With a crash, low-hanging branches buffet his face as Triomphe jumps through the hedge and gallops onward across the field, both horse and rider feeling the urgency pulling them faster forward. As dusk surrenders to darkness, he finds the familiar road and races onward and onward, faster and faster forward. Approaching the church grounds, voices in the wind call, “Help us. Save us.” Onward and onward, faster and faster forward. Four apparitions stand by the cemetery wall, eyes pleading, arms outstretched. “We need you. Hurry!” Onward and onward. Faster and faster forward.
“Daddy!”
Pierre awoke with a start, sweat-soaked, his wife’s bedshift clutched tightly in his left hand. Looking out the window of his bedchamber, he could see the summer sun already standing high in the morning sky. As Pierre fought to calm himself, a courteous knock sounded on the chamber door.
“Yes?”
“My lord?” asked the serious young man who poked his head through the partially open door. “Are you awake?”
“Yes. Yes, I am. Come in Étienne, come in. There’s no need to hide behind the door.”
“Yes, my lord.” Étienne entered the room leaving the door ajar behind him. “My lord, the guests are downstairs waiting for you.”
“Yes. The guests.” How long had he slept? “Has breakfast been served?”
“No, my lord. The kitchens are waiting for your instructions. What shall I tell them?”
“Tell them to serve breakfast as soon as possible and to not wait for me. Seat the guests in the dining hall and tell them that I will join them as soon as I am able.” Pierre wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes, my lord, there is. Two messengers arrived from the north earlier this morning. They, too, are waiting for you.”
Messengers already? He’d only just buried his family yesterday! “Of course. Give the messengers something to eat if they haven’t eaten anything already. You can set up a table in the study for them and I shall meet with them first thing.”
“Yes, my lord. One more thing, my lord?”
“Yes?”
“Will you be wearing your mourning clothes again today?”
“No, Étienne, not today. With the messengers here, I fear the time for mourning has passed. Instead, I’ll be wearing the usual sleeveless surcoat over the brown kirtle. Oh, and the hauberk. We are at war; I should look the part.”
Étienne nodded. “Yes, my lord. I will bring them shortly. Do you have any further instructions, my lord?”
“No, Étienne. That is all.” A pause, then, “Wait a bit. There is one more thing.”
Turned to leave, Étienne spun back around. “Yes, my lord?”
Pierre paused and looked into the young man’s eyes. “Send word to the staff that I appreciate all of their efforts yesterday. They made a difficult day that much easier to bear. I wanted to thank you, to thank you all.”
Étienne’s serious expression softened on hearing Pierre’s gratitude. “Yes, my lord. I will pass the word to them.” A pause, then, “My lord? May I say something?”
“Yes, Étienne?”
“My lord. I just wanted to say that your wife and daughters will be sorely missed. The Baronne was an exquisite lady, compassionate and fair. The girls were a delight to be around. It was a pleasure for us all to serve them. Everyone here shares in your loss, my lord. We… we wanted you to know that.”
“Thank you, Étienne. Thank you very much. Now, please see to our guests.”
Étienne resumed his serious expression. “Yes, my lord. At once.”
Once Étienne left the room and closed the door behind him, Pierre laid back down on the bed. Realizing that he still held his late wife’s bedshift in his hand, he sat back up, folded it neatly and tucked it under his pillow. He then sighed heavily, knowing it was going to be another full day. At least the guests will be leaving; there was that to be thankful for. Pierre found it impossible to grieve in front of an audience while simultaneously seeing to their needs as well. He needed some time alone in his home to come to terms with his loss and to possibly, hopefully chart a new future for himself. The messengers, however, were proof that this was to be an impossibility. Their presence here meant that the war in Normandie was not going well and that he would be needed in the field again soon. Too soon, he thought.
After dressing, Pierre went downstairs to the study to receive the messengers. He found them sitting at breakfast, discussing the war and the travels south to Neufchâteau. As Pierre entered the room, both messengers stopped eating and stood up.
