Dagobert’s destrier had been saddled by the time they reached the dark courtyard, though without its caparisons, and the knight indicated that Dagobert might ride his steed.
“Where is my second beast?”Dagobert asked and the knight pointed to Raimon’s stables.
“We cannot let the woman ride alone.”
Dagobert nodded, his grip tightening once again on Alienor’s hand.“Then bring the beast with us or set it free to run,” he said.“The count has earned enough reward for his betrayal of a neighbor without the gift of such a fine horse.”
The knight studied Dagobert’s stern countenance for a moment, then nodded before he turned and instructed another to release the horse.That done, the man indicated another mount with a knight already astride to Alienor.
Dagobert shook his head, refusing to release her hand.“My wife rides with me.”When the knight looked as though he might contest the point, Dagobert indicated the way his charger’s reins were securely tied to two other knights’ saddles.“You do not mean that I should escape and I will not watch another fondle my lady on this last ride.”
The knight shook his head.“You have an argument for every detail.”He raised a hand in concession.“I cannot refuse you something so simple at this late hour.”With that, he waved Dagobert toward his horse and strode away in the darkness to his own mount.
Last ride.Dagobert’s words echoed through Alienor’s thoughts, drawing a shadow of dread over her heart.What had he meant?Their last ride together or his last ride ever?
“Where do we ride?”Alienor whispered as Dagobert lifted her up into his saddle.
“To Paris of course, love,” he murmured, swinging up behind her and anchoring her tightly against him with one arm.“To await the judgment of the king.”
“Judgment for what crime?”She could not fail to notice that he had used that endearment again.
“Disloyalty to the crown.”Dagobert’s tone was grim.“’Tis a hanging offense and one of which I am most assuredly guilty.”
Alienor twisted to face him but he met her gaze steadily, then nodded once.
The lost kings of Rhedae.’Twas true.
Worse, her husband had a claim to the throne, and he would die for it.
The journeyto Paris was slow, the combination of Dagobert’s destrier being tied to two other mounts and the size of the retinue of knights making daily progress almost nonexistent.It seemed that each morning Alienor could see the town on the next hill where they would end up stopping that night, and the monotony of the days fairly drove her mad.
That the drawn-out journey extended Dagobert’s life was the sole consolation.Despite the fact that they rode together, they had precious little time to talk in private, since another knight almost invariably rode close beside them.At night, their hands and feet were bound and secured to some heavy piece of furniture or post in a common room of the taverns where they stayed.They were permitted the luxury of sleeping beside each other.Though the others surrounded them, Alienor could still curl up against Dagobert’s warmth.
Occasionally as they rode together in the daylight she would feel his hand steal over her stomach, his gesture hidden by the fullness of herpelisson.Dagobert’s fingers would spread as he secretly felt the ripening curve of her belly, and if she glanced up at that moment, she would glimpse the faintest curve of a smile on his lips.Often, she would turn to burrow her face against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist and feigning sleep after such a moment, content to feel his arms tighten securely around her.
’Twas the end of May when the troupe crested a hill and Alienor saw the dark snake of the river Seine for the first time.In its midst was the cluster of buildings on the Île de la Cité, the island that was the fortress of the Capetian kings.The buildings of Paris spread out around the island in concentric circles, shops and homes, markets and merchants’ stalls.
As the knights urged their steeds forward, doubtless glad to be within sight of home again, the details of the city became more distinguishable.Alienor was intrigued despite her fears for the future.She had never before seen such a vast settlement and the practical implications of its size were overwhelming.At Montsalvat, there were several hundred souls living within the keep, but adequate water and food could be a problem.Like the fortress, Paris had no crops and pastures within its walls.As they approached the city gates, the road grew ever more crowded with carts of perishables being hauled to market.
There was so much to see that it seemed only moments had passed before they were within the sprawl of the city, the smell of the streets temporarily destroying Alienor’s interest.Now she understood Guibert’s old jest that an experienced traveler could tell whether he rested one league or two from Paris simply by the pungency of the smell.
Far ahead, the double towers of Notre Dame Cathedral rose high against the cloudy sky.Their heavier square shape was a sharp contrast to the delicate spire of the newly completed Sainte Chapelle Church within the king’s palace.A light drizzle fell on the party of knights as they made their way to the citadel, the mist seeming an ominous portent of what was to come.
They made slow progress through the crowded streets, giving Alienor the opportunity to watch the bustle of bakeries andboucheries,the throngs of people returning even at this early hour from the markets.Children darted back and forth across the muddy streets, their mothers shouting while mongrel dogs barked at one another in feigned aggression.The mud road turned to stone as they approached the city center.
Horses’ hooves echoed on the stone, the sounds of the troop’s mounts blending with the footfalls of numerous other knights’ and squires’ steeds, plough horses and elderly beasts pressed into service to pull farmers’ carts.Pigs and goats milled around the company as they were herded toward the market.Pigeons and swallows swooped over the crowd, cats ignored everyone from their perches on window ledges, and a man’s voice raised in lusty song carried to their ears from some hidden courtyard.
They crossed the bridge to the island, the Seine rolling beneath them on its rapid path northwestward.Its dark surface hinted of mysterious secrets lurking in its depths.Alienor looked up with awe at the smooth stone face of the fortress that the king of France called his palace.The buff-colored stones were fitted together so expertly that the seams between the stones were barely visible.The smooth expanse rose high above the river and bridge, topped by soaring conical towers.Flags sporting the king’s insignia fluttered above the towers far overhead, the deep blue and gold that she had grown to distrust snapping in the breeze.
What fate awaited them here?
They were stopped at the gate by the king’s guards and dragged from the saddle, their hands bound once again.Alienor was shoved forward and she almost panicked.A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Dagobert was right behind her, his expression thunderous at their treatment.
The Great Room of the Capetian kings was built entirely of stone.The vaulted ceiling rose from gracefully rounded columns, and the supporting bows arched to meet at elaborately carved keystones.Fireplaces were evenly spaced along the two longest walls, fires blazing in two of them despite the early hour, the smell of roasting meat already rising in the air.Alienor scarcely had the chance to notice her surroundings.
The low rumble of myriad voices filled her ears, the warmth and noise telling her that the hall was full of men.The smoke from the fires stung her eyes as she was ushered through the hall.A great portal with a barred opening swung wide at the far end of the room and she was urged down dark stairs.The air grew damper and she shivered, feeling for each step with her toe despite the prodding of the man who pushed her onward.The darkness and inability to use her hands struck terror in her that she might fall, and the fathomless shadows gave no clue as to how long the staircase was.
A clang echoed down the staircase and the voices from above grew more distant as the heavy door closed.Keys jingled below, a lamp bobbed ahead, and Alienor’s eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to pick out a careworn older man sitting at a ledger.He spared a disinterested glance for Alienor and Dagobert, continuing with his scribbling.
