The Gilded Crown (10 page)

‘
Mon Dieu
,' gasped Margot. But she had not calculated for the stubbornness of Gillet de Bellegarde. He dug his knees into Inferno and looped the reins over the pommel. Taking his sword in both hands, Gillet stood in his stirrups and drove a crashing blow onto his adversary's helm. His opponent slid sideways out of his saddle.

Cécile's relief was short-lived. ‘Oh, by all the saints in Heaven!' she cried. ‘What is he doing now?'

Gillet leapt from Inferno and, foregoing the advantage of horseback, sent the steed galloping from the field. He thrust a knee heavily into the winded man's chest and snatching the dagger from his belt, pressed it against his opponent's throat.

‘Why?' asked Margot, stunned. ‘He has already defeated him! Why force the yielding in such a manner?'

But there were far more words traded than a yielding merited before Gillet sheathed his dagger. As he rose and turned on his heel, he saw D'Arques, upon horseback, bearing down upon him. Gillet raised his sword but he was at the end of his strength, and wobbled like a drunken reveller.

D'Arques let out a triumphant yell that turned into a blood-curdling scream. He landed at Gillet's feet, sliding in the muck, his helm dented by a flying cleaver. A yell was heard above all other.

‘
Bellegarde! Bellegarde! To the arms of Bellegarde
!' A horse skidded to a halt, and Griffith leapt from his mount just as Gillet pitched forward, falling to his knees.

Griffith assisted his master upright and unbuckled Gillet's helm as the Picardie-Berri knights whooped past. Freed at last from the barricade, the ill-tempered knights took precious little time to brutally take the field, and the Normandie-Flandre alliance fell.

One day later the men were celebrating their victory back at the Maison de les Fleurs. Dames Violetta and Rosetta relished the opportunity to wield both their culinary and medicinal skills, and chuckled with delight at the boys' teasing.

Alone in their chamber, Cécile applied the last of the ointment to Gillet's chest wound and unrolled the binding. Although the fire burned brightly in the stone grate, there was a noticeable chill in the air.

‘What if she has borne fruit from your loins and you do not know it?'

Gillet sighed huffily. ‘Who?'

‘The sister of Robiérre d'Arques, of course! Why else would her brother take such vengeance upon you?'

‘Ouch! Careful, woman, you are as heavy-handed as a blacksmith.' Gillet turned Cécile's chin, forcing her to look at him. ‘Now listen to me, and listen well. Robiérre d'Arques is as stupid as he is incompetent! His sister means
nothing
to me, nor does she bear any “fruit of my loins!”'

‘Well then …' Cecile sniffed haughtily. ‘What of the other man, then? The one with the eagle crest. Why will you not tell me his name?'

‘Because I do not want you to worry.'

Cécile d'Albret stopped binding and stared at her husband. ‘You feather-headed fool, Gillet d'Albret de Bellegarde! From this moment on until I am in my grave, not one day shall pass whereupon I will not worry about you, whether you tell me his name or no.' She tied off the linen strips and snatched up her tray of medicinals.

Gillet grabbed her wrist. ‘The man with the eagle crest was Bonneuil.'

The blood drained from Cécile's cheeks. Slowly, she set the tray down on the chest and sat on the bed, her voice tight. ‘Bonneuil?' The hair on her head prickled. She could almost feel him wrenching it. Without conscious thought she rubbed at her scalp. ‘The beast you fought in our room in Calais?' Her hand dropped and her complexion paled further. ‘But he knows you as Ghillebert d'Albret. He could have had you arrested!'

‘Which is why I had to silence him, but I have not forgotten how he treated you, or that I swore to kill him.'

‘
God's bones, Gillet
! Then why did you not do it when you had the chance?'

Gillet struggled upright against the bolster. ‘That was not my chance. I will face him when there are no tourney rules to govern us or a hundred sets of eyes to lay judgment upon something about which they know nothing.'

‘For the love of God, will he care about honour if the circumstance was reversed? If you wished me not to worry your dagger should have done its work!' Cécile glared at her husband.

‘Now do you see why I did not want to tell you? I knew you would react this way.' He pulled her closer and tenderly tucked a curl behind her ear. ‘You need not fear a reprisal any time soon. Bonneuil and I have an agreement. When the time is right we shall settle our differences.'

Cécile looked at him blankly. ‘And what is to stop him from going to the authorities now?'

‘I extracted a solemn vow from him.'

‘You may have honour, Gillet de Bellegarde, but has he? Will he uphold this vow?'

‘Yes.'

‘Are you sure?'

Gillet lifted one brow. ‘If I was not, then my dagger would have done its work. Besides, there are other tasks to which I would attend first.' He fished beneath the covers and pulled out a parchment. ‘This just arrived. How do you feel about a trip to Gisors? My summons has arrived from the Vicomtesse d'Evereux.'

Craigmillar manor house was imposing, sitting atop a low hill overlooking the southern township of Edinburgh. The new wing, well under construction, was placed strategically adjacent the original building which had been a monastic house. Catherine was surprised by the number of men working on the inner ward that would connect the two structures.

She pointed out the stonemasons to Simon. ‘They look like bees buzzing about their hive.'

‘And there is the Queen herself,' he said, steering his mount into the courtyard.

Catherine followed, resisting the urge to pull back on the reins, hesitant to end their journey.

Simon dismounted and addressed a short, stout woman, her head covered by an austere veil and wimple. ‘Sister, it is good to see you.'

