Chapter 19

Château de Campomesnils, France

January 5, 1386

“Don’t you have enough new dresses?” Lady Nicole asked Marguerite as she stared at her son’s wife in disbelief. “Must you go to the seamstress again for a fitting?”

Marguerite dismissed the older woman with a wave of her hand, “I have to look perfect when my Jean comes home.”

“If he comes home,” Lady Nicole said bitterly, “He has been gone for almost a year. Many men returned months ago. You know as well as I do that he is likely dead. We need to conserve our money. We don’t know how much longer we will be allowed to stay here, once the Count has declared Jean dead.”

“This is the last dress, I promise,” Marguerite said, “but I won’t give up on Jean like that. He promised me he would come home and I believe he will. But, I will make sure that today is the last fitting I have. I should go, h-she is expecting me.”

Marguerite stood up, trying not to react to the slip of the tongue she had just made. She collected her things and headed for the door when the alarm bell began to sound from the gate. She opened the door and heard shouts from outside.

“Open the Gate! Open the Gate!”

As she ran across the courtyard, the gates slowly parted. Two riders crossed through, drawing to a stop in front of Marguerite. One was bundled in blankets and slumped heavily in the saddle. The other, a muscular, bearded man, jumped down and closed the distance to Marguerite. “Get help! He is ill!”

She suddenly recognized the voice.

“Robert? Is that you?”

He was no longer a skinny, little boy. He was a man, a soldier. He was trying to help the bundled man down from the horse. “Help me with him!” shouted Robert as the stableman came forward to help. The man pulled the thick hood back and shook himself free of the blankets. His hair was long and unruly. His face covered with a thick beard, but when she saw his eyes, she knew him instantly. “Jean!” she shouted and ran forward, throwing herself at her husband. She grabbed him, and he stumbled back. She fell with him to the dirt of the courtyard, shower his face with kisses.

“You came home!” Marguerite cried out, tears freely flowing down her cheeks.

Weakly, he spoke, “I promised you.” The men picked him up and carried him inside. Lady Nicole was in shock to see her son, first that he was alive and then by his deteriorated condition. She immediately began shouting for the staff to do things. “Fix a hot bath! Make some tea! Bring him wine!”

Marguerite knelt on the floor next to her husband, holding his hand to her breast, “I thought you were dead!” she cried out in a slow, painful wail. “As God is my witness, I thought you were dead!”