But if her body and her heart seemed in collusion to tempt her into an unforgivable sin, her brain still functioned clearly and began to raise the drawbridge and lower the portcullis. “It grows late,” she heard herself say, pointing toward a sky glowing with the glorious crimson and gold of a southern sunset. “I think we ought to go back.”
“Of course,” he agreed, rising at once to his feet. But when he offered her his arm, she realized that escape would not be so easy. After the conversation they’d just shared, how could she revert back to her defensive aloofness? Rising, too, she brushed her skirts, and then reluctantly rested her hand lightly on his arm, wondering how she’d be able to keep him at a distance in the weeks and miles that lay between Carcassonne and Poitiers.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SEPTEMBER 1193
Toulouse, France
At Cardinal Melior’s urgings, they soon departed Carcassonne and now headed north, stopping at the abbey of St Papoul, and then on to Avignet, before the famous rose-colored walls of Toulouse appeared on the horizon. Joanna was excited to visit the city that loomed so large in her family’s history. She’d seen it as a child, on her bridal journey to Sicily, but she remembered little of that stressful odyssey. She did not even remember Raimond, though he swore he’d met her at St Gilles, where she’d bade a tearful farewell to Richard and had been turned over to the Sicilian envoys. He’d been impressed by her bravery, he confided, an eleven-year-old girl leaving all that was familiar to wed a stranger in a distant land. He laughed when she apologized for having no recollection of their meeting, joking that there was nothing memorable about his twenty-year-old self, but she thought it ironic nonetheless, for now she knew she’d never forget him.
They were to stay in the great citadel known as the Castle Narbonnais, just outside the town walls, and Raimond had promised to take them on a personal tour of the city he obviously loved, for he told them proudly that Toulouse had eleven hospitals and six lazar houses, feigning surprise when they politely declined a visit to the leper hospices. He’d assured Joanna and Berengaria that his father would not be present, and so it was a shock to them all when they saw the red banner flying from the castle battlements, emblazoned with the familiar gold cross of the Count of Toulouse. The count was in the inner bailey to welcome them, smiling complacently. If he’d been expecting to surprise them into civility, he was to be disappointed. Cardinal Melior and his retinue politely did their best to ease the awkwardness, but the queens and his son measured their words like misers hoarding coins. Dinner was a lavish one, with numerous courses, fine wines, and a dramatic subtlety shaped like a dragon. It was also an unmitigated disaster, for Joanna, Berengaria, their ladies, and their household knights were silently seething, and Raimond was making no attempt to hide his own anger. He apologized profusely to the women once the meal was over, swearing his father had promised to stay away, and assuring them that they would leave the city on the morrow.
Joanna had gone to bid Berengaria a good night and was surprised to find only Mariam when she returned to her own bedchamber. “I told the others to wait,” Mariam explained, “for I wanted to talk to you in private.” Helping Joanna to remove her veil and wimple, she unpinned the other woman’s bright hair and began to brush it out, saying one of Sir Stephen’s knights had told her he’d heard shouting from the count’s bedchamber and thought one of the voices was Raimond’s. “He was truly distressed about this, Joanna. He’d not have betrayed you and Berengaria this way.”
“I know that, Mariam, and so does Berengaria.” Joanna picked up a mirror to study the image reflected in the polished metal. She was in her twenty-eighth year, and she found herself suddenly thinking how fleeting time and beauty were, as ephemeral as memories. “What did you wish to talk about?”
“I wanted to tell you that whilst it is not easy to find privacy, it can be done. With my help, I am sure we can arrange for you and the count to be alone without anyone knowing.”
The mirror clattered into the floor rushes as Joanna swung around to face the other woman. “What are you talking about?”
“Joanna, the man is besotted with you and it is obvious to me that you are just as bedazzled by him. That is so rare. Do not let—”
“I am not ‘bedazzled’ by him,” Joanna said sharply, but ruined the impact of her indignant denial by then asking, “Why do you think he is ‘besotted’?”
“Because I have eyes to see, dearest. The two of you have been playing this game for weeks, each watching the other when you think no one else will notice. And he never misses an opportunity to ask me questions about you. What color is your hair? Are you close to Richard? Were you happy with William? Not that I answer them, of course, but he keeps on asking. I understand there can be no future for you since his father is such a bitter enemy of your House. But that does not mean you cannot snatch a few precious memories for yourself. As long as you are very discreet, and I can help—”