Lord of the Mist by Ann Lawrence

Author:Ann Lawrence
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing Inc.
Published: 2013-03-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

“Cristina,” Durand said, but the door closed with a bang and she was gone. He wanted to go after her, but could not.

Luke placed Felice on her back on his pallet and then took a stool by the table. “That was not so very well done.”

Durand stared at the door. “I could not let her beg for him. He’s a blight on her life.”

“Still, he’s her husband and mayhap there is affection there. Could you not treat her more gently?”

With a sigh, Durand sank into his chair. “Luke. I’m about to find a reason to let a thief go.”

“What? John sees the theft of the Aelfric as tied to Bishop Dominic’s death.” Luke leapt to his feet. “If you let Simon le Gros go, John will suspect you of God knows what. Treachery? The brigands’ attack? Penne said they were far too finely garbed and mounted for mere thieves—”

Durand surged to his feet. “You don’t tell me anything I do not already know.” He stood over Marion’s child. “I cannot let Cristina suffer.”

“You can find another nurse!” Luke swept a hand out to where Felice lay.

But Durand shook his head. “Is that what you think this is about? I’ve been thinking for days on what will become of us all when we go to France. If I die, who will look after this child? You? You’ll be lying dead in France with me, I fear.”

Or would Luke betray him? Remain behind at the last moment with some plausible excuse?

Luke strode from one corner of the chamber to the other. “Oriel will see to her. And this nonsense. You survived a Crusade, for Christ’s sake.”

Durand knelt by the child and put out his hand. The babe snatched and held his finger. Her grip was very strong for one so tiny, but yet so easily broken.

Aye, Oriel could guard Felice’s interests. But the child must serve as his excuse to aid Cristina. He could not tell Luke that he also much wanted to see Cristina at peace, even if it meant she would be somewhere else with Simon.

* * * * *

The sky was beginning to lighten as Durand walked across the bailey to the chapel.

Cristina knelt beside Father Odo at the fore of the chapel. “Seeking sanctuary, Mistress?” he asked.

Felice lay heavily on his shoulder. Now, when she should be eating, she slept. She was as contrary as every other woman he knew. He saw the babe’s basket by Cristina and was relieved. Surely, the basket meant she intended to take the child from him.

“Mistress le Gros was praying, my lord.” The priest patted Cristina’s hand. “I will leave you now. God will decide all.” He bowed to Durand and left.

Durand settled Felice in Cristina’s arms. She sat back on her heels and unlaced her gown. He paced. Behind him, Cristina whispered to Felice, and when he turned back, the child nursed.

He wished for an itinerant painter to capture this moment for him, the child at Cristina’s breast, the chapel candles bathing them both in a golden glow.

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