“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 [186] 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?”
[188] “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.”
[189] “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.” Emilie 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.
[191] That day there was a minor dispute before the court, a bailiff and a poor miller arguing over the levy of his fief. As was the custom in towns everywhere, the bailiff felt the miller was holding out on him. I had seen this a hundred times in my village. And it was always the bailiff who won.