Chapter 11

Château de Carrouges, France

March 1385

“But, Jean, surely there must be some other way Scotland is so far away. You will be gone for months! I can’t stand to be away from you that long!” Marguerite pleaded with her husband after hearing of his plans to join the expedition to Scotland.

“Nonsense,” Jean replied. “Sir Luc de Vienne is the greatest commander in the King’s Army. I’ve served with him before. He is a military genius. We will be there and back, with chests filled with treasure, before you even notice I am gone.”

“What if you don’t come back? Then what?” She asked in desperation.

“I always come back, Marguerite,” he argued. “I’m hard to kill. It will take more than a few English to defeat me.”

“It isn’t only the English that could kill you,” she declared. “There are storms on the sea, diseases, and do you believe we can trust Scottish savages?”

“It will be alright, Marguerite,” Jean said, trying to calm her nerves. “I’ve faced much worse before.”

“I’m frightened, Jean,” she said, as the tears began to flow freely. “I don’t want to lose you. I cannot be alone.”

He took his wife into his arms and kissed her. “You won’t be alone. You will stay with my mother at Campomesnil until I return.”

“Campomesnil? That’s even worse!” Marguerite cried out. “Lady Nicole despises me! She blames me for not giving you a son. We’ve been married for almost five years and still no heir. She hates me.”

“Don’t be silly, Marguerite,” Jean said. “Mother adores you. Look, take Penny with you as your personal attendant. Keep her with you at all times. I don’t want you here without family.”

“Then why can’t I stay with father?” she asked, “He has room for me at his castle.”

“I’ve told you, you are my wife and my responsibility. Now, this is the end of the discussion. I am going to Scotland, and you will stay with my mother at Campomesnil. I will hear no more on the subject.”

Marguerite knew her husband well enough not to push him on the subject. “But do we have to leave tomorrow?”

“Yes, Sir Luc needs me at Lille within a week. I must go at once,” Jean said, holding his wife close to his chest. “I promise; I will return to you. Then, we will get busy making that heir.”

“Can we try again now?” Marguerite asked with a grin, “One more time before you leave me.”