“You will spend all the night with your bride,” Luc said firmly. “And none of us will sleep in the tent either.”
Amaury might have protested, for it was their custom to take shelter in the tent together when they camped, but all three of his fellows shook their heads with resolve.
“It would not be courteous,” Lothair concluded simply.
“Given how Lothair snores,” Thierry teased and they laughed together.
Even Lothair smiled thinly. “I am not the one who snores,” was all he said.
“There is no rain in the wind,” Thierry said, scanning the sky. The sun was sinking toward the western horizon, the fire blazed and the pot of stew already began to smell tempting. Lothair rummaged in his gear, adding the occasional pinch of one spice or another to the pot. Luc and Thierry returned to their snares again as the stew simmered, leaving Amaury and Lothair together.
“You must know that I would ride on,” Lothair said long moments later.
Amaury nodded. “You would begin your studies in Provins.”
“You will not leave here soon,” Lothair noted.
“Nay, I will not. But with bandits at large, I would not have you ride north alone.”
Lothair made a dismissive gesture, then stood to pack his spices away again. “Let them come and taste my blade,” he said.
“They may not fight honorably.”
Lothair granted him a steady glance. “Of all the men in Christendom, Amaury, you are the sole one who always fights honorably. I will not be at such a disadvantage.”
Amaury chuckled, as much at the lecture as his friend’s accusation. “We will miss you.”
Lothair glanced toward the lady and lifted a brow. “Will you?”
“And you must visit, whenever you pass nearby.”
“I ride north after Provins, home to Sutherland.”
“And no man knows which way the wind will turn his path. You are welcome here, always, and do not forget as much.” Amaury offered his hand and the taller man shook it warmly.
And so their party would disband, after so long together. Amaury was not the sole one who embarked on a new path.
The boys arranged cushions and rugs on the side of the fire where the wind did not blow the smoke and Luc pronounced the stew to be done. There were orange streaks in the sky and the first of the stars were appearing in the east.
Amaury glanced up, feeling the weight of another’s gaze, and found Isabella watching him. Philip finished his tale with a flourish and a bow, and she smiled as she applauded his efforts. The boy grinned outright, then invited her toward the fire.
“The stew is ready,” Amaury said, striding to her side. He caught her elbow in his hand when she stood.
“I am steady on my feet,” she said quickly.
“Yet I like to take the arm of my lady. Unless you would prefer to take mine.” Amaury offered his elbow and she slid her hand into it. “We proceed to the great hall to dine, after all.”
“I think, sir, that the great hall will need some improvement before winter,” she said.
“And I agree. Perhaps Lothair will find a team of masons on his travels and dispatch them to me here.”
Lothair nodded agreement as Isabella looked between them. “Masons?”
“Aye, it is time that Montvieux was built of stone,” Amaury said. “We saw many marvels in the east and I yearn to put such notions to use here.”
“In stone,” Isabella murmured. Philip brought the chair closer to the fire and she sank into it, looking up at Amaury. “Like a cathedral.”
“Just so. Perhaps a little smaller.”
