Chapter 3
Berthe had gone to the kitchens, as was her wont at Tulley, and taken her mending.
Lady Heloise had no obligation to entertain her, and truly, that lady seemed to wish to confer with her own maid.
Berthe preferred to remain in the kitchen, working quietly, while she gathered gossip for her lady.
She always listened and spoke little but, as her mother would have said, she kept her eyes open.
She noted the arrival of a rough company shortly after her lady had been summoned to Tulley’s chamber.
Two of them were men, and the others were but boys, though all were dirty and their clothing worn.
They were fighting men, she could tell at a glimpse, and wondered if Tulley had hired more men-at-arms. They were greeted with courtesy, though, and clearly had been expected.
Berthe saw the crosses on the tabards of the two men and wondered if they were crusading knights.
Only one entered the kitchens and the chatelain was quick to usher him away.
They would have been the party riding behind her lady’s own small group and Berthe was curious as to their reason for being at Tulley.
The whispers began immediately.
“So, he is the one,” said a maid. “I should not turn him aside.”
The scullery maids laughed together. “He needs a bath.”
“I would scrub his back.”
“I would scrub more than that.” There was another gale of laughter, and the cook’s quelling glance made no difference.
“Quinn has improved mightily with the years,” said one woman who had been at Tulley for as long as Berthe could recall. Her name was Rose and she had to be twice Berthe’s age. “I recall when he was no more than a lean boy. Truly, Tulley saw his promise early.”
“I would entertain him this night if the lady refuses him,” jested one maid and there was a chorus of agreement.
“Ensure you are near their door,” advised another. “In case she casts him out.”
“Only a fool would deny such a man.”
Berthe felt her color rise, but she kept her attention on her mending. She had been taught to keep her thighs together, but she knew that many of the woman who served at Tulley did not think similarly.
So, Lord de Tulley had plans for this man, whether he be knight or mercenary.
Berthe listened. What had they said his name was?
Quinn. Berthe wondered where he had been summoned from.
It was curious that they had ridden behind the party from Annossy, so they might have come from another holding sworn to Tulley.
Perhaps they had made their way over a difficult pass.
She supposed the lady who would wed this Quinn must be Heloise and wondered if Tulley’s niece guessed her fate.
Perhaps she should have stayed and listened to the conversation between Heloise and her maid.
“I hope Lady Melissande likes the look of him,” said one of the girls.
Berthe almost dropped her needle.
“What she thinks is of no import,” Rose countered. “She will wed him this day and bed him this night regardless of her view of the matter.”
“But...”
“Lord de Tulley has no qualms in taking away what he has given,” Rose said, her manner arch.
Berthe blinked in astonishment at this. Would Tulley seize Annossy if her lady did not wed this stranger?
One of the younger kitchen maids sat down beside her, her manner friendly but watchful.
“Will your lady welcome him to her bed?” she asked with a smile that was not entirely pleasant.
“It is said that Lady Melissande d’Annossy is made of ice, but perhaps she needs a man to thaw her.
” Her expression turned lewd as the other maids laughed.
“My lady is reserved, to be sure, for she was taught to conduct herself with dignity.”
“Dignity will not aid her this night,” Rose said. “Fighting men always understand their advantage.”
“That is what you like about them,” charged one of the maids and they laughed again.
“What Tulley demands is what occurs in this keep,” agreed the cook. “The lady would be wise to cede rather than fight his command.” He gave Berthe a look. “You might want to encourage her in that.”
“But surely Lord de Tulley will not demand that my lady wed a stranger?”
“Her legal husband will not be a stranger,” Rose said. “For long.”
There was laughter at this.
“I thought you meant he was summoned to wed Lady Heloise,” Berthe protested and Rose smiled.
“There is not a man alive good enough for that one, at least to Lord de Tulley’s thinking.” Rose shook her head. “Indeed, I feel sorry for any man who grants her a glance, let alone the one she weds.”
“It is the raids on Annossy’s borders that concern Tulley, no more and no less,” the cook informed her. “Your lady will see that it is best for there to be a man in charge at Annossy.”
Berthe was not certain Lady Melissande would agree. She did not share the detail that there had been another such raid the night before.
Did Quinn and his party know something of that?
Indeed, this was her opportunity to learn more for her lady. “Who is this Quinn?” she asked. “From whence did he come?”
