although Justin was close enough to see that his hand had tightened upon the hilt of his sword. “If John sent you to find out what had befallen us, you did. Since we freed ourselves, we are not in need of your aid, are we?”
The two men stared at each other, the silence stretching out until it threatened to become smothering. Lupescar was the first to blink. “I do not think we want to return to Paris just yet. We’ll let you get on with your hunt, though. I promised my men they’d have a town to sleep in tonight, with real beds, wine, and wenches-not necessarily in that order. If my memory serves, that would be Avranches. Look for us there; mayhap we can ride back to Paris together.”
Durand said nothing. No one spoke until Lupescar and his wolves were on their way, disappearing into the gathering mist, for one of those mysterious Breton fogs had rolled in without warning, cloaking the countryside in a damp, grey cloud that smelled of the sea.
“John never fails to surprise me,” Durand said at last. “Who’d have thought he’d take our plight seriously?”
“You think he did?” Justin queried, and Durand laughed, a sound like shattering glass.
“He sent Lupescar, did he not?”
They passed the night at Chester’s castle of St James, for it was too far to return to Genets. The next afternoon, they were fed in the great hall, amidst men-at-arms, several well-to-do merchants, household servants, and a few pilgrims bound for the Mont. Chester himself was not present. He’d made them welcome, but his hospitality seemed perfunctory this time. Chester had not been pleased to learn that Lupescar and his mercenaries were on the prowl so close to his own lands. It was evident that the earl was tiring of being dragged into their never-ending troubles, and Justin felt like a dinner guest who’d overstayed his visit.
“So we are in agreement, then?” Durand had propped his elbows on the trestle table, staring down glumly at a trencher of Lenten fare: salted herring seasoned with mustard. “We head back to Genets, collect the women, and return to Paris.”
Justin nodded, toying listlessly with his own fish. Only Morgan seemed to have an appetite; popping a Lenten fritter into his mouth, he looked at them in surprise. “We are not going to follow de Lusignan to Fougeres?”
“For what purpose?” Durand shoved his trencher away with a grimace. “What would you have us do, Morgan-ride up to the gatehouse and ask if Simon can come out to play?”
“No, I’d suggest you send me.” Morgan reached over, helping himself to Durand’s discarded fish. “Let me go in on a scouting expedition, make sure that de Lusignan is indeed there.”
“Are you eager to put your neck in a noose?” Justin scowled. “You were there with Chester barely four days ago. You truly want to wager that none of the garrison would remember you?’
“I’ve thought of that,” Morgan said, with a blithe wave of his hand. “The solution is simple. I need only take a page from the Lady Arzhela’s book.” Spearing another chunk of fish on his knife, he gestured with it toward a table of russet-clad pilgrims. “A man becomes well nigh invisible once he dons a monk’s habit or a pilgrim’s robe. I’d be in, fed, and out ere anyone even looked twice at me.”
“You know,” Durand said slowly, “he might be right. What do you say, de Quincy? Shall we go over and barter for one of those cloaks marked with a red cross?”
Justin nodded again and started to push back from the table. “This is the plan, then, Morgan. We’ll await you with the horses in the woods east of the castle. You put on the pilgrim’s garb, and go try your luck. Just be sure you truly want to risk this.”
“Why not? It sounds like good sport.” Morgan rose, claiming one last fritter. But as Justin started after him, Durand grabbed his arm.
“How about asking me if I want to risk that? Why cannot we wait for Morgan here?”
That had not even occurred to Justin. “It is only fair that we share the risk, Durand.”
Durand looked at him balefully. “Whenever I hear words like ‘fair’ and ‘honorable’ coming out of your mouth, de Quincy, I start saying the paternoster.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re keeping up with your prayers. But if you are truly loath to take the risk, wait for us here.”
Durand responded with an obscenity so profane that even John would have been impressed. Justin turned away, biting back a smile. As he expected, Durand followed.
The woods were thickly grown with beech trees, spruce, and pine. With but one day to go, February seemed intent upon inflicting its full measure of misery and the weather was wretched, the cold so damp and penetrating that Justin and Durand were huddled in their mantles like turtles in their shells, clutching their hoods with frozen fingers as the wind gusted, sending dead leaves swirling into the sky like skeletal butterflies. They dared not build a fire and their smoldering tempers provided the only source of heat. Both men’s nerves were raw, all the more so because they were not willing to admit it, and they tensed every time they heard the slightest sound. When it began to rain sometime after noon, Durand started calling Justin every foul name he could think of, and Justin was too miserable to argue with him. As the afternoon dragged on, the great hall back at Chester’s castle was looking better and better.
It didn’t help that they’d camped in such an eerie, otherworldly setting. Ancient stones rose up around them, arranged in strange patterns that could only have been done by man… or demons. Their spectral shapes reminded Justin of gravestones, and he made the sign of the Cross every time he glanced over at those mossy, ageless rocks, wondering what bloody pagan rites had taken place under those craggy silhouettes. He very much wanted to move, but he was not about to admit his unease to Durand. Durand shared his edginess, but as he also shared Justin’s stubborn pride, they remained where they were, listening intently for approaching footsteps and watching for ghostly apparitions from the corners of their eyes.
Despite their vigilance, they still did not hear Morgan’s quiet footfalls on the sodden ground, were alerted only when their stallions began to nicker in welcome. Emerging through the trees, he looked odiously cheerful for a man dripping wet and muddied. “Wait till you hear what I have to tell you!” he exclaimed. “Every man, woman, and child in the castle was talking about it, about what happened yesterday-”
Afraid that Morgan was about to go off on one of his digressions, Durand cut in hastily. “First things first, man. What of de Lusignan? Was he there?”
“He was, but no longer. He arrived yesterday on a horse half dead, with him looking little better. When he was admitted to the castle, he rode that horse right into the great hall ere anyone could stop him. It was the dinner hour and the hall was filled with highborn guests. Simon’s entrance caused quite an uproar.”
Morgan paused for dramatic effect. “But that was nothing compared to what he did next. He flung himself from the saddle, leaped over one of the trestle tables, and tried to throttle a man of God!”
CHAPTER 19
March 1194
LAVAL, MAINE
By the time Laval’s great stronghold came into view, the men were tired, hungry, and still angry with the women they hoped to find behind those castle walls. Their anger could be measured in miles, more than ninety of them. After retrieving their men at the Earl of Chester’s castle of St James, Justin and Durand had ridden north to Genets, only to learn that the Ladies Emma and Claudine were no longer there.
Brother Andrev could tell them only that he thought they were heading for Laval. The Earl of Chester’s men had been instructed to escort them to Genets, no farther, and so they were traveling with a meager escort, especially in light of Lupescar’s presence at Avranches. Nor had the Lady Emma taken Yann with them. Brother Andrev recounted sorrowfully that she’d dismissed the suggestion out of hand and he’d had no luck in changing her mind. He did have better luck with Justin, for when they rode out of Genets, Yann was perched upon the back of Morgan’s horse, clinging tightly to the man’s belt, looking both fearful and excited.
Three days later they’d reached Laval, having failed to overtake the women on the road. They were admitted at once into the castle bailey, and Durand was soon stalking into the great hall with Justin on his heels. There they found the objects of their wrath seated at the high table enjoying a Lenten supper made tolerable by the free-
