took a deep breath and turned around.
Cranwell was sipping his wine.
It was clear to me that I was beginning to manifest a personality disorder. Half the time I wanted to kill the man. The other half, I wanted to jump into his arms. A tremendous longing for Peter welled up inside me. Our relationship had been so stable, so adult. I didn’t need the complication of Cranwell. I reminded myself that any attraction I felt for him was purely physical. That there was nothing about him that I admired; his entire character was one big flaw. Buoyed by my own propaganda, I was able to look him in the eye again. “
22
My lord takes Anne and me to Dinan this week. He must do business and it is said the duc de Bretagne may be in the city at this time.
Agnes says me that Anne must be found a husband before she becomes too old. I will give it thought.
This first night we lodged near the Val Sans Retour. It is said that the Fairy Morgane laid a spell on the vallee that he who has done wrong or has been faithless may enter, but never return. It is said also that if one finds the hidden lake while the moon still is shining, the reflection seen is of one he is destined to love.
This vallee I wished to see. And Anne also wished it.
My lord promised he would take us.
I replied to him that it was only worth the effort if seen at night.
He laughed and then declared it would be so.
We took with us the men, as brigandes are known to patrol the ways at night.
We rode to the vallee singing and talking and making much noise to warn of our strength and presence.
It was beautiful, this vallee, in the light of the moon and with the lake set into the cleft. We dismounted and bid the men watch our mounts, then we stood beside the lake, all the three, and found in it a reflection. A curious thing then happened.
What began as a reflection of three became a reflection of two. As we watched a wind stirred the waters and the reflection of Anne was slowly erased as the reflection of myself and my lord remained.
Anne ran weeping.
My lord stared at the reflections as if bewitched. He turned to me and made as if to speak, but then heard Anne cry and left me to follow her.
I stayed and watched my reflection and made note of another curiosity. My reflection aged me. I lifted a hand to touch my face, and the reflection also did, but it was not the same face.
Would that I look the same two or three years hence.
I waited for the return of my lord and Anne, but when they did not appear, I made a place for myself by a rock on the edge of the lake. I pulled my cloak around me and slept.
When I woke, my lord and Anne did not yet come again. I found the men and we mounted finally our horses and made the return to the inn.
two days after Saint Matthias
At day, the men of my lord made a search for him and found him, still at the vallee, and brought him back.
We stay here one more night which makes one night the less in Dinan.
I have heard from Agnes that my lord tried to find his way from the vallee but could not.
I demand of myself to whom he has done wrong.
four days after Saint Matthias
On the way to Dinan, we stopped at the Temple de Mars. Some people call this the Tour de Courseul and say it is the most ancient building in Bretagne.
A storm blew in and we were obliged to take shelter in the parish church nearby. I read tombstones to Anne. The most ancient I found looked Roman. It read: Consecrated to the god Manes. Silicia Namigidde who from Africa, her country, moved by an admirable tenderness for her son, followed him, rests in this place. She lived 65 years. Cneius Flavius Jannaris, her son, to her erected this tomb.
I demand of myself what it would be like to live 65 years. I suppose if one lived near those one loved, it might be satisfying. To leave a homeland for a son. Would I dare to do the same? If I did it for a husband, might I do it for a son?
My lord installed me first in my chamber, and then he installed Anne. I did not see the two of them until my lord passed to take me to dinner.
one day before Shrove Tuesday
We have come to Dinan this day. We mounted to the city through the vallee of the River Rance after having passed over a new bridge composed of four arches.
It is a powerful city with strong walls, a city rich from trade. We entered through the Porte du Guichet, with two towers flanking it and thick doors of wood. It looks as if it could withstand any assault. And near to it the donjon where we will rest these coming days.
There are many strange buildings made of stone and plaster, separated by lengths of timber. It seems an odd way to build and not nearly as strong as stone. Perhaps it is a fashion that shall pass in these next years.
My nose is assaulted by the smell of this place and the air is foul. As the wind blows always through these streets, the scent of the fishmongers and tanners comes by times to overtake us. Glad I am that Agnes has commanded me to travel with a sachet of spices. The mace invades my nostrils, leaving no room for the stench of the tanner.
I have pain in the ears from the noise of the city. At home, none speak but speak softly and none sings but songs of gladness. Here men cry in the streets and people shout from the windows and the horses and the carts make much noise.
I surprise myself by longing for the chateau.
Shrove Tuesday
My lord presented me to the duc de Bretagne, Francois II, which is not a grand thing, as I have already met the King of France. But this, duc has much power and I reminded myself of the position of my father and so I curtsied most deep and talked to him of pretty things.
Ash Wednesday
My lord came to tell me a story this night, but before he did it, I demanded of my lord where a husband for Anne might be found.
He demanded of me why one must be found.
I explained to him that Anne is old and it may be that next year few men will want her. And as he knows those at court it is possible he may inquire.
He demanded of me if Anne does not please me.
I told him that she does. That if Anne were not here that I would have no friend. That if it were to me, I would have her stay forever, but that this is too much to demand of her, for she would make someone a good wife.
He bid me to speak of this to Anne to discover what she will reply to me.
And the follow is the story that my lord told me: There was one time a King called Gradlon. He had great riches and a fleet of boats of war. There came a time when his sailors became fatigued from fighting in cold, strange lands. They left King Gradlon, took the boats, and returned to Bretagne.
The King was very sad, but felt a comforting presence. He looked up and saw a woman with hair red like a fox. It was Malgven, Queen of the North, who ruled the lands where it is always winter. She told the King that her husband was old and that if Gradlon helped her to kill him, then she would return with him to Bretagne.
They killed the husband of Malgven, took a chest filled with gold, and leapt onto Morvarc’h, the horse of Malgven. The horse made a path over the waves of the sea, galloping through the night, and delivered them to one of the boats of the king and they lived there a full year, on the sea.
And at this point here, I demanded of my lord how the horse Morvarc’h can be in two stories at the same time.
