Chapter 1
Melissande was not pleased to be summoned to Tulley so early.
Indeed, the messenger must have left that keep at first light, or even before.
She had received word of another raid upon Annossy while breaking her fast, this time at the mill on the border, and had been conferring with her Captain of the Guard when the messenger arrived.
Did Tulley himself know of it already? She would not be surprised if he did. Her overlord seemed to know every detail first of events in his holding.
Her every attempt to see to her own concerns had been denied by the messenger, and she was commanded to escort him to Tulley immediately.
Berthe had packed a few necessities—including a kirtle sufficiently fine to be suitable for a meal at her liege lord’s table—and the two women had left Annossy with the messenger and the one warrior who accompanied him.
Gaultier, Annossy’s Captain of the Guard, had remained behind to learn more detail of the raid.
Melissande did not like to be ordered to do any deed, and her mood was not improved by the presence of another larger party upon the road. They looked to be ruffians and followed behind, making her keenly aware that her own party was smaller and less well defended.
In what peril was the world that a noblewoman could not feel safe upon the short stretch of road between her holding and that of her overlord?
Perhaps these men were the brigands responsible for the attack on the mill.
Melissande yearned to know, but she had not the confidence to confront them. They did not seem to be in a hurry and did not catch up to Melissande’s party before reaching Tulley itself.
Lord de Tulley’s niece, Heloise, rushed to meet Melissande at the gates.
Perhaps Melissande had been summoned because the younger woman was in need of companionship.
She knew Heloise had come to Tulley at Yuletide, after the death of her parents, and could well imagine that the other woman found little to amuse herself.
She also knew that Tulley doted upon his niece and would do whatsoever was necessary to ensure her happiness.
Tulley had neither spouse nor child himself.
Melissande had met Heloise several times over the years and knew the maiden enjoyed the hunt.
The snow this winter was likely sufficient to limit that pleasure and the girl must be vexed to be trapped indoors, even at Tulley.
Was Heloise’s boredom the reason for Tulley’s imperious summons?
It was vexing to be considered no more than entertainment for a maiden with naught to do, but Melissande smiled for Heloise.
She was a pretty and cheerful maiden. Melissande liked her and would not have wanted to be alone in Tulley’s hall herself.
But she had scarce greeted Heloise than the Lord de Tulley’s chatelain urged her toward the small chamber where Tulley conducted his business.
Heloise was left in the hall with Berthe.
Melissande found herself alone with her liege lord, and that so quickly that she scarce had removed her gloves.
She had time to fear that something was sorely amiss, then he spoke.
Tulley, at least, was not inclined to be evasive.
“It is past time for you to wed, Melissande,” he said crisply. “And you will do as much this very day.”
Melissande was shocked by his blunt declaration but he held her gaze with resolve.
“Indeed, sir?”
“Indeed.” Tulley seemed to have aged since she had last seen him the previous fall. Though his blue eyes were bright, the lines were etched more deeply in his brow. He looked smaller than he had, but no less determined than ever.
Melissande knew it was Tulley’s right to choose her spouse since her father was dead. She supposed she had been foolish to hope that he had forgotten his obligation since he had not insisted on her taking a spouse sooner.
Tulley forgot naught.
He sat then in his great chair, his tidings delivered, and eyed her when she remained silent. “I thought you might have more to say of this matter, Melissande. You have never been reluctant to share your opinion before.” He seemed amused by this, which irked her.
“I did not realize Arnaud de Privas had come to Tulley as well,” she said.
Her lord snorted in a manner that was a reply in itself. “I have already told you to forget that whimsy of a betrothal.”
Melissande stood taller. “A pledge is not whimsy, sir.”
Tulley held Melissande’s gaze. “If your sire were alive, he would have seen that pledge dismissed long before now. You were but a child! There is more at stake here than you might guess.”
The implication that she could not understand the repercussions of her choice annoyed Melissande as little else could have done. Her tone was less temperate when she replied. “My word is at stake and that, sir, is of immeasurable value to me.”
“My borders are imperiled by your lack of spouse,” Tulley countered. “You will wed.”
