One Knight's Return, page 21
“If you died, my lady, Annossy would remain your husband’s holding and he would be free to wed whosoever he chose.” He lifted a dark brow, his eyes gleaming. “Perhaps a man held so high in Tulley’s favor might even wed Tulley’s niece.”
And upon Tulley’s demise, the entire holding would fall to that man’s hand.
Surely it could not be so.
Melissande felt suddenly cold. She forced herself to stand and to speak calmly. “I thank you for your counsel, Gaultier, and would suggest that you ensure the gates are kept closed, as instructed by my lord husband.”
“Aye, my lady,” he said and bowed before her. He placed a sheathed dagger on the table then and swallowed. “If you will permit me to grant you a small token of my esteem, my lady. This is a fine small blade, sharpened well. If you would keep it upon your person, I should be relieved.”
Melissande eyed the weapon, which had a jeweled scabbard. The entirety of it was less than the length of her hand. “It is too rich...” she began to protest but he interrupted her.
“Of greater import, it was a gift from my aunt when my uncle bestowed my spurs and is a lady’s blade,” Gaultier said, smiling slightly in reminiscence. “She bade me surrender it to a lady I admired beyond all others, and said that it would serve the recipient well.”
“I cannot accept such a gift, Gaultier. I am wedded.”
“And I am fearful. Accept the loan of it, my lady, if you will not take it outright.”
Melissande eyed the blade. In truth, she was troubled by Gaultier’s confession and she carried only a small eating blade which was not very sharp. She knew she should not accept the token, but she appreciated that Gaultier showed such concern for her welfare.
He had pledged his service to her first, after all, and this choice was a reflection of that.
“I thank you, Gaultier,” she said and took the blade, liking the weight of it in her hand. It was small enough that she could bind it to her garter by day, and hide it in the bed by night. “I will return it to you when all is well.”
Quinn rode with Amaury beside him, having inviting his friend to share his observations and thoughts about Annossy and its administration. It was another fine clear day, though the wind had a bite. The path to the mill wound uphill from the gates of Annossy, away from the village and the fields.
“An interesting choice of site,” Amaury said as they left the keep behind.
“Why would they choose such a distant location for the mill?” Quinn asked. “I had thought it would be much closer to the keep.” Sayerne’s mill was in the village itself.
“I would, as well,” Amaury agreed. “I will guess that the river flows faster and more reliably where the mill is located.”
“The stream that flows into Annossy’s moat and around the village is on flatter ground,” Quinn said, thinking of the one at Sayerne. “And it might freeze during some winters.”
“Aye, if the ice is not broken. On the other hand, the land might be too rocky and the site of the mill too far from the main road to make a good location for the keep.” Amaury shrugged. “If naught else, the placement of the mill at such a distance hints that the valley has been free of brigands in the past.”
“True enough,” Quinn said. He studied the forest as they went, noting how the path from keep to mill was wide enough for a cart. The trees grew close to the road, and their growth was dense, leaving the forest full of shadows. He glanced back and was glad the road was straight, at least. A party would be able to see trouble along its length, but not to anticipate bandits hidden in the forest close beside the road. “I think I will have the way widened in the summer,” he said. “If the trees were cut back for even three paces on either side, the road would be safer.”
“And there would be firewood aplenty,” Amaury agreed.
“How would you see it done?” Quinn asked.
Amaury pursed his lips. “It is a good length of road and will require a fair measure of labor. I would wish for the villeins to see the merit of the task and undertake it willingly.”
“Aye,” Quinn agreed. “I expect it would be best to wait until the crops were planted in the spring and the fields tilled.”
“Indeed. Then I would declare my desire to see the way widened and explain that it is for the safety of all, and invite those villeins who help in the endeavor to keep a share of the wood.” Amaury nodded. “I would keep perhaps a third of it, for construction, repairs and firewood in the keep, then let them share the rest.” He gave Quinn a nod. “With winters this cold, I would wager that they will be glad of such a store of fuel.”
“Where would they get it now?” Quinn asked.
“They must forage for dead wood in the forest. The new wood will have to be left to dry for a year or two, but it will be welcome, all the same.”
Quinn nodded agreement.
“It is good to verify tradition in a holding that is unfamiliar,” Amaury advised. “Ask before you act. People can have curious customs, and tend to be most offended when they are not respected, even if it is inadvertent.”
“You speak aright. I will ask Louis for his counsel.”
Amaury gave him a quelling glance. “You have a closer source of local custom than that,” he said and Quinn realized he had not considered asking Melissande.
“I do not wish to trouble my lady wife with such matters. It is my responsibility, is it not?”
Amaury shook his head. “But your lady is skilled in matters of administration, Quinn, and I have to think that she enjoys the challenge. If you do not join ways with her, she may feel slighted. I would not surrender such an ally readily.”
Quinn recalled how Melissande had been surprised and then interested when they had speculated upon Gaultier’s response to his own arrival. Was it possible that there was another path to her heart, through conversation about Annossy? Quinn was more than prepared to discover the truth of it.
They reached the mill quickly for it was not overly distant and the horses were well-rested.
