February 1152
—I must congratulate you on your wine! A very fine harvest, Raoul notes. You seem to be settling into married life…
The provost drinks, a faint smile on his lips. Yvain picks up the pitcher and seems to wait for his master, seated in the aula to receive his guest. He hesitates, watching for Baudouin’s approval before refilling the visitor’s cup.
The latter turns to his host and arches an ironic brow.
—I do not think I could ever grow accustomed to this existence. Remaining in the same place for months, dealing with minor concerns, bores me.
He straightens, fist raised.
—The scent of battle, the thrill of that tension—wondering who will prevail—I miss it. Those are stakes far greater than the ones I now face, whose reach does not extend beyond a few lands.
Raoul nods thoughtfully before continuing.
—I believe you can be certain that the Count of Anjou will not remain inactive for long. You should soon return to military campaigns. Moreover…
Baudouin lifts his head and fixes his friend, waiting for him to go on.
—Major events may be unfolding at King Louis’s court.
—What do you mean?
Out of the corner of his eye, Baudouin notices Yvain approaching the two men, ears keenly attuned.
—The royal couple has requested the annulment of their marriage on the grounds of consanguinity and should soon obtain it.
Baudouin sinks back into his seat. He is not unaware of the events that took place over the past year since the royal couple’s return from the crusade. He was present in Paris when the Count, Geoffroy le Bel, came to request that the duchy be formally granted to his son shortly before his sudden death. The young man has also heard whispers about the queen, a woman of great beauty, but endowed with a proud character as strong as the territory she brought to the king—Aquitaine. Louis VII, called the Young, is not known for a warlike temperament. He was not meant to reign in the first place, but the death of his elder brother placed him on the throne. A situation Baudouin understands all too well.
Indeed, a change is taking shape in the months to come.
Raoul draws a breath.
—That is not all…
He seems to hesitate, but finally confides in Baudouin, failing to notice that the servant is missing none of their exchange.
—Henri and Aliénor met after Geoffroy le Bel’s death when our count traveled to Paris to swear fealty to the king. They are said to have gotten along very well.
Baudouin remains silent. If what Raoul says is true, serious trouble may be looming on the horizon. Louis will not easily accept that two of his vassals might unite—and even less so with Aliénor, who would become his former wife should they indeed separate. Raoul finally seems to have noticed Yvain’s indiscretion. He clears his throat lightly, then turns back to Baudouin.
—And how is your wife?
The young lord grimaces.
—I could not tell you. We see very little of one another.
Raoul lets out an amused chuckle.
—Your castle is not so large.
—Aloïs spends much of her time outdoors. She often leaves very early.
—And what does she do?
—She looks after our people. And since she cannot bear riding, she walks the lands.
This time, Raoul laughs heartily.
—You have not married an ordinary woman.
—That is the least one can say, Baudouin sighs.
The echo of hurried footsteps reaches them. Enguerrand appears at the threshold.
— Forgive me, Sire, but a man from the village asks to see you.
— Let him in.
The servant obeys, and soon a man stands before the two lords. Baudouin recognizes him at once.
— Jehan, the road warden. I thank you for directing me to a skilled blacksmith. I was very pleased with the work he did on the castle’s tools.
The man bows.
— What brings you here?
— I have come to confirm what I told you last time.
— Which was?
— The thefts are continuing. Some of my equipment has been taken, others have lost sacks of their harvest, and our church has been searched.
Baudouin rubs his chin, thoughtful.
— Has anyone seen the thief—or thieves?
— No, my lord.
Raoul sighs.
— I fear this will not end anytime soon.
Jehan seems about to add something but remains silent. He twists his hat in his hands.
— Do you have another request?
— No… more of an impression.
Baudouin narrows his eyes.
— An impression?
— It seems the same men are behind all these thefts. It cannot be a single man. They act too quickly and seem… organized.
— I will look into the matter. Thank you for informing me.
