“Before the feast, perhaps you would be so kind as to hunt some smaller game,” Gaston said to Millard and Amaury. “On the morrow, of course, we shall be at worship, and then I shall be occupied in a review of the ledgers, but a variety of fare would be welcome for the feast.” Millard’s lips tightened again, and Fergus wondered what secrets would be revealed by the ledgers.
“These woods must abound with pheasant and hare,” Amaury said with gusto. “We shall fill a wagon with them!”
“Only if my crossbow is returned to me,” Millard said sourly.
Amaury offered it to him, after he removed the bolt. He offered that on the flat of his hand, after Millard had slung the weapon from his saddle. The other man accepted it in poor temper.
To Fergus’ surprise, Duncan rode alongside Gaston. He doffed his gloves and offered them to Gaston. “They are not so fine as the pair you lost this day, but you are welcome to them for the ride back.”
“But surely you will need them as much as I do.”
Duncan smiled. “Caledon has run a good deal this day and is not so young as your destriers. I mean to walk him back to the gates.”
Gaston spared a glance at the darkening sky, then back to Duncan. “Is he lamed? I would not have you outside of the walls when night falls.”
“It will do us both good to have a walk after this day,” Duncan said, and Fergus knew his old comrade told only part of the truth.
“I will walk with you,” Fergus said but Duncan shook his head.
“Nay, lad,” he said, his tone as hard as rock. “This I will do alone.”
With that, Fergus guessed why the sense of doom would not leave him. Duncan had been attacked in Valeroy, and the wound had been vicious. Duncan had escaped an assailant in the forests of Valeroy on the journey to visit Eudaline, but the attacker had not been killed. The glint in Duncan’s eyes made Fergus wonder whether his companion knew more than he had when last they talked of the matter.
Perhaps he merely guessed that the attacker was close.
Duncan might not have the Sight but his instincts were finely honed.
It was Fergus’ impulse to insist upon accompanying Duncan, yet he also knew the warrior well enough to understand that his thinking would not be changed. Duncan’s expression was one of grim resolve.
“Be careful,” Fergus advised when he walked his horse past his comrade.
“I am always careful, lad,” Duncan vowed.
“I see a shadow.”
“As do I,” Duncan replied grimly. His gaze locked with Fergus’ own. “And I tire of it. I will see it dispersed before I sleep again, upon that you may rely.”
Chapter Fifteen
Fergus’ squire accompanied Radegunde in silence, hesitating outside the solar when Radegunde would have urged her companion inside. Radegunde watched the disguised maiden look at Bartholomew, who stood guard at the door, her uncertainty clear.
“I know,” Radegunde said so quietly that only they two could hear and felt their surprise. “And if my lady does not, she will soon.”
Leila’s eyes widened in alarm. “I cannot leave the service of my lord Fergus…”
“And you will not. I thought it best for all of us to be together, with our burden.” Radegunde patted the saddlebag then smiled at Leila. “And that you might savor a bath.”
The lips of the supposed squire parted, and Radegunde knew that no one who saw this expression of joy could doubt her gender.
She raised her voice and spoke sternly. “You should be strong enough to aid me in moving my lady’s trunks, Laurent,” she said. “And there is more labor yet to be done after that. There is no cause for you to sit idle in the stables, even if Lord Fergus has ridden to hunt.”
“Aye. I will help.” The squire bowed, eyes sparkling.
“Indeed, we will be occupied until the evening meal. Do not doubt as much for a moment.”
“I am at your service.”
Radegunde turned to Bartholomew. “My lady intends to sleep, and I will draw the curtains on the bed so she is untroubled by our activity. Will you ensure that none disturbs her, save her lord husband on his return?”
Bartholomew bowed. “You may rely upon me to do as much.”
Radegunde gave a little tap on the door to announce herself and peered around it, to find that Lady Ysmaine had already abandoned the bath. She sat on the bed in the clean chemise that Radegunde had laid out for her, combing her hair. She looked more tired than Radegunde would have preferred, but smiled at her maid. “Is Gaston returned?”
“Not yet, my lady.”
