Another unsettling thought occurred to Alienor and she wrapped her arms around herself at the import of it.Even Guibert must have conspired against her, for he had to have known the fullness of the tale before committing her in marriage to this madman.Truly that man would receive a tongue-lashing when next she saw him, and she would ensure it was one he did not soon forget.
All the same, she was wed to Dagobert and as much his property as his favorite steed.The notion was sobering.She carried his child and her future, for better or for worse, was by her husband’s side.Alienor did not have to like her situation, much less that she could not change it, but it was her truth.
Men!Alienor surveyed the chamber, seeking something that would shatter when she threw it, only to find her husband standing quietly in the portal, watching her.He folded his arms across his chest as if he faced a defiant child, and Alienor’s hackles rose, her chin lifting as she confronted her spouse.
Nay, ’twas a forbidding stranger that stood before her in her husband’s form.He showed neither the tenderness of Dagobert, who came to her in the night, nor the light-hearted good nature of Alaric, who teased her each day.She knew naught of this quiet intense man, save that her life was in his hands.He had defended her, but as he stood in silence, she wondered why.Under his steely gray regard, Alienor’s anger faded and she grew suddenly afraid of the man she had wed, for she was uncertain of his true nature.
“We depart with the darkness,” he informed her, his tone cool as if he were indifferent.“I would ask that you pack lightly, my lady, and speak of this to none other than Giselle.”
“Have I a choice?”
“Nay.”
Before Alienor could ask whither they went, he had turned away, his footfalls fading as he descended to the hall.For a moment she was bewildered, then the explanation came to her.
He would send her back to Perpignan like damaged goods, would he?Fine!She would ensure that he never laid eyes on the babe she had conceived.
Pack lightly?’Twas readily done.She would not take one item more than she had brought to Montsalvat that first day.She would not speak to him again and she would not tell him about the child.
And if she prayed for his survival, Dagobert de Pereille would never know of it.
Alienor descendedthe stairs from the solar as the sun sank over the mountains and Dagobert could not miss her foul mood.Her lips thinned as she tugged on her gloves and she seemed to simmer with fury barely held in check.He had never seen her angry before this day, and he could not say that her reaction was undeserved.He had not confided in her, yet he did not know what to say to console her.
He was a cur and a scoundrel, a wretch who had done her a disservice.He would have gladly acknowledged all of that, but the fact remained that he could not make it right.He could not tell her all of the truth even now.He dared not.
And so it seemed that the price of regaining his legacy—even though the chance of that grew increasingly slender—was any hope of winning the regard of his wife.
He noted that Alienor had dressed sensibly for traveling, her clothing warm and unadorned.She had taken his words to heart for the bundle of possessions Giselle carried for her smaller than he had anticipated.When she drew alongside him, he offered his hand but Alienor apparently did not notice his gesture.Her attention was fully captured by the cuffs of her gloves.
“May Dame Fortune ride with you,” Eustache said.
Alienor lifted her chin and walked toward the stables as if Dagobert did not exist.
Eustache watched her.“Your journey should be interesting,” he remarked.
Dagobert shrugged, unwilling to speculate on what lay ahead of him.“Do not forget our plan,” he murmured and his companion looked momentarily surprised.
“You would continue then?”Eustache studied him closely.
“It seems ’twill be our last and best chance.”
The older knight nodded in thoughtful agreement.
“I would have you ride with us when it is time.”
“I will find you,” Dagobert said then shook hands with Eustache in the darkness of the hall before he strode after Alienor.
Shadows were stretching long across the courtyard and the stables were unusually silent when Dagobert stepped outside into the cool bite of the evening air.Alienor awaited him, her back turned to him and her shoulders stiff.She fingered the reins of the smaller saddled steed as if she were uncertain and he knew by that movement alone that she sensed his presence.He almost stepped forward and clasped the narrow span of her shoulders within his hands, almost whispered an apology in her ear, but pulled himself up short, knowing that each moment they lingered in the keep endangered them yet further.There would be ample time for explanations during the days ahead.
Gradually his eyes adjusted to the light and he spied the other members of his household standing quietly in the shadows.Here was the châtelain; there the ostler; there the smith, the farrier, the marshal, Iolande and two of her dogs, the squire he had trained these past three years.Each of their faces showed mingled hope and disappointment, and each brow was burdened with concern for what lay ahead.
His departure was no secret, but Dagobert could not be displeased.The concern of these people and the send-off they gave him was more important than any escape that would not hold secret until the dawn.
Dagobert acknowledged each with a nod, a slight smile, an easy wink, hoping that he could ease their trepidation by his own apparent confidence.In truth, he did the best thing for the safety of all by leaving Montsalvat, and he saw in the eyes of more than one servant and friend an awareness of this simple fact.
Iolande stood with downcast eyes and Dagobert embraced his mother last, brushing an affectionate kiss against the smooth coolness of her cheek.
“All will be well,” he quietly assured her.She nodded emphatically, evidently not trusting herself to speak.“I leave you with the responsibility of the keep,” he added unnecessarily, and Iolande nodded again, straightening beneath his hands.
