Raymond charged through the door. ‘Nothing,’ he announced, with a studied glance in Gwenn’s direction. ‘The bird, if there was one, has flown.’
‘There was someone!’ Gwenn burst out. ‘There was!’
The knight strode to the door. ‘I’ll have a scout around myself. Fletcher, accompany me.’
Gwenn’s brown eyes burned as she looked at her brother. ‘Why don’t you believe me, Raymond?’
Raymond did not disbelieve his sister, in fact he believed her only too well. But he loved Gwenn, and had observed the invisible scars the fire had left on her. Her confidence wavered whenever she left the hall. She walked Kermaria with fear perched on her shoulders. Raymond wanted to free her from her terrors, even if that meant lying to her. ‘I’m sure you think you saw someone, Gwenn.’
‘Don’t take me for a birdbrain,’ Gwenn snapped. ‘You were there when the mob went wild; you know I saw someone threatening Grandmama in the blaze; and you know as well as I, that de Roncier is at the root of our trouble.’ And then she clamped her mouth shut, for she could say no more without breaking her promise to her mother.
Alan had been taking a keen interest in the conversation, but at this point Raymond steered his sister aside.
‘Hell and damnation,’ Alan muttered, frustrated. He’d give a week’s pay for more information. Diligently polishing the blade of his sword, he stretched his ears. If Malait was scouting around, then he must make his move soon.
The concubine’s children raised their voices.
‘Sorry, Gwenn,’ he heard Raymond apologising. ‘I only wanted to reassure you.’ With a flourish, the boy gave his sister a charming bow that Alan recognised was a copy of his father’s. ‘Can I make amends? I’m going for a ride. Would you like to come? You could do with a few hours in the saddle, you’ve the most appalling seat.’
‘Don’t be rude,’ Gwenn answered. ‘You’ve had more practice than I. The only ride I’ve had in years was when we came here. And how would you be with Katarin wriggling about in your arms?
‘Pax. Pax. Forget I ever spoke. Can you come?’
Gwenn pulled a face of regret. ‘I’m sorry. I promised Mama I’d help mend the linen. Most of it’s in ribbons. Where are you going?’
‘I thought I might explore the forest.’
Gwenn positioned herself so she had an unobstructed view of Alan. ‘When are you going to retrieve Grandmama’s statue, Raymond?’ she asked, innocently. The mercenary’s head was downbent over his sword, guiding it to the whetstone; but as she spoke his fingers went white on hilt and blade. She smiled.
‘Oh, Jesu, I’d forgotten all about that cursed thing,’ Raymond said.
‘I know it’s worthless.’ Gwenn saw a pulse beating in Alan’s neck, ‘but I would like it. Where is it?’ The grindstone creaked to a halt.
‘Locmariaquer. In one of the temples.’
Gwenn caught her brother’s arm. ‘Go that way today, Raymond. Please. I’d love to have it back. It means even more to me now Grandmama is gone.’
‘I’ll see. I’ve a mind to explore the forest.’ Raymond didn’t want to commit himself, but observing his sister’s crestfallen expression, he relented. ‘If I don’t fetch it today, I’ll fetch it soon. Agreed?’
Gwenn nodded. ‘You’re a beast,’ she said, with a grin.
Raymond grinned back, unrepentant. ‘I know.’
***
A month slipped by. Alan’s leg was all but healed and his splints were removed. Yolande and Gwenn decided that the time was ripe for them to set the wheels in motion.
It had rained all night and ragged, wind-bitten clouds chased across the sky, but Gwenn was determined that this was the day she would ride to Locmariaquer and reclaim her statue. A few paltry raindrops were not going to stop her.
Despite Raymond saying that he would collect the Stone Rose, he had not yet done so, nor had he taken her riding. Today, Gwenn’s laggardly brother was going to be made to fulfil his promise. Gwenn began wheedling as the family was eating their early morning crust. The men-at-arms were on a separate table, nearer the door. ‘Raymond, may I ride with you today?’
‘No,’ Raymond mumbled, through a mouthful of bread.
Prepared for this response, Gwenn edged along the bench till her shoulder touched his and dimpled up at him. ‘What excuse have you today, Raymond? Yesterday you were too busy hunting; the day before that you’d a wager with Denis; the day before that you were writing for Sir Jean...’ She let her voice trail off, noticing the pebble grey eyes of Alan le Bret resting on her. Turning her back on the mercenary, she smiled at her brother and wondered what excuse he’d produce today.
‘My apologies, Gwenn,’ Raymond flashed her a smile that she recognised was as charming and meaningless as hers for him. ‘I have been busy. Sir Jean lacks a clerk, and I’ve been helping out. I’ll take you tomorrow, I swear it.’
‘Always tomorrow,’ Gwenn muttered.
‘What’s wrong with today?’ Yolande said, entering the conversation.
‘I’m to help Sir Jean with plans for the guardhouse,’ Raymond informed them importantly. ‘It’s much more to my taste than the clerk’s task I’ve been lost in, and I want to prove my worth, else Sir Jean will have me play the clerk for ever.’
Yolande and Gwenn exchanged dismayed glances. They had hoped that between them they might have persuaded Raymond to go to Locmariaquer.
Jean set his cup down. ‘I do need Raymond, Gwenn,’ he confirmed, wiping droplets of wine from his moustache with his sleeve. ‘I’m planning radical alterations to the fortifications. He will assist.’
Gwenn let slip a groan of disappointment, reached for a loaf, and broke off a large chunk. She wanted action, and today. ‘He promised me he’d fetch Grandmama’s statue nigh on a month ago.’ Her dark brows formed a discontented line. ‘The men in this household only honour their promises when they are made to other men. Women don’t count, do they?’
Jean’s eyes filled with reproach. ‘Don’t be ungrateful. You are allowed your say far more than most young ladies.’
Gwenn bristled until she read affection in her father’s expression, and then she grinned. ‘I’m a nuisance, I know. But I would like the Stone Rose back. Raymond swore to Grandmother that he’d see it in my hands, and that was six weeks ago.’
‘She has a point, my love,’ Yolande said, taking her part.
‘I don’t know what all the whinging is about,’ Raymond threw in. ‘Not only is it worthless, but it’s a dreadful, ugly carving.’
‘I agree.’ Alan le Bret’s eyes were boring holes in Gwenn’s shoulder-blades. ‘But since it belonged to Grandmama, I would like it.’
‘It’s a small thing Gwenn asks, my love, and it means so much to her.’
‘Where is the damned thing, Raymond?’ Jean demanded.
‘Locmariaquer.’
Gwenn sat very straight.
‘Not too far,’ Jean observed. ‘But, no, Gwenn, I cannot spare Raymond.’ His daughter’s spine sagged, and he winked indulgently at her. ‘But if mademoiselle has set her heart on it, one of the grooms can take her.’
In a flash, Alan hoisted himself upright and limped across. ‘I’ll accompany your daughter, Sir Jean.’ Gwenn covered her mouth with her hand to hide a delighted smile. ‘I’m not much use as a soldier yet, but the exercise will put some strength back into my leg.’
‘No, Jean!’ Yolande grasped her lover’s hand. It was no part of her design that Gwenn should ride off alone with the routier.
Jean tugged doubtfully at his moustache.
‘If your son furnishes me with the direction, I shall be pleased to escort your daughter,’ Alan pressed, pleasantly.
Gwenn turned a blind eye to the frantic looks Yolande was firing across at her. ‘Oh, please, sir, let me go. I’m longing for a ride.’
‘She’s not that good on a horse, Papa,’ Raymond said, dampeningly. He could see that his mother was concerned, and he did not trust the fellow either.