“My lord.” they cried in unison. Pierre noted their youthful, stubbly faces.
“Gentlemen. Sit yourselves back down, please. I will not interrupt a soldier’s breakfast.” They did as he asked while he studied the coats of arms emblazoned on their surcoats. “One of you has a message from the King, I believe.” He turned to the young man to his left, “You’re an Alençon man, are you not? What is your name, squire?”
“Jean, my lord.” the young man replied after swallowing a mouthful of food. Jean reached down into a leather sack and pulled out a scroll. It was sealed with the king’s sigil. “Charles of Valois, Count of Alençon and brother of the King, bade me deliver this to you, my lord.”
Pierre wordlessly took the scroll and walked away from the table, leaving the two messengers to share a curious look before quietly resuming their breakfast. At the window, Pierre opened the scroll and began reading.
Philip of Valois, King of France, sends greetings and heartfelt condolences to Pierre Levallier, Baron of Neufchâteau.
Sir,
It is with deep regret that I must call you away from your castle keep in your time of mourning. The English are ravaging the Normandie countryside and are moving toward Flanders and their Dutch allies camped in that area. If they combine their forces, France will be in a difficult position. Therefore, your king and your country require you to make a painful sacrifice in your dark hour and fulfill your duty to your liege lord by dispatching with utmost haste to rejoin the Duke of Lorraine’s forces with your castle garrison. The English must be kept in Normandie. I urge you now to claim your honor as a King’s Man and help keep the English army out of Flanders.
Philip of Valois, King of France
As he had suspected, the war was not going well. If the English were indeed going to Flanders, then Philipe VI’s army was in the wrong position, southwestward instead of northeastward and chasing them into the arms of their allies.
Turning angrily, Pierre thrust the message onto his desk and strode to the table. “You.” he pointed to the other messenger, “You have a message from the Duke of Lorraine. Let me see it, at once.”
“Mmph.” Surprised, the other courier choked down his food. “Yes, my lord!”
“What is your name, boy?”
“Gustav, my lord.” he replied while wiping his mouth and retrieving the message from his leather bag. He held the scroll before Pierre. “My lord.”
Pierre took the scroll and tore off the wax seal, walking to the window as he did so. The messengers exchanged worried looks before returning to their meal.
Rudolf de Lorraine, Duke of Lorraine, sends greetings and condolences to Pierre Levallier, Baron of Neufchâteau.
Sir,
The English army is marching for the Somme river crossings. To aid in the defense of these crossings, sixty Genoese crossbowmen have been secured and are marching north to you. When these men arrive in Neufchâteau, you are to take them and your castle garrison north to Roye and guard the town. There, you shall meet with another group of nobles and defend the bridge.
As your liege lord, I call upon you to fulfill your duty and claim the honor that such duty grants.
Rudolf de Lorraine, Duke of Lorraine
Pierre crumpled the message in his fist and threw it on the table. Damn them! Damn them both! And their calls to service! And the English! And the Dutch! And the whole, damnable war!! A voice from the doorway interrupted his inner tantrum.
“My lord?” It was Étienne.
“Yes! What is it?!” Pierre snapped back. Both couriers kept their attentions focused on their meals.
“My lord. Will you be taking breakfast here or in the dining hall?”
Pierre calmed himself. “I’ll be taking my breakfast here. My duty calls, Étienne, once again. Please forgive my absence to the guests. I will try to meet with them before they leave.”
“Yes. Very good, my lord. I’ll see to it at once.”
Pierre turned to the messengers, speaking in a commanding voice. “Jean, Gustav, were you given any further instructions from your lordships?”
“No, my lord.”
“No, my lord. I was instructed to return once I delivered the message to you.”
“Excellent.” Pierre sat down at his desk. “Finish your breakfasts. I’m going to write a response for each of you to bring back.”
Pierre opened the desk drawer and put his writing implements on the desk. After sharpening the nib of one of his quills with a small knife, he set himself to writing the appropriate response to each of his liege lords. Soon, Étienne returned with a tray of food.
