The Wolf and the Snake (English version)

Chapter 39

Ada's body rests in the castle chapel of Chasseney fortress, in a crypt whose solid vaults have defied the centuries.

It was in this chapel that Reyn and Ada were married.

Everyone notices that the unfortunate widower can barely stand during the funeral ceremony. His poor parents have to hold him firmly until the end of the mass. The catafalque is widely incensed, but the body continues to exhale an atrocious smell of death.

As if the young woman lying there refused to disappear forever.

After the funeral, their son's behavior worries his parents. The widows remain cloistered during their mourning, receiving only visits from a few friends, but it's not the case for the widowers.

"Reyn rushes into these cursed taverns like a dog looking for a bone," the lady of Chasseney says in tears.

"Alas," her husband answers sadly.

Sighs, complaints, lamentations, and grievances don't change much to a desperate situation. To the point that the lord of Chasseney considers that after several months of moving masses for the soul of the missing woman, it's time for his son to think of remarrying.

"There's no sorrow so great that a man can't overcome! A new face will give you back the taste for life and bring you helpful oblivion," he pleads with conviction.

"Sorry, Father, but I have no desire to forget Ada," the young knight growls, drunk from morning to night.

And he isn't far from wishing the good sire to go to hell, despite all the respect of a son.

After the funeral, Reyn went to the Jewish cemetery in Troyes, to the grave of Simon, Ada's father. He prayed for Simon's forgiveness because he hadn't protected Ada from the Capetian and his cursed troubadour.

By the way, the king's brother moved heaven and earth to find this scoundrel.

But in vain.

And almost every night, Reyn reads the bloodstained letter.

Over and over again!

Then he imagines his Ada in Heaven, where no one will hurt her again.

Other nights he's so desperate that he goes to taverns, ending up drunk in a whore's bed.

He will soon forget her face or her body.

These nights, he hates himself and wants to drive his sword deep into his heart.

When John of Joinville reappears at Chasseney, Reyn thinks about that day of departure for Provence, when destiny changed. He barely greets the visitor at dinner, but Joinville comes to talk to him. "My boy, I know your misfortune! Lady Simonette, my dear sister, is also Gilles of Trazegnies's wife. And he's a man with the count of Provence's confidence."

Exasperated, the young lord threw a dark look without bothering to reply, and Joinville lets escape a sigh of annoyance.

He never had any sympathy for the missing woman, considering her a bastard and an ambitious woman.

The beauty of this girl was nothing but trouble for the son of his dear friend, John of Chasseney, bewitching the count of Provence, shamefully turning him away from his legitimate wife and children.

And because of this scatterbrain, Joinville fears a severe sanction from the king against the young Chasseney.

"I have also heard of your foolishness, my boy," he adds sternly. "Fighting with His Majesty's brother like a common scoundrel! What's the matter with you? Our sovereign himself asked me to take you to Paris and requires to meet you as soon as possible."

"My God!" the lady of Chasseney claims while signing herself.

Reyn would tell Joinville, the king of France, his damn brother, and the whole world to go to hell, too.

But in front of his parents' imploring eyes, he agrees to obey.

***

As they watched their son leave, John of Chasseney and his wife prayed fervently that their handsome Reyn would not be thrown into an awful jail in Paris.

Joinville confirmed to the couple that he had argued to the king that the boy was a fabulous soldier who had unfortunately lost his mind, to the point of beating a son of France.

He didn't hide from his friend that the matter was severe. But he found it reassuring that Reyn was summoned to the king's family residence instead of the imposing palace on the Île de la Cité, the official seat of Capetian power.

Perhaps a sign of Louis's possible leniency towards the young widower.

***