A Private Crusade

By Jack Bessie

Sir Andre Elyes de Toulouse had served as a Templar knight, and after six long years, in 1065 he was intent on returning home, tired of fighting. At a fork in the road, he receives an odd prompting, and turns aside, curious and bemused as to what he might find as the result of this Divine direction.

What he finds is a duchy ruled by a wicked Duke, whose evil heir promises to inflict even more wickedness on the poor serfs. He also finds the Duke's youngest son, avoiding his family's evil as a monk in the neighboring monastery. Perhaps Andre might effect a change in leadership?

All that stands in his way is his religious training, the Duke's neglected young and eager wife, and the fifteen year old daughter of the Duke, who is marvelously luscious, but utterly contrary! With both The Duchess Marie and the young Lady Katerine competing for his attention, and the Duke's son trying to murder him, life at the castle is quite exciting!

A sexy, sneaky tale of French medieval romance and royal intrigue that will thrill you, and make you laugh and cry!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jack Bessie
• Release date: Nov 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781940592107

Jack Bessie

Jack Bessie is a child of the corn belt, who grew up shy and rather isolated, chasing critters and working on the neighbor’s farm. An avid reader from an early age, he was obsessed with learning, especially science. He hated English, which is a superb irony, considering how many millions of words of prose he has written in his later life; it would appear that God does indeed have a fine sense of humor or at least a fondness for satire and irony!Jack’s college experience was fanatical and obsessive, involving ridiculously intense bouts of reading and self motivated study, interspersed with much drinking and the chasing of women. He devoted a large portion of his study to psychology and communications, dropping out without a degree, but with an astoundingly wide and deep education. He also accumulated a pregnant wife along the way. The chasing of women was productive at least!Jack’s work history is as interesting as his college journey. He’s been a hospital orderly, janitor, research assis-tant, draftsman, cook, plumber, electrician, home builder, and master cabinet maker, the trade his father plied. One of the high points of his work life involved being fired from two different but equally lousy jobs in the same day!Jack and his second wife raised five biological chil-dren, and then were crazy enough to adopt six more. He’s never been noted for moderation. They are now content to herd their cats, Beatnik, Funky Kitty, and Lucifer.Honestly, Jack hasn’t gotten any less excessive, as you might notice from reading his writing. His life has given him an endless panoply of things to make fun of and to think deeply about, which he endeavors to share with his readers and fans. The author of ten novels, and a million words of humor and insight, Jack is always writing, and has no plans to ever retire.Jack also designs games, and teaches novel writing, and is once again serving as a judge for the Global eBook awards! There’s no dust on him from sitting around!

Book preview

Jack Bessie is the creator of the website, Jack Bessie’s Duct Tape for the Soul https://www.jackofwords.com It is filled with all sorts of insightful, funny, crazy and profoundly motivating stuff!

In addition, Jack has a Tumblr Blog: Words of Bessie http://jackofwords.tumblr.com/

He’s also on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jackofwords

And on Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/jackbessie/

And he posts short stories free on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/search/jack%20Bessie

Besides his daily blog posting page that features Bessie-isms and Quoteables, you’ll discover a bunch of other pages filled with crazy and amusing features. And of course, there’s a whole section devoted to all his other books, with links to see samples and to buy them. (Authors are wicked opportunists!)

You’ll also find a Free Book Page where you can get two different free digital copies of his books each month: https://www.jackofwords.com/free-books/

All of his contact info & e-mail addresses etc. are there too He even gives you material in the Archives, for all you over busy or tardy ones. Jack and his staff are a pretty zany bunch, and you should find something that makes you laugh, giggle, cry or want to hang him. Check it out! It’s free, and worthy of being under your favorites!

Come for a nice tour, and a chance to get to know him!

A Thought

We understand somewhat that life was mostly hard and unpleasant during the middle or the dark ages, especially for the serfs or peasants. Frankly, it wasn’t a lot better for the nobility. The lack of cleanliness alone would make the average modern human cringe. A bath a week seems horrid; one once a fortnight or month makes the normal person gag.

The castles we so admire and dream of now were once stinking housing for very smelly people, whose sweat and dirty rear ends added to the stench of chamber pots tossed out the handiest opening! The royal ladies compensated for such olfactory abuse by using as much perfume as they could get away with or afford. Still, the royal court was a nasty place, especially when the summer heat became oppressive.

Beyond such common nastiness, the people were afflicted by a level of brutality and cruelty that would make the current person cry in abject despair. Life had little regard, especially the life of a commoner and most especially to a member of the nobility. Few of the so called royals rose to any sort of godly level of compassionate existence, instead being consumed with their ease and pleasure, wholly at the expense of the servants and serfs.

