Almodis Read Online Free PDF Page A

city with its red-tiled roofs and smoke rising from countless chimneys. Most of the city is on the near side of the great blue bend of the Garonne river. I can see the white and yellow sails of boats and tiny figures moving across the city’s two bridges. To my left, the dark pink walls of the castle of Toulouse, the Chateau Narbonnais, rise up near one of the city gates, towering above the other buildings. Close to another of the city gates, I can see the oval of the old Roman amphitheatre with its tiered seating. I am so excited to be here, close to this city that was the hub of the Roman and Visigoth Empires in the South. Somewhere down there is my family: my father, my brother and oh, my sister. I have not seen them for twelve long years.
    I inhale the cold morning air. It smells of spring and wood smoke. I kick my horse and steer him with my knees toward the steep incline. We pick up speed and are soon travelling at breakneck pace down the hill. I hear startled shouts behind me and laugh aloud, relishing the rush of the cool breeze against my face.
    As I wait again for the group to catch up with me at the St Étienne Gate, I watch the traffic of peasants, entering the city with their tallage , their tax payments in grain, chickens, cakes of beeswax, pigs. They file past the guards and occasionally make way for loud groups of noble visitors on horseback.
    My aunt and uncle finally arrive and I listen with a fiction of ademure, penitent face as Eustachie admonishes me for the reckless ride down the hill. I fall into line behind them as they prepare to enter the city with dignity. My uncle will be the most important visitor to the assembly. A servant straightens my uncle’s fur-lined red cloak around him on the horse. He pulls a coronet studded with green jewels out of a leather bag and passes it up to the duke who nests it precariously in the bouncing crest of his hair. Guillaume carefully nods his head in command and we all move forward towards the gate.
    Once inside the city we pass the church of St Étienne and then ride straight down towards the river. Ahead, I can see boatmen unloading onto the crowded pier. Brightly painted pink, green and yellow houses line the opposite side of the river, with their lower levels in the water so that boats can pull directly into their basements. The upper storeys of the houses hang over, and are reflected in, the water’s surface. We turn left and follow the river towards the Narbonnais Gate. As we reach the huge sculpted gateway another group of nobles are approaching and at first attempt to force precedence. I exchange a horrified glance with Aunt Eustachie as I recognise Agnes of Mâcon and Geoffrey of Anjou. At the last moment, when I thought my uncle would have to exert his right to enter first, Geoffrey reins his horse and puts a holding hand out to Agnes. He bows sardonically to Guillaume as he passes and then I feel his eyes on me.
    ‘Good morning, my beautiful Lady Almodis of La Marche. A glorious morning.’ Geoffrey’s voice is loaded with self-satisfied sarcasm.
    I merely nod my head without looking at him as I pass. I am not your beautiful lady, I think furiously. Geoffrey is quickly forgotten however as I emerge into the cobbled courtyard of the bailey and my excitement rises at the thought of being reunited with my family. Inside there is a scene of vast confusion as peasants queue with animals, and visitors are directed to their quarters.
    A servant tells my uncle: ‘I have lodging in the east wing for you and your household, my Lord. I understand that I am to take Lady Almodis to the Count of La Marche’s lodgings?’
    ‘Yes,’ Guillaume answers, dismounting stiffly, puffing and groaning. The folds of his face are now an unhealthy and lividred, with streaks of white at the sides of his nose. The fashion for short tunics and hose gartered below the knee so as to show off a finely shaped leg, does not, I observe, suit my uncle much.
    Piers murmurs to me that he