Claire Delacroix (43 page)

“The lady of Airdfinnan has borne a son,” Andrew appeared by his elbow to inform him.

Bayard was momentarily distracted from his urge to see the vine well and truly conquered. “She is well?”

“Aye, they both are well and the babe is both large and hale.”

Bayard smiled, knowing that Angus would be relieved. And Esmeraude would undoubtedly be aiding her sister for the better part of this day.

He had best return to the task of removing this cursed vine, particularly if the plant were vulnerable to attack in this moment. Aye, Bayard had learned much of taking advantage of a momentary weakness in his foes.

He climbed the ladder to the summit of the wall, filled with new purpose, and forgot for the moment the madness that had claimed Simon de Leyrossire.

* * *

But Bayard vividly recalled the other knight’s strange attitude at the board that evening.

Most were gathered when Jacqueline came into the hall, blushing and smiling though she was clearly still tired. She carried her new son as if he were most fragile, and Angus kept an arm fast around her waist to aid her. The household gathered around to peer at the babe. Bayard spared the evidently healthy child a cursory glance, then looked to the portal of the solar with impatience.

There was no one there.

He had not glimpsed Esmeraude all of this day and he was eager to see her. Indeed, he wished to know whether ’twas true that she loved and accepted him. He had bathed and dressed with care for this evening, the conquest of the vine and Esmeraude’s pursuit of him the night before feeding his confidence. He meant to ask for her hand before the entire company, so certain was he of her acceptance.

But the lady had to make an appearance for that to occur. Bayard tapped his toe. Where was she? There were plans to make for their nuptials and ’twould not have wounded his pride if she admired his considerable labor in clearing the wall of the vine of thorns.

“Where is Esmeraude?” he demanded finally, interrupting the coos and ahs when no others seemed to note her absence.

Jacqueline glanced up with surprise. “Is she not with you?”

Bayard’s gut went cold though he spoke carefully. “I have not seen her all this day. I assumed she was with you.”

Now Jacqueline looked as alarmed as he was beginning to feel. She turned to her husband. “I was asleep. I last saw her when she went to summon you.”

“Aye. I left her in the bailey, for she urged me to hasten to your side and I did. I assumed she followed.”

“She was in the solar when Ewen arrived,” contributed the midwife. “I saw her then, but she left shortly afterward.”

And none apparently had seen Esmeraude since. Chatter spread through the hall as all speculated and compared their recollections. Bayard felt his confidence ebb, his trepidation grow. He had a sense that a strategic advantage had slipped away from him, though he fought his intuition.

“Perhaps she fled her courtship again,” suggested one of the local men who came to court her hand, and Bayard’s gut churned.

Aye, Esmeraude had seduced him more than once before and then fled his side. The pattern was not reassuring.

“But there is no riddle,” Nicholas observed.

Bayard pivoted to challenge the gatekeeper. “Who left Airdfinnan this day?”

“Only the knight Simon de Leyrossire. And his entourage, of course.”

“Is there another means of leaving this keep?”

“Nay,” Angus said firmly. “Not a one.”

“Could she have departed with Simon?” Nicholas asked. “She seemed to show him her favor at times.”

Those gathered broke into excited speculation. Then Jacqueline gasped and lifted her hand to her lips in sudden recollection.

Bayard spun to face her. “What? What do you recall?”

“She wanted to know how to win your heart,” the lady confessed softly. She left her spouse’s side, then came to lay a hand upon Bayard’s sleeve. “I am sorry, but I told her that I only won Angus’ confession of love when he thought me lost to him for all time. I never guessed that she would flee your side.”

But Bayard knew the truth of it. He had, indeed, lost an opportunity. He had seen a thousand times how one small deed or its lack could change the course of a campaign. ’Twas clear that that was what had happened here. Esmeraude had made her expectation of him most clear, but he, he had been fool enough to not fulfill that desire.

