Belle's Song by K. M. Grant

Author:K. M. Grant [Grant, K. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: cookie429
Publisher: Walker Books
Published: 2010-02-03T16:00:00+00:00

9

Bright shields and trappings, headpieces and charms,

Great golden helmets, hauberks, coats of arms,

Lords on appareled coursers, squires, too,

And knights belonging to their retinue …

We couldn’t vanish. We couldn’t even run without leaving behind the mother and her children, to say nothing of our belongings. All we could do was speedily make for the protection of the nearest town. I couldn’t look at Master Chaucer. If he was responsible for the French arriving so soon, that would mean he’d lied to me again. It was a dismal thought. More than dismal: it turned him into an enemy. Nor could I look at the summoner, for fear that he had guessed everything. My father! My father! Nor could I look at Luke, or ride with Walter. I was glad to concentrate on the rush. The nearest town was half-derelict. “Plague’s been here,” Dame Alison said as we hurried over the tumbled stones. “Better the plague than the French,” Mistress Midwife gabbled. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.” Everybody crossed themselves madly, and I began to count chickens, sheep, travelers, the pots on a peddler’s back, clouds, leaves, and even dewdrops, forcing everything into multiples of three though many didn’t want to go. I didn’t bargain. I didn’t know what bargain to make.

The townsfolk in their terror were openly hostile. They agreed to let us stay if Walter would find out for certain how many of the enemy were likely to attack. When he came to say good-bye, I was more than aloof. Even in the face of this great danger, the refused kiss rankled. But by nightfall, when he still hadn’t returned and we were forced to negotiate rates at the tavern, I tortured myself. How could I not have said a warm good-bye, after all he’d done for me? Why shouldn’t he refuse to kiss me? He had his position to think of. And anyway, I was only using him to get at Luke. Even on pilgrimage I was utterly selfish. I pumiced my legs again, but for the first time, it disgusted me and I threw the pumice away. Much later, I lay rigid in my bed, seeing only Walter maimed, Walter chained and tortured, Walter hanging from a tree, his legs kicking, his eyes sightless. Every time I heard a horse, I rushed to the window. It was never Arondel.

When I could lie still no longer, I went to Dulcie, tethered with the others by a crumbling barn on the edge of the town. Though it was barely dawn, I could hear the complaints of a gang of forced laborers digging a defensive ditch at double speed.

Dulcie wasn’t grazing. She too was waiting for Arondel. I folded my arms around her neck. By the time I returned to the inn, windows were being boarded up and shutters locked with iron bars. No news was bad news. The town was girding itself. Sir Knight, grim faced, was waiting by the inn door. He was fully armed and that terrified me more than anything else.

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