Amicia considered refusing, but one look at Sister Mary eliminated all thoughts of rebellion. She had chosen to travel with him, and she was going to have to see him every day.
The column had become quite strung out in the gorge. It took an hour for the last part of the rearguard to come up-more of Ser Christos and his stradiotes.
Sister Mary was already asleep in her folding chair. Sister Katherine went to make sure they had a tent of their own.
Amicia sipped her wine. After a little while, Ser Thomas Lachlan came and sat by her.
“Where are the herds?” she asked.
Ser Thomas laughed. “On the west road,” he said. “Only the Red Knight would lead his party through the fewkin’ gorge.” He smiled. “There’s a perfectly good road, just one more valley over west, like.”
“Why the gorge, then?” Amicia asked.
Ser Thomas laughed. “You, I reckon,” he said. “He’s mad for ye-you know it, aye?”
Amicia found that despite her best intentions, she was blushing furiously.
He grinned at her. “I’m fer thinkin’ you’re not so agin’ it as you seem.”
Amicia drank a little more wine than she’d intended and coughed.
“Ah, well.” Ser Thomas nodded. “I’m an old busybody.” He leaned back, all six foot four of him. “Did ye like the gorge, lass?”
Amicia nodded. “I loved it. The rush of the water-the depth of the gorge. Magnificent.”
Ser Thomas made room for Ser Gavin and Ser Michael as they entered. They bowed to her and talked in whispers because of the sleeping Sister Mary-all except Ser Thomas Lachlan, who didn’t seem to have a whisper.
Outside the pavilion, a cultured voice laden with sarcasm asked, “What’s our lord and master doing now? Finding minstrels to play for his lady love?”
She heard Toby say something softly.
The cultured voice said, “Oh, my God.”
Chris Foliak, still in his arming clothes, stepped into the pavilion out of the spring evening. He was beet red, and when he saw how red Amicia was, he turned even redder.
Amicia got to her feet. “I think-” she began unsteadily.
Ser Thomas rose. “Don’t go, lass. It’s just Foliak’s usual way of goin’ about things-lead wi’ his tongue. Eh, Kit?”
“Good sister, I apologize for my-” Even Chris Foliak wasn’t sure what to say.
But luckily for everyone, Sister Mary chose that moment to moan, and awake.
“Oh-Amicia!” she said weakly.
Amicia took her by the hand and led her to their tent. There were only a hundred people in the whole party, and fifteen wagons-so their tent was not so hard to find. By it, Sister Katherine was leading a dozen young men and women in prayer. She flashed Sister Amicia a smile.
Sister Mary was so tired from riding that it was all she could do to get undressed to her shift. Amicia laid her down, covered her and watched her fall asleep unaided by any hermetical wisdom.
Katherine rose from her knees, coral prie-dieu in hand, and dusted herself off. “Blessed Virgin, Mary is going to hate horses tomorrow morning,” she said. “This household has no chaplain since Father Arnaud died.”
Amicia nodded.
“Well-you have a licence to say mass, Sister. I don’t.” Sister Katherine grinned. “Father Arnaud said mass every morning, I gather. They’re not all impious rake-hells like their captain.”
Amicia nodded, not sure whether she should defend the captain or join the attack. “You know I’m on this journey because my licence has been declared heretical,” she said.
Sister Katherine nodded towards the large red pavilion. “I gather there’s wine?” She smiled. “Listen, I’m related to half these men. I won’t err or fall on my back for one, but I’d like to spend a week riding and talking about something other than laundry.”
Amicia might have scolded her, but instead she laughed, too. “We can watch each other,” she said.
The pavilion fell silent as the two nuns entered.
“Par Dieu, gentles,” Ser Pierre said. “We’ll have to watch our oaths and our manners.”
“Good practice for a tourney before the King and Queen,” Ser Michael said.
On the last line, the captain came in. Amicia noted that he smelled of sweat-male and horse-and of something metallic. As he entered, Nell appeared and put a cup of wine in his hand. Other men rose-not all together. No one bowed, but the deference was there. When he sat, they all sat.
He smiled at Amicia. “No need for guests to pay me so much courtesy,” he said.
She returned his smile. “No one was ever hurt by too much courtesy.” Other people had gone back to their conversations and she had his attention. “Would you like me to say mass for your people, while we are on the road?” she asked.
He looked around. “Yes. Yes, I suppose I would. If you’re declared a heretic, will we all go straight to hell?”
She shook her head. “No, I imagine all the sin will fall on my shoulders.”
He nodded. “Excellent, then. Any time you’d like to take on some more sin…” He paused. “No, that was asinine.”
“Yes,” she said, frankly. “I tell you what-you pass on all forms of double-entendre and I’ll forbear easy religious comments about your life of violence.”
He nodded. “Done. I’m not that good at double-entendre anyway.”
He looked around. “Gentles,” he said, and they were quiet. His easy exercise of power disturbed her. He did it too easily. He didn’t wait for them to finish what they were saying, as Sister Miriam might have, or join another conversation and wait his turn. He paused, and they reacted.
He made a motion to Toby, and all the squires and pages left the tent.
“As I entered, Ser Michael mentioned that we would need our best behaviour to be at court with the King and Queen.” He looked around. “What I have to say does not leave this table. It is not meant for the pages and squires, nor is it for the peasants who sell us food.”
Now he had their attention.
“The King has arrested the Queen on charges of witchcraft. She is accused of murdering the Count D’Eu by sorcery.” His voice was bland-he might have been discussing the weather.
Ser Michael turned pale. “Christ on the cross,” he said. “Is he insane?”
The Red Knight shook his head. “Friends, I have been too slow. I should have recognized-never mind. But I no longer know what we’re riding to-war or peace, a tournament or a darker contest.” He looked around. “I think most of you have some idea where Ser Gelfred is. So you’ll understand that we have news.”
Ser Alcaeus smiled knowingly. Bad Tom shrugged.
The Red Knight leaned back and sipped his wine. “As we get closer to Harndon, we’ll get better and more accurate reports. But if what I have today is accurate, and what Ser John Crayford had two days ago tallies with it, the Prince of Occitan is riding into southern Alba.”
“And there’s raids all along the frontiers,” Bad Tom said.
“Master Smythe said: go to the tournament.” The Red Knight shrugged. “Every bone in my body tells me to sit tight in Albinkirk and raise an army, but mayhap-with a great deal of luck-mayhap we can save something.” He shrugged. “Any road, we’ll be cautious, and move as if in a land at war.”
The men all groaned.
Ser Michael shook his head. “I don’t like it. Is the King… possessed?”
Since it was treason to propose such a thing, a certain hush fell.
Ser Gabriel leaned back and looked into his wine cup. “I thought I knew what was going on. The arrest of the Queen…” He shrugged. But Amicia noted that he merely sipped his wine. She had seen him drink more heavily. He was very carefully controlled.
Ser Michael looked over at Ser Thomas. “Send for the company,” he suggested. His suggestion was stated in fairly imperious tones.
Ser Thomas wrinkled his nose.
Ser Gabriel managed a thin-lipped smile. “I’m tempted. But-if we take an army into the Albin, then we’re the ones doing the provoking-and to all the people, all the merchants and yeomen and farmers, it will always seem that we provoked the King. The rightful King.” He looked around-at Ser Christos and Ser Alcaeus. “We have a good force-enough knights to defeat any casual attempt to take us. And we have friends.”