Gisborne: Book of Pawns (3 page)

Occasionally what could have been dreary isolation was leavened
by the
travellers we encountered – merchants, nobility, men
a
t arms, mercenaries and pilgrims.
Travellers were always willing to pass the time and thus we heard that
King
Henry
and Queen Eleanor were in marital dispute again.
Henry’s
amorous adventures with half the beauties of Christendom were assuming the scope of
legend and it was the only time
I heard Marais’ voice lighten as she seized on the libidinous facts.

In truth though, Henry was rumoured to be severely unwell
and I privately questioned tha
t he would live to a ripe age.
His sons continued to battle around him, with each other and with him, and over it all hung the shadow of
dark John and golden Richard.
I remembered John as a child in Aquitaine and liked him not o
ne bit.
He reminded me of the kind of fiend that would pull the
wings off flies.
Richard on the other hand had Eleanor’s heart
and the appearance of a hero.
I had no doubt where some of the legend would lie
after we were dead and gone.

I
posed the ques
tion to Gisborne.

‘Pr
ince John or Prince Richard
? Who would
you have as your liege lord?’

He started at my voice, as if he had been sure the new troupe formation should keep me
quiet and away from his ears.
I twisted around to look back at him and for a bare second he gazed at me and then away as if I s
melled of something abhorrent.
Lord knows why he should treat m
e thus and it had gone beyond confusing me to a simmering anger.

‘Well?’ I prompted,
feeling the heat of battle begin to burn. ‘Are you afraid to answer?
Have
you no opinions of your own?’
I could be
cutting when I was angry.
It is not a merit of which I am proud.

He seemed to grow before me, his eyes raking me as good as a thra
shing.
He had a way of diminishing one by the every act of
looking down a rather patrician nose from his excessive height upon the leggy rouncey.

‘A liege lord is one
to whom I have pledged fealty.
In my instan
ce, either man has my loyalty.
If Richard becomes king I
shall swear allegiance to him.
If I am a knight, it is what o
ne does. If Prince John beca
m
e king, I should do the same. But i
t is a rhetorical question, Lady Ysabel, as King Henry still lives, his sons are v
ital and one presumes there is a succession plan
.’

Furious with his condescending manner,
I kicked my mare into a canter
and leaped ahead of the troupe
causing Marais to
be even more querulous, for Gisborne
to swear roundly a
t which I lifted my lips, and for the troupe to hasten
after me.

As before, a horse galloped up from behind,
a hand grabbed the reins and that voice said, ‘You really are a wilful child, are you not?’

My horse stamped about, pulling away from the gauntleted fi
ngers.
‘If you think so,
Gisborne, you must be right.’

But inside I chuckled.

You see
? Two can play at this game.

But by the time we entered Tours, some two weeks of us irritating each other had escalated t
o a seriously heated moment.
I had walked off on my own through a woodland path to a stream without telling Marais and sat enjoying the pastoral views of fields and sheep and villeins working the land, their holdings little squares of tilled and sown groun
d like some patchworked cloth.
It pleased me to be on my own for I had nothing of solitude these
days in which to indulge my memories of my mother. The peace I now garnered
was balm to the very roots of my being and I couldn’t help a disgruntled sigh when Gisborne strode into my presence.

‘If you weren’
t the daughter of my employer, l
ady or no, I would lay you over my knee and thrash you for your w
ilful and ignorant behaviour.’
He didn’t shout but the words rolled out
like stones from a trebuchet.
The fury that gave impetus to the words was
harnessed
in
hands that clenched
as if round the throat of an assailant
.

‘Are you my keeper?’ My voice began to lift. ‘Mary Mother, all I want is
peace
. Far from
your sour m
oods and Marais’ carping. She clings like poison ivy and you glower like a perpetual thunderstorm.
Go away, Gisb
orne. Leave me.
I shall return at my leisure.’

‘I
AM
YOUR KEEPER
,’ he shouted
and then lowered his voice and ground the next words out as if he wanted his heel to crush them into the ground. ‘I am under orders to bring you home safely to Moncrieff. You will return to the rest of the group now. I wi
ll not have Marais weeping as though you are dead and the men searching
.
Christ, Ysabel, will you grow up?’

I was prepared to admit to a degree of guilt, if only to myself.
I had not meant to hurt Marais or even to place the
men under any sort of threat. I pushed past my father’s steward
but
could not avoid the last word.

‘
Lady
Ysabel,
Gisborne.
Lady
Ysabel.’

But the point was his as the velvet voice rumbled behind me.

‘You spoiled little bitch.’