Jehan respectfully bows to Baudouin and Raoul, then leaves.
— It seems you have something to keep you busy, if I understand correctly.
— Indeed. You could say that.
Raoul rises.
— I will not delay you any longer.
— It is always a pleasure to see you!
Raoul nods, a faint, melancholy smile on his lips.
— The pleasure is mine, my friend… mine as well…
The two men cross the courtyard. Baudouin notices a woman in the bailey. Marie is about to enter the sheepfold. He calls out to her and gestures for her to come over. The maid suddenly pales and approaches with measured steps.
— My lord, how may I assist you?
— Has Aloïs returned? I have not seen her.
The servant opens her mouth but says nothing. Her eyes dart around.
— What is it? Were you not with her?
— Lady Aloïs sometimes likes to walk alone… and I often struggle to keep up with her.
Irritation rises in Baudouin.
— You could have told me. Enguerrand would have accompanied her.
The woman bows lower.
— I am sorry, my lord. Lady Aloïs has always done as she pleases.
— I am certain she is not far, Raoul reassures. Would you like me to look for her? On horseback, it would not take long.
— No. I will take care of it.
Raoul mounts his horse.
— Do not hesitate to call on me if you need help.
Baudouin thanks him with a nod and waits until his friend disappears through the great gates before ordering Enguerrand to prepare Mars.
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Hidden behind a large tree trunk, Aloïs keeps watch. She positioned herself here early this morning, between a forest and an old quarry from which the schist used to build the castle of Les Ponts-de-Cé was extracted, according to her father. Hares mocked her upon her arrival before vanishing, leaving only silence behind.
A theft had been reported in one of the nearby hamlets the day before, while Aloïs was walking there. Three men had targeted several houses. Chased off by villagers, they fled toward the woods and disappeared.
On her way back, Aloïs followed the same path and found a sack the bandits had likely dropped in their flight. A sack filled with iron—enough to worry any blacksmith. As she was about to return it, an idea struck her: the thieves would surely come back for it—the contents were far too valuable. If she positioned herself near where she had found the loot, there was a strong chance she would encounter the culprits.
Now, however, she doubts she will succeed. What she thought would be an opportunity to punish a few bandits now forces her to consider retreat. Her numb muscles begin to ache. She cautiously rises and moves her stiff limbs.
A noise behind her makes her turn. Two shadows move through the woods. Two men, bent forward, search the ground, lifting dead branches and moss. Their clothing catches her attention: both wear short black tunics and matching hose.
—Are you sure it’s here?
— How would I be sure? If I were, I wouldn’t have lost that damned sack.
— The chief won’t be pleased if we don’t get it back.
The other says nothing and resumes the search. They approach the clearing near where Aloïs is hiding. She adjusts the cloth covering the lower half of her face, quickly makes the sign of the cross, sets her hat firmly, then stands, the bag hanging from her arm.
— Is this what you are looking for?
The two men startle, and one lets out a cry of surprise.
— The iron!
The taller one raises a fist at her.
— Hand it over immediately!
— It does not belong to you.
— That’s none of your concern, boy. Stay out of this if you don’t want to get yourself into bigger trouble, the second one snaps.
Aloïs drops the loot and places her staff in front of her in a fighting stance.
— Come and get it yourselves.
The two men exchange a suspicious glance, then the heavier one steps forward decisively. He raises his arm to strike, but Aloïs dodges and delivers a violent blow to his shoulder, drawing a cry from him.
— Filth! You’ll pay for that.
He pulls a dagger from his belt—something Aloïs had not anticipated. The man lunges at her again. Fortunately, the second one seems too uneasy to join the fight and keeps scanning their surroundings.
Aloïs manages to avoid the attacks and rolls on the ground. She keeps a safe distance to avoid being struck. She had never imagined they might carry such a weapon.