“Ah, good. Étienne set that tray down over there.” Pierre motioned to the left side of his desk. “I’ll need this candle lit, as soon as you are able. You spoke to the guests for me?”
“Yes, my lord. All the guests understand your situation and are preparing to leave. They all wished to offer their condolences to you one last time before departing. The Lord and Lady Martel also bid me tell you that they will tarry a while until you have a moment to speak with them.” Étienne picked up the candle and its tray from the desktop. “I’ll get this lit for you at once, my lord.”
“Good. Thank you, Étienne. When you return, I want you to stay here for a few moments.”
Étienne soon returned with the flaming candle. After Pierre read over the responses he had written, he rolled up the scrolls, melted the tip of a stick of dark green wax in the candle’s flame, smudged molten wax on the scrolls’ edges and imprinted his sigil into each of the wax seals.
Standing and walking to the couriers, he said to them, “Gentlemen. Take these messages back to your lordships. You may also tell them when you arrive that the Baron of Neufchâteau stands ready to do his duty.” He walked to their table and handed each message to the appropriate messenger. “I see you’ve finished with breakfast. Good. You must go at once. France requires all her men to do their duty in this trying hour. Don’t fail her. Étienne, are their horses ready?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Excellent.” Turning to the now-standing messengers, Pierre said, “Gentlemen. Go with Étienne. He will see you out. Have a safe and quick journey. Étienne, tell the Lord and Lady Martel that I shall meet with them on the balcony shortly.”
“Yes, my lord. Gentlemen, this way.”
Pierre strode back to the window as Étienne led Jean and Gustav from the room. As he gazed into the clear, blue sky, he wished he was still in bed. He wished he was off somewhere riding his war horse, Triomphe, as an independent messenger bound for parts unknown. He wished he was on a pilgrimage to Rome; Danielle had always wanted to do that. Finally, he wished he was with Danielle, and their children, up on Wedding Hill, the grassy hill nearby where he and Danielle had been married. His family had loved that hill so much, running and playing and drinking deep of the life that God had given them. But, he remembered, the Lord had given and the Lord had taken away. With his family gone, what remained? Duty, honor and glory. It always seemed to come down to that.
As far back as he could remember, he had been groomed to the chivalric, noble life. His parents, his real parents, had been common, however, and had they lived, his life would have been very different. A peasant uprising had changed all that. When Pierre’s loyal father sent word of the latent rebellion to Frederick IV of Lorraine, Rudolf de Lorraine’s father, the peasants responded by burning Pierre’s father’s farm. Pierre’s parents died in the fire; their last act was saving their young boy. The next morning, Frederick’s soldiers found the toddler wandering around the smoking wreckage of his home calling out for his parents. Frederick, in honor to the man who had served him well, took the boy in and raised him as his own son. The next year, Rudolf was born.
It was always known that Rudolf would become the next Duke of Lorraine; there was no question of that. Pierre, however, had immersed himself in the life of the nobility and was proving to be quite adept at learning to read and write in Latin as well as French. At one point, it was thought that young Pierre would take up the monastic life, but his interest in the young women at court soon put paid to those notions. Unfortunately, while Pierre was noble in word and deed, he was not noble in fact and this prevented him from catching the eye of those fair maidens.
As Pierre approached manhood, Frederick IV rewarded Pierre’s devotion to his studies by formally adopting Pierre and creating the Barony of Neufchâteau, where Pierre was installed as its first Baron. Upon becoming a new member of the nobility, Pierre, with his adopted family’s full understanding, took on his original family name and established the Levallier motto, crest and the other trappings of chivalric life.
“Duty, honor and glory”, a motto founded by a confident young man full of the promise of a rich life of service to his liege lord and all the money and prestige that such service would grant him. Today, though, it was a crutch, something to lean on to give his life meaning and to keep his life moving. Pierre Levallier, the Baron of Neufchâteau, would indeed continue to serve his liege lords because, in truth, there was nothing else to do.
