June, in the Year of Our Lord 1152
The lands of Anjou stretch forth in the distance. At last, Aloïs beholdeth the outline of her castle taking shape. A gentle wind bloweth across the fields of wheat, yet green. The ordered rows of vines trace even lines upon the horizon.
The journey back from Poitiers hath seemed without end. With heavy heart, she ceaseth not to think upon Baudouin. She could not bid him farewell, nor entrust unto him her hope of seeing him again full soon. He hath gone to war against the King of the Franks beside Henri, to fulfil his duty. Aloïs can but pray that he return swiftly unto their lands.
Enguerrand rideth near her, ever watchful. He too must be wearied from guarding his young mistress. Marie, Belle, and one of the guards ride within the baggage cart. None would break the silence. Yet Aloïs knoweth well—it is for her to keep a clear head and now to hold the reins of her domain.
She turneth toward Enguerrand.
— He shall return… God will watch over him, I am certain thereof.
The young lad meeteth her gaze and answereth:
— Aye, my lady. Sire Baudouin is a seasoned knight.
The young woman nods in assent.
— In the meanwhile, we must see that all goeth well here. Art thou ready to stand at my side?
Enguerrand straightens, a gleam of pride within his eyes.
— It shall be an honour, my lady.
She smiles upon him and turneth her gaze once more to the road. Ere long, they reach the ramparts of Terlaze. The thatched roofs, from which iris and houseleek do spill, rise above the wooden palisades.
A cry soundeth within the bailey, and the gates are opened.
The company entereth and may at last dismount. Aloïs is careful to conceal how sorely the journey hath taxed her, and greeteth the servants, praising them for the good keeping of the castle. Scarcely hath she set foot upon the ground when she must already make the round of the buildings, noting the questions and matters brought forth by her people.
A feeling of abandonment stealeth over her. Baudouin governed far more than she had thought in the daily ordering of things. The task before her now seemeth vast—nay, near impossible.
Yet the young woman showeth none of this, and when at last she may withdraw to the lordly lodging, she falleth upon her bed, arms outstretched, her gaze turned to the ceiling.
— Lady Aloïs, are you well? asketh Marie with concern.
Belle casteth her a troubled glance.
— Aye, I am well… as well as may be.
She riseth.
— Take Belle and show her somewhat of the domain. I am sure there be some strawberries sprung from the earth that might please her.
— I shall see also to find some honey and prepare a few sweetmeats.
Her mistress agrees.
— That were a good thought.
Marie and Belle depart, leaving Aloïs alone. She riseth and looketh about the chamber. The bathing tub tempteth her greatly. Sounds from without draw her to the small window. She openeth the shutter and gazeth into the courtyard. Two men have but now been admitted: the provost Raoul, accompanied by the vicar Gauzbert.
Aloïs sighs in mild vexation. She had wished for more time to herself upon her return. Yet she must uphold her station. Marie returneth at that moment to warn her.
— I have seen them. Change my veil—it is full of dust. It is too late to don another gown; they must be content with a seemly appearance.
The two men are ushered into the aula by Enguerrand. Aloïs joineth them and offereth greeting.
— What bringeth you hither?
The vicar boweth.
— I had heard of your return, and would bid you welcome.
The lady doubteth this be the sole cause that hath brought this fleshy man hither.
— I met Master Raoul upon the way.
The provost confirmeth:
— Your husband had charged me to watch over your lands during your absence. I come therefore from time to time.
— And I thank you in his name.
— Sire Baudouin hath not returned, I see, saith Raoul.
— Nay… He hath gone with the count into conflict against King Louis.
— A grievous time, continueth the provost.
The vicar maketh the sign of the cross.
— May God aid them and protect our good lords.
Aloïs casteth an amused glance upon the churchman, ever prone to display his devotion.
— The matter is indeed lamentable, she addeth. To stand at odds with our sovereign may plunge Anjou into a strife that none desire.
— Most true…
Raoul falleth silent, seeming thoughtful. She chooseth to change the subject.
— And how fareth your wife?
— Lady Havoise doth very well, and would be right glad to see you again.
Aloïs wondereth how this woman—whom she scarce knoweth and hath but glimpsed at her wedding—could wish to meet her anew. Doubtless a courteous form much used at court, where Raoul oft attendeth.
Her gaze lingereth more upon the man himself: the provost showeth little bodily strength—tall, yet spare, with a long nose, a pointed chin, and narrow eyes… the very contrary of his wife, Havoise. Yet he possesseth wit and discernment, qualities of no small worth.
— And have any happenings come to pass during our absence?
— Nay, nothing out of the ordinary, affirmeth Raoul, unmoved.
The churchman seemeth as though he would add somewhat, yet holdeth his tongue, which surpriseth Aloïs, he who is wont to speak so readily.
— I am right glad to see you in good health, concludeth the provost. I shall not detain you longer—you must be wearied after such a journey.
— In truth…
The vicar Gauzbert casteth his gaze from Aloïs to Raoul. The young woman perceiveth what he awaiteth, yet hath not the strength this time to bid him share her meal.
— I must see to the gathering of provisions—the granaries have emptied during our absence, and we have but a single sack of chickpeas remaining…
The churchman lifteth a brow, and a disappointed grimace draweth down the corners of his lips.
— I too must take my leave. You must needs rest, and I have yet much to do at the village church…
Enguerrand escorteth the visitors out, which bringeth Aloïs some relief. At that moment, Marie entereth and maketh a face toward the door.
— ’Tis a good thing to see them gone.
Her mistress lifteth her chin, surprised by her maid’s words.
— I can well understand it for the vicar, but why doth Master Raoul displease thee?
Marie hesitateth suddenly. Her eyes wander, as though seeking some trifle to spare her an answer.
