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sure she will agree? Even I would not care to marry Wilhelm d’Arsnay.”
    â€œNonsense,” Druoda scoffed. “He may be a little ill-favored in appearance and have peculiar notions about virgins and sons, but he is a man of wealth. And do not forget the lady has no choice.” Hildegard looked at her mistress doubtfully, and Druodalaughed. “Let her protest. She can do nothing about this marriage.”
    â€œAnd if she runs away?”
    â€œI have employed two ruffians who will guard her until the ceremony. I brought them back with me last night.”
    â€œYou have thought of everything,” her servant said admiringly.
    Druoda nodded grimly. “I have had to.”
    Druoda had been cursed with the square shape of her father, and a moon face also like his, whereas her sister, Leonie, had been blessed with their mother’s looks. Druoda always envied Leonie her beauty, and when she made such a fine marriage with the Baron of Louroux, Druoda’s envy turned immediately to hate for her sister and her sister’s husband. Now that Leonie and her husband were dead, that hate found a focus in Brigitte.
    Now Druoda would have what Leonie had once had. She did not have such a fine husband, however, for Walafrid was a poor example of a man. But that suited Druoda. She had a strong will and could not have borne any man’s domination. At the age of forty-three, she would finally have what had been denied her all her life. With Brigitte safely married and out of her way, Louroux would be hers to rule, and she would be a grand lady, a lady of wealth and influence.
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    Late that evening Brigitte was summoned to Druoda’s spacious chamber, the room that had once belonged to her parents. The large wood-frame bed was now draped in gaudy red silk, and ornate lounges had been added to the room. The long wardrobeswere filled with the many rich tunics and mantles that Druoda had ordered made. Wooden tables had been replaced with bronze, and candelabra of pure gold adorned many of them.
    Brigitte hated the room as it was, filled with Druoda’s extravagances. Druoda reclined on her couch with a queenly air, her coarse, heavy body clothed in no fewer than three linen tunics of varying colors and lengths. Small emeralds had been sewn onto the cuffs of the wide sleeves of the outer gown. These gems were rarer than diamonds and cost a fortune. Druoda’s girdle was also studded with emeralds, as was the gold ornament she wore in her elaborately curled dark brown hair. No doubt Hildegard had used a vexing iron.
    Brigitte had worked the entire day at weeding the manor garden. The chore had always before been given to three or four serfs as part of the labors owed their lord, yet she had done it all alone. And she had also bottled the winter’s herbs. She was exhausted and cramped with hunger pangs, for she had been told not to stop working until she was finished, and she had only just finished. Yet there was Druoda with a feast laid out on the table before her. There was more food than even Druoda could possibly eat, succulent pig, several creamed vegetables, breads, fruits, and sweet cakes.
    â€œI would like to retire, Druoda.” Brigitte spoke after a few minutes had passed in silence. “So if you will tell me why I am here—”
    â€œYes, I imagine you are tired and hungry,” Druoda said casually, as she stuffed another sweet cake into her mouth. “Tell me, girl, do you feel you are beingoverworked? But no, you must not think so, for you never complain.”
    â€œDruoda, if you would tell me why you have summoned me,” Brigitte said tiredly.
    â€œI think your stubbornness has gone far enough, do you not agree?” Druoda did not wait for an answer. “Of course you do. Forget this foolishness about a nunnery. I have wonderful news, Brigitte.” Druoda smiled.
    â€œWhat news?”
    Druoda’s lips turned down at the corners. “Your