If one was offended by a commoner or servant, it was no bother to beat them or kill them, and replace them with another. Humans had little more worth than many other chattels, and were treated as such.

The royal personage who did rise above this level of evil wickedness was most remarkable and usually much admired, at least by the lowly ones.

Occasionally an odd soul endeavored to do better for the people whom others neglected. This story involves one such. Had more been willing to do so, the dark ages would have been much less dark.

Enjoy!

Jack

A Private Crusade

A Novel By

Jack Bessie

doing good can be a royal pain!

1

Lady Katerine’s busy lady-in-waiting, Agace, scarcely glanced up from her mending, at the breathless arrival of her young charge.

Mamee! the young one exclaimed, calling her servant by the affectionate nickname she had given her when she was scarcely five. Have you heard the news? There is a visitor at the Abbey—a knight—one of the Templars! she gushed, as if this was the most astounding thing to have occurred in ages.

And what, pray tell, makes you act so giddy and enthused? Agace replied, not looking up.

Mamee! One of the servant girls was near the road when he passed by! She says he is quite handsome! Katerine declared, hands on her hips, as if she was declaring a great profundity. This garnered her a stern look, and a sad shake of Agace’s head.

As if that has any import for you? You, dear Katerine, are not quite of age, in the first of things, and further, your father, the Duke, is not likely to be inclined to give you to a wandering knight, no matter how handsome or willing he might be! Besides, you know little of the Templars, apparently!

And what is that supposed to mean? the young woman, who lacked nearly four months of being sixteen, and a legal adult, hotly demanded. Agace gestured for her inexperienced lady to come close, and sit.

My dear Katerine—Templars take the most sturdy vows, forsaking most things a normal knight might partake of, she began.

Such as? Katerine demanded, pushy and a bit petulant.

Such as women, wives, family and children. They vow to serve God and the church. This one is typical, having just returned from the latest crusade, she intoned. Seeing Katerine’s crestfallen countenance, she grinned impishly. His name is Andre—Sir Andre Elyes de Toulouse.

How can you know that? the young woman almost shrieked, her mouth open. Agace reached up, and patted Katerine’s cheek, before urging her to close her mouth with her fingers.

We servants have our ways—and you’d do well to respect us a bit better, she insisted. He is quite handsome, if we can trust the eyes of certain ones! she laughed. Now—why might you be concerned with him? she again asked. Katerine seemed to squirm, looking down. Finally she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. She looked up, with a guilty expression.

I—I’ve had—dreams about—a knight—coming to— she stopped suddenly, her pretty face taking on a substantial blush.

To do what? Something considered improper? Agace demanded sternly, Have you confessed these dreams to Father Aramond? the older woman asked slyly.

N—no. Must I? They’re—only dreams! she sighed.

And how many times do you willingly remember them, finding them enticing? They give you—urges—don’t they? Katerine covered her face with her hands, and moaned.

Oh dear God—the worst! she whispered. I think I’d die of embarrassment, if I had to enumerate them at Confession! Must I? Please say no, Mamee! I promise I won’t ever give in to such a thing!"

Agace snorted at this, shaking her head again. You’d be wise to make no vow that has such a small chance of enduring! Lying is a worse sin than merely having urges, my dear child! she sighed. Katerine shrugged.

Apparently my understanding of God and church matters is lacking—I have only a rudimentary grasp of sin! she declared, and giggled. And not much experience with it!

And you consider that a lack? Katerine! Perhaps I should confess your urges for you? Agace slyly suggested. Her young companion shook her head vigorously, looking panicked. You certainly have a good grasp of what evil and wickedness look like, don’t you? she added. Katerine sighed.

Father? she quietly spoke. Seeing Agace’s small nod, she relaxed a bit. I would not deny that—and Claren is little better, she added, referring to her oldest brother, and the heir to the dukedom. Glancing at Agace, she considered her words carefully, since technically, Agace served her father, not her. Still, she trusted that her loyalty belonged to her, far more than the Duke.

I wish I could be—proud of my father, not afraid of him! It would be so nice to have him be honorable and kind—someone people supported from love and friendship, instead of fear or greed!

Personally, I find it amazing that any support him at all! Agace whispered. Katrine shrugged.

I suppose. Maybe Tienette was lucky, to be given far away from here! she replied, speaking of her older sister, who was married off to a minor royal in exchange for a substantial sum of money.

