The Maid's War(12)

“Where’s your maid?” he asked with a grin, hugging her back fiercely.

“It’s market day at Cienne. It’s a long walk, so Alix won’t be back until supper. But look at you! Come inside!”

Jianne showed Alensson the small kitchen, the warm oven, the well-swept stone floor, and the spacious loft where the bed had been assembled by a local carpenter friendly to House La Marche. He drank in the sights, drank in everything about her. She seemed overjoyed that her husband was home, even if that home was borrowed. The small cottage had originally belonged to the porter who controlled the rear door. The old porter lived with his daughter now, and the place had sat empty until Jianne’s arrival with her maid.

Later, as they sat across from each other at the small oak table, holding hands, Alensson stared into his wife’s cinnamon eyes and said, “I swear to you, my love, I swear that I will make this up to you. This will not be your home for much longer.”

She caressed his hand with her thumb. “I care not for castles, Alensson. I care not for rings or jewels. You are here, and I would be content to live out our lives in this cottage. I’ve fancied our children playing by the oven there. I’ve fancied you pruning orchards with your sword instead of spilling blood. Would that the Fountain had blessed us with a season of peace. This war, I fear, will never end.” But from the look in her eye, he knew that she understood his restless soul, his determination to reclaim his lost inheritance. To pay back every crown she had borrowed on his behalf. “You must go to Shynom, my love.” She squeezed his hand. “And I will go with you.”

He smiled. “We will be welcomed there with great honor and respect. I heard your father’s city is about to fall to the siege. Is that true?”

Jianne nodded, her countenance darkening. “I fear I shall never see him again. The people lose hope. The Fountain has forsaken us. Perhaps because we have forsaken it.”

“We will go on the morrow then,” Alensson said.

She shook her head no. “I beg one full day with you, my lord husband. Before you plunge back into the war, let me have a day of you to remember. A day just to ourselves.”

And the look she gave him made him eager to honor her request.



They had to walk most of the way to Shynom, and they did so hand in hand. Although his boots still hurt his feet, the journey was more enjoyable with his wife at his side. Alix was a dark-haired girl from the Felt family, a distant kinswoman who rarely spoke, but she seemed delighted that Alensson was back to relieve her mistress’s worries.

There was something exhilarating about bedding down in the deep field grasses by the light of the stars. This was the life of a peasant. He folded his hands behind his head as he stared up at the sky, savoring the feel of his wife’s hand resting on his chest. His head was full of thoughts, full of ideas. It was clear to him that relieving the siege of Lionn was the right strategy. Why was the prince still in Shynom and not traveling between cities and rousing a larger army to break the siege? When Alensson had last met him, he’d judged the prince to be an overly timid man. He was quick to laugh and drink and share a joke, but he rarely ventured outside the protection of the fortress of Shynom, one of the most ancient castles of western Occitania. His realm was being held hostage by a small toddler from Kingfountain. But the youth wasn’t the enemy. It was the child’s uncle. There was such a stark contrast between Chatriyon and Deford. They were opposites of each other in so many ways.

Chatriyon needed a bold commander. Someone who was decisive and would take action. Alensson had failed at Vernay, but not through cowardice or lack of ambition. But how was he to persuade the prince to give him command of an army again? All this dithering at court meant that Deford’s army continued to hold and maintain the lands and cities he’d won years before. The Duke of Westmarch would fall. Alensson vowed it to the stars.

When he and Jianne reached the town crowded outside Shynom, they stopped at an inn to change for court. Alensson had carried their fanciest clothes in his pack. Jianne’s gown was not of the latest court fashion, and she no longer had any jewelry. But she was determined to make an impression, and Alix helped braid her hair elegantly.

Alensson chafed in the common room, listening to the sound of rowdy drinkers. It was only midday, but many of the patrons were already drunk. He looked at them with disdain, his eyes darting from person to person. He was anxious to be on his way and hopefully get a command position, as well as a purse full of coins from his prince to reward him for his long imprisonment. He needed funds desperately. He needed a horse! He needed a decent sword.