The troubadour's song (19 page)

After she whispered a few words, the kitchen maids stood at the door to the pantry to make sure no one came, while the three troubadours crossed the kitchen to the door Allesandra had opened for them. She slipped in after them, and the trusted, matronly Ivetta wished them Godspeed and closed the door upon them.

Allesandra struck flint and lit the lamp Jean held. Then the men glanced about them, their hands on sword hilts, not trusting where the French soldiers might have gone before them.

"Come," she said, taking the light from Jean. "It is not far."

She led her friends through the tunnel and out to the forest. There, they crouched to get used to the forest sounds and to listen carefully. Peire went ahead to scout and returned before long. "No one here about that I can tell," he whispered.

Then they flew along the path, the moon visible between the trees. At the manor, four horses were waiting.

"Julian Farrell told us of your need," said the steward as he opened the gate in the stockaded fence. "These horses will get you to Toulouse. Many from these parts have ridden off to join Count Raymond." ■

"And so do we," she said. "Thank you for the horses."

"Go now. If anyone comes to ask, we'll say we've seen nothing. There will be enough horse tracks in the forest from a hunt today that they won't be able to follow you."

When they were all mounted, they rode off through the forest, staying to the trees until they were well away from the castle.

"We'll have to risk riding in the moonlight when we crest the hill," said Jean, coming up to Allesandra as they stopped before riding out into the open.

"So we will," observed Peire. "But after that we can make a gallop across the plain until the hills fold again."

"Come, friends," said Christian. "For Toulouse."

They urged their mounts forward and climbed up the top of the hill. The moonlight caught them as they crested it. They did not look behind as they made for the valley on the other side. And then they kicked their horses into a gallop, their mantles flying behind them, as they thundered across, making for their destination.

Gaucelm assembled his men-at-arms in the courtyard well before dawn. They crossed the drawbridge and rode into the chilly morning, the morning star still glittering in the heavens. The sky had turned a pale blue by the time they crested the hill. And they were well across the plain before the sun climbed the hills to the east to touch the sky.

Twelve

Allesandra and her escort ferried across the broad, swiftly flowing Garonne when they reached the first crossing, and they kept well clear of Muret. They rode east and crossed open country, for they could not risk running into de Montfort's army on the main highways. They had to ferry again across the Ariege to

circle all the way to the east of Toulouse. But at each crossing they gained more news. Yes, the French army was on the move, but it had been sighted moving across the plain to the west.

At nightfall of the second day of travel, Allesandra and her friends rode toward the flickering torchlight on the eastern walls of Toulouse. They drew forward in darkness, keeping their distance until they made sure the town was still in the hands of the Provencals.

"Listen," said Jean as they drew up in a line on the dark plain.

They all strained to hear, then Allesandra smiled. "It's singing."

"A work song," said Peire, "such as the peasants sing during harvest."

"They would hardly be harvesting at night," said Christian.

"No," answered Peire, "but they are working, building fortifications, perhaps?"

"Yes," said Jean. "That must be it. They are rebuilding the walls."

They moved closer until they could be sure that the calls of men-at-arms changing guards were in Provencal, and the voices at the gatehouse had no French.

Allesandra sighed in relief. "Then we are not too late."

They rode at a walk to the fortified stone gatehouse on the eastern bridge. Soldiers kept watch without, their bows strung, quivers of arrows at their backs. A sergeant-at-arms came forward, peering at the strangers.

"Who goes there?"

"The lady Allesandra Valtin to see Count Raymond."

Not being too quick to admit a band of knights, he strolled forward to inspect them.

"These are three trusted knights of Languedoc," she said. "Send word to the count that Lady Valtin is here with an escort."

He did not bid them enter, but nodded to a sergeant, who left to take the message.

While they waited, their eyes scanned the walls. A contingent of people worked by torchlight where the wall needed repair.

Heavy granite blocks were being hoisted into place by windlasses and mortared into place by masons above. It would not be completely dry by tomorrow, but it would give the appearance of strength.