Annossy’s mill was a prosperous one, the building sufficiently extensive to reveal that truth. Its location was ideal for its work, for the stream that flowed down the mountain to join the Helva was lively, even at this time of year. The water splashed and raced, a fine mist rising above the water.
The forest was thick on both sides of the stream and Quinn eyed the imposing face of the mountain from which the water originated. The peaks were wreathed in mist from this vantage but what he could discern was still white with snow. There was a ford just downstream from the mill, where rocks were scattered across the river’s width. The dividing of the waters for the mill widened the river and tamed it somewhat, making it more shallow. The forest, Quinn was certain, provided a haven for the bandits.
He surveyed the course down the stream to the Helva and the major road that could be found there. It would be difficult for the bandits to hide in the valley itself. He pivoted and looked at the mountain again, wondering if there was a path.
The men-at-arms assigned to defend the mill greeted Quinn and his party first. Jean and Robert they were, both dark-haired and dark-eyed, a little older and a little more plump that Quinn might have thought ideal. There was a complacency about them that displeased him, but he strove to overcome his first impression.
They told of how the bandits had assaulted them before the dawn, overcome them both in the stables and bound them. When they continued to battle, they were each struck on the head and left unconscious. By the time they awakened and freed themselves, the thieves were gone.
Quinn was skeptical of this tale and he saw a similar response in Bayard’s eyes. Though his companion appeared to be impassive, his eyes flicked in a familiar way. “Kudon,” he said to Quinn beneath his breath and Quinn nodded.
He had been reminded of that very deception. Kudon was a small village they had been assigned to defend in the Latin Kingdoms, one plagued by thieves that were said to have come from outside—perhaps even from the Saracen enemy—but had proven to be knights charged with defending the village themselves.
When the horses had been tethered, Quinn proceeded to the mill itself, his companions fast behind him. The miller and his wife stood before the portal, and bowed deeply before him. They were older, their faces lined from sun and years, and clearly robust. The miller was a large man and muscled, while his wife was sturdy. The boy with them looked to be ten summers of age, though Quinn was not certain he could be their son given the wife’s age. There was an integrity about them that Quinn recognized and welcomed.
“Our grandson,” the miller’s wife said, giving him a nudge so that he bowed before the new lord. “We had two sons, my lord, and the younger apprenticed to the smith in Annossy.” She touched the boy’s shoulder. “Our older son was injured in the first attack by the brigands and died of his wounds.”
“And his wife?”
The miller’s wife smiled sadly. “She died bringing her son to light.”
“I am most sorry,” Quinn said, feeling that his expression of sympathy was rough. Melissande would have known better what to say, but the miller’s wife nodded and blinked back her tears. “Tell me your son’s name and I will make his acquaintance in the village.”
She smiled then. “He and his wife have a boy and a girl, my lord, but they are very young.” Her husband nudged her then and she fell silent so suddenly that Quinn knew she tended to be fulsome in discussion of her grandchildren.
“I wager your pride in them is well-deserved,” he said and she flushed pink. “Now tell me of this assault.”
The miller told Quinn of how they had been awakened by the hooded thieves and their grandson had been secured in an empty sack from grain. He leaned forward to show Quinn the bump upon the back of his head and Lothair stepped forward to assess the damage. They had been bound, hand and foot, then the fiends had threatened to kill the wife if the miller did not reveal the location of the treasury.
The pair were still frightened, which was only reasonable. Lothair offered a salve for the torn flesh upon their wrists and ankles, as Quinn walked the site with the miller, listening to his tale.
“Were the villains not pursued?” he asked Jean and Robert.
“They had vanished by the time we freed ourselves,” one insisted.
“And it is folly to ride into the forest alone,” said the other.
Quinn was not impressed with their dedication to their task. Indeed, his sense of distrust was so strong that he wondered if they were in the employ of the thieves.
He had always trusted his instincts and would do as much in this matter, as well.
“How many were there?” he asked the miller.
That man grimaced. “I saw two, but I thought there might have been a third.”
Quinn sent Lothair and Niall to search the surrounding area, despite the protest of the men-at-arms that it was too late to find any detail. He ignored that and spoke to the miller. “Would you show me the mill? It looks most fine.”
He entered the mill with Bayard and Amaury, the two men-at-arms following behind. There was dust yet in the air and the millstone was grinding, sacks of grain still waiting to be ground. Quinn asked about the annual schedule, the volume of grain, the tithes, and the miller was clearly glad to explain. Quinn glanced periodically at Amaury who nodded approval of these details. Finally, the miller showed the damage done to the stores by the bandits. Both grain and flour had been spilled and fouled with mud. He also showed the hidden treasury that he had been compelled to reveal, and expressed his dismay at the loss of his coin.
This practice too, Quinn thought, showed that the area had been safe for many years. “Something must change if Annossy’s border and interest is to be defended,” he said. “It is unacceptable that you and your wife should be threatened in your own home.”
“Aye, sir. I am glad that you agree.” The miller bowed. “Although we are indebted to the Lady Melissande for sending us two guards.”
