“What?”
“Come here.”
Why did I find myself suddenly backing away? All week I’d been aware of his lips. All month, I’d been fascinated by his eyes.
He took a step closer as I took a step back. Unfortunately, his steps were bigger than mine. And I tripped over the hem of my robe. He slipped an arm around my waist and steadied me. “Freddie. You shimmer in the moonlight. You look like a fairy.” His gentle fingers immersed themselves in my hair. Began to swim through it. It had been so long since anyone had done that. I wanted to melt.
I moved my head so his hand slid to my cheek. The sleeve of his pea coat felt rough against my neck.
He pulled me closer. “You beguile me.” His face hovered above mine. His nose nuzzled my cheek; his breath frosted my eyelashes.
His words were so soft and gentle it was as if he’d whispered them inside my head.
My arms rose of their own volition and wrapped themselves around his waist.
He cradled my face between his hands and stood back and looked at me. Then his hands slid to my neck and he brought my face close and kissed my forehead.
My eyes fluttered shut.
He kissed my eyelids.
I sighed.
He kissed my nose.
A frenzied burst of barking came from Lucy.
We broke apart, staring at the dog.
Her stance was rigid, and she was glaring fixedly at the end of the forest.
I knew what it had to be: one of Alix’s admirers. Alix ruined everything.
His eyes were full of regret. And-were it possible-shame. “Stay here.”
I couldn’t find the voice to tell Cranwell not to worry. I was floating. I was sinking. I couldn’t remember the last time my head had spun so fast.
He took Lucy with him and walked straight toward the forest. They rustled through the woods for about five minutes, but of course, they didn’t find anything. Or anyone. The moonlight from behind drenched his form in its glow as he emerged from the woods. I couldn’t see his face; it was shadowed, but I could feel the heat of his gaze.
I stood, rooted to the brick pathway for a moment. Then I turned and fled.
As I neared the back door, I came upon Severine. Emerging from the shadow cast by the forest, she had just become visible as she slipped around the corner of the chateau. Her figure appeared ghostly in the moonlight, but still, it seemed as if her hands concealed something long and quite real behind her back. I gasped as I looked into her glittering eyes and then continued in a stumbling run, pulling open the door and continuing my flight upstairs. And there’s no other word to describe it, for when I reached my room, I bolted the door behind me.
In that last conscious second before sleep claimed me, a searing thought flared in my mind: What had Severine been doing in the forest?
14
year thirty-eight of the reign of Charles VII, King of France
day of Sainte Anne
My lord had not come to me for several months, but this past night he came. He placed me on the bed as normal, and let the curtains drop around it, then I heard him pull a chair close to the fire and he began to speak. He told me of Salaun. He was a simple soul who lived alone in the woods of the Lesneven region. He was avoided by all and lived the life of a hermit, only begging bread and repeating Ave Marias without cease. He lived in harmony with nature and slept outside. He never bothered a soul. At forty years, he fell ill and was found dead near a fountain. He was buried and quickly forgotten, until one day, a Lys flower was noticed growing from his tomb; Lys are the symbol of purity and innocence. They opened it up and found that the root of the flower was growing from the mouth of Salaun. In fact, the leaves had “Ave Maria” written on them in gold. And that is why the tomb of a simple hermit has become Notre Dame du Folgoet.
I demanded of my lord if the hermit had not one friend.
My lord replied to me no.
But if he were such a simple kind soul, surely someone would have wanted him as a friend.
My lord says me that everyone avoided him.
I told him that did not make sense. If he were a kind man then people would have been near.
My lord says me that perhaps he was mean.
At this, I climbed from under the covers and pulled back the curtain at the foot of the bed. I told him that then in that case he would not have been called kind.
My lord turned in his chair to face me, but then rose and sat on the rail of the bed in front of me. He says me that perhaps the hermit warned people away.
I told him that if he were repeating Ave Marias without ceasing, then he would not have had time to speak to anyone.
And then my lord replied to me that the men he knew had better things to do than to repeat Ave Marias.
I do not think this story makes sense and this I told him.
He told me that if I did not want to hear his stories, that there were others who would gladly. He commanded me back to bed, and began to replace the curtain, but then stopped and demanded of me how many years I have.
I told him. Fourteen. I feel I do not please him. I told him he does not have to tell me stories. I had never demanded of him to.
He replied to me something I could not hear. It seems to me it was, “You demand of me nothing at all.”
two days after Assomption
Agnes says me that the trades people come to see Anne.
This seems to me normal.
Agnes says me that they should come to see me. I am the chatelaine. It should be me to make decisions on who to buy from.
I am ignorant of trades and the people who do them. It does not interest me. Anne has done well since four years, and I am certain does still.
Agnes recalled to me that the tasks of a wife are dictated by God and that in all my studies perhaps I should study this also.
Perhaps I will do.
five days after Saint Augustin
I occupied myself this day in copying expenses into the accounts. I should have done since three months. And God who all sees, the things I will not do and the things I do not do, will see this also. And tomorrow I shall see the priest and these confess.
day of Saint Etienne
My lord had promised to tell me of Arthur King of Bretons this night. But he began by telling me of a king called Marc’h, which is ‘horse’ in Breton. This king had a palace in Plomarc’h near Douarnenez. King Marc’h had the most handsome horse the world has ever seen. He walked on the sea also as well as he did on the land. And mountains made the same to him as valleys. The horse was called Morvarc’h and there was nothing the king liked more than to hunt with this horse.
It arrived that one day, as the king was hunting with his nobles, that he saw the most beautiful white hind the world has ever seen, and he turned with his men to pursue her. Morvarc’h was the only horse that had speed enough to chase her and even he could not catch her. The chase finished as the hind ran up a rock that rose above
