The Crusader's Handfast

by Claire Delacroix

  “The knight saved his life.”

  “Indeed, he did. And the fool recalled his wits well enough to understand that he was in the debt of the knight. He bowed low and kissed the knight’s boots, swearing fealty to him and vowing to serve him well.” Duncan swallowed. “And such was the grace of the knight that he decreed the fool would serve him only until the debt was repaid in kind.”

  “Until the fool saved the knight’s life.”

  “Just so. The years passed and the fool learned much in the knight’s abode, and he served him well. He became a warrior and a man of integrity. Never was the knight’s life imperiled, though, and the warrior was vexed that he could not repay the debt.”

  “Did he wish to leave the knight’s service?”

  Duncan shook his head. “Not particularly. It was simply an outstanding debt, and he liked to see his obligations paid.”

  “I like him well,” Radegunde declared. “That is a sound philosophy. What happened?”

  “The knight had a son, one who would inherit all the knight had built as his own. He feared for his son’s future, for his holding was upon that treacherous March. So, he instructed his son to serve two years with the Templars in Outremer, the better to learn how to defend himself and his holding. And he bade the warrior to escort the son to Jerusalem and back again, to protect his son in lieu of himself. The warrior knew he would lay down his life, if need be, to repay the debt he owed.”

  “He understood that the debt had passed from father to son.”

  “That was how he saw the matter, to be sure.”

  Radegunde glanced back at Fergus. “And when the son returned home, hale and whole? What happened to the warrior?”

  Duncan smiled. “I do not know. I would wager that the knight had another quest for him.”

  And so it would be until the debt was paid. Radegunde understood that Duncan could not promise any deed in his own future, for it was not his to command. So long as he stood indebted to Fergus’ father, he would do as he was bidden.

  “I think this warrior sounds to be a man of honor,” she said.

  Duncan smiled at her with obvious satisfaction. “I am glad to hear it.”

  She smiled back at him. “I would even venture to spend an interval alone with such a man, for his nature cannot be doubted.”

  “Even in the evening?” He feigned such surprise that Radegunde laughed aloud.

  “Even so, for my confidence is considerable.”

  Duncan grinned outright. “Then you may find it deserved, lass.”

  “I should hope as much,” she said. “For he owes me a secret still.” Duncan chuckled and Radegunde was more impatient to arrive at Valeroy than she had been.

  It was not long later that she lifted a hand and pointed out the familiar towers to Duncan. “Valeroy!” she whispered, her heart thumping with delight, and she watched him survey the keep with evident approval.

  It was a fine fortress, and she was surprised by the vigor of her pleasure to be home again. Was it because she could show its pleasures to Duncan? Or was it the promise of that evening alone in his company? Radegunde, to be sure, knew many places to find a bit of privacy at Valeroy.

  Chapter Seven

  Lady Ysmaine dismissed Radegunde nigh as soon as her baggage was carried into the chamber she would share with Lord Gaston. Her own mother, Lady Richildis, was yet arm-in-arm with her oldest daughter, and Lady Ysmaine’s younger sisters filled the chamber with their chatter. Already Sibilla and Melissande plucked at the saddlebags, curious as to see their sister’s new acquisitions. Juetta and Constantia appeared to be a little awed by Ysmaine’s return, or perhaps it was the sight of Gaston arriving in the portal that made them retreat so hastily.

  “Go!” Lady Ysmaine said to Radegunde with a smile. “Your mother will be as glad to see you as mine has been.”

  “And we have aid enough in the unpacking,” Lady Richildis said with an indulgent smile. “Truly, Ysmaine, you should have bought more to better occupy us.”

  “She did not deign to purchase more,” Gaston supplied, granting his wife an affectionate smile. “Your daughter is most frugal.”

  Lady Richildis was clearly pleased by this comment. “The lady of the manor must be careful with coin,” she said. “For the treasury cannot always be full.”

  “Go!” Lady Ysmaine whispered to Radegunde again, her delight enough to make Radegunde believe she would not be missed. She bowed and kissed her lady’s hand, then turned to flee down the stairs.

