Chapter 7 #3
“Yves?” Quinn asked.
She gave him a considering glance. “You must have known of Yves.”
“I know of no one named Yves.”
Melissande licked her lips, as if she feared he would not like what she had to say. “Yves is Jerome’s younger son, his bastard.”
Quinn blinked.
Bayard chuckled.
Melissande took a breath. “Yves earned his spurs with Tulley’s sponsorship and returned to serve his father at Sayerne.
Matters improved somewhat: Yves could be relied upon to keep his word, although his father oft broke the pledges made in his name.
” She straightened primly. “I was sorry to hear that he had left, but then, Jerome did not acknowledge him and Tulley must have made it clear that there would be naught for him at Sayerne or Tulley.”
“But where did he go?” Quinn asked. He still could not make sense of the news that he had a brother.
“He escorted Annelise away from Sayerne and that was the last I heard of either of them. Neither are at Tulley and no one spoke of them there. I assume they were dispatched together but know not where.”
He had a brother.
And his sister was gone, although Tulley had not seen fit to confide the truth of her situation to Quinn.
Although, to be sure, he had sufficient to keep him occupied.
Perhaps he should be glad that his siblings were absent.
A brother. Quinn could not help but think that another knight’s strength would have been welcome in the task of rebuilding Sayerne.
“But why did Annelise leave the convent at all?” he asked, fearing that his sister had experienced abuse similar to what Jerome showered upon his mother.
Melissande shrugged. “Perhaps she was summoned. Perhaps there was to be a match made for her. I was not privy to the dealings of Sayerne.”
“And clearly you do not know all that the Lord de Tulley considers beneath his influence,” Amaury noted quietly, then changed the subject. “I must say that your concern about the Beauvoir Pass in winter was well deserved, Quinn.”
Quinn smiled. He was aware of Melissande’s curiosity and explained to her.
“When I rode to crusade, I went through the Beauvoir Pass in the winter. The snow was so deep that I feared we should never see the other side. The wind was fiercely cold and I was determined never to repeat that journey again.”
“But you did?”
“Aye. On our return, we rode from Jerusalem to Constantinople, intending to travel by land into the Holy Roman Empire. Our scheme was to approach Tulley from the north, following the path of Godfroi de Bouillon, but we did not manage to make Constantinople.”
“It was besieged,” Amaury informed Melissande, clearly noting her confusion.
“And we chose not to join another battle,” Bayard said. “I had no desire to see a Saracen prison again, though Quinn might have risked it.”
Quinn could feel his lady’s surprise.
“And I had no desire to tend another injury,” Lothair noted to Quinn’s dismay.
Melissande looked between them and Lothair indicated Quinn. “He healed well enough, for he is large and stubborn, but still, it was not easily done. An injury so fierce and untended so long required all my skill. Perhaps even an increment more.”
“You were injured?” she asked Quinn and he dared to hope she felt some concern.
“And imprisoned at Acre,” he confessed, noting the flicker in her gaze. “Bayard fought at my back, and chose not to abandon me when I fell, for which I am eternally grateful.”
“And I shall haunt him for all his days and nights in return,” Bayard said, prompting the other knights to laugh.
“We were imprisoned together,” Quinn admitted. “Another feat that saved my sorry hide, and all thanks to Bayard’s quick thinking. He convinced the enemy that we could be ransomed, and otherwise, we would never have left that battlefield alive.”
The lady had paled and Quinn folded his hand around hers once more. Did she tremble?
“Clearly, the rumor of Quinn’s manners had preceded us, though,” Bayard jested. “For there were no offers of ransom for these two sorry knights.”
“You were a sorry sight when you were freed,” Lothair agreed. “Sores and pustules.”
“Lice and fleas,” Amaury said with a shudder.
“And filth beyond measure,” Niall said.
“But all is well that ends well,” Quinn concluded, not seeing the merit of sharing more of this truth with his lady, and drank a tribute to that with his comrades.