You are like to suffer the same fate, you do understand that? Agace suggested. Katerine nodded, wiping at her eyes.

Unless I decide to play the whore, and give myself to a cute peasant! she suggested. Agace was shocked, considering this. The fact that Katerine had a substantial streak of contrariness made this harder to dismiss out of hand.

My dear child! Don’t be hasty or foolish! You should at least wait until you know whom he might pick for you—before you go and do something so drastic! Katerine giggled.

I suppose that’s good advice. Tienette is mostly happy, all in all, she admitted.

You have letters from her? What says she? Is her husband—worthy?

Katerine gave her servant a sly glance. He tends to neglect her needs, but is reasonably tolerant of her whims and inclinations, especially for clothing! Her—lover takes care of her urges, or so she tells me! Agace’s gasp was sharp.

Oh my! That could be a wicked bit, should she—

Have a bastard child? I’m sure if it’s a son, he’ll be less inclined to complain!

Where do you get these—these—notions? Katerine, is this what’s gossiped about at court?

Mamee! We have to have something to talk about! The ladies and servant girls alike have never let mere fact and propriety stop a good bit of gossiping! she declared and laughed. Seeing Agace’s disapproving air, she sighed.

I suppose I should confess that too? she complained. Agace gave her a questioning look, and she added, I have no idea how Father Aramond can stay nonplussed, with so many sinful things passing his ears!

Katerine? Do you confess every single sinful thing you do or think each week?

I’m sure I might miss a few—besides, he has to have some time to listen to other people’s sins, doesn’t he? she asked, looking amazingly angelic. Agace burst out laughing, delighted, as always, by her young lady’s propensity to say something outrageous. When she had settled down, she winked at her.

I’m sure I miss a few of mine too. Of course, God is supposed to know them all anyway—yes? she slyly asked. Katerine suddenly looked nervous.

"All of them? Oh, dear me—" she moaned, looking like this wasn’t welcome news. This peaked Agace’s curiosity.

Katerine? Do you think you could kiss a man, if you had occasion to?

I’m sure I could—I’ve had a bit—of— she suddenly stopped in mid sentence, the import of her comment finally touching her mind.

You know, you’re quite cute when you blush so feverishly? What have you done, and with whom? Agace demanded.

I—I—it wasn’t much—really—just once, I—I, ah— kissed one of—you know—the squires! she stammered.

Is that so? Well now, when and where might that have happened? Katerine seemed to have lost her voice. Agace gently lifted the red faced girl’s chin, wiping her eyes with a hankie.

It—it was—back of the kitchen—where—the steps go down to the cellar? That hall way, at the top of the stairs? I was going to get a treat from the cook, and he was coming up! I waited, while he went in, and he come back with some sweet bread. We were just—talking—and I—I asked him, you know, if he’d ever kissed a girl!

Had he?

Ummm, he said he had—but just once! He asked me—if—if I wanted one—a kiss, and—well—he kissed me! I nearly wet myself! Katerine dreamily whispered, the memory captivating her, as she stared into space, reliving the event. Agace waited a moment, and finally, Katerine turned to her. And no—I never confessed that either! she admitted. It was the only time!

How old were you?

Katerine considered this. It was last fall—I was—almost fifteen? Why?

How much would you like to repeat that? Agace demanded. Her mistress looked incredibly guilty.

I suspect I’d run bare through the great hall, for a chance to do that again! she giggled. Does that make me—what?

Mostly normal, my dear child. You’re almost grown—have the urges of a woman. You need to be married, before you do something to cause a scandal! Is that what you desire?

I think I mostly desire to have a handsome knight carry me off, and have his way with me, she suggested in a tiny voice. Is that too honest for you?

It’s not me that you need to be concerned about! I’m sure your father would have other ideas! Katerine made a face, showing her disgust.

I frankly don’t care what he thinks! she hissed. Softening her voice, she grinned. That makes me a bad and wicked daughter, doesn’t it?

It won’t get you anything but whipped, should you share it with him! I suggest you learn to keep your mouth shut, dear Lady!

I’ll try, but you know how I tend to be!

A bit mouthy and a good bit more forward than one your age should be! I’m honestly amazed that he hasn’t paddled your bottom several times, over your contrariness and mouth! Katerine looked thoughtful.

I was—eleven? I think, anyway, the last time he bent me over his lap, and took a strap to my bare butt! she declared, laughing. He’s avoided that ever since! Her eyes gleamed with a mischievous sparkly.

And why do you think that might be? Agace wondered, puzzled.

