Then Norcross opened his mouth as if to add one last thought. This time a stream of blood rushed out. I saw his hands loosen on the sword. Then he took a step backward. A stagger, actually.
I pushed him away, my knife buried deep in his chest.
Estella screamed as if the knife were sticking in her.
Norcross was trying like a drunken man to regain his balance. He wobbled, then he fell to his knees. He looked up at me, disbelief in his eyes, cupping his own vitals in his hands. Then he keeled over dead.
I felt overcome, at first with relief and then with sadness. I had avenged Sophie and Phillipe, but I realized there was nothing for me now.
I picked up my sword. I had to get out of here. I took Estella by the hair. She had set me up. She’d nearly cost me my life. I held her pretty head back and ran the tip of my sword across her neck. “Do not shout or call out. Do you understand?”
She nodded, terror in her round eyes.
“You are most lucky,” I said, forcing a smile, “that I am a gentle-fool.”
Chapter 58
EXHAUSTED, AND AFRAID that Estella would sound the alarm, I staggered from the fallen knight’s room. I was now a murderer.
I took my staff and sword and was able to climb down the ramparts from an undetected spot near Norcross’s chamber. The moat was dry, and I crossed it on foot.
From there, I ran. Ran in the shadows through the darkened streets of the surrounding village. Ran until I found the woods.
My arm hung like a roast sliced open. The wound was bleeding profusely. I came upon a stream and cleaned it as best I could and tied it with a strip of cloth from my tunic. I was an outcast again, a criminal now, not just a deserter from a far-off war but a murderer — a killer of a noble. No doubt Baldwin would come after me. I needed to put as much distance as I could between me and Treille. But where would I go?
I hid in the woods, keeping off the main roads. I was hungry and cold, but the knowledge that I had avenged Sophie and Phillipe warmed me inside. I felt vindicated, restored. I hoped God forgave me.
Just after first light, I heard a loud rumble. I hid in the brush as a posse of armed riders, dressed in Baldwin’s colors, galloped by. I didn’t know where they were heading. Veille du Père? Sweeping the roads and villages?
I headed east, tracking the main road, through the deepest part of the forest. I avoided any travelers I saw. I didn’t know where I was going. My arm ached and throbbed.
A day out, I came to a fork in the road that I now knew well. I had passed here on my recent journey to Treille.
To the east lay my old village, Veille du Père. A day’s trek. My inn was there, Matthew, my brother-in-law, what family I still had. My friends . . . Odo, Georges . . . Memories of Sophie and the grave of my poor baby son . . .
They would welcome me there. I was Hugh, spinner of tales. I made everybody laugh. Surely they would welcome back a lost son.
Then a sharp sadness came over me.
I couldn’t go back there. My village lay in Baldwin’s territory. They would look for me there. And it was not my home, not anymore. Just a place where memories would haunt my dreams.
Like a good song, life has verses, the goliards had taught me. Each verse has to be sung. It takes all of them to make a song. It is the entire chanson you name, but when you think of it, when you smile, it is a favorite verse that delights your ears.
Sophie . . . for me, you will always be that verse.
But now I must go . . . I must leave you.
I gripped my staff. I took a deep breath.
I chose the trail north, toward whatever new life lay ahead.
Toward Borée . . .
Part Three
AMONG FRIENDS
Chapter 59
THE DOOR OPENED AND THE JESTER Norbert stood there, bent over a bowl, picking his teeth with a hazel twig. His jaw dropped as if he had seen a ghost.
“Gads . . . Hugh! You’ve come back after all.”
He grinned broadly, then shuffled up to me with that sideways gait of his. “What a joy to see you, lad.”
“And you, Norbert,” I replied, embracing him with my good arm.
“Wounded again? You’re like a human target, son,” he cried. “But come in, I’m glad to see you back. I want to hear it all.”
The jester yanked out a low stool for me to sit on. Then he poured a cup of wine and sat facing me. “I can see in your eyes you’ve not come here with much cheer. So tell me . . . Did you find her? What is the fate of your Sophie?”