A messenger hurried out from the gatehouse at last. "Count Raymond bids the lady Valtin and her friends join him at the castle," he said.

The sergeant did not need any further proof but ordered the portcullis raised, and the troubadours and Allesandra walked their horses across the bridge that spanned the moat.

Once inside the city, they could see the beehive of activity going on. The count of Toulouse's banners hung everywhere, the symbol of Languedoc patriotism.

In the torchlight, knights, burgesses, ladies, squires, and children pushed wheelbarrows of hewn stones to the windlasses that lifted them into place. Between the double thickness of stone blocks, the mixture of mortar and small stones was poured in.

"We are not too late," said Jean, as they rode in pairs down the cobbled main street.

Soon they had to go single file through the street, crowded as it was with carts, donkeys, citizens, horses, and dogs, as if it were the middle of day. Some of the shop owners even had their shutters open and their hinged tables in place to sell food and supplies to the busy crowd. It warmed Allesandra to see the determination of the citizens to withstand the threat from the French. And now that she was here, she was ever so anxious to see her old friend, the count.

They wound through the hilly streets, the troubadours behind her shouting greetings and encouragement to those working through the night. They passed the cathedral and came finally to the count's palace, where grooms came out to take their horses.

The entourage climbed the wide steps to the entrance, and since they were expected, they were shown at once into the vaulted hall. Raymond VI of Toulouse came out from behind a table surrounded by his advisors and crossed to greet them. Allesandra hurried forward to place her hands in his. It was

the first time they had seen each other since the fatal day of the battle of Muret.

"My lord, how good it is to see you."

His broad, round face broke into a smile. He was a man of about fifty, and even without armor, he looked solidly built, with graying hair cut in bangs across his forehead and below his ears. Beneath his thick brows, his blue eyes shined in delight at seeing Allesandra, who had been his ward since the death of her husband and therefore very much like a daughter to him. He kissed her on both cheeks.

"My dear, I did not think to lay eyes on you so soon since the French vanquished us at Muret. I was saddened to hear that your lands have been taken over by one of de Montfort's vassals."

"Gaucelm Deluc, though I have to admit he has not been a cruel victor."

"Thank God for that."

He gazed pleasantly at her and then turned to motion his son, young Raymond, forward. "Look who has arrived."

Allesandra was also well acquainted with the son Raymond, who would be Raymond VII when the title passed on to him, providing they held on to the title in these present difficulties. The younger Raymond was a handsome youth, slender but strong, with long brown hair flowing in curls past his shoulders. His looks were almost feminine, but those who took that to mean that he was weak or had irregular sexual tastes were quite mistaken. Allesandra herself knew several young ladies who had capitulated to the young Raymond's charms, for he was one of the foremost troubadours of their times.

"Welcome, my lady," said the younger man. "I am glad to see you safe, as well as your friends."

He turned to eye his old comrades. "What brings this party-together? I had thought you scattered to the four winds after the disaster at Muret."

"And so we were," answered Peire, "until we were summoned by the lady here.

"Were you in distress then?"

She colored slightly. "None other than submission to Gaucelm Deluc. But he was willing to learn of the music of the troubadours and so had me send for these gentlemen to entertain him."

Young Raymond barked out a laugh. "Don't tell me there's hope? That some among the French seek refinement?"

His father spoke. "Even if it were true, there is the more serious matter of the strictures of the Catholic Church. I still work to negotiate. But their demands are greater every day. But come, you will want to rest after your journey. Have you supped?"

"No, my lord. We paused only long enough to water the horses and eat fruit and dried meat on the ride."

"That at least we can take care of. My son will show you to quarters. When you have refreshed yourselves, meet back here. I will have something hot brought up from the kitchen. There's a pig roasting on the spit."

Glad to be out of the saddle, Allesandra followed the younger Raymond out. He led the way up stairs to a gallery encircling the two-story vaulted hall and directed the men to their quarters. He then offered his arm to escort her to a guest chamber.