“But you left with such haste. I thought something was amiss.”
“I had merely forgotten something in the stables, my lady,” Radegunde lied. She indicated the saddlebag. Lady Ysmaine appeared to be puzzled, which meant she recognized it.
“I thought Duncan…”
Radegunde interrupted her before too much was said aloud. “My lady, I would beg your indulgence, but the solar should be set fully to rights before my lord Gaston’s return.”
Lady Ysmaine’s gaze flitted over the chamber without understanding. To be sure, Radegunde had already set it to rights. Radegunde urged the squire into the solar, following fast behind her companion and closed the door firmly.
Lady Ysmaine gasped and seized her cloak to cover herself, for her chemise was sheer. “Radegunde!” she began, clearly intending to chide her maid, but Radegunde knew that would only support the ruse.
“I will pull the drapes, my lady. I apologize, for I had need of assistance,” she said in a loud voice. She hastened to Lady Ysmaine and whispered. “Laurent is truly Leila, and I thought that she might savor a bath herself.”
Lady Ysmaine’s eyes began to sparkle, and she covered her mouth with her hand to silence her laughter. “So this is why the bag must be here. Its champions are otherwise occupied.”
Radegunde nodded and set the saddlebag against the wall.
Lady Ysmaine smiled at Leila and gestured to the bathwater in silent invitation. It was still steaming and smelled of that rose soap.
Leila stared at the water with such yearning that Radegunde felt sympathy for her. “Should you not be next?” she asked softly of Radegunde.
“I have no time on this day,” Radegunde said, which was not strictly true.
“How long have you known?” Lady Ysmaine whispered.
“Since Duncan told me, in Paris.”
Leila looked up with alarm. “Did he tell others?”
“Nay, only me.” Radegunde felt her lips curve. “And only because I thought your friendship with Bartholomew meant he favored boys over women.”
“Hardly that,” Leila scoffed, her dark eyes sparkling.
“Yet Gaston thought to wed you to him!” Lady Ysmaine began to laugh. “Oh, Radegunde, no wonder you showed such dismay!”
When their smiles had faded, Leila plucked at her mucky tabard even as she eyed the water.
“Do you not welcome this opportunity?” Radegunde asked.
“Oh, I do,” Leila admitted. “But I am not certain I will be able to bear these garments afterward.”
“Yet if you abandon them, your secret might be discerned.”
“I think it is more a question of abandoning their scent,” Lady Ysmaine said. “What provoked you to make such a choice and join our party? Surely it was fraught with risk?”
Leila’s lips tightened. “There was less peril in leaving than in remaining. My uncle meant to wed me to a man I knew to be cruel. My betrothed was cunning and hid his true nature from other men. My uncle thought my protests frivolous and would not heed them.”
“But you feared him,” Radegunde guessed.
The other maiden squared her shoulders. “I would make my own choice, for good or ill, rather than accept a bad one inflicted upon me.”
“I can find no fault with that.” The women shared a glance of understanding. Leila still did not remove her garb though Radegunde knew she wished for the bath. Perhaps she was shy. “Come, bathe, b
efore the water is cold. I will tend my lady’s hair while you take your leisure.”
“You are kind, indeed.”
Radegunde smiled at Leila, then pulled the drapes around her lady’s bed. She lit the coal in the brazier, then retreated to comb Lady Ysmaine’s hair, leaving Leila alone.
In mere moments, Radegunde heard the clothing drop to the floor. She heard the water splash as Leila entered the bath. She was drawing the comb through the ends of her lady’s hair when Leila sighed with such obvious contentment that both Radegunde and her mistress smiled.
Lady Ysmaine placed her hand over Radegunde’s and gave her fingers a squeeze. “You have done well this day,” she said, barely mouthing the words, then tried to hide her yawn without success. “I cannot fathom why I feel such fatigue, Radegunde. It was not so long a ride.”
“Can you not?” Radegunde murmured and her lady caught her breath.
“My courses,” Lady Ysmaine murmured, her eyes lighting. Then she frowned. “But I went months without them en route to Jerusalem.”