“He is Quinn de Sayerne, of course, and is returned from the Holy Land at Tulley’s summons to claim his father’s holding,” Rose supplied.
Berthe was surprised and not entirely pleased. “Jerome had a son?”
“Aye, but Tulley took Quinn under his own care some twenty years ago and sent him away.”
There had never been a lady at Sayerne in Berthe’s memory.
“Lord de Tulley sponsored Quinn to train for his spurs, then encouraged him to join the crusade,” Rose continued. “He saw him trained to be his minion and awaited only the death of Jerome.”
Those in the kitchen crossed themselves.
“It is always Tulley’s scheme to plan for the future,” the cook agreed.
“But this Quinn and his fellows could not have come from the Holy Land so quickly as that,” Berthe said.
“It was a year at Christmas that Tulley sent a messenger to find Quinn, and word came last summer that he had been found,” Rose informed her. “Quinn did not sail for home, though, but rode over land. It is farther and takes longer, but knights will cater to their steeds when possible.”
“I have never known a horse to like a ship, to be sure.”
“That will be his companion, Bayard de Neuville, who arrived with him, along with their squires,” Rose said.
“Then they are knights?” Berthe asked. She had been uncertain, based on Quinn’s appearance, but found this detail reassuring.
“Aye, Bayard and Quinn are,” Rose confirmed.
“But here is the greater question,” said one of the maids. “Is it true that Quinn’s eyes are golden? Are they the hue of honey or of amber?”
“Which of us shall discover the truth?” The women began to chatter and laugh again, and Berthe kept her head bent over her mending.
A young man burst into the kitchens. “We have need of hot water aplenty,” he said. “The newly arrived party have brushed down their horses and desire to bathe.”
“The fire is stirred up and the cauldron is simmering,” the cook said. “We started to heat the water as soon as we heard they would be arriving.”
“You knew before they arrived at the gates?” Berthe asked.
The cook laughed. “Tulley has spies in every corner. He knew when they halted at Beauvoir Pass, and when they stayed in a tavern two nights ago. He sent a party after them to Sayerne yesterday with provisions. He likely knows more than that.”
There was laughter and agreement to that.
Berthe could not believe that Tulley would sponsor a man who was less than deserving of his trust. Twenty years before Tulley had sent this Quinn to gain his spurs, at Tulley’s own expense.
He must have seen merit in him young. Berthe found Tulley brusque and domineering, but he was fair.
There must be more to Quinn than met the eye, and she was inclined to think well of him for being both knight and crusader.
If she had doubts about the wedding, they were to be dismissed.
No sooner had the boys taken water to the stables than the chatelain hastened into the kitchens with purpose.
“There will be a feast this night,” he declared, clearly agitated, and the cook nodded agreement.
“We have a wedding to celebrate! We will have the rest of the venison and bring wine from the cellars....”
“Who is to be married?” Berthe had to be certain.
The chatelain fixed her with a bright look. “Lady Melissande will wed Quinn de Sayerne. If you have not brought suitable garb for your lady, then you might speak with the maid of Lady Heloise with all haste. She is with her mistress in the hall.”
“Aye, sir,” Berthe said and gathered her mending. There were times when she was glad to be a simple country lass and a servant besides, and this day had to be one of them. To think that her lady would be compelled to wed a stranger and was commanded to do as much immediately!
Lady Melissande would be devastated. What of her old pledge to Arnaud de Privas? Berthe understood, though, that there would be no choice. Tulley was never to be denied.
She halted abruptly when a man marched toward her, the same man who had followed Tulley’s summons.
He fairly filled the portal and Berthe had little choice but to stand aside.
He looked to be riled, and she doubted he had noticed her.
His golden eyes blazed with fury and his lips were drawn to a grim line.
He barely granted her a nod as he passed her, then strode through the kitchens to the bailey beyond.
The maids stared after him in silence.
“Gold,” whispered one.
“Honey,” asserted another, then sighed.
“Amber,” declared a third.
“There will be need for more water!” the cook said and sent them hurrying.
Berthe was intrigued that the bridegroom was no less enamored of this match than she guessed the bride would be. But whyever not? His reaction pricked Berthe’s pride. Her lady was lovely, young, and the heiress of Annossy. Any man should be glad to wed her!