The Miracle Thief (14 page)

The knight's face was the picture of bepuzzlement. “You wish him to come
here
, my lady?”

“And where else? The hour grows late.”

“But he has already made for Paris.”

“Paris!”

“He must be provisioned for the journey.”

“I had thought…” I had assumed, in any case, that the preparations would take place here, in Rouen.

“The count's stores are in Paris. With the siege along the river so lately lifted, there can be little here to spare.”

My maids were standing beside me, gaping at our exchange. “If the canon is going to Paris, then we must follow!”

“I am afraid I cannot let you do that. Your father gave you into my care.”

I whirled around at the voice, to find the count had joined us.

He raised his torch by way of greeting. “But you will not find yourself mistreated here, my lady. Come.” He nodded to his men, who dragged my chests, my bed, and my table and stools from the cart. Another of his men had rallied my maids and led them off into the night.

“But where are my maids?”

“They will be provided for. Have no fear of that.”

I might have expected to be welcomed by his lady wife, but instead my knight and I followed his men toward the back of the enclosure, where a great wooden tower rose like a mushroom high into the night. Up three stories we climbed before the steward threw a door open at the top.

While his men assembled my bed and put my things about, the count gestured around the room. “Here you will be safe. None can come to you, but they will be seen by my men.”

I had not thought myself endangered. Leastways, not by any but the Dane. And up here in the tower, safety seemed to me more of a confinement than a comfort. As the count swept the torch about, I could see no hay had been strewn across the floor. No fire burned in the grate that had been centered in the room beneath the opening in the roof. “Where are my maids to sleep?”

“They will be lodged along with mine.”

That was not so very great a hardship for me, for they were neither of them sound of slumber. “And what of my man?”

“He can stay in the guardhouse with mine.”

Until then, Andulf had kept a respectful distance, trailing behind us, but at the count's words, he stepped to my side. “My duty is to my lady.”

“She will not require your attentions. My own men are adequate for the task.”

Maids could be replaced, but a knight could not. “I must insist my man stay here with me.”

“Surely not. When your hand has been given to the Dane?”

“It has not yet been given. I await to see what Saint Catherine has to say about the matter.”

He bowed as if in apology, but there was no apology, and most certainly no humility in his manner. And his eyes said that he did not consider himself mistaken. “It is widely known your family has quaint ideas of propriety, but what would your father say if word of scandal reached him?”

The knight slanted a glance at me and then bowed toward the count. “I will sleep on the stair outside my lady's door. She can bar it from within and I will bar it on my side as well.”

“Sleep on the doorstep? And allow it to be said the Count of Paris would not lodge you? You cannot think me so ungracious as that.”

I had not ever liked the man, but I had not known he was so disagreeable as this. “Then you mean to strip me of both my maids and my man?”

“I strip you of nothing. You will be quite comfortable here. You may have anything you like, my lady. You have only to request it.”

“Then I request to be served by my own people.”

“I am certain you will find my hospitality surpasses even the royal court's.” He smiled and bowed, taking Andulf with him.

Though he left the torch in a cresset that had been fixed to the wall, the chests had been deposited on the opposite side of the room. Not able to see for the darkness of the night, I took the chests by their leather handles and dragged them, one by one, toward the light. In the third, I seized upon one of my furs. Pulling it out, I recognized it by the musky smell: my otter mantle. Pulling it on, I bundled myself into its glossy folds and slipped beneath the bed's counterpane. I watched the torch birth shadows that flared and then turned upon themselves to flit about the room.

I had never slept alone before, and I could not decide whether it was better to keep my eyes open and brave the torch's eerie light, or to keep them shut and pretend myself elsewhere. Anywhere seemed a more comforting place than here, so I screwed my eyes up tight and summoned visions of the abbey at Rochemont, comforting myself with thoughts of that peaceful, lofty place and the woman I had spoken with there.

But then a scrabbling sound came from outside the door.

Had I secured it?

I could not remember.

Alighting from the bed, I clenched the robe close about me with a trembling hand and crept to the door. Feeling along its solid frame, I found the bar, lifted it, and then let it drop into place.

Fleeing back to the bed, I pressed my back up against the bed frame and drew my knees to my chest. Then I shut my eyes and began to recite a prayer.

As I finished the words, the torch sputtered, throwing flares of light and darkness against my shuttered eyelids. I opened my eyes to see a fluttery, flapping creature drop down from the hole in the roof. The torch flickered bright once more as the creature reeled about the room. And then the flame guttered and died. I screamed, drawing my fur up over my head, and plunged beneath the counterpane as the creature beat about the rafters, but no one came to my rescue.

***

The count was true to his word. He sent up one of my maids the next morning to help me dress. The room was not dark in the daylight, for the hole in the roof let in no little light. There were windows too, but they were narrow and set just above my head. I could not see from them. Once I was dressed, I followed my maid down the narrow circle of stairs to find Andulf at the bottom.

He pushed away from the wall where he had been lounging and bowed. “My lady.”

“I do not wish to stay here any longer.”

“We might have some trouble leaving.” He nodded toward the gate, where a contingent of the count's men sat their horses. They were staring in our direction.

“Does he mean to make me his ward?”

“He means to keep you in his care until your father returns in December.”

“I am not his prisoner, that he should treat me thus.”

“And should he allow you to leave, would your father not be enraged to hear his word had been violated? That you were not allowed to travel to Rochemont?”

“Yes!” That was my point exactly. Although… I thought about it for a long moment. “The count cannot let me leave, or my father will know his orders have been countermanded.”

The knight's gaze traveled to the count's men, and then back to me, before he gave me a long, slow wink.

“This is madness! He cannot keep me captive, hidden away in some tower!”

“And who will free you?”