He had cast his suit for her hand into peril by not confessing the contents of his heart. Esmeraude had given him a hundred chances to pledge love to her but he had not done so, even when she tried to prompt him with her own admission.

And now he had lost her. How could he have been such a fool?

But the matter was not resolved! He would pursue her, wherever she had fled, and he would beg for an audience if need be. He would confess his love to her fully and hope desperately that ’twas not too late to set matters to rights.

He would win her.

The question was, where should he begin to seek her?

The apprentice from the smithy rose and cleared his throat. “I heard a woman this morn, arguing with that knight before he left. I was fetching wood for the smith, ’twas after the lord had been called to the solar.”

“What did you hear?” Bayard demanded.

“Was it Esmeraude?” asked Jacqueline.

“I could not tell. But ’twas a woman and the knight wanted to wed her.” The boy winced. “I did not listen over close, for it seemed a moment that should be special, if you know what I mean.”

“What did she say?” Bayard asked, his heart clenching. Surely she had not turned to
Simon
in lieu of himself?

“She agreed, but only if he would wed her at Ceinn-beithe.” The boy shrugged even as horror filled Bayard. “I went back to the smithy with my wood then, as I expected there would be some celebration betwixt them, if you know what I mean.”

“Ceinn-beithe!” Bayard whispered, hating his recollection of Esmeraude granting Seamus a kiss for his tale of that place and how fortunate ’twas for nuptials.

He was incredulous, unable to believe that she could meet him abed with such enthusiasm, then accept Simon’s proposal. But then, love was of the greatest importance to Esmeraude and he, he had been fool enough to not answer her pledge in kind. She would have been angered with him, perhaps angered enough to act impulsively.

While Simon, Bayard knew all too well, would readily lie to win a victory. He was not a man so noble as to avoid exploiting another’s weakness, not when it could be turned to his own favor. Had Simon come upon Esmeraude, despondent over Bayard’s lack? If so, Bayard could well imagine that Simon would offer himself to fill the void.

He could not even blame Esmeraude for accepting the other man. Perhaps if love could not be her own, she chose security and wealth instead. He did not imagine that she had believed Simon, for she was more astute than that, but perhaps she saw some gain in the other knight’s suit.

Perhaps she meant to make her way to France in Simon’s company and there find a more suitable spouse. But the fact was that Simon did not treat women with honor. Esmeraude would not know the tales of Simon raping and abducting more than one of his seven brides, nor even that there were rumors of the untimely demise of several of those women. Bayard doubted that any man in France would permit his daughter to be wooed by Simon de Leyrossire.

In Simon’s company, Esmeraude was in dire peril. And ’twas all his fault. Bayard felt suddenly sickened by his failure to protect Esmeraude, no less than by his failure to discern the import of Simon’s gloating this morn.

“She did go with Simon!” Rodney asserted with glee. “Trust a woman to make such a choice and tell none of it!”

Célie jabbed her elbow into Rodney’s ribs. “Esmeraude would not do as much,” she said loyally. “Esmeraude is more responsible than that, and more caring of others. She would have told me. And she would have made her farewells to everyone.”

“Did anyone see her depart with him?” Bayard asked. None, it appeared, had done so.

“It was a considerable party,” said the stable boy. “A woman could easily have been hidden in their midst.”

Especially if her accompanying Simon had not been entirely voluntary.

Perhaps ’twas not too late to set matters aright. Perhaps they were not yet wed, perhaps Esmeraude would listen to a belated pledge from Bayard that came from his heart. Whether she accepted him or not, Bayard could not let her pledge herself to Simon or wed Simon under duress. ’Twas too treacherous, he would see her wed to any other man than the knight who buried far too many wives in quick succession.

Bayard pivoted, his decision made. “Andrew, Michael, we ride in pursuit of the lady.”

The boys ran to the stables even as some protested Bayard’s departure so late in the day. “’Tis folly! You will not find shelter before the wolves begin to hunt!” cried one.

“You will become lost in this wretched fog,” insisted another.