“You were right about that pass, though,” Amaury said again. “I was certain the guides led us astray and that the road could have no summit. The snow!”
“The cold!” Lothair agreed.
“The supposed hospitality of Beauvoir keep,” Niall said and rolled his eyes. “Has ever there been a more forbidding and cold tower as that one? And the welcome was scarce warmer.”
“Never mind the price of a simple repast and a night’s lodging,” Lothair noted. “I thought the horses were to be bedded down in gold!” The knights laughed together.
“Praise be we had only to stay the one night,” Niall said.
“Lord de Tulley knows his advantage, to be sure,” Amaury said. “I would wager his treasury overflows, simply from the tolls at Beauvoir.”
Niall shook a finger at Quinn and Bayard. “But it was worth every penny when he confessed that, in the past fortnight, only two other knights had dared to climb the pass.”
Amaury laughed. “And that they had four squires, one of whom had never seen snow before.”
“Michel!” the knights crowed in unison and the boy bowed before them, his ears glowing red. He carried a pitcher of ale and brought it to the high table, pouring into the proffered cups.
“Michel was born in the Holy Land,” Quinn told Melissande.
“And yet he is in your service.” She smiled at the boy. “How is this so, Michel?”
“I am an orphan, my lady,” the boy confessed, bowing deeply to her. “When my parents were killed, the bishop meant to surrender me to a monastery as an oblate, but I ran away. I wanted to go to Jerusalem to serve the knights and become one myself.”
“You did not wish to become a priest or a monk?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I would wield a sword, my lady, for God is better served by deeds than prayers.”
“I am not certain of that. We each have our roles to play in His scheme.”
“My parents farmed in the Latin Kingdoms, my lady. My father had no sword and when the war came, he died.” The boy’s eyes shone with a conviction that Quinn had noted before. “I will not die so easily, my lady.”
“I see,” she said softly and Quinn watched her smile at Michel. The boy bowed again and continued to serve the ale, though Quinn indicated that he would have none.
“The hour draws late, my lady,” he murmured and her gaze flicked to him with some wariness.
She nodded and stood, her agitation clear to him and more than a little disappointing. He must convince her that he would not be a husband like his father.
“Louis has prepared the chamber above this one for you all,” she informed the knights and Quinn saw the chatelain in the portal, listening.
“And you are welcome to retire there at your leisure. There is yet ale and I would not curtail your enjoyment of it. If you have any need, please ask it of Louis, as you are the guests of Annossy.”
There were fulsome thanks all around then both Lothair and Amaury went to the stables to check upon their steeds.
Quinn stood and offered Melissande his hand, bending to murmur to her.
“I will see that the gates are secured and the sentries at their labor,” he said to her.
“And will come to you shortly, my lady.”
She nodded, pale again, but did not flinch from his touch.
Perhaps he could make progress in this campaign on this night.
Perhaps ensuring the safety of Annossy, which she clearly held dear, would gain him some credibility.
Tulley had commanded him to end the raids, and truly, warfare and defense were details he understood well.
This would be the advantage he brought to Annossy, and Quinn knew already that his lady was sufficiently keen of wit that she would see his merit when it was done.
Berthe was gone and Melissande was alone in her chemise, her hair brushed, when she heard Quinn’s voice in the hall. The low rumble both reassured her and troubled her. She turned to watch the door, her hands knotted together.
Would she always dread his appearance at night?
She had claimed the solar of Annossy after her father’s death and it was a fine chamber.
It was at the summit of the tower with views in all directions.
There was a great pillared bed in the middle of the room, with heavy drapes in silken velvet, woven in the blue of Annossy with silver embroidery along the hems. The wooden pillars rose to join the beams that held up the roof of the lofty chamber, and Melissande had always thought it looked like a crown in the midst of a treasury.
Now that Tulley had commanded an heir, the import of the bed was unmistakable.
She had been born in this bed, and her parents had consummated their own marriage within it. In a way, her marriage would seem more real when she and Quinn had coupled in this bed, and more unassailable when she delivered a child here.