After Pierre’s nobility had been established, he soon discovered that he had a newfound cachet among the eligible young women at court. Newly independent with his own barony and flush with the confidence of the nouveau riche, he soon caught the eye of Lady Danielle Martel of Rouen. An old family with a rich history, the Martels were very displeased at the amount of attention their daughter paid to the young upstart. Over time, however, Pierre was able to win the affection of the Martel family and they were soon married. It was the start of a blissful, fruitful marriage that ended far too soon, leaving only guilt in its wake.
Now, Pierre had to face Danielle’s parents before their departure. He was dreading, and had deftly avoided, this moment, but there was no escape now. With a heavy, guilty heart, Pierre forsook the remainder of his meal and slowly walked to the balcony.
He found his in-laws sitting at one of the two tables he kept on the covered balcony. As he approached, they stood and met him midway to the table.
“Oh son,” the Lady Brigitte Martel softly said as she hugged him close. Suddenly, Pierre felt his mother-in-law’s body shake as her self-control shattered. Caught in the moment, Pierre felt his own tears well up in his eyes as he returned her strong embrace.
After a few moments, Pierre and Brigitte released their hold on each other and looked into each other’s eyes. “I am so sorry… to both of you.” Pierre quickly confessed, his gaze shifting to her husband and back. “I am so sorry that I wasn’t here to take care of your daughter or your grandchildren. I should have been here to help them, perhaps even save them, instead of being away at war. I have failed them as a husband and father and I have failed you as a son. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Oh my sweet boy,” Brigitte replied, “there is nothing to forgive.” Brigitte placed her hands tenderly on Pierre’s face. “There was nothing you could have done if you had been here. The illness came upon them so quickly; there was nothing any of us could do to help them.”
“Besides,” Lord Charles Martel continued, “you had your duty to fulfill. Son, I know how you must feel, but shirking one’s duty and throwing one’s honor away are not things one should do lightly. When you left, your family was in good health. There was no way for you to know what was to befall them. If you had refused your service to the Duke, and your family had stayed healthy, it would have cost you and your family much in the long run. You did the right thing. You could not have seen this coming. No one could have.”
“Son,” Brigitte continued, “Charles is right. There was nothing you could have done to either stop the fever or prevent it. Don’t wallow in baseless guilt. It will kill you if you let it.” Pulling Pierre close, Brigitte said, “Now, give your mother a hug. I don’t want to hear any more of this failure nonsense. Over the years, you have been a good husband, a great father and an honorable son to us. You have been a blessing in our lives, not the curse that has taken our loved ones from us. Remember that.”
“I’ll try, Mother. It’s just been so… difficult, not having had the chance to say goodbye to Danielle or the children, or to tell them that I love them.”
“I know, dear, I know. They knew, though, at the end. When they heard that you were rushing home from the war, to see them… oh, their smiles were so bright. Anne-Marie even sang her little songs for a short time. It was just so, so–”
“So cruel.” Charles finished as he took his sobbing wife in his arms. “Son, you must understand. It all happened so quickly. We received word by messenger while were on our way here to visit. Within 2 days after our arrival, they had passed on. I’ve never seen or heard of its like before. There was nothing anybody could do.”
“I understand that, Father, I really do. It’s just that I still feel that I should have been here with my family. If only the messenger had found me sooner or if I had ridden Triomphe faster, then maybe I could have done something, even if it was just to say goodbye. I feel… cheated. I feel that God Himself conspired with Death to keep me from here, from seeing my family one last time. That is part of the guilt I feel. Not only that I had left my family alone in their time of need, but that I am so steeped in sin, God saw fit to punish me and my family by keeping us from each other at the end. He took them away from me, forever, and I didn’t even get a chance to tell them that I loved them.” Breaking down, Pierre turned abruptly and walked hurriedly to the balustrade. Hands on the railing, shoulders stooped, head hung down in anguish, his tears returned, forming a silent stream down the creases of his face. As Danielle’s parents came to comfort him, Pierre managed to regain control and turned to face them. “I’m alright. I’ll be fine. I just need some time alone. These past few days have been trying.”
