A SUDDEN MEETING
Francis walked down the length of the solar, feeling restless. He paced to the window, looking out over the abundant summer landscape. It wasn't just the unseasonable rainfall and the fact that he was confined to the manor making him feel restless. It was his concerned mind.
“I can't stop thinking about her.”
“My lord?” Yves, walking in to lay the table for dinner, caught his remark on entering. Realizing he'd spoken aloud, Francis sighed, feeling impatient with himself.
“Sorry, Yves. Talking to myself. I need to go for a ride.”
“Well, if it has good effects, do inform me of it,” Yves said calmly, laying out spoons and knives for eating on the long, carved wood table. “I would love to know how to cure the uncomfortable habit of talking to yourself.”
Francis chuckled, though he didn't feel particularly humorous about it. “You know what I mean, Yves,” he sighed. “I need to clear my head. Before my own thoughts drive me quite mad.”
“It's been known to happen,” Yves said mildly. “I knew an old fellow, ever so mad he was...” He trailed off as Francis interrupted him a little crossly.
“Please, Yves. I don't require to know how perilous my sanity is. I just need to get out into the air.”
Yves nodded. “As you wish, milord.” He carried on calmly laying out the cutlery, no break in his tranquil mien.
Francis sighed. “I do.”
As he walked down the hallway to the entrance, he thought about his mother's comments about fresh air. Maybe she was right about it...it might be curative. Who knew?
I need to tell Claudine. Or her companion. Mayhap it would help.
Feeling inspired to do that, Francis walked briskly down to the stables, throwing on his big brown woolen cloak as he went out. How would he, though? He didn't even know if Claudine was at the palace or if she was at her father's country estate by now.
Well, I'll think of something. Out here in the cool, earth scented air, he felt the possibility of that.
Once he was riding – he took Dusk Shadow, his own hunting horse, a gray dapple mare with immense stamina and a sweet nature – he finally found it possible to give his worries consideration.
I need to see Claudine is safe.
He was worried about her. There was something undeniably sinister about her uncle. He dismissed the thought that he simply disliked the man because he was hostile to him. No, this was something more.
It's not his attitude to me that concerns me. It's his attitude to her.
In all the time since he had met Claudine, he hadn't heard her uncle make a pleasant, encouraging comment in her direction. He seemed determined for her to be unwell.
“What nonsense, Francis,” he snorted at himself derisively. “Why would that be?”
He heard Dusk Shadow snort in response and he slowed the pace, letting them take a slow ride up the hill to the ridge that overlooked the valley. Whenever he was up here, he found it was easier to think.
I feel like there's something sinister hanging over Claudine's future. Like this malady she suffers is somehow...the fault of something. Not just her health, her constitution, but something else.
Impulsively, Francis decided to ride to the monastery. There was an old friar there – Father Matthias – who had always taken guardianship of the family's care. He was thoughtful and learned. If anyone knew anything about this sickness, it would be him.
He reached the monastery after half an hour's ride. He glanced up at the sky, wondering if there would be a storm later. He would have to spend the night at the monastery, in all probability. He passed his reins to a young lad who came up to take them.
“Tend my horse. I need to speak to the abbot. Is he in?”
The monk who had answered the door frowned. “I will inquire. Come inside, my lord. It's turbulent weather out there.”
Francis nodded. The weather was as turbulent as his mind, he thought – troubled and restless, with the possibility of many different things to happen.
“Lord Francis,” the abbot said when the novice ushered him quietly in. “A pleasure. What can I do for you?”
Francis looked about. The office of the abbot was monastically simple – the big desk, a single wide window, the table laden with books, an unadorned hearth where a fire would burn in winter. There were two chairs – one behind the desk and one in front. Francis breathed in the scents of old parchments, new ink and settled dust and took a seat opposite the old monk. He felt himself relax somewhat.
“Father Matthias,” he said softly. “Can I speak with him?”
“I regret to say he's in seclusion, young man,” the old abbot – Father Samuel – said with a frown. “If I could pass on a message for you?”
Francis shook his head. “I don't think so, Father. Though mayhap you can answer my question also?”
Father Samuel pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I could try, Son,” he said. “Though I regret having less knowledge of matters medical than our learned friend. That's why you're here, is it not? To ask about a matter concerning health?”
Francis sighed. “You're perceptive, Father. Yes. I wanted to ask him if he'd heard of a malady. A sort of creeping sickness that makes a person tired and steals their strength, making it difficult to walk, ride, or dance. Something that makes the person out of breath and weary. Dizzied.” He frowned, trying to recall if Lady Claudine had mentioned any other clues as to her illness.
Father Samuel frowned, fingers pressed to his lips in thought. “There are many such sicknesses, Son. It would depend on more information. Is the person able to stand? Does the sickness come on all at once, or is it progressive? What is the pallor of their skin? The rate of the pulses. There is much we do not know.”
Francis nodded, feeling wretched. He should have realized he didn't know enough to ask the learned Father Matthias such a question.
“Sorry, Father. I do not know. All I can say is that the person involved has suffered this way for several years. Since her earlier adulthood.”
“Ah,” the priest raised a bow, eyes widening. “So the person suffering is a lady, yes?”
Francis looked at his hands shyly. “Yes, Father. I made her acquaintance at court...” he trailed off, breathing out a sigh. Of all the things Father Samuel required to know, the history of his tentative progress in courting the Lady Claudine – he realized with some shock that's what he was doing – was not one of them.