“Show some sense, boy!” Rodney cried. “The woman has spurned you - ’tis no reason to endanger yourself.”

“Though it may be folly, I cannot do otherwise,” Bayard said firmly. “I cannot rest without knowing for certain that my lady has spurned me, nor without knowing that she is safe in the company of that rogue.”

“I will go with you,” Célie declared and Bayard had not the heart to refuse her. “I know she loves you and you alone! We shall persuade her to accept you.”

“If ’tis not too late.” Bayard took the maid’s elbow, much encouraged by her endorsement, and headed into the bailey.

He was surprised when footsteps echoed behind him and more surprised when he turned to find Amaury and his squire in pursuit. Nicholas and his squires followed behind, all of them looking determined.

“I will ride with you, Bayard,” Amaury said.

“As will I!” cried Nicholas.

“I mean to wed the lady,” Bayard felt compelled to remind them both. “I will not countenance any challenge from either of you in this matter. You should know that Esmeraude has confessed her love and her favor to me.”

Amaury smiled. “I care not. You are my sole brother and if I can aid you to win your objective, I will do so.”

“Aye,” Nicholas agreed. “The lady’s favor is clear. Once we all rode in unison and took each other’s causes as our own.” He clapped Bayard on the shoulder, the knights closing ranks around Bayard and Célie. “I would see those days again and I would begin with the retrieval of Bayard’s bride.”

Bayard was humbled by this show of support from his brother and cousin, support he had never expected to have and which was all the more precious for that.

“I know not what to say. It could be dangerous to make this journey, or it could be a flight of fools.”

“Then we are fools with you, Bayard,” Amaury said with affection, then gripped Bayard’s arm. “’Tis not so remarkable as that.”

“Aye, we have missed you,” Nicholas amended. The two knights grinned at Bayard and he felt the fullness of what he had left behind in abandoning his home.

Bayard knew in that moment that he would never accept Montvieux’s seal as his own. ’Twas the legacy of Nicholas, by right and by birth, and regardless of his grandmother’s will or his own experience, ’twas not his to claim.

Fear danced over his flesh anew, for refusing Montvieux meant that he had naught to his name. He had no home to offer a bride, nor indeed the stability that Esmeraude would favor. He could only hope that he himself and his carefully shielded heart would be sufficient to sate his lady. And he would be disappointing his liege lord, no small matter.

But even that would be as naught if Esmeraude had been injured by Simon. He would defend Montvieux himself for Nicholas against any assault by Richard, if need be, and willingly trade his life for Esmeraude’s own.

“We ride!” he roared.

The knights linked arms and strode toward the stables. The squires ran ahead and saddled the destriers in haste, the steeds tossing their heads and snorting as they caught the urgent mood of the men. Other men came from the hall to lend their aid, helping the knights don their hauberks, checking trap and hooves.

In the twinkling of an eye, the steeds were stamping and anxious to run, the knights mounted and their hands upon their hilts. The squires lifted the banners of their knights before the party and the portcullis was opened again. Bayard was startled when the lord’s man-at-arms, Rodney, cantered to his side.

“You need not look so surprised,” that man said gruffly. “There is not a one of you who know the roads hereabouts. I would not have Duncan MacLaren to answer to regarding the fate of his daughter, upon that you may be certain.”

Rodney cast a glance at Célie, who smiled with such pride that the old mercenary’s neck flushed crimson.

“Women,” Rodney muttered. “A man cannot live with them and cannot live without them.” Then he lifted his fist and shouted with impatience. “Away! Let us be away!”

“Aye, let us make haste!” Bayard shouted.

The assembly of Airdfinnan cheered and waved as the horses began to trot. The party dashed beneath the gates, their steeds paired, the wooden bridge echoing soundly with their passing. The horses surged onto the land, tails and caparisons and banners streaming. The villagers of Airdfinnan spilled from their homes at the sound and stared in silent wonder as the party passed.