  “Do not forget to take a loaf of bread from the kitchens to your mother!” Lady Richildis called from behind her.

  Radegunde returned to the portal, glad that the lady had recalled her usual gift. “I thank you, my lady. That is most kind.”

  “It is a habit and a good one,” Lady Richildis said, then waved her fingertips. “Go, while the bread is yet warm.”

  “Aye, my lady.” Radegunde smiled as she hastened away, her heart fluttering with a joy to be home and the promise of Duncan’s attention later.

  “And do not let me see you here again before midday on the morrow,” Lady Ysmaine called.

  “A most loyal girl,” Lady Richildis declared, and Radegunde heard her words.

  “The most loyal companion any woman could have,” Lady Ysmaine asserted. “I hope you do not mind if she comes to Châmont-sur-Maine with me.”

  “You will have no argument from me,” Lady Richildis replied, humor in her voice.

  Radegunde wondered at that. Did Lady Richildis believe Radegunde’s mother would insist she remained at Valeroy?

  Radegunde knew it would not be so. She raced down the stairs and through the hall, pausing only for a cursory bow to Lord Amaury, who appeared to be amused by her haste. Then she strode down the corridor to the kitchens. The cook and the baker and the sauce maker were all familiar and exclaimed in greeting at the sight of her. She was hugged and kissed, and only just escaped the immediate recounting of her adventures. “I am bidden to visit my mother with all haste, and Lady Richildis says I should take her a loaf of fresh bread.”

  “You shall have to speak to the sergeant-at-arms’ new warrior,” the cook said. His expression was dour but there was a twinkle in his eye.

  “What new warrior?”

  The sauce maker pursed his lips. “A most commanding young man.”

  “And one who takes an active interest in defending the treasures of his lord’s home,” the baker added.

  Radegunde was certain she must know this man, but she knew of no knights or warriors.

  “Indeed, he takes his responsibilities seriously indeed,” the cook agreed.

  “Is he not known in these parts?” the baker asked and could not fully halt his smile.

  It was clear that they teased her, though Radegunde could not imagine who it might be. “Tell me where to find him and I shall ask,” she said. “Though Lady Richildis already gave her command.”

  The baker chortled just as Radegunde realized someone stood behind her. The cook made a spinning gesture with one finger.

  “I shall decide who takes bread from this kitchen,” a man said, his voice deeper than she recalled yet most beloved. Radegunde gasped aloud and had but a glimpse of the satisfaction of cook, baker, and sauce maker before she pivoted. All of her brothers shared her coloring, having dark wavy hair and dark eyes, but only Michel was taller than she.

  “Michel!” Radegunde hooted at the sight of her older brother, then flung herself into his arms. At twenty summers, he was fully grown and she felt how he had become stronger in her absence. He hugged her tightly and spun her around, kissing her on both cheeks when he set her on her feet again. “Look at you!” she declared, brushing off his tabard. “In the lord’s livery and serving in his hall. How can you be taller and look even more valiant than I recall?”

  “Look at you,” Michel mimicked, brushing her kirtle in turn. “All the way home from Outremer, the dust of Jerusalem itself in your shoes. How can you be thinner and yet more boldly
spoken than before?” They grinned at each other, for they had always been close. He touched her cheek with his fingertips. “You look well, Radegunde.”

  “As do you.” She gestured to him again. “How was this contrived?”

  “As if it must be a jest or a bit of trickery!” Michel folded his arms across his chest and pretended to glower at her. “I thank you for your confidence, sister.”

  “But to fight in the lord’s army?”

  “To be trained in the lord’s army,” her brother corrected. “Lord Amaury is good to me, indeed.”

  “I am certain you must deserve his confidence.”

  “There is the endorsement I expected!”

  Radegunde propped a hand on her hip. “And with this good fortune, are you wedded yet?”

