— The thieves must have known the area perfectly, declares Baudouin.
Enguerrand lowers his head, his eyes fixed on the straw scattered across the stable floor.
— I am sorry, Sire Baudouin, but with the horses, we could not move through the woods as we would have wished.
Baudouin approaches his servant and places a hand on his shoulder.
— Do not worry about it, it is myself I blame. Not only did I ask you to chase hares near their burrow, but I let that boy slip away, who might well be involved in all this.
— Do you truly believe he is part of the band?
Baudouin hesitates.
— I would not go that far, but one thing is certain, he is not at ease. Otherwise, he would not have fled.
— Are you sure it is the same one we encountered when we arrived in Angers?
— Certain! But by God, he runs fast, the devil!
— I should not have called for your help with the other two men. I was certain I had driven them back toward you.
— Do not worry, they will end up being caught.
Yvain enters at that moment.
— Sire Baudouin, it’s a mess in the kitchen and Marie said not to disturb Dame Aloïs.
— My wife has returned?
— Yes, Sire, for a while now. But she looked… unwell. Her maid is watching over her like a swarm of bees watches over its hive.
Baudouin smiles at the image, rather fitting. To think that Marie might sting anyone who dared harm her mistress is not far from the truth.
Yvain leans toward Enguerrand.
— But I won’t tell Marie, she makes very good cakes with honey.
The young boy suppresses a grin. Baudouin sighs, which Yvain does not seem to notice.
— What am I to do with the supper?
— I am coming.
Yvain leaves, grumbling. Enguerrand remains thoughtful.
— Sire, I could perhaps go back out and make a few rounds near the woods where the thieves disappeared.
— Not for now, it is useless.
Enguerrand tightens his grip on the dagger at his waist.
— You taught me to fight, let me put that knowledge to your service.
— You already do. Do not be so eager to come to blows. It is sometimes better to proceed with caution. If these men act as the voyer supposed, in a group, then we are not hunting rabbits, but rather the wolf who leads this band.
Baudouin returns toward the manor, his mind unsettled by the mishap and perplexed at having been outpaced by that stranger. As for Aloïs, he is beginning to grow weary of her behavior. They do not live together, they merely cross paths. Even if he cannot say he enjoys her company, he would at least like not to feel that everything here escapes him, including his wife’s actions.
He enters the camera, where the young woman lies resting. Marie rushes toward him.
— Sire, Dame Aloïs is sleeping.
He hesitates, then steps back, signaling to the maid to follow him.
— See to the supper and make sure your mistress is present at table with me.
— It’s just that, Dame Aloïs is not very well and…
Baudouin’s voice suddenly rings out.
— I have just given an order. Is it so difficult to be obeyed in my own domain?
Marie lowers her head.
— Forgive me, Sire.
He leaves and retrieves his weapons.
— Enguerrand, follow me. We are going to train. I believe I need it.
The two men make their way to the outskirts of the castle. Baudouin draws his sword—the one that should have gone to Anselme. Their father’s sword… The young knight’s fingers pause over the psalm engraved upon the blade: the tale of Cain’s betrayal of Abel. A struggle that reminds him that battles can sometimes lie closer than one might think.
Baudouin would rather face the English than fight his own wife. She stands up to him and exasperates him. How does she manage to anger him to such a degree?
The lord slides his sword back into its scabbard and takes up a practice weapon before launching himself at Enguerrand.
Blows follow one after another, wearing them both down. Baudouin feels anger guiding his movements. He does not truly know what irritates him most: having lost to common bandits, having been outmatched by a mere boy, or not being listened to by his wife. He is, it seems, spoiled for choice. He strikes harder still, yet Enguerrand manages to dodge the attacks. Both men finally stop, breathless and drenched in sweat.
— You have indeed improved greatly since we first met, admits Baudouin.
— I had a good master.
The lord smiles.
— I could hardly leave you in ignorance while we fought the enemy day after day.
The two men pause by a stream to refresh themselves before heading back. Yvain greets them eagerly at the entrance to the castle grounds and announces that supper is ready.
— Is my wife there?
— I think so, Sire. But you know women, one never knows if they might change their minds…
Baudouin hastens into the aula, where the table has been set upon trestles. Aloïs stands there, almost swaying on the rushes covering the floor. Her pallor catches his attention. She does not seem to be feigning her illness—unless it is his presence that puts her in such a state. The thought stirs his anger once more.
— Will you not sit? It would be easier for eating.
Aloïs swallows with difficulty. Beads of sweat form on her brow.
— I came to apologize, I will not be able to join you this evening. I feel weary and wish to rest.
Baudouin takes his seat and regards her in silence. Why does she constantly avoid his gaze?
— Very well, if you prefer to lie down. Good night.
Aloïs remains motionless for a moment, then leaves. Baudouin stares at the dishes that have been brought in. None of this makes any sense. They cannot go on living like this forever! He might as well leave for England this very night!
Yet perhaps it is not for him to leave. Aloïs does not even try to be agreeable! He throws the loaf of wheat bread across the table and rises. The young man crosses the hall and enters the chamber. Aloïs is sitting on their bed. Her expression betrays her surprise at seeing him.
— What is the matter with you? You do not wish to dine?
— And what if I wished to take what is mine?
— I do not see what you…
— You are my wife, and I wish to consummate this marriage.
A flicker of fear shines in Aloïs’s green eyes. He suddenly grabs her by the arms and tries to lift her, but she cries out in pain and falters. Baudouin can only support her and help her sit back down.