I lowered my eyes from those of my friend.
“You were right, Norbert. It was just a dream to think she had somehow survived. I am sure she is dead.”
He nodded, then leaned across and squeezed me in a fatherly way. “A man’s allowed to dream every once in a while. We little people live on it. I’m sorry for your loss, Hugh.”
Norbert shuddered, letting out a gravelly cough.
“You’re ill?” I asked with concern.
“Just under the weather.” He waved me off. “Too many years of crawling around with the beetles down here.” He cleared his throat again. “Tell me this — how did it go at court with Baldwin? Did you get the job?”
I finally could smile at something. “I did, just as we planned. In fact, I think I was a success.”
“I knew it!” The jester leaped up. “I knew you would be. I taught you well, boy, didn’t I? Tell me. I have to know it all.”
Suddenly the weariness in my body seemed to recede; my face blushed brightly with the memories of entertaining the court. I told him everything. How I had managed my way into the castle, how I had seized upon the moment to go before the court. The jokes I had used . . . How the duke had sent away poor Palimpost.
“That old fart . . . I knew the sod was out of tricks.” Norbert hopped around, cackling with delight. “It served him well to be sacked.”
“No,” I protested, “he turned out to be a friend. A true one . . .” I continued my tale, through my run-in with Norcross, how I’d been set up, and how Palimpost, the very fool I’d shamed, had saved my life.
“So the goon still has some virtue in him. Good. There’s a brotherhood of us, Hugh. I guess you’re part of it now.” He patted my shoulder warmly, then once more doubled over in the throes of a most horrible cough.
“You are sick,” I said, leaning over, supporting him with my arm.
“The physician says it’s just the bad air down here. Tells me I’m a miserable excuse for a man of mirth. But still, Hugh, maybe your return is well timed. Why not stand in for me until I’m well? It’s a plum job.”
I dragged my stool closer. “Stand in for you? . . . Here in Borée?”
“And why not? You’re in the trade now. A professional. Just try not to do it too well.”
I thought about the offer. I did need a place to be. Where else would I go? What else would I do? I did have friends here. Their trust was strong. And another aspect of the offer appealed to me, undeniably.
I had liked it. The crowds, the applause, the acclamation . . . This new pretext . . . I had liked it very much.
“I will stand in for you, Norbert,” I said, holding his shoulder. “But only until you recover.”
“That’s a promise, then.” We shook hands warmly. “I see you are still lugging that big stick around with you. And you still wear the garb. But you have lost your hat.”
“My normal tailor was unable to dress me on such short notice.”
“Not a problem.” Norbert laughed. He shuffled over to his chest and tossed me a felt cap. It jingled. “Bells, I know. But, as they say, beggars can’t be choosy.”
I placed the cap upon my head. I felt a strange sensation, my blood warm with pride.
“You’ll knock ’em dead, lad. That I know for sure.” The jester grinned. “And I know for sure there is another here who will be most pleased to see you back.”
Chapter 60
I WATCHED EMILIE FROM OUTSIDE the sitting room before s
he had the chance to spy me. She was amid the other ladies-in-waiting attending to their embroidery. Her blond braids spilled out from under a white hood. Her little nose seemed as soft as a bud. I saw what I had known that first day but looked beyond due to the nature of our friendship:
Emilie was beautiful. She was beyond compare.
I winked at her from the doorway, flashed her a smile. Her eyes stretched as wide as wildflowers blooming in July.
Emilie rose, placing her embroidery neatly down on the table, and with perfect politeness excused herself and came toward me. Her pace quickened as she did.
Only in the hall, when she rushed up to me and grasped my hands, did she show her true delight. “Hugh De Luc . . . It’s true. Someone said they saw you. You have come back to us.”
“I hope I don’t wear out my welcome, my lady. And that you are not displeased.”
She grinned. “I am most pleased. And look at you . . . Still in your jester’s garb. You look good, Hugh.”
“The same you made for me, just a bit frayed. Norbert has taken ill. I promised I would stand in for him.”