— I am listening.
— Well… I heard him speak words that were not over-kind.
— On what matter?
Marie looketh at her lady, troubled.
— Of me? What said he of me?
— Master Raoul claimed… that you were not fit to bear yourself at court. A viper’s tongue!
— When spake he thus?
— Ere your departure for Fontevraud. He came to deliver the count’s message unto Sire Baudouin, and thought you ought not to accompany your husband.
Aloïs can scarce believe it. Her lips part, yet no words come forth.
Verily, can she trust the speech of all these folk who name themselves her friends? It is plain she must henceforth be more wary in discerning her true allies.
6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZi8xXenBDT
Aloïs hath set aside her fine bliaud and veil for more modest attire. There is no lack of labour upon the castle domain. With the milites called away by the count, the burden must be shared otherwise. The feast of Saint John brought a welcome respite unto all, yet the duties of the estate soon called each back to toil.
She and Marie tend to the hives near the castle. They must take the frames heavy with nectar and set new ones in their stead. Belle remaineth at a distance, lest she be stung. She seemeth to have abandoned her wish to tame a linnet, and now draweth shapes upon the ground with a stick.
Aloïs and Marie return with their harvest. The young lady pauseth beside the child and regardeth her work.
— Thou dost very well.
Belle lifteth her face, smiling with pride. Upon the earth appear rough likenesses of faces—a woman, a man… The lines are yet uncertain, yet the proportions are true.
— Whom hast thou drawn?
— You, my lady, and Sire Baudouin.
Aloïs returneth her smile.
— I see… We have gathered the frames—wilt thou come help us to draw forth the honey?
The child springeth up at once and aideth Marie in bearing the baskets.
As they re-enter the bailey, they find Enguerrand deep in discourse with the road-warden, Jehan.
The man seemeth troubled, his knitted brows boding no good. Aloïs handeth her burden to Marie and bideth her and Belle see to the harvest.
She then draweth near the count’s officer, having first removed her bee-guard.
— What bringeth you hither?
Jehan turneth swiftly and boweth. When he straightens, he fixeth his gaze upon the young woman without flinching. Rank doth not daunt him, and though he showeth no discourtesy, he will not refrain from speaking his mind.
— The road-warden came to report new thefts, Enguerrand informed her.
Aloïs pressed her lips together.
— Very well. I shall receive you in the aula. Enguerrand, lead Jehan to the hall, I shall come anon.
Both men obeyed. Aloïs called upon Marie to make her presentable and help her into a bliaud and a veil. When she entered the chamber and stepped before Jehan, he seemed amused.
— You had no need to change your attire for me.
She smiled in turn.
— I do so for any visitor. It is but a matter of courtesy.
The man tilted his head, and a knowing smirk touched the corner of his lips.
— Yet you have not come all this way to speak of garments, said Aloïs.
— Indeed not. I came to seek aid.
— Aid?
— Aye. The hamlets are beset by outlaws.
— From what you told before, some months past, such things had already occurred.
— Aye, but the matter worsens. It would seem…
He hesitated, his gaze wandering about the room without settling upon any one object.
— It would seem they are of one band, well ordered. I spoke of it to your husband ere your departure. Yet it appears naught was done to shield the hamlets.
Aloïs straightened, stung by his words.
— My husband was bound to follow the count in defense of the lands of Anjou…
— For a quarrel over a woman… the man muttered.
The lady pressed her lips tight and chose not to tread upon that matter.
— What leads you to believe they are one same band?
— They act ever in like manner: taking part of the harvest, tools, or precious things from churches… They come in twos or threes and strike at eventide, when night falls.
— Have they been seen?
— Aye. Some peasants saw them flee. One among them tried to bar their way, and though he was stout enough to stand his ground, he was cast to the earth.
Aloïs felt unease at this. Baudouin was absent, and too few men remained to secure all those under their protection.
— I also spoke of it to the provost during your absence, when I saw the thefts increase.
— You spoke of this with Sir Raoul?
Jehan nodded. Aloïs recalled her exchange with the man upon her return. He had assured her that no disturbance had troubled the peace of the region.
— The Count of Anjou seems overmuch occupied to heed what passes here.
— The Count of Anjou has but newly wed, replied Aloïs sharply.
— I have heard as much, and that is my very meaning. Marriage is a fair thing, yet he is bound also to watch over those who have sworn him fealty.
Aloïs fell silent and studied the road-warden. He stood stiff and resolute. The strength of his convictions mirrored her own, yet she had no right to betray Henri—nor Baudouin.
— And he does strive to protect those who place their lives in his keeping, be assured of it. It is but that time is needed, for it is no simple matter to stand upon every front at once.
— Meanwhile, it is honest folk who suffer.
— I shall see what may be done…
— With all due respect, I doubt a lady may do much in such a matter.
Wounded, Aloïs lifted her chin.
— Then I no longer understand. What purpose brought you here, if not to seek aid?
— I came to ask leave to attend the assembly to be held next month in Angers.
— But Henri is not present.
— It would seem the bishop, the seneschal, and the provost intend to hold it in the Count of Anjou’s absence.
Aloïs remained perplexed.
— I would fain bear witness, in the name of the hamlets, to the plight we face. Yet I would not do so without first informing you.
The young woman lifted her head and held her peace, never taking her eyes off Jehan. In truth, she could do naught more, and too many matters were wanting for her to act of her own hand. Moreover, no lady, to her knowledge, had ever yet been heard in such an assembly.
— Very well. I ask only that you inform me of whatever decisions may be taken therein.
Jehan bowed before Aloïs, then set his straw hat back upon his head. As he made ready to depart, he cast one last glance at the young woman before vanishing into the baile.
ns216.73.217.20da2
and then Add to home screen.