It was true. Spoiled indeed. There was no doubting the fact as
Marais collapsed upon me
like a falling tree
and wept far more
than the occasion demanded. Her own grief at loss of home and family had become a matter requiring tact and civility as soon as possible.

Marais and mysel
f were settled in a small nunnery in Tours a
ttached to the Abbaye de Saint Ju
lien where it was quiet and befitted
my
status as a lady of rank. Gisborne turned to go but
I
placed my hand on his sleeve.
He wore
a
leather
tunic
as we travelled and the
worn hide
felt soft and smooth under my fingers, as if it had been worn for many years under untold
conditions.
It moulded itself to h
is forearm leaving an impression of muscle and tendon beneath my touch.

‘
I must ask for your time, sir.’ Oh, I was so polite. ‘
I realise you wish to get to your own hostelry but I m
ust talk with you about Marais. Please?’

He nodded his head and took me by the elbow to a ben
ch near the gate.

‘Mar
ais must return to Cazenay. No, please … hear me out.
She weeps daily and
will never settle in the fens.
I think you know this as well as I.’

‘Indeed,’ he replied.
‘She suff
ers pining
sickness beyond what I would have hoped for your companion.’

‘Then you must see it is a kin
dness to return her forthwith.
Now that we are in Tours, I am propos
ing we find a group of pilgrims
o
r merchants heading south.
If we cannot find that, then send some of the men back with her.’

His face barely moved and it crossed my mind bri
efly what a spy he might make, n
ever betraying a s
ingle thing in his expression.

‘But
,’ he replied. ‘I
t means you will not have a
chaperone and your father…
’

‘Oh please. You think someone like Marais will be able to protect my inno
cence between here and England?
Guy,’ his name slipped out and
he shifted as we sat together. ‘Guy, do not.
Just return her to
Aquitaine
and me
to Moncrieff. It is all I ask.
I promise I shall be biddable if you do.’

His mouth quirked
and because he appeared to soft
en, I thought to press my case.

‘May I ask you something?
Did I offend you on that first day of our travels, that you should avoid talking to me
or being near me while we ride
?’

He rubbed his hands t
ogether and leaned forward,
black hair
falling over his collar.

‘No.
I changed the w
ay we rode for safety reasons.
As to avoiding you, I felt it was unseemly
for us to ride together.
You are a lady and I am a
mere steward
.’

‘Oh don’t be ridiculous.’ I laughed. ‘
If I know anything at all,
it is that you are noble-born. As if it matters.
You could be a villein and if I thought you were interesting I would talk to you.’

‘Perhaps.
But I am your father’s employee
and charged with your safety.
If you remembe
r anything of England, my lady,
you will remember that status is everything.’

‘Status is nothing but being born on the right side of the blankets,’ I scoffed.

He said something then that
I would reflect on later, something that was much bigger than I g
ave it credit for at the time.
He stoo
d and paced, his expression revealing deep-seated
bitterness
.
Hi
s eyes darkened and in profile
he resembled nothing so much as a bird of prey.

‘Status,’ he said, ‘is power.’

Chapter Two

‘
You must let me come with you.
If an escort is to be found for my maidservant, then I am surely entitl
ed to have a say in who they might be
.
’

Gisborne
shook his
head.
‘It is not
seemly…
’

‘For a Lady to go about seeking pilgrims
or merchants with her steward?
Lord, Sir Gisborne,
I think it is more than seemly.
You can step two paces behind if it is more appropriate.’

He stood, muttering
und
er his breath as he turned away and m
y words chased him.

‘I beg your pardon, sir,
I did not hear what you said.’

‘I recall saying something
about spoiled and thrashings.
Your manner has not improved my mind.’

‘Yours is little better.’ I sighed.
‘All I am asking is the right to find the travellers w
ho could best care for Marais.
She has been my companion as much as a maidservant for the ei
ght years I was at Cazenay.
It
is the least I can do for her.
Please?’

He walked to the gate as he answered, his spurs jingling in the tranquil and dove-
filled quiet of the forecourt.

‘Tomorrow, then. A
f
ter you have broken your fast. Good day to you, my
lady
.’

I said nothing to Marais about
sending her back to Aquitaine.
I would not have her disillusi
oned if we could find no escort
of any sort. The following morning after breaking our fast in the refectory with other guests, I told her that Guy of Gisborne would accompany me to the ma
rket and that she was to rest.
She said something
then
wh
ich brought a smile to my face.

‘You watch that Gisborne, my
lady.
I can
see you are smitten with him.
But he has a dark streak which will muddy your own waters.’