Her eyes, vibrant and green, seemed to illuminate the dark hall. “I have no doubt we will all be the merrier for it. But tell me, Hugh, your quest . . . ? How did it go?”
I bowed my head, not for a moment hiding my disappointment or true feelings.
Emilie led me down the hall, where no guards were posted and we were able to sit on a bench. “Please . . . I can see you are sorely troubled, but I have to hear.”
“Your plan was excellent. On the subject of my pretext, everything went well. I replaced the fool in Treille, gained access as we had spoken, and was able to snoop around.”
“I did not mean our pretext, Hugh. I meant your quest. Your dear Sophie. What did you find? Tell me.”
“As to my wife.” I swallowed dryly. “I am now sure that she is dead.”
The light in Emilie’s hopeful eyes began to dim. She reached out for my hand. “I am most sorry, Hugh. I can see how it saddens you.” We sat there silently for a while. Then she noticed my arm. “You are injured again.”
“Just a bit. It’s nothing. It’s healing. I found the person who was responsible for Sophie and my son. I ended up having to face him off.”
“Face him off . . .” A look of concern flashed in her eyes. “And the outcome?”
“The outcome?” I bowed my head again, then raised it with a slight smile. “I am here. He . . . is not.”
Her face lit up. “And I am glad. And most glad to hear that you will stay a while too.” She folded up my sleeve and studied the sword marks on my arm. “This needs treatment, Hugh.”
“You are always nursing me back to health,” I said. I was surprised at how easily I fell into her care again. Almost without trying. It felt good to be here. A calm spread over my face.
“But there is more I have to tell you, I’m afraid. This man I fought . . . he was a knight. More than a knight, in fact. He was Baldwin’s chatelain. It ended up, in our squaring off . . . I killed him.”
Emilie gazed intently at me. “I have no doubt that what you did was right.”
“It was, Lady Emilie . . . I swear it. He murdered my wife and son. Yet the man was a noble. And I . . .”
“Is it not regarded as justice when one takes recompense for the loss of his property?” Emilie cut in. “Or defends the reputation of his wife?”
“For nobles, yes.” I bowed my head again. “But I fear there is no justice in this world that shines on a lowborn man who kills a knight. Even if it is deserved.”
“That may be.” Emilie nodded. “But it will not always be.”
Her eyes met mine. “You are always welcome here, Hugh. I will talk to Lady Anne.”
Instantly I felt as if the heaviest weight had been lifted from my shoulders. How did I deserve such a friend? How in this one pure soul had all the boundaries and laws by which I had lived been set aside? I felt so grateful to have come here.
“There’s no way for me to thank you.” I clasped her hand. Then I realized my mistake, my forwardness, my stupidity.
Her eyes drifted to my hand, but she made no move to take hers back. “The duke’s chatelain, you say . . .” She smiled, finally. “You may be lowborn, as you say, Hugh De Luc, yet somehow your aim is remarkably high.”
Chapter 61
“YOU ARE THOROUGHLY MISPLACED, child,” Anne scolded Emilie later, in her dressing room, “to stick your nose where you do. For such a pretty one, it always seems to end up where it is most unwelcome.”
Emilie brushed her lady’s long brown hair in front of the looking glass. Anne seemed noticeably out of sorts. In the past, Emilie had always been able to soften her with a few well-placed assurances and affable cheer. Emilie’s freethinking had always been a source of discussion between them and, though her lady hid it, a bond.
But not so now. Not since the word that Anne’s husband was soon back from the Crusade.
“I am no child, madame,” Emilie said back.
“Yet you act like one sometimes. You urge me to look the other way for this fool who admits to killing the chatelain of a duke. Who seeks refuge here.”
“He does not come to hide from justice, my lady, but because he feels among friends who understand what justice is.”
“And what is this friendship worth to you, Emilie? This friendship with a common scut who always finds his way back here when he is injured. Is it worth the loss of our laws and custom?”
“The knight was killed in a fair duel, madame. The man’s beloved wife was abducted by him.”
“What proof is there? Who pledges for this man? The baker? The smith?”
