The Promise of Peace (21 page)

She lowered her eyelids, not wanting to appear too forward. But already her journey showed promise of the excitement she'd hoped for.

She looked to see where Keifer stood, his expression impassive until their gazes met. For a brief moment Keifer allowed his feelings to show, and Nola's heart beat with joy. Another woman might have used Richard to make Keifer jealous. But that was a hurtful emotion, the weapon of a child.

Nola had put her childhood aside when she made the bargain with her father. She was a woman in love with a man who still thought of her as a child, a man unconvinced he should marry. She only had a few weeks to make him see her differently—she would not waste the time on a useless emotion such as jealousy.

THE CLOSER THEY CAME TO PARIS, the more people and carts filled the road. The countryside stirred with the promise of spring, and the early wildflowers were in bloom. They stopped each midday for a meal and to change the horses. Late on the third day they entered the city.

The heart of Paris and the seat of the French government lay on the Ile de la Cité, a large island in the middle of the Seine River. As they crossed a stone bridge, Nola stared out of the carriage window at the majestic towers of Notre Dame Cathedral. She could hardly wait to worship there on Sunday morning.

When the carriage came to a halt in the cobbled courtyard, Nola and her companions were surrounded by squires and stable boys who took charge of the horses and handed the ladies from the coach. Nola accepted the small satchel that contained the few belongings she had brought with her.

Richard escorted them to the guest quarters. Nola was delighted to have a room of her own. She put away her clothes and dismissed the maid who had been assigned to her. Nola went to the window and opened the shutter. Her room overlooked the Sainte-Chapelle with its soaring pinnacles and gilded roof.

Nola's mother had told her of the chapel built as a reliquary for the precious Crown of Thorns, which the French king had bought from the Emperor of Byzantium for 130,000 livres. An incredible extravagance, as the chapel itself had only cost 40,000 livres to build!

Anxious to see the holy relic as well as the inside of the chapel, she crossed the room and opened the door. As her foot passed over the threshold, a hand grabbed her arm and she shrieked.

“Calm down, Nola. 'Tis only me,” Keifer commanded as he let go of her arm.

“What are you doing, standing outside my door?”

“You must not go about unescorted.” His smile softened the sternness of his voice.

She had been about to do just that. “Well then, come, you can escort me to the Sainte-Chapelle. It's just—”

“I know where it is, but I've been instructed to take you to Sir Thomas before you begin exploring. So come with me.”

They walked down the ornately decorated hallway. The walls were marble inlaid with Irish oak. The wood, highly desired in royal palaces, repelled spiders and thus prevented spider webs from forming in the high, dark recesses.

Keifer knocked at a sturdy wooden door, and they were admitted to the Randolphs' chamber. Sir Thomas and his wife sat at a small table in a chamber twice the size of Nola's. This room was a sitting room with comfortable couches and chairs. An escritoire sat against one wall next to a door that must lead to the sleeping chamber.

Sir Thomas indicated that Nola and Keifer should sit down.

When they were settled, he said, “Nola, although my wife will no doubt wish to see the city, she and I have official duties and obligations that will limit her availability. You are free to come and go so long as you promise me one thing.”

“Aye, my laird?”

“You will not leave the palace grounds without Keifer or Richard to accompany you.”

She looked at Keifer and nodded her acceptance.

“I will have your word, Nola.”

“I promise, my laird.”

“Good. I don't wish to alarm you, but there are those who would harm our cause.”

“This treaty is important, isn't it?” she asked.

“Aye, it is. I'm glad you understand.”

Lady Randolph said, “As we discussed, I have arranged for a seamstress to fit you for new gowns, Nola. I will expect you here in our room first thing tomorrow morning.”

“As you wish.”

Nola and Keifer left the chamber and started back to Nola's room.

She looked down at the dress she'd worn since leaving Edinburgh and knew that much as she wanted to explore Paris, she didn't want to do so in soiled and wrinkled clothes.

She stopped at her door.

Keifer looked surprised. “I thought you were anxious to see the chapel.”