Because I peed on him—quite handily! She noted Agace’s shocked look. Katerine shrugged.

Well, he didn’t have the decency to ask me if I needed to do so before he whipped me! she said, laughing wickedly. Agace shook her head sadly.

You’re going to be the death of some poor man, mark my words! she cried. She just as quickly sighed. Honestly, I suspect you could raise the dead. You, my young lady, are going to be an irresistible tart! This delighted Katerine, who giggled.

Maybe even to a handsome knight? she said, looking thoughtful and a bit pouty.

2

Sir Andre Eleys de Toulouse had been eager to be done with his ordeal, fighting in the Crusades. What had six years prior seemed exciting and profoundly holy, had become a horrid, tiring and demoralizing grind. The death and suffering had been staggering, numbing any sense of moral righteousness and decency.

When afforded passage across the Mediterranean, he had eagerly gone, taking his horse and his weapons along. Eventually he reached the southern coast of France, disembarked and turning northward, he rode off, assuming he was at last on his way home.

He had ridden for days, unhurried, enjoying the sights and lushness of the countryside. As one who had served the Templars, he was welcomed at any abbey, and usually spent a night or two at each, sharing tales of his journey in exchange for the monk’s hospitality.

It was in late August, when he reached the place where the road forked, the left hand way going to Toulouse plain and easily noticed. He paused here a moment, to have a drink, and when he tugged on his horses reigns to turn left, his horse seemed inclined to go to the right instead.

This both puzzled and amused Andre, who had been spared a wicked end in the holy land, when it had happened the first time. Remembering this fact, made him hesitate, suddenly unsure.

I know the way to go. Is there some reason, why I should not? he thought, sitting still.

Others need you, he was certain he heard, and he quickly turned to see who might have spoken. He discovered he was utterly alone. Feeling the hair on his neck rise, he sat unmoving, hearing the birds chirping, and the small sounds of his horse. The idea that he should do something, undertake some unknown task, after six long years of war, seemed maddeningly unfair.

Why me? he asked, feeling foolish, to be speaking to the wind.

Because only you can, he seemed to hear, although he felt more than heard the words. Andre sighed, knowing that this was inarguable, having been graced by the whispered voice twice before. That obeying it had likely spared him a bad end, gave him no reason to rebel, and deny it. He simply shrugged, and guided the horse to the right hand way. It obeyed him flawlessly this time.

Riding off, towards an area he knew little about, made him concerned, but intensely curious. He traveled along, stopped twice to spend a night at two abbeys, and when he began the next day’s ride, he passed from one duchy to the next in the early afternoon. He had been cautioned regarding this place, at his last stop, the monks who would have never wished to speak ill or gossip about any soul warning him to be wary.

Being on guard, he looked keenly at the people he passed, mostly peasants going about their business. That they seemed unusually reticent and subdued, lacking in jovial banter and the humor that tended to help make up for their hard lot in life, struck him as a dire sign. Coming abreast of a pair of men, working to fix a broken wheel on a hay cart, he chose to speak to them.

Good day, gentlemen! Could you tell me how far might be the abbey of Saint Martin? he asked, smiling. The men both seemed surprised to be addressed by someone riding on a horse, and they glanced at each other, before one endeavored to reply.

It be about an hour’s ride—past the villages of Couville and Trebulc. It’s just off the road, before the Duke’s place. Where might you be from, stranger? the man, who admitted his name was Lucere when asked, managed to inquire.

From Toulouse province, but I’ve spent the past six years in the holy land. What can you tell me of the Duke? he asked offhandedly. The men seemed to frown reflexively at this.

Nothing good, milord, although I shouldn’t be saying’ anything, likely. Don’t need life to be harder than it is! His companion seemed upset that he had even answered.

Better pray that he doesn’t hear your criticism, Lucere! he grumbled.

I gather he’s not loved and admired, as some nobles are? Andre grinned. The two looked at each other again, and Lucere shrugged.

That might be a bit less accurate than it could be—but you didn’t hear nothing from us! the man insisted, before turning back to their work. Andre thanked them, and rode on.

What sort of Duke inspires such—displeasure and fear? he wondered, riding along, surveying the area. He noted that the peasants seemed even more poorly dressed than was usual, and there was a lack of attention to buildings and houses, that bespoke a level of poverty that his home area had not evinced.

When he passed through the villages, he looked closely, seeing more signs of this malaise. Leaving the second one, his road went uphill, before turning slightly, and through a gap in the trees, he was able to behold the castle, where the Duke resided. It seemed well designed and maintained, being surrounded by open fields on one side, where knights and their horses might practice, and fields and gardens on the other, where the food for the castle’s occupants might be grown.

