“Actually, they are not. You see, I no longer have a wife. I ended our marriage this past January.”
Joanna stared at him in shock. Whatever she might have expected him to say, it was not that, never that. Her initial response was pure panic, for her defenses had just taken a mortal hit. “And how did you perform this feat of magic?” she said, with as much sarcasm as she could muster. “How does one make a wife disappear?”
“I did not turn her out to beg her bread by the roadside,” he snapped. “She entered a . . . convent.”
He’d hesitated almost imperceptibly, and she seized upon that as a shield. “How convenient,” she said witheringly. “Whatever did men do with unwanted wives before convents? My mother’s grandfather packed two of his off to Fontevrault Abbey and my father would have sent her there, too, if he’d had his way.” Remembering then that Raimond and Beatrice had a child, Joanna felt a surge of indignation that was no longer feigned. “What a wonderful example you are setting for your daughter, my lord, teaching her at an early age that women are as easily replaced as horses or hunting dogs!”
By now they were both on their feet, glaring at each other in the silvery moonlight. “Are you always so quick to pass judgment?” he asked challengingly. “But then your family is not known for their sense of fair play, are they?”
Joanna was grateful for the reminder that he was an enemy of her House. “We are done here,” she said and started to stalk away.
“Joanna!” She hesitated before turning reluctantly to face him. He was obviously still angry, but he showed now that his anger had not affected his eerie ability to see into her soul. “Do you know what I think? It is not outrage that is chasing you from this garden. It is fear. You saw my wife as a barricade, one that safely kept us apart. Now that the barricade is gone, you do not have the courage to admit you want me as much as I want you. I could respect you for deciding the risk was not worth it. But not for lying to me and to yourself.”
“This may come as an unpleasant surprise, Count Raimond, but not every woman finds you as irresistible as you seem to think you are. I assumed that you were worldly enough to take our flirtation for what it was, an amusing way to pass the time on a tedious journey. If you have read more into it, that is your problem, not mine.”
Without waiting for his response, she spun around and strode off, head high, heart beating so loudly she feared he might hear it. She was thankful to see Mariam hurrying toward her, drawn by their raised voices. When Raimond called after her, “I do not believe you,” she flinched but did not look back.
FROM BORDEAUX, they headed north, accepting the hospitality of Geoffrey Rudel, the Lord of Blaye, who had a small castle on the right bank of the Gironde Estuary. It was claimed that the hero of the Chanson de Roland, a nephew of Charlemagne, was buried in the Basilique St-Roman, but even Roland was overshadowed by Geoffrey’s father, the celebrated troubadour Jaufre Rudel. Jaufre had fallen in love with the Countess of Tripoli, a woman he’d never seen. Taking the cross on her behalf, he’d accompanied the French king and Eleanor to the Holy Land on their ill-fated crusade. According to legend, he’d taken ill and had been carried ashore at Tripoli. Being told of his devotion, the countess visited him in his tent and he’d died in her arms.
Joanna was familiar with this romantic legend and under other circumstances she might have enjoyed staying in the love-struck troubadour’s castle. As it was, her stay at Blaye was not a pleasant one. Raimon de Miraval and Peire Vidal had left them at Carcassonne, and when the women expressed disappointment that they could not hear Jaufre’s famous songs about his beloved countess, Raimond offered to perform one of them himself. His rendition of “During May, When the Days Are Long” was enthusiastically received. Only Joanna, applauding politely, took no pleasure in it. It seemed to her that Raimond was looking directly at her when he sang of Jaufre’s “faraway love” and lamented, “I do not know whenever I shall see her, so far away our countries are.” When he concluded, “Never shall I enjoy love, unless I enjoy this faraway love,” some of the women blinked back tears, but Joanna yearned to pitch her wine cup at Raimond’s dark head, knowing full well that he was laughing at her.