Charles replied, “We know. We understand how difficult this is. We’ve all suffered and we’ll all need to heal somehow, some way.” Pausing, he lowered his voice and continued, “We saw the messengers arrive earlier this morning. Was there word from the north? Will you be able to stay long here at home?”
“No. I’m afraid not. There are 60 crossbowmen from Genoa on their way here. Once they arrive, I’m to take the castle garrison and lead them all to Roye and defend the bridges there. That’ll give me 3 days here at most. Even so, I’ll be spending most of that time preparing for the journey north and whatever battles we may face.”
Charles looked at his son-in-law with a mournful understanding. “In that case, we should leave you to your preparations. We have a long journey ahead of us ourselves. Come, Brigitte. We should be going.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
They passed Étienne on their way to the front door. “Étienne, send word to Guillaume that I would like to speak to him as soon as possible. Tell him to meet me on the balcony.”
“Yes, my lord. Are the Lord and Lady Martel leaving?”
“Yes, we are Étienne,” Lord Martel replied.
“Very good, my lord. Your belongings have already been placed on your carriage, which stands ready outside. I also took the liberty of preparing some food for your journey. I hope you find it to your liking.” Turning to Pierre, Étienne said, “My lord. I will fetch Guillaume at once.”
“Thank you, Étienne.”
Pierre walked his in-laws outside to their carriage. “Son, I don’t think I have anything more to say,” Charles said as he held Pierre’s shoulder. “Be strong. It’s a difficult journey you’re on now, but I’m sure you can see it through.”
“Oh my dear boy,” Brigitte said as she hugged her son-in-law one last time, “take care of yourself. There is no reason for you to feel guilty, no reason at all. We love you, son. Just remember that and treasure it. Hopefully, that can see you through this dark time.”
“I love you too, Mother, and thank you. You too, Father. You both have a safe journey.”
After watching their carriage depart, Pierre returned inside to rest a bit before meeting with Guillaume, the captain of the garrison. Pierre was spent. Returning to the balcony, he sat heavily on one of the chairs and, emptying his mind, watched the sun make its journey across the morning sky.
Étienne’s hand on his shoulder woke him from his nap. “Guillaume is here to see you, my lord,” he said quietly.
“Mmm? Oh, yes, of course. Have him join me,” Pierre told Étienne. “And see if you can get some lunch up here as well.”
“Yes, my lord.” As Étienne rushed off to the kitchens, he waved Guillaume over to Pierre’s table.
As Pierre stood up to meet his man-at-arms, he said, “Guillaume. Have a seat. Lunch with me a while.”
“Yes, my lord,” Guillaume said as the two men sat down. “I take it that this morning’s messengers brought us some interesting news?”
“Yes, they did. It seems that you and your men may see some fighting after all. King Philip and the Duke of Lorraine have both summoned us to Roye to defend the town and bridges there against the English.”
“My lord! Surely, we’ll need more than the twenty men we have here to meet that task!”
“Yes, we will of course. We won’t be alone. The Duke of Lorraine has secured sixty crossbowmen to help us defend the town. They are marching up from Genoa as we speak. Also, once we arrive at Roye, we will meet up with other forces there as well. We certainly won’t be able to defeat the bulk of the English army if it decides to cross there, but we can slow them enough to allow King Philip’s army to catch them on the wrong side of the river, God willing.”
Guillaume nodded his grim acceptance. “When will the Genoese arrive?”
“That I do not know. Time is essential, however, so, once they arrive, we must be off as soon as we can. I expect that a messenger from their force should arrive within a day or so. In the meantime, we’ll need to make our own preparations. We’ll need to make sure that the horses can be saddled and ready to go. We’ll need food and fodder for eighty men and horses, 3 days worth should be sufficient. Once we’re in Roye, we can buy what we need. We’ll also need carts and teamsters to carry the food, shelter and equipment. As far as collecting the food and equipment is concerned, gather what you can from the townsfolk and pay them a fair price for their goods as well. Commission the bakers to provide the bread we’ll need, all the other food can be bought from the farmers directly.”