“I will wait until I have some proper clothes,” she said.

“I think that is wise, Nola. That dress looks, well, it doesn't do justice to the daughter of a Scottish earl.” He grinned and she felt better.

She was in Paris. With Keifer. All was well with her world.

FOURTEEN

N
OLA SPENT THE NEXT TWO DAYS being fitted for gowns and helping to sew them. She saw little of Keifer or Richard and spent much of her time with Lady Randolph. They were sitting alone in the lady's sitting room, as Sir Thomas had left for his business with the king.

Nola pricked her finger with the needle and quickly stuck the offended digit in her mouth to keep from bleeding on the material. She looked up to find Lady Randolph watching her. “I'm trying to sew too fast,” Nola said with a grin.

“That you are, but I can understand your desire to see the city. And to spend time with Keifer.”

Nola was more anxious for that than she wanted to let on. She changed the subject. “When will you meet with the queen?” Nola asked.

“The queen is not ready to receive many visitors so soon after giving birth, so I will meet her in a week or so. You may be invited as well.”

Nola nodded. “I will look forward to it. My mother will be quite excited to know I met with the queen, as she is a cousin of Jeanne of Evreux.”

“Your mother is cousin to the queen of France? Then I shall insist that you come with me when the time comes. Are you nearly done with that dress?”

“Aye. Just a bit more on the hem.”

“Good. As soon as you are finished, go and change and we will get out of these rooms this afternoon.”

Nola smiled. The rooms were lovely, but so was the weather, and she hated staying indoors. With a sigh of relief she tied off her thread and stood up, holding the gown in front of her.

“That color will look splendid on you, child. Now hurry and get dressed. I'll send for our escorts.”

In her room Nola changed into the new dress with the help of her lady's maid, a luxury she wasn't used to. At Moy, Nola often left her hair undressed or covered it with a simple scarf. But here at court she would have to wear a more elaborate head covering.

As the maid pinned the wimple fast, Nola tried not to dislike the lack of freedom imposed by the material that now closely framed her face. A quick stab of homesickness reminded her of her family, and she hoped they were well. By now Will must know the truth, and she hoped he understood why she had to go. If she and Keifer should come to an agreement, Nola felt obligated to tell Will the news in person.

Shrugging off the homesickness and reminder of Will, Nola admired the green linen dress. Draped across the bodice in flattened folds, the material was belted just under her breasts. From there it fell in soft folds straight to the floor. A removable cape of heavier material in a contrasting green was fastened at her shoulders.

Though the material lacked the variegated colors of her usual woolen plaid, this linen was well suited to the French fashion.

Keifer and Richard were to meet her at Lady Randolph's room, so with a final adjustment of her wimple—and a wish that she could leave it behind—Nola left her chamber and walked down the hall. A light draft caused her to be glad for the cape, and she pulled it close.

When she entered the chamber, Keifer and Richard were in conversation with Sir Thomas.

Lady Randolph greeted her. “As soon as our escorts are ready we can leave.”

Nola hoped they would hurry. Since she didn't need an escort for the palace grounds, Nola had decided to forgo the Sainte-Chapelle in favor of sights outside the castle walls. She planned to visit the chapel sometime when the men were not available to escort her.

Keifer and Richard joined them. Nola was glad when Keifer strode to her side and offered her his arm “Where is Owyn today?” she asked as they walked out of the castle and into a beautiful spring day.

“Sir Thomas has need of him. He may join us another time.”

“I hope he will. I enjoy his company.”

“I'm sure the feeling is mutual.”

Soon they were walking down a paved street wide enough to accommodate two carts or carriages. In the distance rose the towers of Notre Dame Cathedral. Though construction of the great church had begun one hundred and fifty years prior, porches and chapels were still being added.

They spent an hour browsing through nearly two dozen booksellers in their stalls near Notre Dame, then walked along the narrower secondary streets where the various tradesmen had their shops. Stopping at the stall of a soap maker, Nola purchased lavender-fragranced soap for her mother. Lady Randolph made similar purchases for her family.