“Was there a guard before?”
“My son, my lord, then no other.”
Quinn did not approve of that. “Did the Captain of the Guard not see fit to ensure your defense?”
The miller dropped his gaze. “He believed that after we had been robbed once, there would not be another attack.”
Bayard and Quinn exchanged a quick glance, and Quinn knew he was not alone in his suspicions.
“You have another treasury,” Amaury suggested quietly and the miller’s eyes widened with shock.
He stammered a protest, but Quinn could see the truth.
“Millers always do,” Amaury continued, his conviction making Quinn aware yet again of how little he knew of such matters.
The miller bowed his head in silent agreement.
“Do the thieves know of it?” Quinn asked.
“Who can say, my lord?”
“They might guess, as Amaury did,” Bayard noted.
“Indeed,” Quinn said.
“You cannot think they will return?” the miller asked in dismay. “Surely not thrice in one season?”
“I see no reason why they would not,” Quinn said, not wanting to deceive the miller. “But this time, we shall be prepared for them. If we are wrong, then I will not regret it.”
“Nor I, sir.”
“We must lay in stores for a great bonfire this day, and stack it that it might be lit on a whim. I will post a sentry at Annossy to watch for the fire, and if it burns, we will ride immediately to your defense.”
Quinn gestured to Lothair and Niall as they returned. “These are my comrades, who fought by my side in Palestine against the infidels. I would trust them with my life, and so I often have.” The miller and his wife eyed the two knights, who did look most formidable. “I leave them to defend you.”
“But we are here to defend the mill,” one of the men-at-arms protested.
“No longer,” Quinn said with resolve. “You will return to Annossy.”
“But the Captain of the Guard entrusted us with this task,” protested the other.
“We take our orders only from Gaultier,” said the first.”
“That has changed,” Quinn said with soft heat and the second man flushed. They both dropped their gazes. “I am now Lord d’Annossy. I instruct you to return to Annossy and serve in its defense now.”
The first warrior’s expression turned mutinous and he spoke tightly. “Aye, my lord.”
Quinn turned to face him fully, removed his glove, and extended his hand. “I would have you pledge fealty now, before you return to Annossy.”
The pair hesitated only a moment but did exchange a glance before stepping forward. Each dropped to one knee and bowing his head before Quinn. He took their vow of service but did not believe it was heartfelt. Perhaps they liked this assignment far from their superior’s eye. Perhaps the miller’s wife was a good cook. They both appeared to be a little more plump that Quinn thought a fighting man should be.
Or perhaps they knew more of the raids than they chose to admit. They might even be in league with the brigands. Quinn knew only that he could not dismiss his sense that they were deceptive.
He gestured after they had made their pledge and Bayard led them to the task of laying the wood for the signal fire.
The miller took his wife’s hand when they were gone, his agitation clear. “I pray you would ride quickly if that fire is lit, sir.”
“Aye, with all haste. And now one choice is yours alone to make.” Quinn dropped his voice as he conferred with the miller and his wife. “We would have greater chance of success if all believe that the sole change is the arrival of my men and the laid fire.”
“Aye, sir.”
“That would mean that you continue with your established routine.”
“And that I remain here, as well as our grandson,” the miller’s wife said, seeing his import before her husband.
“I cannot command you to do as much,” Quinn said. “For there is peril in the choice. It must be your own.”
“Did you kill infidels in Palestine, sir?” that woman demanded.
“Many of them, and I saw many of our own killed, as well.”
“I would expect you saw much courage there.”
Quinn smiled. “And fear, too. Such a war brings out the best and the worst in all involved, I suspect.”
“We are at war here, sir,” she said. “The stakes are not so high as the recapture of Jerusalem, but I would see these villains caught and put to justice.”
“As would I.”
“Your scheme would be more likely to succeed if I remained?”
“I believe as much.”
Her lips tightened. “Then I will stay, my lord. And I will stand vigil with my husband.”
Quinn smiled. “I thank you for such courage.”
“This is our home, sir. We defend what is our own.” She nodded at Lothair. “If you are willing to teach me, sir, I would learn some of your skill while you are here.”
Lothair nodded. “That distance to Annossy can be too much if there is illness. We shall talk about the healing plants and their uses.”
The miller’s wife beamed with satisfaction. “I knew all would be well when the Lady Melissande took a husband,” she said with a nod. “There were others who said she should choose with greater haste, but her family have always ensured the welfare of those beneath their hand.”
“And I will see that tradition continued,” Quinn vowed, to their obvious satisfaction. “And what of your grandson? Would you keep him here or have us escort him back to Annossy?”
“He could remain with Xavier in the village,” the miller said.
“Let him choose,” his wife said. “He knows the risk and I would be glad of his companionship, but the choice must be his. Our new lord is wise in this matter.”
Quinn turned to the boy who nodded with a resolve that showed his resemblance to his grandmother. “I will stay, sir.”
Quinn nodded approval of that. “Have you a knife?”
The boy nodded and produced it. It was a better blade than Quinn had feared it might be.
“Niall will instruct you in its use for defense while he is here,” he offered.
