Chapter 24

Château de Carrouges

February 1386

“Jean, I beg you,” Marguerie pleaded with her husband. “do not take this to the Count. Nothing good will come from pursuing vengeance. Le Gris is the Count’s man.”

Jean stared at his wife, with his rage barely under control. “How can you ask me to not seek vengeance? He raped you, and he will pay. I swear to God, I shall have justice!”

“There will be no justice for us in Argentan!” Marguerite argued. “If you go there and accuse Le Gris, they will destroy you. What Le Gris did to me was horrible, but losing you would make it far worse. I cannot live without you.”

Jean paced the room nervously. He was filled with a need to do damage to Le Gris and anyone else who stood in his way. He had suffered too many humiliations at the hands of Jacques le Gris to just accept what he has done.

“I cannot live with the shame of what he did to you, without confronting him and seeing him punished,” Jean explained to his wife. “What kind of man would I be if I did nothing?”

“A living one!” Marguerite answered.

“I would rather die than lose my honor,” Jean replied.

“Would you have your son grow up without his father?” Marguerite asked, her hand rubbing on her abdomen. Jean hesitated, the import of his wife’s words sinking in.

“You are with child?” Jean asked, sounding shocked.

Marguerite nodded. “I am, and I know it is a boy.”

“I see. How do you know it is mine?” Jean asked bitterly. “How do you know it is not Le Gris’ bastard in your belly?”

“I am too far along for it to be his,” Marguerite explained. “You don’t remember? The night before you left for Paris, you had me. You were exhausted and sick, but I used my mouth on you until you were ready, then I sat on your cock, and you spilled your seed inside me. That night you made your heir.”

“How fortunate,” Jean said rather snidely. He was growing angry again. “Tell me again, my wife, why is it that you told no one of this rape until I returned?”

She busied her hands with idle work, “I told you,” she began, “why must I keep telling you again and again?”

“You will tell it many times again! Now answer the question!”

Marguerite cringed then explained, “I was afraid that they would not believe me and that they would blame me. I tried to put it far from my mind and just forget that it happened. But, when you returned, I could not lie to you. I could not hide it from you.”

“My mother remembers well the day of the attack,” Jean said, “and that you were cheerful upon her return, almost giddy. How can this be?”

The fear was palpable and showed on Marguerite’s face. She tried to answer, but for several seconds, no words would come out. Finally, she said, “I was terrified that she would know what had happened. You were not here. I couldn’t face her knowing. I needed to put on a facade until you returned home. It was the hardest thing I have ever done.”

Jean felt doubt creeping in, and he began to wonder if Marguerite were telling him the truth. He had a lot of questions and needed answers.

“So, you have not told me how it happened. Tell me everything, leave nothing out.”

Marguerite drew a slow, shuddering breath, then nodded acquiescence as she began her tale.