Bladesong by Jean Gill

Author:Jean Gill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 2nd crusade, crusades, eleanor of aquitaine, chivalry, holy land, knights, siege, damscus, adventure, troubadours, provence, france, bestseller, series, mystery, thriller
Publisher: Jean Gill
Published: 2015-09-21T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

The end of the Via Agrippa caught them by surprise, so accustomed had they become to that inexorable trek south. The suddenness of it, seeing the road stretching in two opposite directions, threw Estela off-balance. She realised that she had a choice and, unconsciously stroking the pathfinder clipped to her riding gown, she ignored the rest of the party turning left and kicked her horse into turning right instead. Musca was so close.

All she had to do was ride for a day and she could watch his milky smile, smell his yeasty baby skin, hold him in her arms, where he should be. He would gurgle while she dug her fingers into handfuls of warm white fur and sat her baby on Nici’s back, playing ponies. If she could have just one day with her son and her dog, free from doubts and decisions. It would be easy enough to go to Marselha two days later. All she had to do was ride.

‘ Roxie!’ called Gilles, spotting her break away, and looping a cumbersome turn to chase after her. She rode faster. De Rançon was faster still, wheeling expertly and galloping westwards after the fugitive. He wasted no time calling after her, but spurred his great destrier alongside her, dust clouds enveloping both riders as he reached for her reins and gently slowed both horses.

‘Easy, there, easy.’ Estela didn’t know whether he was speaking to the horse or to her and she didn’t care. She felt the salt of tears running into her mouth and she didn’t care. The choice was gone. She couldn’t tell de Rançon where she wanted to go and why. She couldn’t give up on Dragonetz, who was waiting for her.

‘Something spooked him?’ de Rançon asked gently, still holding her reins as he walked the horses round, to take a gentle pace eastwards again.

White, tear-streaked, defeated, Estela merely nodded and swallowed the insult to her horsemanship, reclaiming the reins, concentrating on the big roan and his anxiety. They caught up with the rest of the party, returned to the rhythm of the road, heading away, always away.

‘Think instead about what you’re going to,’ Gilles’ quiet words cut into the miserable pounding of hooves in Estela’s head.

‘Only a day away!’ The words bled from her.

‘More like four days, assuming you survived the road on your own. If we’d taken the detour as a party, that would be the best part of a fortnight late at Marselha and we’re already into the chance of autumn storms and poor sailing. And for what? To rip open wounds that haven’t healed? Seeing him for a day would only make it worse to leave again.’

‘I know. It was just too strong for me.’

‘I’ve told you before how much like your mother you are. Just keep steady. She’d be very proud of you. Two days and you’ll be on that ship, heading towards Dragonetz and then there will be nothing to fight any more.’

‘To be so close!’ In saying the words,

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