The troubadour's song by Patricia Werner Read Free Book Online

approve.
    Like de Montfort, Gaucelm was now divested of chain mail hauberk and appeared in a sleeveless forest-green surcoat, the deep armholes revealing a long-sleeved gray linen tunic that came to the ankles, embroidered with silver threads at the neck. On his feet he wore soft kid boots. Allesandra learned that he was of the house of Deluc from the He de France, the king's own demesne in the basin of the Seine, and that his family were close allies to the Capetian kings.
    She had previously given little thought to the French king who had seemed so very far away in times past. He'd always been busy fighting King John of England over lands they contested. The southern lords recognized him as their overlord, but his authority existed in name only. King Philip had had no power in the independent south until he'd agreed to support the pope in this hateful conquest.
    With half its territory already conquered, the Languedoc fought to hold its towns and castles and hoped to overthrow the French where they had gained a foothold. It was regarding this overthrow that Allesandra had hoped to aid her friend Count Raymond VI of Toulouse. But her ill-timed journey had ended in this house arrest.
    The supper conversation put her French to the test, but she tried to hide behind feminine modesty in only answering questions put to her. Still, she was not unaware of the penetrating glances of the knight next to her, and when the last course was removed and everyone had wiped their hands and lips on the

    tablecloth that also served as napkin, she hoped that she would soon be released, for she had laid plans for tonight.
    As a good hostess, Marguerite had had to plan some entertainment for her guests.
    "My lords," she said, "we have at hand a very good jongleur. Perhaps you would like to hear some songs."
    "Ah, songs of the famous troubadours of the South, no doubt," said Simon.
    "Yes, my lord. He has a repertoire of well-known songs as well as some composed by the lesser known."
    "Perhaps a few songs would not hurt," said Simon. "Let the jongleur come in."
    Marguerite nodded to a servant who went to fetch the waiting musician.
    "I have heard," said Gaucelm to his supper companion, "that not only knights, but also some women write poetry in the South."
    Allesandra's heart missed a beat. Surely it was her own deception that made her feel as if every comment and every glance of Gaucelm's dark eyes saw through her lies to the truth, or perhaps he had coerced one of the servants into telling him of her true identity. Like a serpent, perhaps he waited with poison knowledge and would strike out with the truth when she was least expecting.
    "I do not know, my lord." Allesandra fought to answer calmly as the musicians entered the chamber and formed a grouping a little distance away.
    For one frightening moment, she was afraid that the jongleur would sing a song of her own composition and give her away. She could easily pretend not to be familiar with these songs of romance and sardonic parodies. And of course the jongleur would sing in Provencal, so she suspected Gaucelm and Simon de Montfort would understand few of the words and none of the subtlety.
    Singer, harpist, and lute player, all dressed in parti-colored knee-length tunics and leggings that fit them like skin, bowed

    low to the table and then began their music. As Allesandra had predicted, Gaucelm soon leaned his head toward her and spoke.
    "Very pretty, but of what does the young man sing? Love? War? Of the breath of spring?"
    She allowed herself to breathe. The jongleur had begun with a very well-known song by one of the most famous troubadours who had died in the last century, a song about which she could speak safely.
    "I have heard this song before," she began. "He sings of a prince who fell in love with the countess of Tripoli without ever having seen her."
    Gaucelm allowed himself a chuckle. "And on what word did he fall in love with a woman he had never seen?"
    Allesandra creased her