Joris of the Rock [The Neustrian Cycle, Book II] by Leslie Barringer

Author:Leslie Barringer [Barringer, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Renaissance E Books
Published: 2006-04-17T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER IX. THE SPIRES OF HAUTARROY

Night in the ancient city. The moon a glittering silver disk emerging from swift translucent cloud. Beyond the open doors the archbishop's terrace, flagged and dully gleaming, with shrubs in stone vases; beyond again, mysterious blackness of trees, where a nightingale had sung and fallen silent. Beneath each door and window the dainty shadows of clambering roses, dancing in shapes of moonlight that slanted across the floor.

Juhel, curled up in a window seat of the dim antechamber, paid dreamy heed to the wind song, sniffing the blown perfume as he dared not sniff its counterpart in Belsaunt hours before. For this was his third night with a strange household, and no one had yet made any attempt to kick him. All afternoon, since their arrival in the city, Piers had run and ridden on the count's errands; now Piers was in bed at the Sign of the Burning Bush, and Juhel all alone had followed their lord on his visit of respect to the aged prelate.

They – the tired old man and the grave young one – wee in there, behind the purple-curtained door; on the other window seat in the antechamber dozed a page of the archbishop'' household, and Juhel felt himself to be alone.

To-morrow his own clothes were to be ready – and with a swan upon the breast of each tunic, for Juhel was appointed second page of Marckmont. To-morrow he would see the Prince Thorismund at archery practice. To-morrow the lords who had met in conclave at Belsaunt would have flowed to the capital; ah, he must tell the Count of Ger what he overheard in the Hotel de Ahun. So many things had crowded in his mind since then.

To-morrow, therefore, he night also see again the Lady Yolande de Volsberghe. He made a faint grimace at the thought: even here, in Hautarroy, you must come to the archbishop's palace before you escaped from women, at the Burning Bush the serving maids giggled and squeaked round corners, thrusting themselves in the way of men-at-arms, cursing roundly when the latter clipped and kissed them; at the Burning Bush, too, the fat wife of the tavern master had licked her lips and beckoned to him; but Juhel had pretended not to see. And although the Lady Yolande was so fair that it had hurt him to touch her, and almost hurt him to remember her, Juhel had that in his blood which recoiled from all reminder of fleshly violence.

"Great lords seem mightily pleased to be away from their ladies," he had sneered to Piers at noon, when they saw a painted but elderly nobleman stand in his stirrups to accost a grinning woman of the town at her window above him.

"H'mph," snorted Piers. "Wait until you see my lord Count ride again to Ger."

Juhel was silenced, and in part discomfited; already adoring his master, he had not faced the fact of a countess in the background. Vaguely he shrank from having to respect a side of life that hitherto had shown him nothing but ugliness.

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