. My face frightened him and I looked away.’
‘You’re not frightening, Jack,’ said Anna calmly. ‘He just doesn’t know you. Besides, it is what one is like inside that is important and you are good.’
Jack shook his head. ‘I don’t know how you can believe that, Anna, after all I’ve told you about myself. Philippe is certainly not going to believe it. He’ll be asking himself where I’ve been all these years if I care about him.’
‘Then you will tell him,’ she said firmly.
Jack continued to stare at her over his son’s head. ‘Tell him I was defeated by his mother’s murderer and spent years as a slave?’ His voice cracked. ‘I can’t do it.’
‘You’ll have to, Jack, if you are going to be a proper father to him and take him to England as your son,’ said Anna, turning the boy round to face his father.
The stunned expression in Jack’s eyes told her that he had not got as far as thinking how his son being alive was going to utterly change his life.
Jack swallowed to try to ease the sudden tightness in his throat. He took a step forward. The boy shrank back against Anna and his hand fastened on the skirt of her gown and he gripped it tightly.
‘He’s scared of me,’ whispered Jack. ‘Do you really think it’s right in the circumstances to take him away from all that’s familiar and take him to England?’
‘There’s only one question you have to ask yourself, Jack. What is best for his future? Can you provide him with a better life than he has here?’
Jack did not answer, but she could tell from the change in his expression that she had given him something to think about. She felt the boy stir beneath her hands. He tugged on her arm and spoke to her in French, saying that the grandmother had told him to fetch Hortense. She bent over him and replied in the same language.
‘Philippe, your father and I will come with you to speak to Hortense.’ She glanced at Jack. ‘Is that all right with you?’
‘Of course.’ He removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair, unable to take his eyes off the pair of them. ‘I have to thank her and there’s questions I need to ask her. She’ll want answers from me, too. No doubt she told Philippe I was dead. It will be a tremendous shock to her, knowing I’m alive.’
‘Non,’ said Philippe. ‘Hortense say my papa alive,’ he said in English.
‘You speak English!’ said Jack, in continuing amazement. ‘I would not have believed that you could remember the little I taught you.’
Philippe shrugged bony shoulders. ‘The English soldiers—I learn a leetle from them.’
‘That is good,’ said his father.
‘I’m puzzled,’ said Anna. ‘How did Hortense know you were alive, Jack?’
‘She not know…but…have faith.’ Philippe placed his hands together as if in prayer. ‘She say one day Papa come for me.’
‘God’s blood!’ muttered Jack, shaking his head. He was scarcely able to believe what he was hearing.
‘Where is Hortense, Philippe?’ asked Anna.
‘She has gone to Antoine’s shop.’
Jack’s face lit up. ‘I remember Antoine. He is a wood carver, who had an ailing wife, a friend of Hortense. He struggled to take care of her and make a living. I know where his shop is.’
‘Then let us go there,’ said Anna.
The words were no sooner said than there was the clattering of sabots. Philippe looked relieved. ‘Here is Hortense!’ He tore himself from Anna’s grasp and ran towards the approaching figure.
Anna felt a moment’s anxiety when she saw a woman who was possibly six summers older than herself. She wore a brown homespun gown and was plain-faced. Perhaps she would not want to part with Philippe now his father had returned and would cling on to him. Anna watched her greet the boy with a smile and listen to what he said. Then she looked at Jack and Anna and her hands flew to her face in shock.
Immediately he hurried towards her. ‘Hortense! It is I, Jack Milburn. Say you recognise me!’
The woman recovered swiftly, raising her hands joyfully into the air, smiling broadly. ‘Monsieur! I knew you would return one day for him. I felt it in my bones that you were still alive. Every day I prayed to St Jerome and Our Lady that you would come. God has granted my prayer.’ She squeezed the boy’s shoulder. ‘Philippe, this really is your papa.’
The lad lifted his head and peered at Jack. ‘He has a scar.’
She nodded. ‘Remember what our neighbour told us? They saw him being carried away by evil men. Remember that his face was covered in blood, but they knew he was alive because they heard him groan when he was thrown on the horse?’
Jack smiled with relief and bent and kissed Hortense on both cheeks. ‘My thanks for keeping faith and taking care of my son.’ He touched his scar. ‘This was given to me by de Briand. It has bee
n a constant reminder of what happened the last time I saw you. De Briand told me that Philippe was dead. He sold me into slavery. I was only freed a short while ago. I returned to France to avenge Philippe’s death and that of his mother.’
Hortense’s eyes were filled with sadness. ‘I am sad that you have suffered, but it explains much.’ She glanced down at the boy. ‘See, did I not tell you there would be a good reason why your papa delayed in coming for you? Now he will take you in his ship to England. You will learn to be a merchant venturer like him and have adventures. This is God’s will for you, Philippe.’
The lad looked none too happy.
His expression was not lost on Jack. ‘If I am to take him with me, will you come, too, Hortense?’ he asked in a rush.
She shook her head. ‘Alas, I cannot. I have promised Antoine to marry him. He is a widower now and for the past year he has wanted me to be his wife. The wedding is to be soon. Now the English are leaving, he is making lots of money.’
Jack could imagine how that could be. The soldiers would want keepsakes and gifts for their women at home. But he was dismayed at the thought of taking an unwilling boy home to England with him. Yet take him he must, this son who had haunted his dreams. Despite their being strangers to each other, he could not possibly desert him. It was his duty to take care of him. Besides, it was obviously what Anna and Hortense expected of him.
He looked down at Philippe and thought about how he had clung to Anna and her warmth of manner towards the boy. He remembered what she had said about preventing him from throwing his life away. Perhaps…
Before he could follow his train of thought further there was a sudden commotion in the street that drew their attention. It was Raoul and he was greeting a well-dressed man in a loud voice. Jack glanced at Anna.
June Francis Page 17