Richard walked them to the west side of the Island and pointed to a smaller island where the springtime green of hayfields mixed with budding fruit trees. “That is the Ile de Juifs, where Jacques de Molay, the Grand Master of the Templar Knights, was burned at the stake some years back.”

Nola shuddered. “How could something so awful happen on such a pastoral spot?”

Keifer laid his hand over hers where it lay on his arm. He stared at the island as if deep in thought. “ 'Tis said that he lifted his eyes to the steeples of Notre Dame and professed his faith even as the flames consumed him.”

Nola turned to him. “Did you learn of that from Ceallach?”

He nodded.

“Who is this Ceallach?” Richard inquired.

Keifer carefully said, “An acquaintance that was here at the time.”

Nola raised her eyebrows and Keifer shook his head. She said nothing, realizing that Keifer sought to protect the former Templar from those who might seek him out to claim the ransom on his head. They strolled on, stopping at an overlook where Nola gazed out at the city with its sharply indented skyline, created by roofs of differing heights. Elegant dormers of white stone with blue roofs were topped with gilded weathervanes on every peak.

“What a charming and lovely place,” she said. “My mother was here as a child and tried to describe it, but I'm afraid she failed.” Nola smiled at Richard. “Is Paris your home?”

“I was born here,
oui,
but home is now wherever my king sends me.”

WHILE NOLA AND LADY RANDOLPH perused the various shops, Keifer kept watch, as did Richard. The older man was attentive to their charges but remained alert to their surroundings.

At first Keifer hadn't been sure there truly was a threat. He thought Richard made it up as a means of ensuring time with Nola. But the man's actions spoke of his attention to duty above pleasure, and Keifer was glad for his assistance.

He and Richard had changed partners at the soap trader's booth, and Lady Randolph seemed content to walk quietly beside him.

Keifer let his thoughts return to that moment overlooking the Ile de Juifs, and the reminder of Ceallach and home. Paris was a fine city.

The food, though strange, was tasty. Yet Keifer longed for the lochs and glens of his homeland. But it was years away, after he earned a good sum in tournaments and through turns such as this for the king.

Then he would have enough money . . . With surprise he realized he looked forward to returning to Innishewan and settling down to his role as laird.

Even more surprising, he found himself imagining Nola at Innishewan, overseeing the castle folk and . . . playing with his children? Keifer shook his head, then glanced to where Nola and Richard stood examining some Flemish cloth. Nola ran her hands under the material, holding it to the light to see the weave, and smiling at Richard's comment.

A wimple covered Nola's glorious and untamable hair and he thought it a pity. Nola looked up, and their gazes held briefly. She grinned, and Keifer's heart stuttered. Aye, the minx would make a wonderful wife and mother. 'Twas a shame Keifer didn't have room for either in his life. Or did he?

THE SCOTS HAD RECEIVED AN INVITATION to a state dinner given in their honor that evening in the Grand Palace. Richard and Keifer discussed security concerns as the women continued to shop.

“After the dinner there will be a performance by a troupe of mummers,” Richard said.

“Mimes wearing masks. How will we know they are friend and not foe?”

“We won't.” Richard scanned the crowd. Apparently satisfied the women were safe, he said, “There could be several score of them but they, like us, will not be allowed to take weapons into the chamber with the king.”

“Will the costumes be checked for concealed swords?”

“Aye. They have performed for the king before and will want to continue to do so in the future. I don't think there will be a disruption, but we must be on our guard, nonetheless.”

They continued to follow the ladies and eventually, finally, the women tired of shopping. Keifer and Richard escorted them back to their quarters.

Several hours later, dressed in his best plaid, Keifer knocked at Nola's door. He would be her escort tonight while Richard and Owyn guarded the earl and his wife. The door opened and Keifer could only stare. Despite the wimple that covered her hair, Nola was lovely in a dress that fully complemented her coloring.

“You are a sight, Nola Mackintosh.”

“A good sight?” she teased.

“Aye. A beautiful Scottish lass. I'll be busy fending off your many suitors tonight, I can see already.”