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Written In The Stars
After months and months of isolation as one of Queen Isabella’s ladies-in-waiting, followed by days on the road with no one for company but an insolent maid, Adelina enjoyed the hustle and bustle of Coventry.
She and Glenda strolled along Broadgate, peered up at the battlements of the ancient castle, purchased pork pies from one of the stalls in the busy market and eventually wandered into Holy Trinity church.
Aware of Glenda’s impatience and the ever-vigilant soldiers assigned as their escort, Adelina nevertheless fell to her knees before the altar and silently begged for a sign.
When they emerged from the church’s dark interior into the sunshine, she shaded her eyes, searching the narrow, crowded street for her brother’s beloved face.
Common sense told her it would be foolish to attempt a rescue while she was heavily guarded and constantly watched. They’d all be hunted down, her rescuers executed before they had any chance to reach the south coast. The reality didn’t lessen the crushing disappointment that weighed heavily on her heart when they returned to the camp.
Perhaps Terric and her Montbryce cousins weren’t coming after all.
Reluctant to enter the tent, she sought Mandeville’s permission to join the men gathering around the campfire. They seemed to be preparing for the last meal of the day, though it was unusual for them all to eat together.
To her surprise, he agreed. “You have chosen the best evening to join us,” he gushed. “I’ve arranged entertainment by a local troubadour. Must keep up morale on a long journey.”
“Indeed,” she replied halfheartedly, refraining from pointing out her morale seemed to be of no concern to anyone.
“Daron is well-known throughout England for his flawless rendition of the Chanson de Roland.”
Mandeville frowned when the laughter she couldn’t contain erupted. “You’re perhaps not familiar with the famous chanson de geste?” he asked.
“On the contrary,” she replied as renewed hope flared to life. This had to be more than a coincidence. “It’s my favorite. The great Conqueror intoned a stanza before the Battle of Hastings.”
Much later, as she snuggled into her furs, she acknowledged the troubadour’s recounting of Roland’s heroic martyrdom in the service of Charlemagne had been masterful. She prayed Roland de Montbryce wouldn’t lose his life in an equally hopeless cause.
* * *
MacLachlainn Tower might have a gaunt and intimidating exterior, but Roland and his companions soon discovered it was a different story inside the fortification. Huge, colorful tapestries warmed the stone walls. Peat fires burning in enormous hearths chased away the chill and filled the air with the scent of the forest.
The mouthwatering aroma of roasting venison whetted their appetite and their jovial host provided food that was both plentiful and hearty. The ale flowed freely.
Bradick and his buxom wife were impressed they had brought a small cask of the renowned Montbryce apple brandy as a gift. Roland winked his thanks to Adrien for suggesting it. He’d been tempted to share it with the Cornishmen but was glad now he hadn’t.
“So,” Bradick said when most of the carousing crowd had fallen asleep or drifted off to bed. “Tell me about this quest you’re on.”
Roland launched into a passionate explanation of Adelina’s plight, belatedly realizing from the stern set of Terric’s jaw he should have left it to her brother to tell the tale.
Bradick wiggled his bushy eyebrows. “So, this lass is Terric’s sister, but it sounds like you’re enamored of her, young Roland.”
Roland avoided Terric’s dark glare. “I’ve never met her,” he replied lamely, wishing he hadn’t betrayed his feelings so openly. Too much ale and bonhomie had loosened his tongue. His Irish kin would think he was a romantic fool who’d fallen in love with a woman he didn’t know.
“Yet, you seem to care deeply about her fate,” Bradick remarked softly, putting his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he whispered. “Nola and I didn’t meet until the day of our wedding, though we were betrothed for many years. However, my heart knew she was the one for me long before that day. Some things are written in the stars.”
Terric rolled his eyes. “What is it about the Irish and their fanciful notions about fate?”
Roland feared Terric may have caused offense, but Bradick’s smile only widened. “Doubt my words if you will, my boy. One day, you’ll understand. Roland knows what I mean, don’t you?”
* * *
Terric pondered Bradick MacLachlainn’s words long after he retired to his warm bed. Roland and Adrien were billeted in the same chamber. He could hear Adrien snoring softly but suspected Roland also lay awake.
It was becoming increasingly clear that Roland fancied himself in love with Adelina. Terric had nothing against his Norman cousin. Indeed, marriage to a Montbryce, even a second son, might be the best outcome for Adelina. She was a generous soul who would make a loyal wife and loving mother.
But he worried for his sister’s happiness. She might feel obliged to marry the man who helped rescue her, even if she didn’t love him. Or, Roland might discover his love was simply a romantic notion and she wasn’t the woman for him. His reputation as a philanderer didn’t ease Terric’s mind.
There was nothing to be done about the situation. They’d come too far for him to challenge his cousin’s reasons for embarking on this mad venture.
Perhaps Bradick was right. Terric had to trust things would work out for the best.
