got the better of her, though, and she asked, “What happened to Lady Nicola? And why will Lord Mal Verne not speak of her?”
The older woman smoothed a hand over her bright red hair with the pale yellow streak. “I served Lady Nicola as her tiring maid at court, ye know, and I saw how it happened.”
Tricky plumped herself on the floor next to the trunk, tucking a cushion beneath her rump. “What was it that happened?”
“Well, ’twas oh, nigh on seven years past…nay, six summers. Lady Nicola accompanied Lord Gavin to the court of the new King Henry and Queen Eleanor as they went to pledge fealty to our new rulers. She was a beautiful if foolish lady, and had been married before she was wed with Lord Gavin. She oft complained to me that the lord traveled overmuch, fighting in battles and that he did not woo her as he should.”
“Well, ’tis no surprise. Lord Gavin is not the wooing sort,” Tricky snorted. “’Tis obvious even to me, who has been in an abbey since I could walk!”
“Tricky!” Madelyne could not disagree, but she would not have spoken such a thing.
“Nay, my lady, ’tis true. And since the death of his wife, Lord Gavin has been e’en less gentle.” Peg took up the story again. “At any rate, I was with Lady Nicola on the first she saw him…not Lord Gavin, mind, but the man who would be her lover.
“Even to these old eyes—well, they weren’t so old six summers past, but old enough that a fine face and figure won’t easily turn them—er…ach, aye, yes, even to these eyes, the man was fine and courtly. Not so tall, but taller than Lady Nicola…and his hair brushed his shoulders like a moonbeam.” When Tricky snickered, Peg pulled from her reverie to glare down at her. “Those were the words of Lady Nicola, and not my own, know you well.
“Aye, she did moon for him, and wail over his manners, and his sapphire blue eyes, and the skill with which he played the lute…and she waited until Lord Gavin was called home to Mal Verne. She begged for him to allow her to stay with the king and queen’s court…and Lord Gavin, sharp though he might be, cared for her enough to allow her to stay.”
Peg stopped, and when Tricky humphed in impatience, she shrugged. “’Tis easy to guess the rest, of course. Nicola found her way to the man’s side, and he wooed her with his smile and his beautiful voice—I’ll not argue that when the man sang, he had the voice of an angel—and his gentle charm. In Lady Nicola’s eyes, he was all that Lord Gavin was not.”
Madelyne felt a stab of pain for Mal Verne. The man might be a warrior, and a rough one at that…but surely he did not deserve to be dishonored by his own wife because he did not sing beautifully. ’Twas no wonder that he did not wish to speak of her.
“Did Lord Gavin learn of her betrayal? She did betray him, did she not?” Tricky asked, adjusting her bottom on the pillow like a child in the throes of a bedtime tale.
Peg nodded sagely. “Aye. ’Twas not until later that my lord learned of her fancy… months later. And aye, she did betray Lord Gavin by bedding with her lover during their time at court. Lord Gavin did not learn of the depth of her unfaithfulness until he came to bring her back to Mal Verne.” Her eyes became troubled and she patted the streak of yellow in her hair again. “Quite a row, there was…the lady would not leave, and my lord insisted that she go. She loved
Drawing her eyebrows into irregular ridges, Peg paused for a moment as if to gather the threads of the story. “I did not hear it all, but another of the maids claimed Lady Nicola insisted that her lover was a man of greatness and holiness …hmph, I said when that was told me…a fine face and lilting voice do not make a great man! And one who would couple with another man’s wife is no holy one in my mind!”
“Did Lord Gavin make her leave with him?” Tricky asked. Madelyne did not know whether to be amused or alarmed at the glow of interest in her friend’s eyes.
“Aye. He took her back here to Mal Verne. A fortnight later, a missive arrived for her. ’Twas from her lover, of course—his name she never spoke in my hearing. She planned to ride out and meet him, so they would leave together.”
Peg sighed, and stood suddenly, shaking out her skirts. The pleasure of tale-telling evaporated from her face, and Madelyne recognized sorrow blanketing her features—but was the sorrow for Lady Nicola or for Lord Gavin?
“The rest I do not know,” said Peg. “There is no one but his lord and her lady who do. All that has been told to us is that she left here in the dead of night—escaped his wrath, some say—and Lord Gavin went after her. When he returned, ’twas with word that she was dead from a fall off her horse.”
Coldness gripped Madelyne’s heart as she remembered her own flight with her mother. What would Fantin have done if he’d learned of their escape and caught them? The thought sent a wave of emptiness and fear through her. “And no one knows what happened?”
“Nay. None but the lord and the lady herself. And she ain’t speakin’.”
Ten
Rule was eager to be on the road again. Gavin was not.
In fact, he was in a most foul mood, and his men had given him a wide berth since leaving Mal Verne that morning.
The solitude—at the least, as much isolation as one could have when traveling in a group of men-at-arms— suited him fine. He’d begun the journey riding at the rear of the party, keeping Rule to a handy trot as they left Mal Verne and started on the road to Whitehall. It would take four days to reach the king, even traveling as quickly as he planned, since the roads were mired with mud from the heavy rains that had fallen in the last sevennight.
The carts carrying the bulk of their luggage would have a slower time of it, but there was no help for it. Nor could he have allowed the women to ride in a cart because of its slower pace. The king’s message had made it clear Gavin was to make all haste to bring Madelyne de Belgrume to his presence.
He remembered the fear that turned her face ashen when she learned de Belgrume knew of her presence, and of his desire to see her. It had not been an insignificant expression—it had been true horror and panic. Gavin brooded, wondering what it was that she feared and if it was anything he could protect her from. Then, frustrated he shoved a hank of hair out of his eyes.
He was not the permanent protector of Madelyne de Belgrume—he was merely her escort to the king’s side, after which he would be free to never see her again.
His attention wandered over the backs of his men until it found the mount carrying Jube and Lady Madelyne. Gavin tightened his hands on Rule’s reins and forced himself to look away from the slim figure cloaked in a midnight blue wrap. She rode behind Jube, and he could see the wrist-thick braid that disappeared into the neckline of the cape where her hood had fallen back.
He clearly remembered the feel of her settling on the saddle in front of him, his thighs locking around her and her head jouncing just in front of his chin as they rode along. That memory was precisely the reason he’d refused to share a mount with her again, and was just as strongly the reason he’d made certain she sat behind Jube, rather than in front of him.
And, verily, it was also the reason for his nasty mood.
Annoyed at the distraction, he jabbed his mail-covered heels into Rule’s side, and the steed surged forward with a sudden leap. They clipped quickly along, weaving expertly among the others in the party, to the head of the group where Gavin’s three scouts cantered along. Glad to put Madelyne de Belgrume behind him, he manipulated the stallion so that he could talk with Leo, the leader of his scouts.
Fantin gripped the reins of his dancing mount and jammed a heel into its side. The bloody horse was causing the bush to shake and would alert Mal Verne and his men to their presence long before the ambush he planned.
After praying and fasting with Rufus for two days, Fantin understood: God wished him to return Madelyne to Tricourten immediately.
It had become clear there was some purpose she must play in his quest—for her reappearance was the sign
