Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,123
boasting about the fact that he’s to fight his mistress’s husband…”
The king had come into the gallery, magnificent in his black and gold armor, and silence reigned until he had taken his place to oversee the remainder of the tournament. Aimée waited and worried.
Bernard Tevoulère was married to her dearest friend, Micheline. They’d met when Aimée had traveled south, babies in tow, to visit her parents near Angoulême. During the few short years of their friendship, Aimée had returned to Angoulême to see Micheline as much as to reunite her children with their grandparents. When Bernard had become bored with country life and began to spend more time at court, Micheline remained behind in Angoulême.
“Poor Micheline!” Aimée whispered to Thomas. “It infuriates me to think of her, living alone while he cavorts at court! What a fool he is! Married to the finest woman in France, and yet he leads a double life. I’d almost sympathize with Arnaud Guerre in this joust, if I didn’t know how much Bernard means to Micheline—”
“Micheline’s led a sheltered life,” St. Briac replied quietly. “And Bernard has changed, miette.”
“Tragically!”
Thomas reached out to caress his wife’s glossy black curls. “Bernard must have been flawed from the beginning; these circumstances have merely exposed his weaknesses. If the man had any honor, he’d realize what’s truly important in life and bind himself to the lady he’s blessed to call his wife.”
A series of trumpet blasts announced the next contest. Bernard Tevoulère and Arnaud Guerre rode onto the field, pausing before the gallery to salute the king. Bernard, who was neither as tall nor as powerfully built as his opponent, lifted his visor and grinned confidently. While Elise Guerre stood to extend her hand to her husband, Bernard chuckled audibly and received a sharp glance from the king.
Moments later the two men on horseback were in position at opposite ends of the lists. Another clarion call signaled the first charge, which proved to be routine as lances struck shields and the horses reared back in reaction to the blows.
Aimée told herself that there was nothing to worry about. This was only a game, after all, not a fight to the death. Still, she couldn’t help remembering another joust on this very field when an enemy of Thomas’s had tried to kill him…and there was something about Guerre’s bearing that sent a cold chill down her spine. Silently Aimée closed her eyes and began to pray.
She heard the trumpet, the charge of the horses, a loud crash, and then surprised gasps and cries of alarm from the assembled throng.
“Sangdieu!” hissed St. Briac. “Guerre struck at Tevoulère’s helm!”
Filled with dread, Aimée opened her eyes to discover Bernard lying on the field, his head bent at an unnatural angle, while Arnaud Guerre remained on his horse, staring dispassionately at the body of his vanquished rival.
Part One
Well, fools must strike on the rebound.
While ladies volley in the air;
Collecting dues Love roams around;
All Faith is violated there.
Be hugs and kisses ne’er so rare.
Join hounds, arms, hawks and lovers’ gains.
For all, at last, make mortals swear:
“For one short joy a thousand pains!”
– François Villon 1431-?
Chapter 1
Angoulême, France
September, 1532
Soft late-afternoon sunlight filtered through the abundant green woods east of Angoulême as Micheline Tevoulère cantered home astride her huge white stallion, Gustave. She was the picture of beauty in a pale yellow gown that set off her luminous eyes, which were the color of the spring’s first French irises. Lifting her face, she tasted the wind, curling brandy-hued tresses flying free in her wake.
Approaching the modest stone manor house where she had lived since her marriage four years earlier, Micheline felt a familiar shadow steal over her heart. She loved this place, but it hardly seemed a home with Bernard away so much at court. Dismounting outside the stables, she handed Gustave’s reins over to the groom and then noticed the other horses in stalls that were usually empty.
“The seigneur and madame de St. Briac arrived this past hour, madame,” the boy explained.
A radiant smile lit Micheline’s countenance. “What a wonderful surprise!” Gathering the books she’d brought back from her father’s house, she raced toward the manor’s rear entrance.
Aimée was there to greet her. They embraced warmly, then continued into the spacious flower-filled kitchen, where Micheline set her books on a long oak table and turned to beam at her friend.
“I cannot believe my eyes! It’s as if you dropped from heaven, cherie! I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. I went to take