“The girl has a mind of her own.”
For a moment, Donald had the impression this was all Claude’s plan.
Donald faced DuClare, all the jest gone. “I will take care of her.”
“I don’t doubt you will.” DuClare pounded his back and they went into the solar. Andrea was alone and looking through Maurice’s manuscripts.
“Anything of interest?” DuClare asked her.
Andrea looked at her uncle, then at Donald.
Her uncle gave nothing away and seemed to enjoy her confusion.
“Uncle, I want to go to Amiens.” Her voice was soft but firm.
“You do?”
“Yes.” She glanced at Donald.
“You know I must return to Paris. However, Donald is going to Amiens in the morning. I took the liberty of asking him to escort you.”
Donald winked at her as she tried to stifle a laugh.
“We’ll leave the day after tomorrow. I hope you can ride a horse,” Donald said.
“Of course, I ride,” she said. Her uncle stifled a cough.
Chapter Five
Two days later
The heat of the summer sun beat down on their backs as they rode along. Donald had them going at a quick pace. They had been riding since early morning and stopped only when nature called, or to water and rest the horses.
The farther away from the river, the drier the land. To Andrea, the still air was reminiscent of the heat in Tunis.
Riding instead of taking a carriage shortened their journey but aggravated her backside. Tonight, they stopped in Soissons, a place Donald knew well.
“Where are the gloves that Isabella gave you?” Donald asked.
Andrea winced. She had left the gloves on the table at the chateau.
“The leather leads will rub blisters between your fingers.”
She held the reins with the edge of her cloak. Not the same as gloves, but the cloth gave her hands some protection. One was still blistered.
She swore the horse beneath her was called “Devil”, but rather than being named for her temperament, the animal was named for her black coat.
Ebony was just as finished with the day’s ride as she. Foam leaked from the corners of the horse’s mouth around the metal bit. Her neck was lathered in thick sweat, curling the short, stiff hairs of her summer coat.
The heat her body gave off made Andrea even more uncomfortable.
“This thing you are after. You don’t have any idea what you’re looking for. How will you recognize it?” he asked.
“This may sound odd, but I just will. I read about the relic in an old parchment I was translating. I was astounded when I saw my family name. Further research pointed to Tunis. When Uncle Claude said we were going to Tunis, I knew it was destiny.”
She kept her voice calm and sweet. Her story was the truth, except she did not mention the overpowering sensation compelling her to find the relic, or that there was a prophecy involved. Ever since translating the document, all her thoughts and actions had centered around finding the relic and keeping its secret.
Would he understand? With any luck he would, because she didn’t.
“I can understand being curious. Your quest is like searching for buried treasure. That alone can be irresistible.” He turned to face her. “What happens if this thing is lost, forever. What will happen?”
She kept her pleasant smile. That will never happen. Something deep inside told her the relic was there to be found.
“If it’s lost forever,” she said, “then we go home and have just as good a tale to tell as if we brought the treasure back with us.”
He pursed his lips and nodded.
Andrea let out a deep breath, relieved Donald accepted her answer. Her gaze drifted to the horizon and the setting sun. The blue sky was quickly turning pink, which would soon fade to gray, and finally, to an inky black. They continued on. In the dusky light cottages with thatched roofs came into view. They were close to the city.
“We’re almost there.” Donald slowed them down as they entered the outskirts of Soissons. “The abbey is up ahead.”
Come on, Ebony. A little more. She patted the animal’s neck and gave him the lead to follow Donald.
They approached the gates of Saint-Médard Abbey.
“We’ll stay here for the night. The abbess should be able to give you something for your hand… and anything else that is bothering you.”
She glanced at him and noticed the smile he tried to hide.
Donald threw his leg over the pommel and slid to the ground.
When he helped her off Ebony, she thought she’d be lucky if she ever walked again. Every muscle in her body ached as she stood there while he gathered their belongings. Her legs quivered like a newborn colt’s as they walked to the door. The thought of getting back on the horse in the morning made her wince.
Donald’s knock was quickly answered.
“Good evening, Mother Simone. I was hoping you’d have room for Monsieur DuClare’s niece, Andrea.”
“It’s late, Lord Eden, even for you.” Mother Simone didn’t look pleased.
“My apologies. We’ve ridden hard from Châlons.”
The abbess’ eyes widened. “You must have ridden all day. Come in. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
The abbess spoke to a novice who hurried to do her bidding. Mother Simone returned.
“Sister Danielle will make sure the stable boy takes care of your horses. Anyone else I would have shooed away. Come with me.” With a straight back and measured steps, she led the way.
“She knows you and my uncle?” Andrea asked quietly as the abbess brought them into a large common room.
“Mother Simone,” Donald said.
Although the abbess’ serious expression concerned Andrea, Donald was not affected. He kept smiling and handed the abbess a sealed clay decanter he pulled from his satchel.
“For your trouble. It’s Labatrelle’s best.”
Mother Simone raised an eyebrow in surprise. A smile played at the corners of her lips.
“M’lord,” the abbess said, a gentle softness to her voice. “You know the way.”
Donald bid them both good night and strolled down the hall on the left.
“Come with me. I’ll get you settled.” Mother Simone led Andrea