— What is wrong with you?
The young woman clutches her shoulder, unable to answer. With a sharp motion, Baudouin pulls aside her camisa and reveals the still-bloodied wound.
— How did you get this?
— I… I fell while trying to retrieve a cat… from a tree. I struck a stone on the ground.
— What a foolish idea! Leave cats where they choose to go, let them fend for themselves.
Aloïs does not seem to listen to the reprimand. Baudouin calls the maid, who comes at once.
— Help Dame Aloïs to bed. And make sure she rests.
Baudouin leaves the chamber with quick strides.
*
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Aloïs opens her eyes. Above her, the ceiling of her chamber brings her back to reality: she is married to a man she hates and has left her family behind.
A physical pain reminds her of the hours that have passed. The image of the two thieves fleeing as Baudouin approached resurfaces. Aloïs sits up.
A noise in the room draws her attention. A woman stands near a chest on which earthen pots and dried herbs are laid out.
The intruder slowly turns, still mixing various plants in a wooden bowl. Aloïs can scarcely believe it.
— Is this a dream? Or are you truly here, in the flesh, Mélisande?
The healer approaches and hands her a cup filled with a greenish liquid.
— You are not dreaming, and you are not dead yet, madam…
Mélisande helps her sit up and examines the wound, which has stopped bleeding.
— You will recover quickly. The wound is not deep… The fright, however…
Aloïs swallows the potion with difficulty and grimaces.
— Why must it always taste so dreadful?
— Because what is good for us sometimes takes on unpleasant forms.
— I suppose you are not only speaking of your brew, replies Aloïs, dubiously.
The healer stands again and puts away her tools.
— Once the fear has passed, you will recover. But it would be best to avoid any strong emotion for the time being.
Aloïs brushes her fingers against her wound and winces. Mélisande finishes closing her satchel.
— I have explained to Marie how to tend to you…
— Wait!
Aloïs sits up too quickly and stiffens.
— How did you know I was unwell?
— Your husband came to fetch me.
— My… husband. He knows you?
— As well as I know you.
Aloïs is lost.
— And he went to find you in the middle of the night?
The woman slowly nods. On her face, not a single sign reveals her emotions. She finally concludes:
— Man does not act without reason.
Mélisande slips away, leaving Aloïs to her thoughts. Marie appears in turn. Stiff, upright, she wears a closed, sulking expression.
— Dame Aloïs, would you like to take some breakfast?
The young woman has not heard and forces her maid to repeat, more loudly.
— Yes… yes…
— Very well, madam.
Aloïs suddenly studies her servant, whose mouth droops at the corners. Marie is about to leave, but her mistress calls her back.
— Are you upset?
— Not at all. I don’t see why… You go outside the castle chasing thieves, you get wounded and nearly die…
Aloïs makes a doubtful face.
— And you push me away with… harshness, when I am only expressing my concern…
Marie sniffs loudly, her ample body and full bosom rising with the motion. Aloïs tilts her head.
— I apologize, my Marie. I did not wish to hurt you.
She extends her uninjured arm toward her maid, who yields to her mistress’s expression. Marie gently embraces her, as she did when Aloïs was younger, trying to hold back the flood of tears pressing at her eyes.
— Marie…
— Yes, madam.
— Is it true that Baudouin went to fetch Mélisande to tend to me?
— It is true…
Marie steps back slightly.
— He seemed worried about you.
Aloïs remains thoughtful at the idea. She pulls the covers aside as quickly as her arm allows.
— Help me get dressed. I would like to speak to him.
Marie hastens to bring her bliaud and helps arrange her veil. Despite her pallor, Aloïs feels more alert, and the cold winter wind does not trouble her as she steps outside the manor.
— I believe he is busy at the barn, her maid tells her.
Aloïs follows the indicated direction and finds Baudouin, his camisa sleeves rolled up to the elbows despite the cold, carefully tending to his sword, which he polishes with a soft leather cloth. He casts a quick glance at his wife before returning to his task. Somewhat unsettled by this unexpected attitude, Aloïs chooses not to take offense.
— I came to thank you for going to fetch Mélisande for me.
Baudouin continues without even lifting his chin. Aloïs hesitates before insisting.
— I was not very clever climbing that tree, and I…
— That was not for you, cut in Baudouin.
Aloïs narrows her eyes.
— What do you mean by that?
The lord stands and wipes his brow with his forearm.
— I mean that if you had died, I would have been forced to remarry, and I had no desire to endure that ordeal again. Moreover, the people here appreciate you. To be deprived of you would have been strategically disadvantageous.
Aloïs feels the color rise to her cheeks and clenches her fists. Her husband’s attitude instantly sweeps away her good intentions. She hisses through her teeth.
— How do you manage it?
— Manage what?
— How do you manage to be so odious and disagreeable? Even as a child, you seized every possible opportunity to provoke me and drive me to anger. It seems you take pleasure in it.
— Have I wounded you?
Baudouin gives her one of his sly smiles, the kind he knows so well how to use, and it is enough to make Aloïs furious. She loses her words, stammers a few sounds, then finds her voice again.
— Wound me? That would require me to feel something for you in the first place. But you are quite skilled, my lord, at ensuring that the only emotion I feel when I see you is, at best, disgust, and at worst, indifference.
Aloïs turns on her heel and walks briskly back toward the manor.
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