She nodded, but her babies seemed as remote as everything else.
The courtyard sounds augmented, and Ellis peered out of the window. "There's two horsemen coming upstairs," he said, putting down Hugh's hauberk. "What can they want?" He opened the door, and Katherine stood up.
A tall man walked in, and threw back his hood.
"My Lord Duke!" cried Ellis, dropping to his knees. His bloodshot befuddled eyes squinted up uncertainly. Nirac hovered on the landing.
"I've come for you, Katrine," said John quietly, ignoring Ellis and looking over his head at the girl.
"No, my lord," she whispered, but some of the muffling veils around her dissolved, her breathing quickened. Ellis stumbled to his feet and stood, swaying a little, his jaw thrust out, peering from his lady to the Duke, who spoke again.
"Ay - dear heart. You're coming with me. There's nothing now to keep us apart." Lifting his arms, John took a step towards her as she stood mute and still by the bed.
"You dare not touch her!" shouted Ellis, his wits clearing. "You dare not touch my lady!" Lunging suddenly, his great hamlike fist shot out and blundered harmlessly past John's shoulder. The Duke stepped sideways, then with swift negligent motion hit Ellis squarely on the chin. The squire reeled, tottered over backward and lay gasping on the floor. Katherine gave a cry and would have run to the squire, but John forestalled her with another swift movement. He picked her up in his arms and held her so cruelly tight that she could not move. He laughed exultantly and kissed her on the mouth until she ceased to struggle; still holding her pinioned, he walked downstairs with her and, mounting Palamon, placed her in front of him on the saddle, half covered by the folds of his cloak. The horse jumped forward at the spur.
The saddle, which had been built for a man in full armour, easily held them both, and Katherine made no further protest. Her head fell on John's chest, where she heard the beating of his heart.
The horse cantered for many miles before it slackened, then John, looking down at the head on his breast, shifted her weight a little on his arm and said with a gentle laugh, "And do you sleep, Katrine?"
"No, my lord," she said looking up at him in the darkness. "I think I am happy. It's very strange."
He bent and kissed her. "You will be happy, and always."
A cool salt-laden wind sprang up, she felt it on her face,. and at the same time Palamon slowed to a walk while the sound of his great hooves grew dull and plodding. She roused herself and hearing the shrill cry of a gull said, "Are we near the sea, my lord?"
"Ay," he said, "we're in Les Landes, Katrine. We go to the captal's Chateau la Teste. Do you know where that is?"
"No," she said quietly. "I only know that from wherever it is that we're going there can be no turning back."
He tightened his arm around her, they rode on in silence.
Les Landes was the weirdest and most desert portion of France. On its sand and tufa wastes nothing grew except the stunted furze or bracken, and reeds in the salt marshes. Here the airs were thick with mist and the ever-encroaching ocean pushed the sand dunes back and back over the undetermined land.
There was one track marked by white stones across these marshes. It was maintained by the Captal de Buch, whose ancestors, centuries ago, had built themselves a secluded fortress on the Gulf of Arcachon. It was but thirty miles from Bordeaux, yet deep in an isolation desirable to a tribe of sea barons.
As they neared the castle, two of the captal's retainers, mounted men-at-arms holding torches, came down the road to meet them and guided them the rest of the way. They went beneath the raised portcullis through massive walk and stopped by the door of a round donjon tower. Katherine was so cramped and chilled that she could scarcely stand. John put his arm around her waist and they ascended the rough winding stairs to the Hall.
Here, though no servants were visible, the captal's varlets had ably followed his orders, as relayed from the Duke. An enormous driftwood fire blazed on the hearth, in the iron brackets a dozen perfumed candles burned. The mouldering stone walls had been covered with painted silk hangings and arras brought from Bordeaux, the floor was strewn with sweet rushes and rose petals, while the single small damask-covered table was banked with jasmine.
John, watching Katherine tenderly, saw the deep breath with which she drew in the delicious fragrances, and he smiled. He had created beauty for her here, in this dank old fortress, and he had forgotten nothing which would add to the sensuous enhancement of their joy.
"Take off your black robe, Katrine," he said, "and refresh yourself, my dear heart. You'll find everything needful here." He led her to a small room adjacent to the Hall. Here too a fire blazed, and the bed which had been brought by wagon from Bordeaux was furnished with silk sheets and pillows and hung with gold taffeta powdered with tiny jewelled ostrich feathers and crowns.
A fat tiring-woman curtsied as they entered, and, holding out a basin of warm water to Katherine, waited with dull incurious eyes. The Duke withdrew saying, "Hurry!" on an eager laugh.
While the girl washed, the tiring-woman brought her a gown from the garde-robe. "For you to wear - le captal wants," she said. Actually the Duke himself had ordered the gown made for Katherine, but the tiring-woman had never left La Teste and knew of no lord but the captal.
The robe was of cream-white sendal trimmed only by an embroidered gold and green cipher on the low-cut bosom. The cipher was a J and K intertwined with leaves and set in a heart. Katherine looked at the cipher and her eyes filled with bitter-sweet tears. She slipped the gown over her head and the woman girded it, then, unbinding Katherine's hair, she began to comb out the long shimmering auburn strands.
John came back to the door as Katherine started to replait her hair. "Nay" he cried, "don't bind it, my love! Leave it loose!"
"Like a bride?" she whispered, half smiling, yet troubled. He came to her and seizing a handful of the gleaming hair carried it to his lips. The tiring-woman backed away, John made a quick gesture, and she turned and waddled off to the stairs.
They supped together at the table near the fire in the Hall. Nirac would have waited on them, but as he bent over to fill the gold hanaps with pale delicate wine from the captal's cellars, a shrinking repulsion penetrated Katherine's enchantment. When the little Gascon had retired to the serving table she said softly, "My dear lord, could we not be alone? I can serve you."
"Of course," he said instantly, and dismissed Nirac, though John was faintly surprised. He had thought that his choice of servitor was the precise one which would save her all embarrassment. "You don't dislike Nirac, do you?" he asked when they were alone.
She shook her head, not knowing herself what had caused the shrinking. "A whim, my dearest lord," she said. "Women have them-" Suddenly across the table she gave him her tenderly wistful and seductive smile. "Will you be gentle with my whims?"
She was all beauty as she sat there in her white dress. Her hair fell nearly to the rushes and glistened like the carnelians he had once compared it to, her red lips were parted, her grey eyes dark with love. He trembled, and going to her knelt beside her.
"I shall not always be gentle, Katrine," he said looking up into her face. "But by the soul of my mother, I shall love you until I die."
She bent over and opening her arms drew his head against her breasts. A gull mewed again outside the fortress, the fresh tang of the sea crept through the windows to mingle with the warmth of jasmine.
He raised his head from her breast and they looked without fear or striving, but quietly; deep into each other's eyes.
They stayed three days at the captal's old fortress in Les Landes and during that time they never left the Hall and the bedchamber.
The ecstasy of their union brought to each of them a wondering awe. Katherine had nothing but dreams with which to compare this sweet agony of passion, unslaked even by the bliss of fulfilment, and the total merging of herself into another, so that even for the moments they were away from each other's arms she felt him as much part of her flesh as its throbbing veins.