  “You sound like Maman!” He kissed her brow, then took a step back. “Maman will have heard of the party’s arrival, so you had best arrive at her door soon.” Michel raised his brows in mock horror. “I will not answer to her for delaying you.”

  Radegunde turned to find that the baker had wrapped a fresh loaf of bread in a napkin for her. He held it out and she thanked him as she accepted it, then she walked through the kitchen to the garden. Once out the gate, she broke into a run, each step making her more excited to see her family again.

  Perhaps adventure was better appreciated when one could return home at the end of it.

  There was a thought to consider.

  * * *

  Mathilde was standing in the garden before her cottage, arms folded across her chest as she surveyed the path to the keep. Radegunde could see at a distance that her mother looked both expectant and not so much older than before.

  Especially when she smiled at the glimpse of her daughter returned.

  “Radegunde!”

  They embraced tightly and Radegunde was surprised to find tears on her mother’s cheeks when they pulled back to examine each other. “Did you think I would not return?”

  Her mother spoke bluntly, as was her wont. “I feared you might not have a choice.”

  Radegunde understood, for she knew that her mother oft saw portents of the future. “Did you dream of us?”

  Mathilde shuddered. “The first six months after your departure, I had terrible nightmares.” She averted her gaze. “After that, it was hard to sleep.” She gripped Radegunde’s hand tightly. “Come in, child, and tell me all of it. Lord Amaury already sent a gift to us all that we might celebrate your return.”

  “Lady Richildis sent another, with this fresh bread.”

  “And it is welcome, indeed. Come!”

  Radegunde halted before the threshold, hearing her younger brothers within. “We were robbed by the men Lord Amaury hired to protect us,” she confessed, her words falling in a rush. She wanted to admit the worst of it quickly. She let her voice soften, for she knew her mother would find this detail difficult. “Thibaud was killed in our defense, Maman.”

  “I feared as much.” Mathilde sighed, then ran a hand over her brow. “I saw his death, over and over again. God in Heaven, but I hoped it was kinder than what I dreamed.” To Radegunde’s relief, her mother did not seem to expect a reply. Instead, she hugged Radegunde again and her next words were hoarse. “He was a good man, a loyal man who would give his all in service of Lord Amaury. Ah, child, I am selfish, for I feared his all had not been sufficient.”

  “I have learned much, Maman,” Radegunde whispered. “No thief will readily surprise me again.”

  Mathilde considered her daughter again and Radegunde wondered how much her mother saw in her eyes. “You carry more secrets, which means you hold Lady Ysmaine’s trust. That is good, for it will ensure your future in her household.” She smiled with affection. “Not for you a village life. Nay, my sole daughter would sleep in a nobleman’s hall.”

  “Do not tease me of that again!” Radegunde protested.

  “You were but four summers of age when you informed me that you would sleep in a fine hall and eat venison every week once you were grown and wed.”

  “I do like venison still.”

  “And I wager you have had little of it these past two years.”

  “Little indeed.”

  Her mother smiled and opened the door, and it was only then that Radegunde both smelled the meat and heard what her younger brothers were quibbling about. “Lord Amaury sent a roast haunch of venison.”

  “He is generous indeed!”

  “You brought his daughter home, Radegunde. I am certain his gratitude extends beyond a gift of game.” Mathilde smiled. “Though the fare is welcome indeed.”

  “Radegunde!” Jacques cried, then the three boys assaulted her in a most affectionate greeting. “Look! Fresh bread from the hall.”

  “Do not eat it as yet,” Mathilde advised sternly.

  Yves and Ogier crowded around her, demanding the tale of her adventures noisily. How had they all become so tall? Indeed, Jacques at fifteen summers was nigh as tall as Michel though not yet as broad. Yves at ten summers and Ogier at eight were much bigger, though their eyes still danced with mischief. The cottage was much as it had been, clean and neat, though on this day, it was filled with the divine scent of that venison.

  “I saw Michel at the keep,” Radegunde managed to tell her mother before any words she said were drowned out completely.

