growled.
'And I do not deal with the…'
'How much do you want?' Mauger's voice cut across Julitta's final word. He seized her by the arm and twisted it so that she could not break free without snapping a bone. The pain made her writhe, but it also silenced her.
Mauger purchased Cylu and the mare, abandoned all intention of buying any other horses from Pierre, and in grim mood, drew Julitta away.
'You shame me!' he retorted. 'I will become a laughing stock.' He shook her arm upon which he still retained a savage grip.
Julitta gasped at the pain. 'Is that all your care?' she retorted in a choked voice. 'Does it not worry you to find Benedict's and Gisele's horses in the care of a trader?'
'Of course it does,' he snapped. 'But I hope I have more sense than to antagonise that trader by calling him a thief. You heard him. He bought Cylu and the mare in Arachon.'
'Something is wrong, Mauger, you know it is!'
He rolled his eyes. T have come to buy horses for the Duke of Normandy, not to pursue a niggling doubt hither and yon.' He gestured brusquely. 'Knowing Benedict, whatever has caused him to part with those two, he has landed on his feet. Not even a cat could better him at that game.'
'So you are going to do nothing?'
Mauger drew her on through the throng of people and horses. 'You are quite right,' he said grimly. 'I am going to do nothing.'
'But…'
He swung her round to face him, his light eyes showing a red rim of temper. 'Enough, Julitta. Push me no further.'
People were turning to look. Amusement glinted at the sight of an argument between husband and wife. Mauger's eyes flickered. He tightened his lips and with sudden purpose, dragged Julitta out of the market place and away in the direction of the lodging house. 'I should never have brought you with me this morning,' he growled, shouldering his way through the traders. 'Until we leave, you can stay with Madame Clothilde, and mind your distaff. I will not tolerate any more of this.' He yanked on her arm and tears burned her eyes, but they were of rage and pain, not self-pity or remorse.
Mauger deposited her at the lodging house, gave strict instructions to one of his grooms that she was not to leave the premises, and strode back to the horse fair to conduct his business alone.
Clothilde looked at the young woman sitting on a stool near the neatly swept hearth. She was rubbing her arm and struggling not to cry.
Clucking like a mother hen, Clothilde approached to comfort her, thinking that she had just witnessed the end of a young couple's tiff. 'There now, there now,' she soothed, setting her arm across Julitta's shoulders. 'Don't you fret, he'll be back, and you'll soon mend things between you.'
Julitta drew a shuddering breath. She raised her head and looked at Clothilde with brimming, burning eyes. 'I don't want him to come back!' she spat.
'Oh, come now, you don't mean that!'
Julitta sprang to her feet, thrusting off the woman's embrace. 'If I never saw him again it would be too soon!'
Clothilde uttered a horrified gasp and pressed her hands to her mouth. Mauger's groom was tying Cylu and the chestnut mare to a bridle ring in the wall. Now and then he cast a dark look towards the house.
Julitta narrowed her eyes, her mind racing with the speed of her temper. She drew a deep breath to steady herself and stepping outside, approached the grey gelding and the mare.
The groom eyed her sidelong. 'Mistress, Lord Mauger said that you were to stay within,' he said doubtfully.
'Surely there is no harm in this?' She stroked Cylu's sleek, grey neck and half-contemplated making her escape across his dependable back, but she knew that she would be conspicuous in a crowd. Besides, he was not wearing a saddle so her seat would be precarious.
She made a fuss of the horse, scratching behind his ears, and then the tender spot at his withers. The groom's watchfulness eased and a half-smile played at his mouth corners. He made the mistake of turning his back to fetch a bucket of water. Immediately Julitta untied the two ropes and slapped both horses on their rumps, sending them clattering around the small courtyard. As the groom turned round from the well, his mouth open in surprise, Julitta fled out into the street.
She heard the groom's shout of alarm, and Clothilde's shrieks. The sound of footsteps in pursuit lent wings to her feet. She grasped her skirts in both hands and raised them to her knees the better to run. A narrow alleyway leading to another street presented itself on her left and she plunged down its dark throat. A mongrel dog ran out of a doorway and snapped at her. Two half-naked children ceased their game of knucklebones to stare after her. She splashed through a puddle, noisome with mud and trampled dung, and felt the cold seep into her shoe and splatter her leg.
From the alley she emerged into another thoroughfare, filled with merchants, hucksters and market-day crowds. It seemed as if the entire population of Gascony had converged upon Bordeaux. A street pedlar waved a bunch of scarlet hair ribbons beneath her nose. A woman tried to sell her a length of cheap woven braid. She shook her head and ploughed grimly on through the throng, not daring to look back.
Finally, she stopped and leaned against a house wall to regain her breath. She did not know where she was or how far she had run. People were looking at her curiously. She gulped another breath and began to walk slowly, trying to blend with the crowd.
And then her arm was grabbed from behind, and at the same time, she heard the groom shout across the heads of the people in the street.
Generally, Mauger was slow and thorough in his purchase of horses. He took his time, and was prepared to reject a beast rather than take a risk. But his blood was up, his anger simmering, and it made him incautious. He swallowed convulsively, the lump in his throat so huge that he felt it would choke him. Julitta's contrariness drove him to distraction. Why couldn't she be a proper wife to him? Why did she always make him feel clumsy and inferior? Did she not realise that if only she ceased fighting him and accorded him the respect that was his due, he would give her the world? Perhaps he ought to tell her, but Mauger was wary of the gentler emotions, especially his own.
He watched a Spanish trader trot a bay colt up and down, and forced himself to concentrate upon the horse rather than imagining Julitta's lovely white throat beneath his hands. Even if he did tell her, she would probably toss her head and ignore him. He could see the expression on her face now.
'You like, my lord?' demanded the trader of Mauger's deep scowl.
'No, show me something else, something with more fire.' Robert of Normandy wanted a warhorse. Well and good, he would find Robert of Normandy such a beast. A savage glint in his eye, Mauger set himself to find a stallion that matched the state of his temper.
It was an hour and ten traders later that he came across the young, unbroken black colt which the Catalan dealer's lad was striving to calm. Sweat creamed its neck along the line of the bridle, and it fretted at the sharp bit, specks of blood mingling with the foam at its mouth corners. Its hide was a glossy jet-black, its mane and tail in contrast a dazzling silvery white. Usually Mauger would have kept his distance, but now he plunged into bargaining with a vengeance.
The merchant's wife escorted Benedict to the door of her handsome timber house, and stood with him on the threshold. She was thickly set, with a florid complexion and heavy-lidded brown eyes. Her gown was of the thickest, costliest wool to mark her rank, but the sweat stains encircling the armpits had ruined the fabric. In the room behind her was a family gathering of adult sons and daughters, and several noisy grandchildren. Benedict was not sorry to leave. Out of charity he had made enquiries and brought them the sad news of the death of the family's head on the road to Compostella.
There had been a suitable amount of dramatic wailing for effect, but no deep-seated grief as far as he could tell. The merchant had not been the kind to engender affection, even among those closest to him. Oh they would do all that was necessary to mourn him, exalt his position amongst Bordeaux's merchant fraternity by staging sumptuous masses and giving freely of alms, but it would all be for show.