"Did you hear any news on the road?" he asked her.

"Only that de Montfort was marching here, but not when or with how many."

"I've heard he has reinforcements from the North." He gave a long sigh. "Ah, me, perhaps we are in for a siege. But we are ready. You saw the work on the walls."

"Yes, we did."

"And de Montfort must know that even if he musters enough forces to surround our city, the Garonne flows past on one side so that there will be no shortage of water or of supplies brought in by boat."

"True." She smiled. "Toulouse is the very symbol of resistance to French domination, and you and your father the chosen leaders of the people."

He stopped in front of a large arched door set into the stone walls.

"You should have seen it as we marched up from Narbonne.

When the people of the towns saw our banners, they rushed toward us as if my father had risen from the dead. And when he entered Toulouse, the people fell on their knees, barons, ladies, merchants, all received him with joy and happiness. When we got down they kissed our clothing, our feet, our hands and arms. The sound of bells filled the city."

She gave a deep sigh. Only now did she realize what oppression she had been living under. The unlikely attraction to Gaucelm had distracted her. Perhaps he had fooled her with his kindness and with his love. But now in the center of things, she was reminded of the great cause.

"I must not keep you," said young Raymond. "Refresh yourself here. I will send a woman to help you. My father will be wanting to tell you of these things himself."

He left her, and she found herself in a comfortable chamber. A woman brought ewer, bowl, water, and towels. And she put on a clean gown provided for her. With hair brushed and coiled, she felt ready to meet her friends again.

Indeed, at the meal laid for just the six of them in front of a blazing fire, a great deal was exchanged. From outside the shuttered windows, they could hear the sounds of the work on the city walls being carried on into night.

Young Raymond was arguing with his father about the count's latest plan.

"You think you can bow to the storm," said young Raymond, his cheeks flaming with his passionate beliefs. "But I tell you it will never work."

As usual, Count Raymond refused to get excited.

"We must give it a chance to work. I have already sent a message to the archbishop, offering to persecute the heretics in my realm. We'll persecute just a few, enough to satisfy the church that my rule here can protect the Catholic faith. Thus, they will have no further reason for conquest. If the southern lords join the crusade, there can be nothing to confiscate, nothing to attack, and the northerners will have to go home. You see?"

He partook of the roast turkey and lamb while the troubadours

spoke at once, adding their arguments. Jean, especially, was critical of any plan to strike a compromise with the hated French. It seemed to Allesandra that he was itching for another fight.

"The Church will hardly accept the promises of men who have already promised much and delivered little," said Jean. "It's true that Pope Innocent III might go along with you, but his legates don't trust you. I think they mean to finish the job this time."

"Then we must finish them," said Christian, brandishing a drumstick. "When they attack, we must drive them back from Toulouse and chase them north. Then we will regain all the properties they've laid their hands on."

"The Church is corrupt," said Peire. "We mock the clergy in our songs, if they but understood our words. Priests keeping mistresses, wasting the wealth of their churches, and neglecting their duties. While in the South, Catholic and nonbeliever live in harmony. But the bishops insist that all must conform to their way. Who can think of making a compromise with such men?"

"Was it not at Paris," said Christian, "that priests refused to bury the dead until heavy fees were paid? And at Rouen, a deposed bishop stabbed his successor to death. They are hypocrites, ravening wolves in sheep's clothing."

"Many of the priests are illiterate," agreed Jean. "Some of them scarcely know enough Latin to say the mass."

"How can they expect to be literate?" asked the count, lifting his wine cup. "There are no universities in which to train them. I, myself, have offered to the bishop that if we can reach an agreement, I will build a university here in Toulouse."

"A noble suggestion in any case," said Christian.

"I can excuse illiteracy when they are named to their posts by feudal lords who hold the parish," argued Jean. "But I cannot condone drunkenness. In some dioceses, the priests even indulge in gambling."