“You.”

“My lady?”

“You must.”

“And how can I? I may be your man, my lady, but I am only one man. And what would you do if you left? Where would you go?”

“I would…” What would I do? “I would ride to join the canon and insist upon accompanying him to the abbey.”

“By now he has gained Paris.”

“Surely the two of us could travel fast enough to overtake him.”

“How would that change anything, my lady?”

“Change anything?”

“You wanted to beg Saint Catherine's blessing upon the marriage. Is not the canon doing the same thing?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then what is to be gained by slipping away from the count? It will only anger him further, and once His Majesty the king is told, it will provoke more enmity between them.”

“Precisely so!”

“Pardon me for saying, my lady, but to my mind, the terms of the treaty with the Dane have already been decided, otherwise the king would not have left.”

“I am not asking for your opinion.”

“I am not offering you my opinion. I am only reminding you of the king's opinion.”

“Speak plainly.”

“He agreed to allow you to consult the relic.”

“Yes, but—”

“So now you must let Saint Catherine decide.”

Could no one understand? The canon was not going to let the saint decide. My fate had already been determined by men. I did not think there was anything God could do now to intervene. “You will not help me, then.”

“You appealed to Saint Catherine, my lady. If you wish to be saved, then it is to her you must look.”

I had been mistaken in his loyalties. Apparently he had already become my father's man.

***

I did not see any reason to pretend I was anything other than a prisoner. Returning to my tower, I vowed I would not leave it until the canon returned from Rochemont. Pray God it would be
without
the relic. I would have thought the presence of a princess would generate some sort of excitement, or that the household and officials from the city would take pains to entertain me. I had planned on refusing such offers of amusement, but I was not able to, for no one came to extend any.

My dinner that forenoon was brought by one of the count's maids. I unbarred the door for her. When she would have lingered, I dismissed her. That evening, a boy came with my supper. He set out the food and the drink upon my small table, and then he went to fasten a new torch to the wall.

“Have you another?”

“My lady?” He paused in his work.

“Have you another one of those?” I did not fancy entertaining a second nighttime creature in the dark. “I wish to have enough that they will last until dawn.”

At least one person was eager to do my bidding. He scampered off, thumping down the stairs. At length, I heard footsteps coming back up. But when the door pushed open, it was not the boy. It was the count.

“What am I to do with you, my lady? You refuse to grace us with your person.”

It seemed I was not quite so forgotten as I had thought. “I am not in the habit of having to find my way through unknown parts, wandering about like some poor beggar in search of sustenance or welcome.”

“Forgive us. We had thought you might be in need of rest from your travels.”

“I have recovered.”

The ends of his lips crimped into a frown. “My lord, the king, sent a message to the mayor, informing him of your stop here before journeying to the abbey, and inquiring after your welcome to our city. The mayor regrets he was not previously aware of your presence. He hastens to organize a fete on your behalf.”

“And I regret I will not be available.”

He smiled, though it was perfunctory, without pleasure. “I have not yet told you when it will be.”

“You cannot hold a princess as your prisoner and then command her to display herself at your whim.”

“You are not being held anywhere. You are free to go about the palace and the grounds. If you complain of restraint, then you have chosen it for yourself.”

“And what of the city? May I wander about the streets? And what of the countryside?”

“I am sure they would not please you.”

“Being lodged in an ill-kept room such as this does not please me either. Nor does the absence of my people. So I do not see why I should take such pains to please your people.”

“You do not seem to understand that your father's name holds little importance here. He has done nothing to succor us in our tribulations. I have done everything.”

“Do you not understand that your meaning could be taken as treason?”

“Your father himself would agree with me. Did he not approve the terms of the treaty? Did he not cede the Dane lands in exchange for help in protecting his borders?”

“He exchanged your lands, if I am not mistaken.”

His brow darkened as rage glimmered in his eyes. “He has taken a policy of protecting his own men in return for me risking mine. A policy that has bred no little feeling of ill will here in Neustria. So forgive me if I do not seem properly grateful.” He paused, taking a deep breath and steeling his jaw. “You will accompany us to the fete and give these people, whom your father seems to have forgotten, the honor of your presence. My lady.”

He was, perhaps, not wholly wrong about having done the bulk of the work in protecting this western edge of my father's empire, though he might have been more gracious about it. There could be no harm in trying to establish my father's good name among these people. And so I inclined my head by way of acquiescence. “Then perhaps your lady wife would care to attend me.”

His jaw tightened. “Of course. You do us great honor.”

***

The fete took place two days after my conversation with the count. I'm certain it must have galled him that I had to be given the place of honor.

As I picked at my food, talk swirled of the hunt and the animals with which the count had stocked his park. He had taken my attendants; he had placed me in a tower. Why should I be denied the pleasures of the hunt? Especially when they could be used to my advantage? For what better way could there be to distract his attention. If I could manage to remain at the outer edges of the party, then I might be able to escape when no one was watching. “There has been a hunt organized?”

He spared me a glance as he nodded. “The day after tomorrow.”

“May I accompany you then?”

The count's lips pursed as he contemplated me. “What would I tell the Dane if you were to come to injury, or if you should lose yourself in our deep, dark wood?”

I raised my voice as I answered. If he would not let me ride, there were others present who might advocate on my behalf. “I have survived many a long ride in woods more dense, and with trees much thicker than yours.”

Several of the nobles grabbed at their cups and took deep, long draughts. Only the trembling of their shoulders betrayed the laughter that had seized them.

I recognized that sort of laughter. I had said something I should not have. And now the count was scowling. I felt my cheeks pink as I considered what to say next. I must be allowed to join the hunt! “The royal demesnes are the finest in Christendom. Perhaps you fear I shall best your men.”