"Like shit," I say and grimace at the loudness of my own voice. "Michel's a Bishop now? What of myfather?"
"Dead."
I frown. He was a brutal father, but still my only one and a wave of sadness fills me. She watches me carefully as if gauging myresponse.
"Carcassonne is now in French hands," she says and continues her story. "Michel was given the Bishophood for his loyalty to the Church, while your father lost his life for going againstit."
Michel the Bishop. He has everything he wants now – our father dead and the Bishophood. Betraying our family was good forhim.
"What happened to me? The last thing I remember was the battle. How did I come to this place? Who are you?" I try to sit up fully, but when I do, my head pounds. "Do you have some wine? I'm verythirsty."
"My name is Marguerite," she says and smiles beguilingly. "Wine won't slake the thirst you have, mylove."
My love ... So that's how it is between us. I wish I couldremember...
Marguerite. Her age is hard to guess for she appears rather fragile with paler-than-pale skin. She leans against the post at the corner of the bed and the neck of her gown falls open to the waist, revealing deliciouscurves…
* * *
Michel stops readingfor a moment and I'm pulled out of thestory.
"What's thematter?"
"It's very explicit. Are you certain you want me tocontinue?"
I nod, embarrassed that I'm such a voyeur for theirpain.
"Very well," he says, as if he's reluctant. He reads for a moment and then clears histhroat.
* * *
"Strangely,my flesh doesn't respond to the sight of her naked breast. Yes, I admire its heavy fullness, but whether it's my headache or thirst – I can't tell which – I don't feel the familiar ache in my groin that I expect when a beautiful half- naked woman stands at the foot of mybed.
"I need something strong," I say. "I feel like thedead."
She laughs, a light sound like crystal beingstruck.
"You're more right than youthink."
"How did I get here? I have nomemory..."
"I'm not surprised," she says and comes closer to me, but stops at the edge of the beam of sunlight that streams into the room and falls over me "I found you near death on the battlefield and brought you to my tent. I," she says and hesitates. "I healed you, beautiful Sir Knight. I brought you here. I saved yourlife."
"Thank you, of course," I say, squinting against the light. I hold up a hand and shade my eyes. "Do you think you could close the drapes? The light is murder on myeyes."
She goes to a small table by the hearth and rings a bell to summon the servants. When she turns back to me, she examines me like I'm a new toy or prized possession. I don't remember her, but I must have been with her. I'm naked. She's practically naked. My body feels – well, it feels as if I've bedded a dozen women and been beaten by each one of theirhusbands.
In comes a servant girl, her head bowed as she stands in front ofMarguerite.
"MyLady?"
"Close the drapes. And bring in the girl.Quickly."
The servant bows and then closes the drapes so that the room is now dim, lit only by several candles and the light from a flickering hearth. I exhale in relief. My eyes felt somewhat better but my head still aches and my throat feels as if it's lined with sand. My belly growls with a hunger that seems to fill my veins, and my upper jaw throbs as if I've had my teeth kicked in. I run my tongue over my teeth. Two protrude, unfamiliar in their prominence, sharper than Iremember.
The servant returns and following her is a young woman dressed in a thin nightdress with its neck open. She's lovely, with long dark hair and wide green eyes. Marguerite smiles and takes her hand, pulling her over to thebedside.
"She's a gift for you, Julien. Do you like her?" Marguerite pulls back the girl's long hair, drawing down the gown's shoulder to expose her neck. "You need her to complete theritual."