Melissande straightened. “My lord, when my father died, you promised me the opportunity to administer Annossy alone and prove my abilities. I am grateful for your trust. I had hoped that you might have invested me with the seal of my father’s estate by now.”
“I cannot entrust you with the seal. You are but a woman!”
Melissande kept her tone even with an effort. “I am my father’s daughter, trained in Annossy’s administration from the moment I could read.”
“And yet a woman still.”
“My mother held the seal while my father rode to war and administered the holding in his stead.”
“On the assumption that he would return, and he did. If he had not done so, I would have ensured she wed another. The compromises made in the instance of war cannot be construed as permanent solutions, Melissande.”
“My mother was an excellent administrator...”
“And you have taken a lesson from her, for which I am glad. But these recent attacks upon Annossy show that the holding is vulnerable!” Tulley spoke with heat. “The marauders know the holding is governed by a woman. You know as well as I that their actions reflect their perception of weakness.”
“I am not weak!” Melissande protested. “The villeins are satisfied and the tithes have been beyond expectation. Annossy is well-ruled...”
Tulley interrupted her. “But not sufficiently well-defended.”
“I could hire more men-at-arms,” she began but Tulley waved off her suggestion.
“They will follow a man, and you know that as well as I do.” He leaned forward and his tone softened slightly.
“I hold these lands for the emperor by grant of the Count of Arles. Should any of them be lost, my own position would be compromised. You know that I cannot risk that. The attacks upon Annossy compel me to make a choice, Melissande. I have let you temporarily administer your family holdings, but I will not invest you with the seal.”
Melissande glimpsed the warrior that the Lord de Tulley had once been, and appreciated anew his reputation as a man who would see his will done against all obstacles.
If she had been a man, she would have openly defied him. If she had been a man, there would have been no criticism of her administration. If she had been a man, she would have chosen her own spouse freely. Or taken none at all.
She could not remain silent. “I will choose...”
“Nay, Melissande,” Tulley said with impatience. “You will wed and, as befits my right as your liege lord, I have decided to whom.”
“It would please me to keep my pledge to wed Arnaud de Privas, my lord.” That was an understatement in the extreme. Melissande’s word was her bond, a habit taught by her beloved father, and a source of pride. “When he returns from winning his fortune...”
“He will not return,” Tulley said briskly. “At any rate, the gaining of his fortune ensures that he cannot wed you.”
“I do not understand, sir.”
“Do you think, child, that after all these years I would ignore what I know to be important to you?” he demanded. “I did seek out that rogue Arnaud and I found him.”
Melissande’s heart leapt even as she noted that the lord’s tone was disparaging.
“That rogue has taken a wife himself.”
“A wife?” Melissande echoed.
“A wife. A rich wife.” Tulley nodded. “It would appear that your loyalty has been misplaced.”
This could not be. She and Arnaud had been sworn to each other as children. Though Privas had fallen upon hard times after the death of Arnaud’s father, still the match had been the wish of all four parents, and Melissande could not simply ignore what had been promised.
She doubted that Arnaud would have done as much either.
It was true that she did not know him well—she scarce remembered the boy who had taken her hand in his on that long-ago afternoon and repeated the words of the priest—for he had left soon after their betrothal to train for his spurs with a distant uncle.
By the time he had been knighted, Privas had been desolate, and Arnaud had sent word that he would seek his fortune then return for her.
Melissande had waited, refusing all suitors for the man her father had chosen.
What if Tulley was trying to remove her objection, even with a falsehood, so that she cede to his plan? He did not approve of Arnaud, she knew it well, although she could not understand why.
“That must be untrue,” she said before she could consider the wisdom of her words.
Tulley’s gaze turned cold. “The source was reliable beyond doubt,” he said. “Arnaud wed Marie de Perricault a year past.”
“Marie!” Although Melissande had not seen the older woman in years, she remembered her testy manner. Perricault was over the mountains and to the north of Annossy, closer to the court of the French king. “Arnaud would not break his word to me!”
“I regret to tell you that he did just that.”
“Might your source be deceived in this?”
Tulley gave her a warning look.
Melissande took a steadying breath. She had to speak her thoughts aloud. “All these years, you have treated me with respect and honesty. Please do not abandon that path now, my lord.”