“But now you are safe and well-fed. Does your belly not feel soft?”
“I thought I ate too well as a wife,” Lady Ysmaine admitted with a low laugh.
“You cannot see the change in your breasts as I do. It is early yet, but I think the signs are clear.”
“When do you think the babe will arrive?”
“May, my lady, if all goes well.”
“May.” Lady Ysmaine was evidently filled with delight. “I shall not fear the birth if you are with me. Oh, Radegunde, what should I do without you?”
The heartfelt words startled Radegunde, for though she wished to serve her lady, she wished also to be with Duncan. She frowned as she fastened the braid for her lady, wondering how she and Duncan would contrive a future together.
France or Scotland? Radegunde imagined it would be Scotland, which was well enough, but she would miss her lady. She held her tongue for the moment, for she had no plan to share.
“Dare I tell Gaston?” Lady Ysmaine whispered.
“I should think he would like to know, though matters can yet go awry.” Radegunde said then urged her lady to lie back and sleep, which Lady Ysmaine did.
Radegunde cleared her throat, not wanting to surprise Leila. “May I join you?”
“Of course.” There was a splash of water again, and Radegunde left the bed, tugging the drape behind herself. She thought to fetch some mending but Leila spoke again. “Would you help me with my hair? It is so mired and tangled.”
“Of course!” Radegunde froze in her steps at the sight of Leila. The transformation in her appearance was remarkable. The other woman must have been about her age. She was delicately wrought and so feminine in form that Radegunde was astonished that they had all been so fooled. Leila’s skin was golden, of a rich hue beyond that reached by Radegunde’s own skin after a summer in the sun. Her hair was dark and gleamed despite her complaints. Radegunde guessed it had been longer, for it fell only to Leila’s shoulders and the ends were ragged, as if she had cut it with a knife herself. Leila’s eyes were similarly dark and thickly lashed, her lips curved in a smile.
“I cannot believe I was deceived,” she admitted when she realized that Leila was aware of her stare.
“I am glad that so many were.” Leila indicated Duncan’s saddlebag, when Radegunde had left it on the floor. “Is it yet safe?”
Radegunde nodded and came to help with Leila’s hair. “Will you tell me of Palestine?” she asked cautiously. “I saw little of it, for I was ill in Jerusalem, but I would know more. Tell me of your home.”
“I do not know where to begin.”
“Tell me what you love of it.” Radegunde smiled. “Tell me what you miss.”
Leila sighed and closed her eyes as Radegunde took the comb to her hair. “I miss only my cousin. We were raised as sisters and when I left, she was with child.” She hesitated and bit her lip. “I would have liked to have held her babe, just once.” And a tear slipped from beneath those dark lashes.
Radegunde’s heart clenched. She felt both compassion and respect for this woman who had paid so high a price to have her own choice. She could not imagine losing her family and home forever, to have no chance of seeing them again. Indeed, if Leila’s betrothed were a vengeful man, the other woman could not even risk sending word to her cousin of her welfare lest her location be revealed. She realized that even when she had been ill in Jerusalem, even when she had feared to die, the prospect of returning to Valeroy had given her hope and strength. Would she have had the will to survive without that possibility?
“I would have liked to have had a sister,” she said lightly instead, working her comb through the dark tresses.
“Do you not have one?”
“Four brothers.” At Leila’s glance, Radegunde rolled her eyes. “One older and the rest younger than me.”
The other woman smiled. “I always wanted to have a brother.”
Radegunde guessed that Leila imagined a brother might have defended her choice before her uncle.
“But now I am alone, and I will be missed in the stables.” Leila sat up and laid claim to the comb. She tugged it through the last bit of her hair, so clearly putting her concerns behind her that Radegunde sat back. She brought Leila a towel then retreated with her mending as the other woman dried herself, grimaced, then donned her dirty garb once more.
“Your face is radiant,” Radegunde noted softly when the squire Laurent was before her once more.
Leila wrinkled her nose and rubbed her filthy sleeve across her face. It left a trail of dirt that disguised her features once again. The smell of dung on her garb was enough to keep much curiosity at bay, to be sure.