  “We will talk later, once these ruffians are fed.” Her mother smiled at her, her gaze flicking over the boys. “Who has laid the board? I see no napkins. Jacques, cut the bread. Yves, fetch the bowls and spoons, and Ogier, wash those hands.”

  “Tell us of Outremer, Radegunde,” Yves entreated when they were seated at the board and their bowls were full. Radegunde took a bite of venison first, closed her eyes in rapture, then began her tale with their impoverished arrival in Jerusalem. Her mother sat back, her eyes gleaming, to listen, and Radegunde did not doubt that her mother heard both what she did say and what she did not.

  * * *

  There could be no doubt that the young man granted the responsibility of showing Duncan to the space over the stables was related to Radegunde. His hair was as unruly and his eyes as dark as hers, to be sure, but there was a greater resemblance in the merriment of his expression. Duncan saw that this Michel was well trusted in Lord Amaury’s house and concluded that her family had long resided on the holding.

  “Have you any other requirements for your comfort?” the young man asked politely.

  “Nay, this accommodation will suit me well, and I like to be close to the steeds,” Duncan acknowledged. “I would ask you merely for some tidings.”

  “Sir?”

  “Call me Duncan, lad.”

  “Aye, Duncan.”

  “That is better. The maid who serves Lady Ysmaine and arrived in our party this day. Would she be a relation of yours?”

  “Is there a reason you ask, sir?”

  Duncan shrugged. “I think I see a resemblance, no more than that.”

  Michel smiled broadly and there was much in that expression to recall Radegunde. “She is my sister, sir, my sole sister. My mother will be heartily pleased to see her return.”

  “I have no doubt of that.”

  Michel sobered. “It is more than a mother’s concern, sir.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Indeed. My mother oft dreams of future events, or knows of doings far afield.”

  Duncan straightened and turned to face the younger man. “Aye?”

  “Aye. She had nightmares after Lady Ysmaine’s party departed and has been most fearful.”

  Duncan nodded, well familiar with such powers. “At home, we would say she had the Sight.”

  “Aye, sir.” Michel frowned and corrected himself. “Duncan.”

  “Their journey, from what I understand, was not an easy one,” Duncan said with care. “Although our paths joined only in Jerusalem several months ago.”

  “The lady left with a party of men to defend her.”

  “I gather that she was betrayed, as can happen.
”

  Now it was Michel who watched Duncan avidly.

  “Doubtless you will be told the fullness of the tale at some point, but I have heard the name Thibaud mentioned by Lady Ysmaine with much grief and regret.”

  Michel’s shoulders sagged. “Odo said that the lady told him as much at the gates. I was hoping he had heard her incorrectly Thibaud was a good man, a man-at-arms in service to Lord Amaury and much trusted.”

  Duncan nodded and frowned at the floor. There was likely already much speculation in both keep and village. “I fear he surrendered all to defend his lord’s daughter.”

  “He would, sir.”

  Duncan arched a brow.

  “Duncan,” Michel corrected, a flush of color rising on his neck. “I thank you for telling me of this. We were all very fond of Thibaud.”

  “Doubtless there will be a mass sung for him here at Valeroy.”

  “If not a dozen. Lord Amaury leaves no such matter untended.”

  Duncan smiled. “Then he is a worthy lord to serve.”

  “That he is,” Michel said with enthusiasm. “Do you mean to join the meal in the hall?”

  “Aye, lad, but I would wash first.”

  “Of course. Let me show you the way.” Michel gestured and Duncan followed him, noting the affluence of Valeroy’s stables and the power of its defenses. “I wish I could see Radegunde’s arrival at our home,” the younger man said wistfully. “My mother will be pleased indeed.”

  “I can imagine as much.”

  “And Lord Amaury sent venison to our abode, for he knows Radegunde’s fondness for the meat.”

  “A most generous baron.” Duncan was well aware that his own anticipation of joining the company for the meal was much diminished. Radegunde would not be present and he found himself wishing that he, too, could witness her return home. “Does your mother live in the village then?” he asked, hoping his curiosity was not notable.