“And then, sir, he bade me remind you that Marnis and Montvieux had not always been at odds, and that there were many within the bounds of Marnis gladdened by your return.”
“How curious,” Amaury murmured.
“And there was more. There was the hue and cry from the hall then, with the lord himself bemoaning the death of his son. The ostler listened and his lips thinned. ‘This would be the wrath of God, fallen upon Marnis,’ he said most solemnly. ‘For there has been wickedness and it must be punished. So saith the priests and they speak aright.’ He stopped then, though I waited long moments. When the mare was at ease, I dared to ask what he meant.”
“Aye?”
“He gave me a queer look, sir, and said as you would likely unroot the truth of it soon enough. He said it might be too late for Lady Isabella, though. I was perplexed but he shook his head at me. ‘His scheme to ensure that Amaury de Montvieux was beneath his thumb may have faltered badly.’ And then a boy came from the bailey, and brought tidings to the ostler. They whispered together as we looked on, then the ostler surveyed us, more sober than before.”
“What had he been told?”
“He said the Lord de Marnis decreed that Lady Isabella could not be wed to you if Lord Denis were dead.”
Amaury understood the situation with sudden clarity and cursed his own slowness in seeing the truth. Gaultier had no heir beyond Denis. Of course! If Denis was dead, Gaultier would strive to make an alliance, by wedding his daughter to a man who would become Lord de Marnis after him. But if Isabella was wed already, she could not wed another. The scheme to ensure that Amaury was beneath the weight of Gaultier’s thumb had shattered with Denis’ death.
With his marriage,Amauryhad a claim to Marnis – but Gaultier would undo that.
Who had witnessed the exchange of vows? Himself, Isabella, his squires whose word might be discarded, Denis, who wasdead, and Edmund who clearly chose which truths to tell. Thierry, Luc and Lothair were not of this region and might be disregarded as well.
God in Heaven, he should not have left her behind!
He was surprised, in hindsight, that he had been allowed to leave Marnis alive. His demise would have simplified much for Isabella’s father.
Perhaps he was not the sole one thinking slowly. Or perhaps Gaultier had some ethics as yet.
Amaury looked at Philip, who nodded and continued. “I asked after the Lady de Marnis, my lord, for I assumed there was one, and the ostler said she had filled the churchyard with sons who had failed to thrive. It seemed Lord Denis was the sole one to grow to adulthood. And then he added that Lady de Marnis would likely be sent to the convent along with Lady Isabella, for the lord had no need of a wife too aged to give him another son. ‘Mark my words,’ he said then. ‘There will be a ripe maiden wed to the lord within a fortnight, and he will ride her daily until he gets a son upon her.’ With that, he granted me a look then vanished into the stables.”
“He was garrulous even for a fulsome ostler,” Amaury said, amazed by all he had heard.
“Aye, my lord. I believe he meant for me to tell you every word.”
“Was there a plan for this journey to the convent? Was a specific convent even named?” Amaury had to think that his greatest chance of saving his lady wife from such a fate would be to interrupt such an expedition. He did not have sufficient knights to storm the walls of her father’s keep.
Philip shook his head. “The ostler did mutter something about the lord surely having sufficient kindness in his heart to let his lady wife witness the funeral of her only son. There was laughter, sir, as if others did not share that view.”
Days, then. There were only days to see to Isabella’s retrieval.
“I thank you, Philip,” Amaury said. “Your memory as always is so detailed that I might have been there myself.”
The boy bowed. “I strive to be accurate, my lord.”
“And the result is that I agree with you. We should not have left my lady wife alone at Château Marnis.” He dropped a hand to the boy’s shoulder. “But be assured that we will set all to rights with haste. Now I have a question for you.”
“Aye, sir?”
“Consider Montvieux village.”
“It is empty, my lord.” Sadness touched the boy’s features. “They are all gone.”
“And the mill is abandoned, which is as uncommon as the gates being left open to the wind.”
Philip nodded sad agreement. “I fear them lost, my lord.”
“Remember that there are no new graves. And all the village could not be hidden within Marnis.” Amaury said softly and his squire turned his way with surprise. “They fled, but they are not with my brothers. So, my question to you is where they might have gone.”
The boy looked at the village, his gaze darting over the quiet cottages then landing finally on what remained of the mill. “They might follow my father,” he said with care.
Amaury nodded. He had thought much the same. Stefan, the miller of Montvieux, an affluent and amiable man, had a natural authority in his manner. He was Philip’s father and had persuaded Amaury to grant the boy a chance to be his squire. Amaury had never regretted his agreement. Stefan had lived with his wife and six other children, all younger than Philip, three boys and three girls. Amaury knew that man would have surrendered his own life to see his family safe. Better yet, he would have ensured the safety and survival of any who accompanied him.