Andre sat on his horse, considering this several minutes, before going on; he was soon at the abbey gates, which were open.

Apparently, someone had been watching the road, and knew of his approach. He climbed down, to find himself confronting a welcoming group of monks, novices and an older man who was soon revealed as the Abbot.

Welcome, brother, to our humble place! All who seek God, or serve him are welcome herein! I am Father Aramond, the abbot. Will you stay the night, and break bread with us?

"Indeed I would wish it! I am Sir Andre Eleys de Toulouse, recently of service with the Templars, and newly returned from the crusade to the Holy Land!

I suspected as much! Come, rest yourself, and tell us of your journey! The abbot kindly suggested. Danni! Come tend the knight’s horse, and see to it!

The abbot ran his abbey with the precision of a military detachment, likely because he had his own military force, which consisted of nearly three hundred men, about half of whom were horsemen. That this was not unusual, owing to the instability of the times, and the need to be able to defend the church lands and valuables from invaders, or even the neighboring nobility at times, made the man of God by necessity, a more worldly and resourceful person than a mere servant of God might be expected to be.

That the good father had been earlier in life a knight, was helpful too, and having an honest and kind nature, Andre found him at once a delightful host.

Andre had no hesitation to eat at the common table, with the monks and novices, undisturbed by their silence. He had himself been educated in a monastery school, as a young boy, being taught to read and write, both French and Latin, before beginning his time as a squire at age twelve. His father, a knight of Duke Renaud, had no tolerance for ignorance or sloth, especially among his sons. The rhythm and discipline of the Church, as manifested in an abbey or monastery, made perfect preparation for the training of a knight.

After the meal, and before Vespers, Andre talked to Father Aramond about the area.

The peasants you spoke to were not misrepresenting the Duke! If it wasn’t for our soldiers, I have no doubt he’d try to take the Abbey lands for himself! He wicked and of dubious moral worth. And I’m being kind! the Abbot suggested, shaking his head.

Are all the nobles in his house like him? Andre wondered.

His son—the oldest one, may be even worse. He likes to drink, and terrorize the peasants, and has raped several of the women! he said disgustedly.

And no one opposes him?

The last time someone complained, their children disappeared! Who would risk that! Look—the youngest son—Merced—came here to study when he was ten. At fourteen, when he should have returned to the castle, he elected to stay, and take vows, rather than have to tarnish his soul with his family! He’s a fine young man!

How old is he now?

Probably—twenty five? Why? the Abbot wondered, looking at Andre thoughtfully.

It strikes me that he might make a—better Duke than what’s there currently. Has he taken a vow of silence? Might I speak with him, before I depart?

Of course—he’s quite a talker. You do understand that he passed up his training as a knight, at the castle?

Did he pass up the training here too? I assume your knights do teach new recruits the arts? The Abbot laughed.

He’s both an excellent rider, and good with a sword!

Excellent! That’s something to work with! Andre declared, wryly.

Are you—inclined to stick your nose into the affairs of the nobility here? Father Aramond asked.

Perhaps. I seem to be—destined to, he sighed. Under the Abbot’s questioning, he told what had occurred on the road earlier, which had changed his travels. The Abbot was impressed and clearly pleased.

Perhaps our prayers weren’t in vain! he slyly remarked. You perhaps have heard the story of Paul—whom God chose to—redirect rather much—on the road to Damascus? he inquired, grinning fully.

Andre merely nodded. That did come to me. Does the Duke have any daughters, and if so, are they as wicked as the older son?

The Abbot stroked his chin a moment, trying not to smile excessively.

He sent the older one off to a questionable marriage; the next one died, quite possibly by her own hand. The youngest one is Lady Katerine. She’s nearing her adulthood, and, other than a bit of a contrary streak, she’s a lovely young woman! I’m just afraid he’ll ruin her too! The Abbot hesitated, noting Andre’s keen interest. Glancing heaven ward, he sighed. It was only a small lie! he whispered. Looking at Andre, he shrugged. I wasn’t as honest as I should have been. She’s…—stunningly cute and desirable, and she has a remarkably decent manner, considering who her father is!

So I’m in danger of being smitten with her? Andre asked, finding this strangely attractive, in light of his old vows.

Indeed! Again the Abbot glanced up, as if he was being prompted by God.

There is one other thing—I said she had a bit of a contrary streak? God would consider that a lie too! She can be the most contrary woman He has likely ever created! he corrected, apologetically. Andre laughed at this.

