Ignoring Isabel’s brusque reply, Chetwynd spoke directly to her maid. “Marianna, would you see that everything is ready for the journey?”
Once Marianna left them, Chetwynd turned back to Isabel. He was feeling guilty that he had left her alone on her first night away from home. Ingram had told him that Isabel had seen him leaving the bedchamber where he slept. Ingram suspected Isabel thought he was with another woman. He could tell her the truth, that it was Ingram’s wife she had seen, but perhaps it was better that she thought he had been with another woman.
But even if she was angry with him, he couldn’t have her wandering off. “Why did you not attend worship or join me in the dining hall?”
Isabel frowned. First Chetwynd was giving her servant orders; then he was demanding she explain her activities. Isabel’s intention to hide her feelings disappeared in a flash.
“I do not have to account to you for my behavior, Lord Chetwynd. We are not really married, as you made very clear last night.” Even as she was saying the words, Isabel regretted her impulse. He was her husband, and she did have to account to him.
“You are mistaken, Lady Isabel.” Her flash of temper made Chetwynd wonder why he had ever thought he would be able to control her. The woman was impossible. “You wanted to come on this journey, and I am in charge. It is my responsibility to keep track of everyone, including you. We are leaving immediately. Make sure you leave your childish behavior behind.”
His angry speech concluded, Lord Chetwynd strode across the courtyard toward the stables. Isabel watched his receding figure and wished she had something to throw at him. It was not lost upon her that he did not make the argument that she should obey him because she was his wife.
Later, as they were preparing to leave the monastery, Isabel mounted her horse, and this time she sat astride. Her determined look dared anyone to tell her she should ride otherwise. Since her gown had a wide skirt, and most of her legs were covered, she saw no reason for anyone to object.
It was almost midday before Isabel calmed down. Marianna stayed close and glanced her way from time to time, waiting for some hint that she wished to talk. Lord Chetwynd, at the head of the caravan as he had been the first day, was out of her sight, but not out of her mind.
Ingram rode down the long line from time to time, checking on everyone. He treated Isabel no differently from anyone else, but there seemed to be a kindness in his expression when he nodded at her. She thought he must know about the “arrangement.”
Jerome, her attentive companion of the first day, was nowhere in sight. It occurred to her that Chetwynd might have ordered him to stay away from her. She missed his cheery company.
As the scenery changed drastically, Isabel was distracted from her stormy thoughts. The caravan had reached the Rhone River, and it was soothing to travel along the wide, steady flow of water. When they came to some rapids, the roar drowned out the sound of the horses. The sun flickered through the trees, reflecting off the water.
It was an enchanting ride, and Isabel thought of the early caravans that had traveled the same route. The Romans, when their empire was first expanding, used this river to transport goods to the north. She wondered if they had been as captivated by the beauty of the river as she was.
Isabel searched the landscape for any evidence of the period when the Romans inhabited the area. Father Ivo had told her they’d built roads, bridges, and even dwellings that lasted to the present day. When she saw a limestone fortress perched on a hill in the distance, she could hardly contain her excitement. Isabel looked around, wanting to share her discovery. She caught Ingram’s eye as he rode near.
Isabel pointed to the fortress. “Ingram, look there. Is that an ancient building?”
“It is, my lady. Are you interested in Roman architecture?”
“Oh yes. Our parish priest knew a great deal about Roman buildings. I have been hoping to see such a sight.”
“We are due for a rest. I’ll ask Lord Chetwynd if we can explore the fortress.”
Ingram rode away before Isabel could discourage the idea. She wanted very much to see the fortress, but she didn’t want to ask anything of Lord Chetwynd. He already thought her a spoiled child, and she feared he would not look kindly upon such a request.
When the caravan came to a halt, Isabel was surprised to see both Jerome and Ingram walking toward her. Ingram helped her dismount before speaking. “Ancient buildings are sometimes used by wandering bandits who prey on travelers, my lady. Jerome and I will accompany you up the hill. But if we see any signs of inhabitants, we must return to the caravan immediately.”
Isabel thought she could detect Chetwynd’s voice giving these orders. Nodding her consent, she exchanged grins with Jerome, who seemed to share her enthusiasm for the adventure. He took the lead, scrambling up the steep path that led to the old building. The ground was dry, and the rocks rolled under her feet as Isabel struggled to ignore her sore muscles and keep up with Jerome.
On the steepest section, Isabel’s long gown repeatedly became tangled under her feet, and she had trouble maintaining her balance. When she started to slip backwards, Jerome was quick to reach her side. Although he was no taller than she was, he supported her easily.
“You need a stick, my lady. Stay still.”
Within a minute he had found a branch that was a suitable size. “Lean on it with one hand; hold your gown with the other,” the squire instructed.
As Jerome became aware of how bold his words must sound, his boyish face flushed red. But