She retreats with every assault from her opponent. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the other man move toward the sack. Aloïs ducks and strikes her attacker at the knees. She runs toward the accomplice and hits him in the back, sending him crashing to the ground. But as she turns to face the stronger of the two thieves, a sharp pain explodes in her shoulder.
Aloïs stifles a cry and, to her horror, sees the blade of the dagger rise above her head, ready to strike again.
— Riders! the fallen thief shouts.
His accomplice halts his movement, pointing toward the road leading to the castle. Three horses are heading their way. It is impossible to identify them at this distance, but the risk that it is Baudouin is high. A chance to capture these men—but a disaster if he sees her.
Aloïs is in agony, her shoulder throbbing terribly. The two outlaws vanish into the woods as the sound of hooves already reaches them.
The young woman grabs the sack but hesitates. She then recognizes Baudouin at the head of the trio. Her heart feels ready to burst from her chest. The loot slips from her hands, and she too flees the clearing, taking a different direction from the other two. She weaves between the trunks, plunging deeper into the woods with every step. The light gradually fades, hidden by the tall treetops and the dark branches of trees still bare of leaves.
The sound of footsteps behind her makes her shiver. Someone is following her. She does not dare turn around and hastens to run faster, now completely lost in this maze of wooden pillars. If Baudouin catches her, it will be the end. He will take great pleasure in sending her to a convent! Rage gives her the strength not to yield. She feels branches catch on her clothes and scratch her skin, yet she does not slow down.
A whistle echoes toward her. Have they caught the thieves? If so, she might be out of danger.
Aloïs stumbles, catches herself on roots, but holds on. Her breath begins to fail her, and she hides behind two closely growing trees. The pounding of her heart fills her ears, drowning out the surrounding sounds. Her chest rises with the frantic rhythm of her breathing. She forces herself to calm down and manages to ease the fierce pounding in her head.
Slowly, she leans out to look behind her. No one. Has Baudouin truly given up? She straightens and leans fully against the trunk. Silence falls again in the woods.
Aloïs places her hand on her shoulder and feels a warm, sticky liquid on her fingers. A sharp pain tears through her flesh. She glances behind her once more, making sure no one is lurking. Relief washes over her.
Baudouin has not found her—a good thing—but it is not over yet. Aloïs must return home as quickly as possible. Carefully, she retraces her steps. Though she does not know these woods, she has learned how to navigate through a forest and needs little time to find her bearings again.
At last, Aloïs reaches the place where her long bliaud is hidden, then changes, taking care not to stain her clothing. She binds a torn piece of her chemise around her shoulder to slow the bleeding. Her stomach rises to her throat, and she empties onto the ground what little food she had eaten.
The young woman cannot afford to lose any more time. Baudouin must not return before she does. She rolls up her outfit and places it in a cloth bag. Her cloak partly conceals the traces of blood slowly appearing on her back. She sets off again, weakened and still nauseous.
As she approaches the castle, Aloïs straightens and clenches her teeth. The guard on duty greets her. Baudouin is likely still outside. With one last effort, she walks as naturally as possible toward the seigneurial lodging, where a frantic Marie awaits her.
— Lady Aloïs, at last! Sire Baudouin, he—
— I know…
Aloïs collapses to her knees.
— My lady!
Marie supports her as she rises and helps her onto the bed.
— I have been wounded in the shoulder.
The maid stifles a cry behind her hands. Gently, she helps her young mistress undress and exposes the gash.
— Good Lord!
Aloïs’s head begins to spin, and she feels her strength leaving her.
— Hurry and clean this, so that my husband sees nothing. You will tell him that I am unwell and cannot come to supper with him tonight.
— You must stop these outings at once! This is madness—you will get yourself killed and—
— That is enough. I am not asking for your opinion, and I am old enough to make such decisions. Tend to me and deliver the message to Sire Baudouin.
A tear rolls down Marie’s cheek, which she quickly wipes away.
— Yes, my lady.
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