Compared to what I suffered through in the crusade, I’m sure that has to be less challenging! he suggested.

Don’t wager too much on that! the Abbott quietly advised him, and winked.

3

Absolutely not! the young woman, whom Andre had just spied, and guessed to be Lady Katerine shrieked at a frustrated servant girl. You can’t possibly expect me to wear that when I meet the knight! she loudly continued on.

But, milady—you— the servant managed to say, before being interrupted again by Lady Katerine. That the lady’s back was to Andre, and the knight who was giving him a brief tour of the castle, was plainly noted by the poor girl, who might have wished to advise her mistress of what an ass she was making of herself, but was denied.

Emmia! You know better than to interrupt me when I’m speaking!

Looking down contritely, she mumbled, Yes Milady, before looking back up, her eyes gleaming mischievously. I’m sure what you’re wearing now might suffice, especially sense he’s standing behind you! she triumphantly declared, utterly thrilled to get the chance to observe her difficult mistress suffer the embarrassment she had so richly earned.

I don’t appreciate being teased either, or having you toy with me! Katerine hotly declared.

Oh, I can assure the Lady that her servant is not the least inclined to be teasing her! Andre declared. The shocked look on Katerine’s face delighted Emmia no end. Spinning around, the Lady’s mouth seemed in danger of being stuck open.

Sir Andre Eleys de Toulouse, at your service, my dear noblewoman. I presume you are the Lady Katerine? he asked, as suave and calm as one might imagine.

I’ll put this in your room, milady! Emmia whispered, breathless and eager to depart, before her mistress could note the overpowering grin on her face; she was clearly pleased to see Katerine in such a well deserved predicament.

Lady Katerine seemed to have lost her voice, her face bearing a profound blush both from her awkward sense of foolishness, and due to the fact that she had discovered just how handsome Andre appeared to her eyes. She made a supreme effort to compose herself, and reply.

I—I, ummmm—Milord—yes—I—I am, Lady Katerine—the—Duke’s daughter! she managed to at last say, almost squeaking from her sudden nervousness. She offered him her hand, and curtsied, almost giggling when he touched his lips to the back of her fingers. She felt a thrill pass through her, whether real or imagined, she couldn’t tell for certain.

Apparently the rumors were lacking—you’re even more beautiful than they suggested! he slyly replied. Sir Gasone is graciously giving me a short tour of the castle.

Wonderful! Will—you be staying a time? she asked, trying not to sound overly eager, but afraid she was failing miserably.

Perhaps—at least a day or so! I’ll see you at court—for dinner? The Duke wishes to hear tales of my travels, and I’d be delighted to have you hear them too!

Oh—yes! I’d love that! Until then? she managed to say, hoping she sounded proper and reasonable; she suspected Sir Gasone would report the tiniest bit of improper behavior to her father.

Of course! Until then, milady, he said, and began to move on by. He suddenly looked back, which caught her eye.

By the way—what you’re wearing now looks most lovely on you! he added, and Katerine was almost sure he winked at her. She managed to say a proper thank you, before slipping into her room, feeling as if her legs might give out. Coming near to where Agace was busy, she plopped down, staring into space, utterly mesmerized.

You met our guest—the knight? Either that, or God manifested to you—yes? her servant suggested, trying hard not to smile excessively. Katerine said nothing for many long moments, her face still rosy. When she finally managed to focus her eyes on Agace, she sighed helplessly.

"Oh, Mamee—I’m doomed!" she cried softly.

It could not happen to a more deserving young woman! Agace though silently to herself, finding this tantamount to being a gift from God; Katerine had been a royal pain to her lady too many times for her to feel otherwise.

Andre had ridden down from the abbey the morning after his night’s stay. That it was a fine and clear morn, the sun having risen in perfect, beautiful silence, seemed to herald good things.

He had availed himself of Vespers the previous evening, enjoying the evening prayers, and the sense of rightness they gave him; it seemed easier to believe in the goodness of things Divine, in the safe and orderly world of the abbey.

He had been likewise touched as a young boy, at the monastery, with the power of God’s order. It was only when in the world, and on the battlefield, that God and all things divine seemed to recede and be hard to find.

After Vespers, Father Aramond had introduced him to brother Merced, and they had gone out, to sit and talk for a time.

So tell me of your family! Andre asked Merced, after some simple pleasantries. Merced seemed caught between a slight smile and a grimace for a moment.

I’d hate to violate the requirements of Christian charity, milord! he finally sighed.