Guillaume raised a forefinger and said, “My lord. As far as commissioning bakers is concerned, is the Pain D’Or to be included as well?”
Pierre paused for a long moment, a remote sadness touching his eyes, then said, “Yes. With Danielle’s passing and France at war, we have no need for delicate pastries. Yes, commission Pain D’Or as well. I’m sure Corinne can bake simple breads as well.”
“Very well, my lord.”
“We’ll also need to increase the men’s readiness. We’ll need a strong fighting force in Roye, not an armed mob.”
“Yes, my lord. I’ve already begun a more difficult training regimen for the men this morning after I saw the second messenger arrive. Two messengers in one morning does not usually mean good news, so I decided to get the men ready now in case we were needed.”
“Well done, Guillaume. No, it usually isn’t good news and it wasn’t in this case, either. As it is, I think we’re going to be hard-pressed to make it to Roye on time.” Seeing Étienne arrive with a tray of meat, cheese and bread, Pierre said, “Ah. Good. Nicely done, Étienne. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, my lord,” Étienne answered as he turned to leave the balcony.
“Guillaume, I’d like you to get started on getting the food and equipment ready today, after we eat. I’ll send Étienne to you later with the monies and commissions necessary.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Pierre and Guillaume spent the time during lunch talking about other, more pleasant matters. For Pierre, it was a welcome respite from the day’s pressures and the week’s heartaches. When lunch was finished, Guillaume took his leave to begin the expedition’s preparations. As he turned to leave, he stopped and said to Pierre, “My lord. I just remembered something. We still have the prisoners in the gaol that require the Lord’s Justice. Will you be sitting in judgment before the expedition departs?”
Pierre sighed. “How many prisoners are there?”
“Four, my lord. All the other cases were dealt with per your instructions when you last left.”
“Four? Well, let’s not let this linger. I’ll sit in judgment late in the morning tomorrow.”
“Very good, my lord. I’ll have the chamber prepared by then. In the meantime, I’ll get the expedition’s preparations started. By your leave.”
“Yes. Oh, Guillaume. If you meet with any resistance or any other kind of trouble, let me know.”
“Yes, my lord. I will keep you informed of my progress.”
With Guillaume’s departure, Pierre’s duties for the day came to an end. He was tired, physically and emotionally. Fighting the urge to nap again, he decided that what he needed now was to escape from everything around him. Standing abruptly, full of resolve, Pierre strode to the stables and saddled his war horse.
At a full gallop, Pierre and Triomphe sped south through the town along one of the main thoroughfares and spent the rest of the day racing along the roads, paths and fields in the area. Immersed in the sense of it all, Pierre felt alive, invigorated and free from the duties and memories of the past. As afternoon turned to dusk, Pierre returned at a leisurely trot, taking care to avoid the church and the cemetery grounds; his memory of last night’s dream freshened by the graying light.
After a small supper on the balcony, watching the daylight fade to black, Pierre went to his bedchamber for the night. He undressed to his smallclothes, blew out the candle and climbed into bed. For a long while, he laid flat on his back thinking of the day’s events. He felt relieved that Danielle’s parents had understood his situation, even if they couldn’t see the guilt that he felt. He was still angry over having to return to the war, but there was nothing that he could do to change that. It was the life he was born to, if indirectly. One may as well shun one’s soul for all the good that would do. No, the only true path that way was acceptance. He was who he was, a soldier, a man of duty, not a hearth.
And with that thought, Pierre turned on his side and reached underneath his pillow to retrieve Danielle’s bedshift, the remains of what he held dear. Unfolding it gingerly, he draped its flimsy form over his hands and spoke to it, saying, “Danielle, my love, I’m truly sorry. You deserved more.” With that said, he kissed the fabric’s heart and went to sleep, the wife-scent filling the air around him.