There was laughter and agreement to that.Berthe could not believe that Tulley would sponsor a man who was less than deserving of his trust.Twenty years before Tulley had sent this Quinn to gain his spurs, at Tulley’s own expense.He must have seen merit in him young.Berthe found Tulley brusque and domineering, but he was fair.
There must be more to Quinn than met the eye, and she was inclined to think well of him for being both knight and crusader.
If she had doubts about the wedding, they were to be dismissed.No sooner had the boys taken water to the stables than the châtelain hastened into the kitchens with purpose.“There will be a feast this night,” he declared, clearly agitated, and the cook nodded agreement.“We have a wedding to celebrate!We will have the rest of the venison and bring wine from the cellars....”
“Who is to be married?”Berthe had to be certain.
The châtelain fixed her with a bright look.“Lady Melissande will wed Quinn de Sayerne.If you have not brought suitable garb for your lady, then you might speak with the maid of Lady Heloise with all haste.She is with her mistress in the hall.”
“Aye, sir,” Berthe said and gathered her mending.There were times when she was glad to be a simple country lass and a servant besides, and this day had to be one of them.To think that her lady would be compelled to wed a stranger and was commanded to do as much immediately!
Lady Melissande would be devastated.What of her old pledge to Arnaud de Privas?Berthe understood, though, that there would be no choice.Tulley was never to be denied.
She halted abruptly when a man marched toward her, the same man who had followed Tulley’s summons.He fairly filled the portal and Berthe had little choice but to stand aside.He looked to be riled, and she doubted he had noticed her.His golden eyes blazed with fury and his lips were drawn to a grim line.He barely granted her a nod as he passed her, then strode through the kitchens to the bailey beyond.
The maids stared after him in silence.
“Gold,” whispered one.
“Honey,” asserted another, then sighed.
“Amber,” declared a third.
“There will be need for more water!”the cook said and sent them hurrying.
Berthe was intrigued that the bridegroom was no less enamored of this match than she guessed the bride would be.But whyever not?His reaction pricked Berthe’s pride.Her lady was lovely, young, and the heiress of Annossy.Any man should be glad to wed her!
This night, though, would not be easy for Lady Melissande.Berthe loved her lady dearly and did not wish to see her unhappy in any way.What could she do to assist?If naught else, she could ensure that her lady looked her best.Indeed, Lady Melissande’s beauty might melt the coldest heart.
And Berthe could bolster her lady’s confidence.Aye, Tulley always had good wine and plenty of it.Berthe took a pitcher of it and some spices from the open bowl.Such was the affluence of Tulley that a few sticks of cinnamon would not be missed, and her lady was both guest and bride.
Even Tulley’s châtelain could not take issue with her choice.
Melissande unlockedthe door to the chamber she had been assigned to find Berthe in the corridor.It was the same chamber she had been granted before at Tulley and familiar for that.Berthe lit a brazier and began to mull wine.There were lanterns lit and the chamber soon was both warm and filled with welcoming light.Melissande went to the window and folded her arms across her chest, staring at the distant tower of Annossy, its pennant waving from the summit.Her heart was so cold that it might have been wrought of lead.
She would wed the son of Jerome before the sun set.
It was outrageous.
Worse, there was naught she could do about it.Tulley was adamant and she knew that pressing him further would only vex him.She could do without Tulley being annoyed with her, given that he had pledged her to Jerome’s son when he was pleased.
Berthe began to chatter, as was her wont.“My lady, you look to have had a shock of the worst order.And you are too cold.”The maid pressed Melissande’s hands between hers for a moment, then tutted under her breath.“Come over here and sit yourself down by the fire.I have stirred up the blaze in the brazier and it will warm you through to your toes.”
“I fear it will not,” Melissande said, though she did as she was bidden.
Berthe urged a stoneware mug into her hands.It was warm.Melissande glanced down to its ruddy contents, the smell of cinnamon teasing her nostrils.“A cup of spiced wine is what you need, my lady, for that will warm you through and through.It encourages the blood to race and heats you from the very core.”She stood back and sighed.“You will need sustenance, I fear.”
Melissande sipped the soothing brew and eyed her maid.“What have you heard?”
“Is it true that you are to wed Jerome’s son?”
Melissande nodded and watched Berthe’s expression change to echo her own mood.
“Irksome man!How is it that Lord de Tulley can forget your pledge to Arnaud de Privas?How can he command you to wed?”
“He can and he has,” Melissande said grimly.
“At least Lord Quinn is not old.Or lamed.”
