The Sorrow Stone

by J. A. McLachlan

  Suddenly his weight was gone. She rolled onto her side, gasping and coughing, her ears ringing from his slap.

  “Do not die! Do not die Lady Celeste!” Marie cried beside her, patting her back.

  “Take him away before I kill him with my bare hands!” Lord Bernard roared.

  Celeste struggled up, still coughing. Two men held Raimond. His face was red with fury.

  “He killed Etienne,” she gasped. “He smothered our son.”

  “She is not in her right mind,” Raimond said coldly. “Her wits are addled. She took him to her bed and rolled onto him. She killed him, not me.”

  Lord Bernard bent over her. “Has he hurt you, Celeste?”

  “Ask Marie.” Her voice came out a ragged croak. He must believe her, she must make him. “Ask Marie about that night.”

  “He sent me away,” Marie sobbed. “Lady Celeste was asleep, and so was Etienne. He was asleep in his crib.”

  “They are both lying,” Raimond cried.

  “Quiet!” Lord Bernard said. “Your own actions betray you.” He nodded to his men: “Take him to the bailiff.”

  ***

  Lord Bernard helped her into the inn and over to a bench near the hearth. He ordered wine and bade her drink it as soon as the kitchen servant brought it.

  “What will happen to him?” Her hands shook as she lifted the wine to her mouth.

  “He is nobility. King Louis will decide his fate.”

  “I thought he was my friend.” She shuddered, feeling sick.

  “You will never see him again. He will be stripped of his titles and rights, and banished from France. Louis has an ambitious cousin; he will make an example of Raimond.” Lord Bernard slumped against the wall. “I should have watched him more closely. Eleanor tried to warn me.”

  “But she dislikes everyone close to you.” Celeste finished his thought. “You could not have known. He deceived us all.”

  “I knew you blamed yourself. I tried to tell you not to.”

  “I shall listen to you more.”

  “You will listen to me less. You have a mind of your own, now.”

  “Yes. Does it trouble you?”

  He sighed. “I expect it will give me great deal of trouble.”

  She remembered that crinkle around his eyes and the little rise at the edges of his mouth when he was amused. She had loved that face, loved it still. She rose and went to him, slipping her arm around his waist. “Would it be best if I warned you, when there is going to be trouble?”

  He laughed, and pulled her close. “Yes, that would be best.”

  ***

  Marie was unpinning Celeste’s hair after supper when Father Jacques came in. “We have come to say farewell,” he said. “The ship for Jerusalem leaves in the morning. We will board tonight.”

  Lady Yvolde and her family came in with him. “I will visit you in Le Puy after we return,” she said, embracing Celeste.

  Her son bowed to Celeste and Lord Bernard gravely, and stole a kiss from Marie before running out. Marie blushed furiously, trying to frown. They heard the pompous cousin scolding the boy all the way down the stairs.

  “We will also leave tomorrow,” Lord Bernard said when they were alone. “Will you be pleased to go home, Celeste?”

  “I do not know,” she said gently, because she could see it worried him. She was no longer afraid of the castle. There would be no more demons watching her from the shadows, she knew that now. But there were other memories waiting for her return.

  “I shall miss Etienne when I am there.”

  “Then he will draw your soul to heaven after him, and mine with yours.” He ran his finger lightly over her cheek, making her shiver. “But not before we have other sons and watch them grow to manhood, and daughters as beautiful as you, to take our place here.”

  She would tell him there was one on the way already, when they were back in his castle. He would only make a fuss about her riding if she told him now. She smiled at him sweetly.

  He bent and kissed her. His lips sent a shock through her, stopping her breath. She kissed him back eagerly, felt him hesitate and then respond, his lips pressing hard against hers, his tongue teasing her mouth open.

  When he released her she laughed, low and breathless. “Let us go home,” she whispered. “Quickly.”

  “Home is home and away is away,” he told them. “We are not peddlers at home.”

  “Why did you bring the ring here, then?” Gilles asked.

  “I am telling you the rules, not answering insolent questions,” Jean roared.

  Simon hunched down on the bench; Gilles looked interested.

  “Now a metal smith thinks you may be a thief. And a Lord, as well.” He glared at them. “Here, in your home town. This is where you must be above suspicion. This is where we must all be safe.”

  “I am sorry, Papa.” Simon’s eyes were miserable with guilt.

  Gilles shrugged.

  He did not know. How could he? They had protected him too well.

  “Mathilde.”