When Leila might have left, Radegunde picked up the discarded comb and offered it to her. “Sisters do not have to share blood, but can be bound by confidences,” she said quietly, offering the comb. “Will you be my sister?”
Leila’s smile fairly lit the room. She stepped forward and took the comb, her eyes sparkling. “I will, Radegunde. I will.” They made to embrace but the smell of dung made Radegunde cough.
They parted with a laugh, and smiled at each other.
Leila eyed the saddlebag and bit her lip. “Bartholomew will tend Lord Gaston on his return, and you may have labor to do for Lady Ysmaine. I would not see the prize untended.”
“And we will not be able to take it to the hall for the evening meal without arousing suspicion of its contents,” Radegunde agreed. “Will you take custody of it as before?”
“Gladly,” Leila agreed and claimed the bag. A quick rap at the portal and Bartholomew opened it for her. She hastened down the stairs, keeping her head bowed so few would note her features.
“Mind you return in the morning to finish the task!” Radegunde called after the apparent squire and Bartholomew bit back a smile.
They both then bowed at the sight of Lord Gaston at the foot of the stairs. He was covered with blood, but he was hale, to Radegunde’s relief.
“Do not be so quick to be rid of the bath,” he said, his manner jovial. “The blood is not mine, Radegunde,” he chided. “I took a boar this day.” As Bartholomew congratulated him, he dropped his voice. “And Duncan reached my side in time, thanks to your quick thinking.”
“My lady sleeps, my lord,” Radegunde informed him. “And I will see that new water is brought.”
“I can take the second water after my lady. There is no need for such trouble.”
“Aye, my lord, there is.”
Lord Gaston crossed the threshold to the chamber and blinked, evidently surprised by the smell of dung. He looked at Radegunde, a question in his eyes.
“The squire Laurent aided in the arrangement of the chamber,” Radegunde said, uncertain who might overhear her words. “The smell of him was such that I insisted he take the second water.”
Lord Gaston’s eyes twinkled and his voice dropped low. “Well done, Radegunde. Well done.” He surveyed her before he spoke. “Yo
u will want to wait in the stables, no doubt, for the return of your lover.”
Radegunde was startled. “Did Duncan not return with you?”
“He insisted upon walking his steed back alone,” Lord Gaston confessed, then set his belt aside with a grimace. “I hope he arrives in time for the evening meal. Bartholomew, can you speed a bath for me? I am mired beyond belief.”
Duncan walked back alone?
What madness was this?
Radegunde seized the opportunity Lord Gaston offered and raced to the gates of the keep to discover the truth. As she hastened down the stairs, her anger mounted. How like Duncan it was to put himself in harm’s way to see a matter resolved! He would draw out the man who had attacked him twice and face him alone to see others protected and the threat put to rest. Had he stood before her, she would have granted him a good measure of her thoughts on that choice.
As it was, she might not have the opportunity.
* * *
The sun was already sinking low when the hunting party had the boar loaded upon the wagon and began their journey back to the keep. There was much joviality in the party at Gaston’s skill and good fortune, and Duncan did not doubt that many saw such a kill as a good portent for his suzerainty of the holding. He noted the open admiration in the eyes of those servants who had accompanied the party and knew that the tale of Gaston’s valor would travel quickly.
It would likely also be well embellished.
Duncan himself was shaken by Gaston’s near-miss. That knight spoke to the men in his party as if naught had gone awry, but Duncan noticed that Gaston’s gaze remained dark—and that he spoke little to Millard. Millard appeared to be sulking and gave only cursory replies to Lord Amaury, who was resolutely cheerful. There was a tension between the noblemen, and Duncan was glad that he would not be in their company much longer.
He let the party pull ahead of him and watched the sun sink lower. He was well aware that someone lurked behind him, someone who clung to the shadows and kept out of sight. He gripped the hilt of his knife and began to walk with Caledon, listening for sounds of pursuit.
“Duncan!” Fergus called, glancing back over the company. “Are you certain you would walk alone?”
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