Lady Beatrix Odistoun opened her arms and accepted her brother's embrace, though Catherine was sure Beatrix's smile deteriorated into something more akin to a sneer.

‘I must say I was shocked when I heard news of your marriage,' she began, peering around Simon. ‘But I can see now why you did not wish to wait for the family's approval. Your bride is beautiful.'

‘Many people were surprised, Beatrix, that Catherine agreed to wed me!' jested Simon, helping his wife from her saddle.

‘Come now, Beatrix, let me inspect the newest member of our clan.' Bending one knee, Walter of Odistoun lifted Catherine's hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. ‘Welcome to Scotland, fair lady.'

‘Lady Catherine Wexford, my sister, Lady Beatrix,' introduced Simon, ‘and her husband, Sir Walter of Odistoun.'

‘Brother to our dear King David,' Walter qualified as he rose to greet Simon.

‘Half-brother,' Beatrix muttered beneath her breath. ‘And where is Roderick?'

‘He will join us in the coming days.' Simon's gaze settled on a pile of stones awaiting a master craftsman. ‘I hope our stay will not inconvenience you,' he added, directing the conversation away from Roderick's absence.

‘Dinna worry yourself, brother. There is room a plenty for you and your small party,' Beatrix reassured them.

‘So you are to stay awhile then?' Walter enquired.

‘I have business that will see me visit much of Edinburgh,' replied Simon. ‘So I would like to make Craigmillar my main residence.'

‘Of course. Perhaps I can assist you? I have the ear of the King, which should fare you well.' Walter winked at Catherine before directing Simon towards a large double-door, recessed into the wall.

Beatrix grabbed Catherine's arm and held her back. ‘I have long awaited the opportunity o' meeting wit' you.'

‘And I, you.' Catherine smiled but her friendly gesture was not reciprocated.

‘Where is your child?

‘We left Gabriel in Cambridge.'

‘I am disappointed.' Beatrix released her hold but continued to stare at Catherine. ‘Perhaps I might have the pleasure soon?'

Taken aback by Beatrix's intimidating manner Catherine decided to withhold the details of her son's travel arrangements. ‘Yes, soon, I believe.'

The two ladies entered the hall. The fire was well alight and the large wooden table set with several jugs of wine and ale.

‘Might I escort Lady Wexford to your room so as she can refresh herself?' suggested Walter, offering his arm to Catherine.

‘No.' Simon's reply was curt. He instead took a seat on the bench and pulled his wife down beside him, his hand firmly around hers.

‘Wine, then?' Walter offered, leaning over Catherine to reach the jug.

Catherine lifted her goblet in anticipation but discovered, to her own embarrassment, Walter's gaze locked on her cleavage as he tried to leer down her dress. She turned to her husband, but he had bent to loosen the ties on his boots.

Beatrix stepped in front of Walter and narrowed her eyes in warning.

‘Is David at court?' enquired Simon as he reappeared.

‘No, he is in Aberdeen.' Walter sat opposite. ‘However, he is due to return within the week. Do you wish to be presented?'

‘I do,' said Simon.

‘Aye, well, I will approach him. First you must tell the nature of your business,' he demanded as he gulped down his ale.

‘My business is not your business, Walter,' Simon warned.

‘I disagree. My brother will ask me what you want of him and I will need to provide the answer,' he gloated arrogantly.

‘
Half-brother,'
Simon clarified.

‘More wine?' Beatrix interjected as Simon glared at Walter. When neither man answered she refilled her goblet to the brim and slurped loudly.

‘There are other matters that need to be discussed,' Walter continued. ‘I hear you arrived in Cambridge with a boy?'

‘News travels fast,' exclaimed Simon.

‘I have a right to know who he is.'

‘I beg to differ, Walter. You have no right whatsoever.'

‘I am the laird of this house!'

‘Are you? I think not.' Simon appeared smug and Catherine squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. This was not the happy family gathering she had imagined. ‘I believe Lord Preston is allowing you to reside in this house because you have given him permission to wed your daughter, a child who has yet to see ten summers. However, the groom has enjoyed four times as many,' Simon raged. ‘And as for
your
rights, Walter, you have none. It was your eldest son, Robert, whom I intended to make my heir. But circumstances have changed.'

‘You remarried.' Beatrix's face was awash with dislike as she stared at Catherine.

‘I did, and,' Simon paused, ‘I have a son.'

Catherine inhaled sharply, surprised by Simon's open acknowledgement of Gabby.

‘So he is yours?' Walter peered over his goblet, his speech slurred.

‘He is my ward.'

‘But not of your blood, so cannot inherit,' Beatrix ranted.

‘I am fortunate, sister,' Simon began. ‘Lady Wexford is young and, God willing, will bear me many children. My estate is large but I am a generous man.' He reached across the table and gently grasped Beatrix's fingers. ‘I will sign over the land and buildings at Doune and the property in Fife to you in perpetuity. You shall not be without.'

Beatrix snatched back her hand. ‘Thank you, dear brother. Your generous spirit is to be commended,' she quipped sarcastically. ‘I assume
your wife
has influenced this decision?'

‘You cannot conclude anything, for you know nothing of Catherine or her benevolent nature.'

‘That's right,' sniped Walter. ‘Who is this woman, an orphan of no consequence, who maneuvered one of England's richest lords into her marriage bed? And why marry in secret, in France, without royal decree?'