That bad? Are all of them—of questionable—character? Seeing Merced still hesitate, he touched the sleeve of the monk’s robe. Father Aramond mentioned some of your father’s—less appealing tendencies, as well as a bit about your brother—Claren? Even some peasants I met upon the road had less than the usual flattery to say!

They suffer the worst abuse, milord! Merced agreed, looking quite pained by this. Not that the peasants lot is wonderful anywhere! Still, here it seems much more—oppressive. I can only lay the blame for that at my father’s feet! Andre considered this a moment before speaking.

That’s why you reside here, rather than in the castle?

Assuredly! I can do some small bit of good here, for the people, that I would be powerless to do there. I wasn’t in line to take the dukedom, and the one who is seems likely to be worse!

Why do you imagine that is? Was your grandfather so inclined—I assume that was who held the throne before your father?

"Of course! No—he was quite honored, and much loved. Most assumed that father would be like him, but that was a lie! I have his name—grandfather’s—as mine own patername—Lucien. It is quite painful, to see one’s family name reviled, but it surely is now," Merced sighed.

Merced—would you be willing to relinquish your vows, and take the dukedom, if the—opportunity should appear? The monk seemed stunned by this, staring at Andre, open mouthed.

That would require the—passing of both father and Claren! Are you suggesting…—what are you suggesting? Merced whispered.

That God might be resourceful, and move mountains, for the betterment of his people! Andre suggested, grinning slyly. I’ve seen some amazing things occur, that have no other explanation! Surely, opening a way for the moral and decent son to ascend the throne would be a small matter, for the God of all existence? he said in a most conspiratorial tone. I’m sure Father Aramond would caution us to have faith? Merced suddenly laughed.

Perhaps you have an idea! he agreed, not sure what Andre was really thinking, but finding himself intensely liking this strange knight.

What of the rest of the family—your mother, for instance? Andre wondered. He saw a brief but distinct frown pass over Merced’s face, before he shrugged.

She died, milord, when I was—fifteen? I was here, studying—I’m told it was a—fever.

You don’t believe that! Andre declared, with no trace of a question. Merced looked especially pained.

No—I’m—sure she was poisoned! Father had taken a—mistress—the young daughter of one of the minor lords. He didn’t bother to hide it, once mother was interred. He married her after the year of mourning.

Andre considered the tone of Merced’s voice. What is her name? Is she still the duchess—and how do you regard her; is she as wicked as the duke? Merced seemed startled by this, and furrowed his brows.

Her name is—Marie Osane—she can be—a bit—trying, and thinks much of herself. Well, honestly she did at first, when she was only sixteen! But now—I suspect she regrets her former ways, as father mostly ignores her, in favor of the young serving girls!

Ah! She feels neglected and unloved! Does she attract the attention of the knights, or do you know? Merced grinned.

I’m sure the men of the castle are too fearful of retribution, to give her any attention, milord. I’m sure she’s quite lonely. My sister should be close to her, being young also, but she harbors a certain—unholy animosity too; she was devastated by the death of her mother!

And she blames Marie, at least in part? I’m sure that makes for some cold and unpleasant relations in the royal keep! Andre declared.

I’m sure it does. Honestly, I tried to impress upon Katerine the need for her to be kind and charitable, if for no other reason than to protect her own soul from God’s displeasure, but I don’t think she was inclined to listen to me! he said, grinning slightly.

I’ve heard rumor that Katerine can be a bit contrary?

That’s no rumor, milord! I have no idea how a man will deal with her! he said, sounding very concerned. He suddenly laughed. Of course, as a monk, I’m the last person on God’s earth one might expect to get advice about such matters from!

You might be shocked to know how much like being a monk it is to be a husband; your life is often based on prayer and faith, whether you wish it to be or not!

You speak with a good measure of authority—how is this so? Merced wondered, curious.

Andre sighed heavily, staring into space. Before I joined the Templars, I was a knight in service of Duke Renaud. I married young—and she died in childbirth, Andre said speaking softly.

That’s why you went off on the crusade! Merced proclaimed. Did that—help?

No, but it made the loss no worse. Time itself is the only thing that heals such a wound. One must just keep from being idle, while it works its effects!

Do you still count yourself among the Templars? Merced wondered.

No—I think I’ve had enough of their—austerity—to last me a while. I find I can look upon a lady with neither sorrow nor trepidation now. Andre chuckled.

Then brother, I’d warn you to watch yourself at the castle—being new, several of the ladies may have an eye for you! the Monk suggested. Depending on which one it is, you may have all sorts of troubles!