  She turned from the black iron pot suspended above the fire, in which their dinner was simmering. She had not spoken to him since she had returned to the hut with Jeanne. Simon had had to tell him of their meeting with the Lord and Lady.

  “I have something to tell you. To tell you all.”

  Mathilde came and sat on the bench beside the boys, across from him.

  He sat down. “My parents…”

  He stood up. Sat down again.

  “My mother read heretical writings. She brought one into our home.” He looked at his hands, lying empty on the table. “When I was Gilles’ age.” He took a breath, waiting until he could continue.

  Mathilde reached across the table and placed her hand on his.

  “You think you are safe here, where people know you,” he said, looking at Mathilde’s small hand on top of his. “But safety must be guarded. Must be treasured.”

  “What happened?” Simon asked. “To your mother?”

  “She thought she was safe.” He looked at his sons. “She had lived in that town all her life, and her parents, and their parents. She took her safety for granted. That is what happened.” He clenched his hands into fists under Mathilde’s, and looked aside.

  He saw again his mother’s face, mirrored in the table, her smile gentle and a little sad. That smile, with its deep and brooding love, had filled his childhood. He had imagined Mother Mary wearing that expression as she bent over the world. It was where he lived as a child, safe in the curve of that smile. Then, one night, his mother and her smile and his childhood were all taken from him.

  “But they were not safe,” Gilles said. His voice was quiet, but something was gone from his face. There was a bitterness in his eyes that Jean had not seen there before.

  He had put it there, that expression. He had had to. “They were not,” he said, in the same quiet tone as Gilles. They all knew the punishment for heresy.

  Mathilde squeezed his hands. “I am sorry,” she said gently.

  He nodded. Taking a deep breath, he forced his hands open. They lay helpless on the table, under Mathilde’s.

  He was supposed to shelter her.

  “It was not my intention to bring the ring and the nail here. I was wrong to do it.” He looked at each of them. “I endangered you all.”

  “Yes,” Mathilde agreed. She looked across the room at Jeanne, sleeping peacefully on her mat, the fever gone. “But it is over and done.”

  “No,” he said, glancing at Gilles and Simon. They had assured him the metal smith accepted their story, but what would the Lord do? His wife had her ring back, but she had fainted, Simon told him. Lords were hard to predict. When he got over his concern for her, he would be angry. Better to diffuse that anger than wait for it to strike.

  And if he was not angry?

  He withdrew his hands from Mathilde’s. “It is not over yet,” he said thoughtfully.

  ***

  He arrived at the guesthouse with
Simon and Gilles just as the Lord and Lady emerged. The other pilgrims had gone to the ship; they were alone as he had intended to find them. He stopped at the sight of her.

  She was wearing a long, black cape which made her look larger than the slight figure he remembered. Her hair was properly braided up, the shining black coils dimmed by her veil. She was not the frail, desperate creature who had haunted his soul, forcing ridiculous acts of kindness from him which he should still be regretting but somehow could not. She was a Lady now; it showed in her carriage, in the way she held her head, in the confidence of her step. Her large, black eyes were beautiful and sad, but no longer the wells of despair he had carried with him since their meeting. Had their transaction healed her?

  Gilles and Simon looked at him as he hesitated.

  “Do not appear afraid,” he said to Simon. Fear was a confession of guilt. And to Gilles, “Do not be too bold.”

  He took a deep breath, quietly so the boys would not notice, and strode forward, intercepting them.

  “My Lord and Lady,” he said, bowing low. He pressed the boys into a bow beside him with a hand on each of their shoulders.

  The Lady drew in her breath sharply at the sight of him. Her Lord husband grasped her elbow to steady her. He scrutinized Jean through narrowed eyes.

  “I am pleased to see you looking so much better, My Lady,” Jean said.

  “I am pleased she has my ring back,” the Lord said coldly.

  “And I,” said Jean. “It caused me no end of trouble.” He glanced at the Lady.

  Her lips twitched in what appeared to be humour. “Dreams?”

  He was surprised, but covered it quickly. “Among other things.” He looked at her Lord. Yes, he was right about him. “But I have come on a more substantial matter. To plead for your forgiveness, Lord. If there was fault it was mine, not theirs. Visit your wrath on me, but spare my sons.” He pushed them forward a step.

  The Lord looked surprised a moment. Then he regarded his Lady wife. She was looking at Jean’s boys.

  Simon fidgeted nervously, but his eyes were steady and his face as calm as he could hold it. Good boy.

