BEFORE THE SUN ROSE the following morning, I ventured into the forest. Fleurine would be scandalized by my decision to do such a brash and improper thing, but I desired peace: something I had only ever found in the woodland's heart.

Because I knew Fleurine would not understand, I arose swiftly—drinking a mug of water-downed ale and pleating my bedraggled mane of hair before ascending the staircase.

Once the cool breeze touched my bare face and the dampened ground drenched the soles of my slippers, I felt the deep sadness of sweet Lady Adeliza's death climb up in my chest.

Lady Adeliza had been the pride of her parents. She had been talented at needlepoint and courtly dances. Educated by nuns at a convent beyond Toulouse's gates, she had learned to both speak and write Latin and had been devoted to her religious studies. Though I had heard her penmanship was not as precise as that of a scribe's and her Latin far from fluent, she was the embodiment of grace in every other regard.

She possessed a beautiful singing voice and oversaw the management of the household alongside her mother to prepare for her future duties at the royal court. She was an amiable person and never spurned an opportunity to engage her counterparts in lively conversation.

Though we never knew her personally, Lady Adeliza's death had cast a long shadow of grief over the servants of the household. Those who were old enough to remember had witnessed her grow from a cheerful babe into a precocious young girl, and finally into an elegant bride fit to claim the title of future Queen and mother of the next dauphin. The older servants had known her almost as well as they knew their own offspring. Better, even.

Yet, death was neither uncommon nor unexpected. Many children perished before they could even grow. Several of Countess Emeline's babies had died during childbirth and constant plagues slaughtered scores of people in Toulouse. Mourning was meant to be brief and restrained.

For some indiscernible reason, the unexpected demise of our young mistress touched me in a way I did not quite understand. I could not sleep the night before: my mind being afflicted with thoughts of Lady Adeliza's expressionless face and listless frame as her mother wept above her. My heart was heavy with grief.

As I ventured deeper into the forest, I attempted to assuage my troubled spirit.

I found a flat rock large enough to serve as a stool by the side of a brook and seated myself upon it, watching wildflowers of various shades and colours as they bowed to the cool breeze. A lone songbird sang a haunting tune above the evergreen trees.

Thoughts of the past day gallivanted through my mind until grief overcame me. Fleurine was in the twilight of her life, and soon I would possess no other close friends or kin to console me in my loneliness. I would continue toiling at the side of the river until my long hair turned silver and my hands weary and shrivelled. I would never know adventure or anything beyond the grey city walls.

Tears welled within my eyes as I grieved for something I could not express. I uttered a prayer as Fleurine had taught me to do—thanking God for enough food to fill my belly and a place to lie my head at night. But the words felt insincere.

A few moments passed until I gathered the hem of my tunic and slipped through the forest to return to the manor before Fleurine could notice that I had disappeared.

My journey was stalled when the earth beneath me shook.

I clung to a tree with gnarled branches and uneven bark, fear pulsing through me as I imagined what might cause the tremors. Through the mass of evergreen boughs, I could see a procession of carriages and horses galloping down the stone-paved road towards the manor.

When I noticed scores of knights atop the horses donning the interlocking shades of crimson and blue upon their sleeveless surcoats, my heart stopped. They were in the King's company. I had seen the royal emblem once before, when messengers had come, sending word of the marriage arrangements between Lady Adeliza and the dauphin. It had been a joyous day indeed, with the festivities of the court's arrival followed by energetic dancing and a lavish feast.

Behind the rest of the carriages and wagons transporting wine, cloth, armour, and other glistening objects was a beautiful chariot: gilded with precious metals and intricately painted scenes that could have come from one of the Count's tapestries. The company was far grander than any of the travelling troops of troubadours I had witnessed.

The persons within the chariot were concealed beneath large fur blankets. I could only imagine which important member of the King's household had made the perilous journey across unpaved roads and through raging storms to call on the Count of Toulouse.

A branch broke behind me. I whirled around to confront the forest creature that had crept up on me. Instead, I stood across from Gerard Du Perron—a hunting bow nestled in the crook of his arm.

"Greetings, Catherine," He addressed me formally, but a sheen of dolefulness glazed his dark-brown eyes. His voice was but a whisper against the thundering hooves of horses and the jeers of knights.

I moved so that I could not be seen by the arriving company, inclining my head to Gerard in greeting. I did not know what to say to the man I had rejected. I possessed no reasonable explanation for objecting to his offer of marriage. In fact, the more that I considered my decision, I wished I could change my answer.

Instead of mentioning what had transpired between us, I asked him about the royal company. He was more aware of the Count's business than I as they often discussed such things on their long hunting trips. "Are you aware of the purpose of the King's visit to Toulouse?"

"They are bringing Lady Adeliza to the King's household, though I am sure the Count was not expecting their arrival for some time." He explained, running his dirt-stained fingers along the string of his wooden bow.

I glanced back towards the endless line of knights, and carriages which had by then reached the manor. "I wonder what they will do when they discover that poor Lady Adeliza has perished."

Gerard gazed at me with an overflowing sadness. Whether he lamented Lady Adeliza's sudden death, the storms that had ravaged the fields the night prior, or my rejection, I could not be sure. "Only God knows such things."

♕♕♕

I RETURNED to the manor after the Count's household had learned of the unexpected royal visit. My fellow servants had risen from their pallets in the cellars and basements, rushing to stoke fires in the hearths so that our masters would not have to endure the biting cold of the morning. I heard the booming voice of the steward as he ordered his inferiors to complete their household duties—the knights hastening up the stairs to alert the Count of the unforeseen arrival.

Because of the upheaval that had been caused by the royal court's sudden appearance, my disappearance went unnoticed by Fleurine. When I entered the basement chamber, she was climbing into her tunic—her wrinkled hands shaky.

I hurried over to assist her.

"My dear girl! You must have been buried underneath your blanket, for I hardly saw you when I awoke!" She exclaimed, placing a cool hand upon my shoulder to steady herself as she twisted into the pale garment. "Have you heard what has happened? The King has sent his men to collect Lady Adeliza for her royal wedding!"

I nodded, hoping she could not smell the pine and mud on my tunic. "I heard the galloping of horses coming through the gates. They were as loud as thunder."

"My ears must be growing old for I heard nothing."

While Fleurine was finishing pleating her hair, Simon Mahieu, the chamberlain charged with matters of the great chamber, appeared in the doorway.

Several of the female servants covered themselves, for it was improper for one of the male servants to enter our chamber. However, Simon's expression remained placid beneath his embroidered cap. "The Countess requires Catherine Vimont."

The sound of my name made my stomach fill with dread. Female servants could not wander the manor grounds alone, especially since such incidents could compromise our virtue. Had one knight seen me behind the mass of trees and reported my presence to my masters? Or had Gerard himself revealed my misdemeanour to one of the knights?

"What for?" Fleurine demanded, her pale eyes challenging the man as she looped an arm around my shoulder.

"That is between the Countess and the girl. I have been ordered to retrieve her immediately. Any refusal to comply will be dealt with accordingly." The chamberlain glared down at my flustered guardian. His heavy fur cloak and expensive jewelry befitted his rank as one of the most powerful servants of the household, and from the confidence marking his posture, it seemed he was aware of this.

Rather than risk further indignation from my superiors, I followed Simon after indulging in a parting embrace with Fleurine.

Little did I know that after my meeting with the Countess, my life would never be the same.