Song of the Heart - Alexa Aston Page 0,75

rode in the huge arms of his servant. He had offered to bring her down himself each night but she had told him no, thinking it unseemly for the lord of the manor to wait on her in front of his people. She reminded him how, despite his simple ways, Coster had served the earl’s family faithfully going on two score now.

While she’d tried her best to put distance between her and Garrett, it gave her a small thrill to see the longing in his eyes as Coster placed her on her feet and then helped seat her.

“I’m off to check on news of the babe,” Coster whispered to Madeleine.

“God be with Agnes,” she replied.

October had just arrived and Madeleine was grateful she was near the roaring fire. Her fingers were cold and she warmed them before reaching for her lute. She sang a few songs first, all written since her accident, and they were warmly received, the loud applause causing her cheeks to flame. She hoped those gathered would think it was her nearness to the fire that caused the rosy glow.

“I’d like to tell you tonight of the mighty Roland,” she said as she lay her lute aside.

“’Tis another song, Madeleine?” called out Cook.

“No, though I do know a few songs about him. I’d rather tell you this story instead.”

Those in the great hall gathered closer, anticipation on their faces.

“Once there was a famous king named Charlemagne, King of the Franks. He was a wise and just ruler who loved his people very much. That is why, while he was fighting the Saracens in Spain, he decided to leave, because he received word of some trouble at home.

“He asked his nephew, Roland, along with a small band of knights, to guard the rear of his army while he returned home. They were charged to hold the pass at Roncesvalle. In spite of his reputation for bravery, Roland and his men were quickly attacked by the Saracens. It was a mighty force, four hundred thousand strong.”

Gasps echoed throughout the hall. “Four hundred thousand?” asked Cook.

Madeleine nodded and continued. “Roland fought bravely at the front of his small group, swinging a sword named Durendal. The battle was long and hard but, in the end, the numbers against the Franks were too great.”

“Poor lads,” someone whispered.

Many nodded their heads in agreement.

“Roland was urged by his friend, Oliver, to sound the oliphant, a powerful horn Charlemagne had given his nephew. Only Roland could do so. It was said that the uproar would be so great that the ground would shake and chimneys would fall at its noise. Men would cry out, plunging fingers in their ears to keep the sound away. Yet Roland refused, saying that it should only be used in the most deadly of peril.”

“What did he think four hundred thousand men were?” came a question from the rear.

“Let her finish,” Cook begged and gestured at Madeleine to continue. “And then?”

“The fighting continued and Roland’s group of knights fell, one by one, until he was the only remaining soul. He blew the oliphant, which Charlemagne heard. But by the time the king arrived, Roland lay at death’s doorstep. Charlemagne held his nephew in his arms as he breathed his last breath.”

The crowd remained spellbound for a moment but Madeleine did not continue. Finally, someone called out, “Did Charlemagne kill the Saracens and avenge Roland’s death?”

Everyone leaned forward expectantly, waiting for her answer. Madeleine smiled mysteriously and said, “That is a different tale for another time.”

There were good-natured grumblings and, slowly, people drew themselves to their feet, ready for bed after the night’s entertainment. Madeleine watched them leave, remembering how Yves had often said, “You must always make them want more, ma cheri. Always give, but not too much, and they’ll want to hear you again and again. C’est bon, non?”

Suddenly, Garrett appeared before her. “May I help you to your chamber?”

Coster had not yet returned from checking on his daughter. She hesitated. Walking was becoming easier for her. She practiced each day for longer periods in her room but stairs were still beyond her.

Garrett held a hand out to her. She took it tentatively. She liked the idea of being in his arms more than she should.

“Perhaps you can assist me as I try the stairs,” she suggested. Her next words tumbled out in a nervous rush. “I removed the wrap from my leg yesterday. I probably need to stop babying it.”

Garrett swept her up in his arms. “Quit your