Free The troubadour's song by Patricia Werner Page B

straight ahead at nothing. Then she made the same command in French so he could understand, but still he did not move. To her left was an arched passage that led to the few steps that would take her to the great chamber above the hall. Light glimmered from oil lamps in sconces and she could imagine a fire flickering in the great chamber, beyond.
    They were going to force her to confront the rude, unscrupulous, greedy Gaucelm Deluc who had the nerve to ensconce him-

    self as lord of this castle, her castle. Very well then, she would see him now, inflamed by her anger and humiliation, but she would hold nothing back. If she were forced to surrender the keys to this place, she would accompany them with words of hatred and vows of vengeance. She hurried up the steps and through the door into the great chamber.
    Gaucelm Deluc stood garbed in a tunic of dark blue and sur-coat of reddish brown, hardly appearing as if he'd just fought two battles in three days with a hard ride between. He turned from gazing into the fire licking at great logs in the fireplace. His sun-bronzed face held a slight frown, but as he watched her approach, a change came over it. She saw the muscles in his jaw twitch, but if he was surprised, he did not betray it except for the flicker in his dark, intent eyes.
    "Madam Chavanne, I did not know I would have the pleasure again so soon. But pray, this is not the way to Rouen. Perhaps you are lost."
    His toying made her all the angrier and she spat out her words. "I am not lost, and you have already no doubt realized that I am not the wife of a master mason at Rouen, but the lady of this castle."
    An ironic smile tinged his lips. But then he became sober again and bowed to her as was her due.
    "I see. I am sorry then that our acquaintance should be so awkward."
    He straightened and stepped toward the fire, all business now. "I have claimed this castle and all its lands in the name of the king of France."
    She took a step toward him, her hair disheveled after the many hours in the saddle, dust smudging her face. "You have no right."
    He lifted a brow slightly. "I have every right. Or have you not noticed that Count Simon de Montfort leads an army to claim the county of Toulouse for France. And you, Madam Valtin, are a vassal of Count Raymond of Toulouse."
    Her voice rose in fury. "You descend on our rich and favored land with fire and sword. Is it religious fervor or greed that makes

    your ruffians want to lay hands on these territories? Do you stop to discover who is Catholic and who is not before you seize castle and domain? I think not."
    She was aware of his challenge as he glared at her. "And you, madam? Are you a heretic?"
    His gaze made her tremble, but she lifted her chin. "I am not."
    Neither spoke for a moment, and she forced herself to remain standing close to him, meeting his gaze. He searched her face and she felt a warm flush creep up her flesh. He had no right to question her, and yet in that moment she realized how much more uncomfortable it would be to be questioned by the bishop's court.
    Resentment of Gaucelm Deluc's invasion of her privacy flared, and her heart pounded in her chest. She clamped her jaws shut in the face of whatever questions he might ask next. And yet even without his asking them, she felt as if he looked into her mind and soul.
    His hardened face relaxed a trace, as his eyes swept over her face, sank to her lips, her male attire, and then moved away again to study the fire.
    "This is a war, madam."
    Her words were low, filled with bitterness. "A war to destroy a way of life."
    "What way of life?"
    "You know very well what I mean. Your king wants access to ports on the Mediterranean. You want to exploit our rich soil, our vineyards. Your intolerant bishops wish to strangle freedom of thought and punish those who wish nothing but to read the Bible, which the Catholic Church does not allow for anyone but a priest."
    He watched her now, and she knew she was treading dangerously,