A Whisper of Rosemary by Colleen Gleason Page B

was one main throughway that led up to the iron portcullis of the bailey of Langumont Keep, and ran through the length of the generous village. Small structures of roughly hewn logs lined the road. The homes of the villagers were topped with thick thatching, and curls of smoke drifted up from crude chimneys. Most structures had at least one small window that was covered with well greased linen to keep the wind out while letting the light in. All of the doors seemed sturdy enough that they wouldn’t blow open in even the fiercest wind.
     
    Dirick noted a smithy, a weaver, a baker, a prosperous looking silversmith, the inn he’d lodged in two nights earlier, and various other merchants and workshops. He picked out a butcher and a shoemaker, and his nose eventually pointed out the mart where the fishermen brought their wares from the nearby Langumont Bay. Outside of the village, he knew, were acres and acres of farmland—some belonging to the villagers, but a good portion belonging to Merle Lareux. Those fields were worked in turn by the villeins to produce the barrels and barrels of food that fed the lord’s household and its guests.
     
    As he noted the prosperity of the village, Dirick could not help a twinge of envy. Such would never be his, he knew.
     
    He was destined to a life of travel and war, with no lands or title of his own. Though he was well regarded by the king—even so well thought of as to be Henry’s confidante and advisor—the most he could expect or even aspire to was the fortune of marrying an unimportant heiress with a single fief. He would pay fealty to a liege lord with a great many lands, such as Merle of Langumont…or, mayhap, even Dirick himself might be awarded the position of castellan at a small fief such as Cleonis or Firmain.
     
    As a youngest son, such was his fate—and ’twould only be altered should Bernard die without issue. And even in his deepest heart, in his most private thoughts, Dirick did not wish for that to come to pass.
     
    He had ever known that this would be his destiny…and never before had he questioned it. Dirick turned a covert glance onto the woman who walked next to him, suddenly forced to subdue a pang of regret. The man who was to wed her was fortunate indeed, and not merely because of the lands he would obtain.
     
    Dirick returned his thoughts to the scenery and peasants as they continued through the village. At last they reached a structure near the south side of the village. A man whom Dirick assumed was the cooper greeted them at the door, his face full of hope.
     
    But as soon as he saw the scene within, Dirick knew the man’s hope was truly misplaced.
     

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Propelled by dismay and anger, Maris brushed past Dirick, pushing her way into the hut. Contrary to her previous commands, the windows had been resheathed, and old smoke clung to the air. Two babies squalled in the corner, and the woman was eerily silent.
     
    “ Uncover the windows,” Maris snapped, moving quickly to the bedside of the patient. Widow Maggie, who had been tending to the mother with a damp cloth on her forehead, stepped away, looking abashed at her lady’s entrance.
     
    “ But, my lady, the leech said—”
     
    “ Leech?” she exclaimed, turning on Maggie. “What said the leech?”
     
    Quailing at his lady’s anger, Thomas nevertheless spoke haltingly. “The leech said the humors need darkness and heat from the fire. He said Mary’s blood must be let to rid her of the poison that draws her life.”
     
    “ Nay. ” Maris clenched her fingers to keep from screaming in frustration. Maggie knew that as far as Maris was concerned, leeches should be banned from the village of Langumont. But there were many in the village who believed in the ways of the leeches.
     
    Offering a swift prayer to the heavens, Maris threw back the blankets to reveal the pitiful figure of Mary, seeing immediately that it was too late. There was too much blood, and it still