Chapter 15 #3
They rode out as he marveled at these tidings, the company trailing behind them in a long ribbon.
Quinn rode at the front, Michel carrying his standard before him, Melissande on his left.
His comrades, Thierry and Bayard, rode behind them and on either side.
Amaury and Luc remained at Annossy to ensure its defense in his absence.
There, the villeins had begun to tend the vines, pruning away winter’s damage.
There were wagons aplenty in the party, burdened with palettes and linens, food and crockery for Quinn’s stay at Sayerne.
Louis accompanied them, as did George’s apprentice and two serving maids from the kitchen, as did Berthe.
The villeins who had chosen to move followed the supplies, with their carts and children and horses.
In many cases, they brought all their possessions.
Lothair and Niall rode at the vanguard of the party with their squires.
The party was filled with an optimism for the future, one that was fed by the bright sunlight and the greening of the meadows.
They would reach Sayerne by noon and then the work would begin.
A child!
Truly all goodness came to Quinn’s hand. He smiled at Melissande and she smiled back at him, her eyes alight. He dared to wish that trust would blossom fully between them.
And soon.
Arnaud de Privas watched the procession leave Annossy’s gates. Although he stayed under the shadow of trees that he might not be spied, he could still identify Melissande’s figure.
His gaze lingered upon the man by her side.
A champion and a knight, a crusader and her legal husband, as dictated by Lord de Tulley.
Quinn de Sayerne was the obstacle to Arnaud gaining all that he desired—he had also dispatched Gaultier.
Arnaud hoped that Marie’s nephew had been loyal to the last and held his tongue.
It was unfortunate to have lost such an ally within the very walls of Annossy, but Arnaud had no doubt of his own success.
Within days, his plans would come to culmination.
He smiled in anticipation of delivering the death blow to Quinn himself.
They would have to hunt to feed this company at the wasteland that was Sayerne, and accidents at hunt were so easily arranged.
Indeed, Arnaud had an affection for the hunt. This time, however, he would hunt neither boar nor stag. He would hunt the Lord d’Annossy himself but no one would ever convict him. He had done as much before, having dispatched the Lord de Perricault, and he would do it again.
It was so simple.
Arnaud was already Lord de Perricault and would be a widower before the day was out.
He would wed Melissande after Quinn’s demise, become Lord both of Annossy and Sayerne, and Tulley would be obliged to return Privas to his hand.
Melissande could administer them for him, for she was skilled with such details—unlike Marie, who had proven to be only a demanding expense—and he could do whatsoever he chose for all the rest of his days and nights.
Perfect.
Or it would be, once Quinn was dead.
Arnaud could not wait.
Sayerne.
Melissande had not visited the holding ever in her recollection and she was uncertain of Quinn’s ultimate plan. Did he mean to make his court at Annossy or Sayerne? Or had he not decided as yet? He had been vague when she asked, but perhaps he wished to assess his father’s holding with a clear eye.
She could be of aid in that.
Melissande studied the holding as they rode closer, striving to see its merits instead of the taint of its history. Tulley wished the fields to be tilled and she could see by the furrows that the fields were extensive. The soil was dark and she eyed the angle of the sun.
“Well?” Quinn asked, evidently having taken note of her survey.
“It seems that the fields must enjoy many of the same advantages as those of Annossy,” she said.
“The crops will be in bright sunlight all the day long, and the soil is so dark that it must be most fertile.” She nodded.
“And most of it has lain fallow. You could till as much of it as you desire this year.”
“As much of it as can be tilled,” he agreed.
“I spoke with one of the older villeins and he suggested a plan which was used with success in the past. There was a scheme as to which third was left fallow each year and I would follow with tradition.” He gestured to the north.
“He said the oats did best in those fields.”
“Tradition oft is a good place to begin,” she said.
“And he said the barley did best to the south.”
“And the construction?”
“I will have them begin with the homes for the villeins and a rudimentary hall for our own use. The keep can be repaired and extended once the villagers have good shelter.”
“The forests are thin here,” Melissande noted. “Especially close to the keep itself.”
“Aye. We will have to ride far to the south to hunt with success, I would wager.”
“Do you mean to ride to hunt?”