“Ah,” Father Samuel mused. “Well, I trust she has adequate care there. The court has physicians who would make me feel a child compared to their learning. Though, I think,” he added warmly, “our own Father Matthias would come close to their abilities.”
Francis nodded. “Assuredly, Father. Well,” he sighed. “I suppose I have taken up enough time of yours for one day, Father. I appreciate your assistance.”
He trailed off as the old holy man looked into his eyes. His own were a sort of hazel brown, opaque and almost colorless with age, wrinkles around them testimony to long hours spent in reading or at prayers.
“I am glad to help, my son,” he said gently. “And if there is anything that troubles you further, please tell me. We do what we can to comfort all souls here, no matter what concerns their minds.”
Francis sighed. “Father, I...I wish I could tell you more, but it...it seems silly of me to take up time trying to explain what I don't understand myself.”
“I am always listening.”
Francis gave a long exhale. “It's the lady, Father Samuel. She is ill and...and her uncle seems...hostile. I can't explain it. I sense a threat to her safety, though I could not say from whence it comes.”
The priest let him finish, then rested his long fingers on his lips, making a steeple of them while he frowned in thought. He cleared his throat. “It seems there is some need for action. And I think that is what you feel, why it impels you so. You wish to save the lady from whatever harms her. And I think it is a goodly aim. Nevertheless, you must pause. Consider. Gather information. Then act. That is all we can do. That, and trust in the Lord Almighty,” he added.
Francis nodded respectfully. “Yes, Father. And...Thank you.”
The old priest smiled. “Not at all, young man. Now, if I am not very mistaken, that is the sound of thunder. I think it would be no bad thing if you stayed with us this night. It would be safer to depart in the morning, when threat of being struck is somewhat lessened.”
Francis inclined his head. “I could not agree more with you, Father.”
He chuckled. “Good. Well, we'll call Father Benjamin and ask him to have a room made up. We will sit down to supper in the refectory at eight of the clock, an hour before the evening service of Compline. You are welcome to join us.”
“Thank you,” Francis nodded. He went out to leave the old priest to his work.
Feeling more at peace, he found his footsteps leading him to the garden, where he took a seat on one of the stone benches. Out here, he could smell the scent of fresh herbs and the smell of rain. The crackle of lighting was almost a scent in the air, a thrumming crinkle that should smell like smoke.
Francis breathed out wearily. He had learned little on his journey, but he had received good advice.
Gather more information.
That was a sound first step. As yet he knew little about Claudine's state of health, her family or her past. He knew a great deal about her present, however.
I know she is the sweetest, gentlest, loveliest...
He trailed off, feeling his cheeks burning as he found his thoughts turning to descriptions of her body – her pearly skin, her curvy figure, her high breasts. This is a monastery, Francis! Imagine if they could read your thoughts – Father Matthias and Samuel would be shocked.
He jumped when he heard voices in the colonnade.
“Young Dennis said he saw a coach stuck on the road south. We should send aid.”
The other monk sounded less concerned. “Is it heading to Evreux? Surely someone will have come to its aid by now.”
“Maybe,” the first monk said hesitantly. “But you know the Duc du Pavot. He keeps the verderers busy in the woods. The maintenance of safety on the road bothers him less.”
The second monk snorted. “Well, he'll surely look out for the coach. If it's his kinfolk, he'll keep an eye out for them. He'll send help.”
“You're right, of course, Frederic.”
“I think so. Now...we need to finish with collecting those herbs. What was it Brother Dominic said he needed?”
“Some sage, to flavor the stew.”
“Ah. Well, we have plenty this year – a great crop.”
As the two men drifted off, the soft impact of their sandals on the stone path muted by distance and the crackle of thunder, Francis froze.
The Duc du Pavot held landholdings at Evreux? Of course he did! That was the estate of Claudine's uncle. There was also a coach stuck on the road?
Claudine! He felt immediate alarm. What was he thinking of, sitting here so calmly when she was close by? Mayhap in grave danger as well? The nights on the road were not as safe as they should be – despite his father's efforts, and those of other local lords, there were still vagabonds and outlaws on the roads, desperate men who would plunder a coach brought to halt without a second thought.
He had to go and find out more about the monk's report of a damaged coach, and soon.
The more he thought about it, the more he knew he had to set out tomorrow. He knew it might seem foolish – after all, what proof had he that the carriage bore Claudine or indeed any of the duke's relations to their residence? However, he had a sense of urgency that could not be denied.
Also, he thought as he stood, brushing dust from his tunic as he headed toward the columns and indoors, he had an excellent chance to follow the abbot's sound advice.
He could gather information.
It sounded like the best change he had of solving the mystery around Claudine.
Or of helping her. The two seemed intertwined somehow.
All the same, despite the graveness of the mission, Francis found he didn't feel daunted so much as inspired by it.
He might get to see Claudine again.
Even if I cannot speak with her, which seems unlikely. Seeing her from afar is good enough.
It would have to be.
As he hurried into the dark tranquil space of the monastery, the sound of the monks discussing something in the scriptorium floating out peacefully to him, he felt his heart fill with excitement. As well as a bright flame of hope. He would be able to find something out. First, though, he had to make sure the carriage the monks had seen, was safe.
That was the most urgent matter to hand.
He hurried to the stables, heart thumping in his chest. He knew it was dangerous to be abroad in a summer thunderstorm. That didn't matter – the danger to Lady Claudine could be far worse. He had to go and assure himself that she was safe.