That’s quite often how it is with the fairer sex, dear Merced! I hope to see you more, err I depart this realm? Andre said, as he stood to take his leave, and let the monk go on to his duties.

I’d enjoy that, Sir Andre—it’s quite refreshing to see a member of the nobility that actually knows what being noble entails!

4

Andre had arrived at the castle unremarked, being part of much traffic moving hither and yon. The guards seemed especially lax and inattentive, being mostly bored. Andre had dismounted and nearly passed within, before anyone thought to inquire who he was, and what business he might have within. His crisp and pointed response sent a page running for the castle proper, and a squire rushing forth to tend his horse.

He walked into the great hall as if he were the rightful owner of it, his bearing and confidence, honed in the hard years of his travels, producing a firm and unshakable resolve. He came to stand behind a small knot of commoners, all present to seek some sort of decision or redress from the Duke. Two were arguing, apparently over the dispossession of a lamb or two. The Duke, himself looking bored, finally motioned for silence, and issued his edict.

You bother me for such petty purpose? Give the disputed creatures to the care of my herders and be gone with you! he cried. The two men, shocked that neither had prevailed, but rather both had lost all, went away mumbling, but afraid to be over heard, and perhaps made to suffer a worse fate. Andre noted this act of insufferable unfairness stoically, finding it did much to confirm all he had heard of the Duke’s character.

As one of the pages whispered in his ear, the Duke glanced in Andre’s direction, puzzled. He stood, and gestured for him to approach. The people near him parted quickly, to give him passage; his bearing and sword declared his importance handily to any with eyes.

Andre marched to the foot of the dais before stopping, and bowing low. Sir Andre Eleys de Toulouse at your service, milord Duke! he declared simply. The Duke seemed rather astounded, and a good bit uncertain as to what Andre’s arrival might herald.

A Templar? Welcome, Sir Andre, to our humble castle! What brings you to our place? he wondered, hoping to hear something that might give him insight.

Ah, milords and ladies. he began, politely including any and all who were standing around, curious, I have just returned from the Holy Land, after six long years of campaign! I was journeying back towards my homeland, in Toulouse, when a prompting form God redirected my path, and I came this way, eager to view something new! This seemed to relieve the Duke, who had been concerned that Andre had been sent to him for some purpose beyond his reckoning.

Ahhhh—well, you are most welcome to rest a bit, and partake of our hospitality, though we might not be as rich and opulent as some others!

Milord—after what I’ve lived with neigh on the last six years, a shady place to sit, and a warm loaf of bread seems more rich than a wagon of gold!

Your words are kind. I wonder—might you be looking for a place to ply the knightly trade? the Duke asked suddenly, causing several of his men to glance at each other.

Might thou be in need of one such as myself? I had not thought to ask, but would be well inclined to consider such a thing! Andre replied, suddenly wanting to keep his options open.

Excellent! Gasone! he called, gesturing to one of the knights standing close by. Take our guest, and show him around the castle and the grounds. We shall speak more this evening at table! the Duke insisted.

I shall look forward to it, my lord!

Andre found the castle to be sturdy and well planned, the sort of fortification that could be easily defended from any but the largest and most determined foe. His guide, Gasone, was young and seemed in awe of Andre. After the encounter with Katerine, on the upper floor of the keep, Andre noted that his companion seemed especially pleased by their awkward run in with the young noblewoman.

I hear she’s a bit—contrary? Andre quietly suggested, grinning at Gasone.

Oh, yes! Dear God—you have no idea how much I enjoyed watching her make an ass of herself! he laughed, before sobering. Don’t get me wrong—we all love her—but—she can be a bit—

Tiresome? Andre suggested. I noted that the servant girl was having trouble hiding her delight!

Oh, yes—Emmia is like most—she suffers much from the Lady’s moods! Still, I’ve no doubt a man will eventually tame her! Well, one hopes for that to happen! he admitted.

I gather there isn’t a line waiting, eager to be the one to attempt that?

No! It isn’t just because of her either— Gasone sighed.

Her father? Andre prompted. Gasone hesitated, before nodding.

Hmmm—that’s not all that unusual! Andre began, but before he could say more, they rounded a corner, and came upon the Duchess and her lady.

Ahhh, milady Marie! Gasone called gently, wanting to capture her attention, without sounding pushy or demanding. We have a guest!

The young woman who looked up, surprised at this intrusion, was taken aback, finding herself confronting Andre. She looked almost in danger of swooning, to Andre’s