“Who pledges for Baldwin, madame? Armed thugs? His cruelty and greed need no witness.”
Anne met Emilie’s gaze sharply in the mirror. “A lord needs no pledge, child.” There was an awkward silence between them, then Anne seemed to soften. “Look, Emilie, you know that Baldwin is no friend to this court. But do not make me choose between your heart and what we know as the law. A lord manages his own vassals as he sees fit.
“Men have always shown greed,” Anne continued. “They spread your legs and plant their seed, then pick their nose on the pillow and fart. Your common fool will prove no different.” Anne turned and seemed to sense that she had hurt Emilie. She held the brush and clasped Emilie’s hand. “You must know, it would be my joy to shame Baldwin in my husband’s absence. But your price is too high. Don’t ask me to choose between cads, high- or lowborn.”
“Showing justice on this, my lady, is how you will choose.”
Anne’s eyes hardened. “Don’t flaunt your fancy concepts at me, Emilie. You have never had to govern. You are not subject to a man. You are still a guest at our court. Perhaps it is time we sent you back?”
“Back . . . ” Emilie was startled. Fear shot through her. Anne had never threatened her before.
“This is an education, Emilie, not your life. Your life is written. You cannot change it, no matter how strong your passions.”
“My heart is not the issue, madame. He is just. I assure you.”
“You do not know just,” Anne snapped. “You know only a dream. You are blind, child . . . and stubborn. So far you have not found a husband here, despite the best efforts of some of our bravest knights.”
“They are trumped-up oxen, and smell like them too. Their exploits mean nothing to me. Less than nothing!”
“And yet this lowbred pup does. What makes you think you can expect more from him? You must stop this dalliance. Now.”
Emilie stepped back, knowing she had taken it too far. She had offended Anne. Gradually Anne seemed to soften. She reached for Emilie’s hand. “Yet,” she went on, “you’ve never lacked the courage to stand up to me.”
“Because I have always trusted you, my lady. Because you have always taught me to do what’s right.”
“You trust too much, I fear.” Anne got up.
“I have given him my promise, madame.” E
milie bowed her head. “Keep him here. I will not go further in the heart. If I did not press this to you, you would not be the wiser. Please, let him stay.”
Anne gazed at Emilie, searching her eyes. She reached a tender hand to Emilie’s face. “What has life done to you, my poor child, to have so hardened you against your own kind?”
“I am not hardened,” Emilie replied, kneeling and placing her head upon Anne’s arm. “I only see that there is a world beyond.”
“Get up.” Anne raised her gently. “Your fool can stay. At least until Baldwin inquires of him. I hope, in Norbert’s absence, that we will find him a boon.”
“He has learned well, my lady,” Emilie promised, cheered.
“It is what he learns from you that troubles me. This other world you speak of, it may seem real. It may stir your curiosity. And your heart. But hear me, Emilie . . . It will never be your home.”
A tremor ran through Emilie. She rubbed her cheek against her mistress’s hand. “I know, my lady.”
Chapter 62
THE NEXT MORNING, I made my debut in front of the lady Anne’s court.
I had only seen the great hall at Borée from behind Norbert’s back on my first visit, studying his skills, watching him perform. Now, with its buttressed arches rising thirty feet tall and jammed to its hilt with colorfully dressed knights and courtiers, the hall looked more enormous and imposing than I could ever have imagined.
My heart was pounding. Not only for the gigantic room and the simple fact that Treille was like a village compared to this; or for my new liege and the favor that must be won. But also because of whom I was replacing. Norbert was a jester of the highest rank. To fill in for him here, in front of the court, was an honor that touched me deeply.
The arrival of the court did nothing to abate my nerves. A blast of trumpets announced the lady Anne with her long silk train and a line of ladies, Emilie among them, bringing cushions and refreshments, attending her needs.
Pages in green-and-gold overtunics announced the business of the day. Advisers flitted around, vying for Anne’s ear. Scores of knights did not languish in their casual tunics as in Treille, but sat at formal tables finely dressed in her colors of green and gold.