  Gilles looked back at the Lady with a sweet smile. Do not overdo it, boy.

  “I will work for you in return for the harm I have done.”

  “It was my wife you wronged.”

  “Is the baby well?” the Lady asked. Her voice trembled.

  “She is completely recovered.” He wiped his eyes, a nice touch. And then he felt his throat tighten, and could not speak.

  “You saved her, My Lady,” Simon burst out, his eyes shining. “You undid the curse.”

  Jean froze. His boy had just accused a Lady of meddling in curses! He glanced at the Lord, who appeared as shocked as he. “An angel,” he stammered, “An angel of mercy!”

  She was staring intently at Simon. Her eyes glistened with tears. Ahh, that was good, that look in her eyes. Simon’s comment had pleased her. He was almost as stunned by that, as by the comment.

  “We could use a boy,” the Lady said, “to train to our service.”

  The Lord opened his mouth, frowning, but his wife’s small hand settled on his forearm. There was much power in such small hands.

  Gilles stepped forward at once.

  “Not that one, I think,” the Lord drawled.

  Jean pulled Gilles back. “Let me work for you instead, my Lord,” he said. “I am stronger, a better worker.”

  “You are good with horses,” the Lady said, smiling at Simon. “I would have been trampled had you not been there.”

  Simon ducked his head. “It was an honor, My Lady,” he said.

  “My sons are not for sale,” Jean said, noting the blush on Simon’s face at her praise, and its effect on the Lady. She squeezed her husband’s arm lightly.

  “Would you like to work in my stables, boy?” the Lord asked, reluctantly.

  Simon grinned.

  “He would not,” Jean said. “He must learn a trade.”

  “He could be apprenticed to our blacksmith,” the Lady offered.

  Simon’s mouth opened in a gasp of delight.

  “And earn his keep working in our stable,” her husband added.

  Jean drew Simon to him.

  “He will be treated well,” the Lady said. She turned to her husband. “He saved my life.”

  Simon broke from Jean’s light grasp and fell to his knees. “I will obey and serve you with all my heart,” he cried. “May I be so fortunate as to save your life a thousand times!”

  “Once will be enough, I hope,” the Lord said. “A thousand would impoverish me.” He looked at Jean. “Can he be ready to leave with us in the morning?”

  “I am ready now,” Simon cried, still on his knees in the dirt.

  Jean gave them time to look at Simon.

  The Lady squeezed her husband’s arm once more.

  The Lord reached for his purse, sighing. “Get him some decent clothing,” he said, handing Jean a handful of deniers.

  “If you insist, my Lord,” Jean said, his eyes downcast, speaking slowly as though agreeing against his will.

  ***

  Simon ran home ahead of them to tell his mother.

  “That was well done, for Simon,” Gilles said as they walked together.

  “It worked out well enough.”

  Gilles laughed. “I nearly missed your intent, and I know you. You meant Simon to go with them all along.”

  He stopped walking and looked directly at the boy. “Only a fool admits to all he knows.”

  Gilles nodded, his expression serious again. “Never change your story.”

  “But don’t push it too far,” Jean said. The boy was quick, but he was cocky, too. One day he would make a mistake. Pray God, Jean would be there to repair it.

  “Never look back,” Gilles finished, grinning.

  Jean looked down the road toward their little hut, where Mathilde and Jeanne were waiting for them. He thought of his mother’s smile, which had always been waiting for him.

  “No,” he said. “Look back. Because you carry it home. Everything you say, everything you do, you carry it home.”

  “That will make trading much harder,” Gilles observed.

  “Maybe,” he rested his hand on Gilles’ shoulder. “Maybe not.”

  Dear reader,

  I hope you have enjoyed reading my book, The Sorrow Stone. If you would like to know what happens to these characters later, I will be writing their stories in future novels.

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  About the Author

  Jane Ann McLachlan was born in Toronto, Canada, and currently lives in Waterloo with her husband, Ian Darling, who is also an author as well as a professional editor.

  She is the author of four published novels: Walls of Wind (2013), a science fiction novel; The Occasional Diamond Thief (2015) which was featured in VOYA and won the Book Publishers of Alberta Award for Speculative Fiction; The Salarian Desert Game (2016), a sequel to Diamond Thief, which is listed among Best Books for Children and Teens; and The Sorrow Stone (2017), her first historical fiction novel, which won a Royal Palm Literary Award for Historical Fiction. Her next science fiction novel, Crossing at Zenith will be out in 2018. She has two other historical fiction novels on offer with her agent.

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