“I thought to go on the morrow. Will you join me?”
Melissande touched her belly. “I think less time in the saddle might be better than more in these days.”
He frowned immediately. “Are you in discomfort?”
“Nay, nay.” She spoke quickly to reassure him. “But I find I prefer to have my feet on the ground.”
He nodded and looked at Sayerne again, his anticipation clear. “There is much to be done and I welcome your assistance.”
“Of course.”
“What do you think of offering some of the wood from Annossy here, when the road is widened to the mill?” Quinn suggested. “The firewood would be most welcome next winter and the villeins will have much labor this summer already.”
Melissande smiled agreement, liking his concern for those pledged to serve him. “It would be, and Annossy does not have need of it all.” They smiled at each other. “And I have a gift for your villeins, from Annossy, as well.”
Quinn turned to her with surprise.
“There is a collection of seeds from Annossy, so that they can begin their pottage gardens. They must eat before the crops are harvested.”
“I shall decree that they can trap hares,” Quinn said. “Doubtless there will be an abundance of them.”
“And the swineherds vowed to bring piglets to Sayerne for those who wished one.” She nodded as they entered the village, sobering at the condition of the homes. “It will be a hard summer, Quinn, but the Yule will be a merry one this year.”
“They seem glad to return.”
She nodded, glancing back to note their reactions. Some were in tears, joyful tears. “Many lived here for generations. Their kin are buried here. Their memories are here.” She reached out and placed her gloved hand upon his. “You are not the only one coming home, sir.”
Quinn turned his hand over so he could grasp her hand, and gave her fingers a squeeze. “I would not know where to begin without your tutelage these past months.”
She could see that he was assessing the damage and choosing where best to begin.
“Keep Louis with you, for his counsel is most good,” she advised and Quinn nodded. “And if you can hunt on the morrow, or send your companions to do as much, a feast in Sayerne’s hall for those who have returned will be most welcome.”
“Your counsel is good, as ever, my lady,” Quinn said, lifting her hand and placing a kiss upon its back. “I am fortunate beyond all men in my bride.” Their gazes met and held and she almost asked for his plans.
But there was a shout from the vanguard and Quinn looked over the company, his eyes narrowed.
“A party arrives!” Niall shouted, gesturing to the road. Sure enough, there was a cloud of dust on the road to Tulley, and a group of horses riding hard for Sayerne.
Melissande recognized Tulley’s banner and caught her breath. “God in Heaven,” she whispered. “I hope that he has brought provisions to aid in the feeding of his company.”
Quinn laughed. “Ever practical,” he teased.
“People who labor hard have strong appetites and hunger leads only to dissent.” She lifted her chin. “If he has not seen fit to contribute, I shall speak to Lord Tulley.”
“It looks to be a small party,” Quinn mused. He was right, to Melissande’s relief. Though they wore Tulley’s colors, there looked to be only three of them.
“Perhaps a messenger warning of his pending arrival,” she suggested.
“Perhaps.” Quinn inclined his head to her, then turned Fortitude to gallop past the party and greet his liege lord’s messenger.
Melissande watched him go, thinking of how he had never confessed to tender feelings for her.
Surely, he would not insist that they live separately, one at Annossy and one at Sayerne?
She had conceived his child and only God knew if it would be a boy.
There was naught more she could do until the child was born to secure her husband’s affection and perhaps not even then.
Surely, this would not be the end?
Quinn’s first day in residence at Sayerne was a wondrous one.
He saw the work begun and aided in many tasks himself, lending a hand to a wagon stuck in the mud, clearing debris from the bailey and carrying wood for the smith to light his fire.
He carried seed and even led the ploughhorse for the first furrow, smiling at the cheers of his villeins.
It was a long day of hard labor, but he welcomed it.
Meanwhile, Melissande had been busy in the hall with the help of Louis.
The place looked a hundred times better than it had earlier that very day, and the change was welcome.
The boys had patched the roof and lit fires in the great fireplaces.
There were benches and tables set up and a cold meal for all who had accompanied them.
There was a barrel of ale from Annossy, as well as bread and bacon and cheese.
Quinn was certain no fare had ever tasted so fine.