The Lily and the Lion (25 page)

‘I had thought that to be the case but now I am not so sure. I have come to realise that something was missing in my life.'

‘Really, what's that?'

‘My freedom,' I whispered.

Near midday, my hunger was screaming for attention and I was relieved when Simon directed the carriage off the main thoroughfare into a barn at the rear of a small roadside inn.

‘Ladies,' he announced as he nimbly alighted, ‘we have arrived. I have arranged for us to stay here at the
Shalford
Inn
. It is quite conveniently owned by someone I know very well.'

‘Yes, someone, in fact, to whom you still owe a considerable purse.' A tall man, slightly larger than Simon, emerged from the shadows. He was somewhat younger, yet the likeness was unmistakable. Simon opened his arms to embrace him before both gave hearty laughs and exchanged back-slaps.

I sit now, my dearest, within this quaint little inn, in the highest room overlooking the meadows. The neat squares of green intersected by fields of wheat remind me of the many tapestries adorning the walls of Lady Pembroke's private chamber. I can see the whole of the village and its accompanying manor house, the home of Lord Roderick of Shalford, half-brother to Simon.

We are to stay here, in this safe refuge, whilst Lord Wexford makes plans for our journey to Broughton. This brings me great trepidation, for how will I be received? There remains so much that I wish to tell you, my dearest, but Simon insists that this letter be away, for Gillet, too, must be informed of all that has occurred.

Please extend my best wishes to Gillet. I keep you in my prayers and send a loving blessing from Our Lady, the Virgin.

Your devoted sister, Catherine.

Written at the Shalford Inn , Feast of Saint Lydia, 3 August 34 Edward III.

Simon had lied. The incident on the road was far more worrying that he wished to convey. Salisbury was a nasty piece of work but Moleyns was far worse. As for Anaïs, she had to go. Regardless of Catherine's feelings, the maid was dangerous.

He could not forget Catherine's distress when she discovered her correspondence missing. And then to be attacked in broad daylight by Salisbury's minion! He could not let anything happen to her.
Would
not let anything happen to her. Because of the promise he had made to Gillet? Or was it something more?

As he tethered the horse in Roderick's barn, he tried to dismiss her image from his mind, yet there she was upon her knees, praying to a God in whom he had lost faith. Rubbing his brow, he turned from the prying eyes of his brother. Roderick had a keen sense and was sure to see that which Simon knew must be kept hidden.

To Catherine of Pembroke, guest of Shalford Inn , be this letter taken.

Our journey has been delayed due to the injuries Gillet and Armand suffered at the tavern. Your letter arrived in the morning, eighth day of August.

To the violation of our privacy do I address my anger most bitterly. The actions of your maid are cowardly and beyond contempt, but to have imparted such information, causing you to be dragged from your bed and flee in the middle of the night, the woman deserves nothing less than horsewhipping! I fear more now for your safety than ever before.

Gillet's fist struck the stone with rancour as the pages fluttered to his lap. ‘Putain! I should like to strangle her scrawny neck. Let her read that!' Seated beside him in the small, enclosed garden of the inn, I blushed as he handed back your letter. It had been his idea to take refreshment out of doors.

‘It does put a rather bleak outlook on things, does it not?'

‘Oui,' he growled. ‘She has strengthened her bargaining power.' He caught my horrified look and his expression softened. ‘Try not to worry, Cécile. Simon is more than capable of managing Anaïs and protecting your sister. As for knowing about us, I will put a stop to her little game when I return to London.'

Knowing about us? I glanced at Madame Duvall who, for propriety's sake, was sitting on the next seat, bent over her needlework.

‘Come,' said Gillet, standing, ‘we should retire inside.'

Nodding obediently, I rose and shook cake crumbs from my skirt. I suppose Gillet meant that Anaïs was now aware he was in France with me but I secretly took pleasure in knowing that she would have read about his kiss.

Gillet's humour did not improve when he learned later that day two of the horses had gone lame. Our departure has been postponed yet again.

12 August

We gathered in the salon for nuncheon to discuss our plans for leaving but it would seem that we are doomed once more. Madame Duvall and Armand looked terrible, both complaining the onset of fever. Gillet was moody. A sultry looking woman gowned in dark wine damask sidled up to our table. Her deep auburn hair was a mass of soft curls, tiny wisps escaping the black silk ribbon to lie wilfully upon her cheek. Her full lips were cherry red against creamy, flawless skin and her long lashes shuttered the most brilliant green eyes I had ever seen. In short, she was beautiful and she certainly had the attention of the men.

‘Excuse me, Sirs, but Thomas the innkeeper said you might be able to help me.'

Armand and Gillet jumped up with genial smiles, my cousin quite forgetting his ailment.

‘How may we be of assistance, Madame?' offered Gillet.

Her voice was pure honey, sweet and sickly, as she trickled on. ‘Monsieur Thomas has told me you arrived from Compiègne and as I am travelling that way I thought you might suggest a decent wayside inn. I am a widow, you see, and quite alone. Perhaps you could suggest somewhere reputable.'

‘We are about to eat. Would you care to join us and we can discuss it?' said Armand.

She smiled triumphantly. ‘Thank you. I should like that.' Gillet shifted along the bench opposite me, allowing her room. She flicked me a perfunctory glance as she sat. A decent inn? Thomas would have been able to tell her that. It was an innkeeper's duty to have recommendations for the next town.

‘I am staying here for … well, I am not sure how long.' She paused and quite deliberately pouted before continuing. ‘A while, anyway.' Her hand rose to her neck chain and I noted her exquisitely manicured nails. Self-consciously I slid my own from the table. I had spent the morning picking out Ruby's hooves and the dirt beneath them could fill a barrow. Her eyes flashed at me with a perception only females would understand. She had noticed!

‘Forgive me,' her glance slid to Gillet, ‘I have not introduced myself. I am Rosslyn, Lady de Caux.'

‘Would you care for a drink, Lady de Caux,' asked Gillet, signalling Clarissa. ‘Wine?'

‘I am feeling a little bit devilish today and it's been so hot. May I?' Reaching across him, she picked up his ale, sipping with an angelic air and running her tongue seductively along the rim. ‘Hmm, I think this will do nicely.'

Astounded by her behaviour I grabbed my wine and gulped, coughing inelegantly as it burned my throat.

‘I am travelling to my poor Henri's family,' she was saying, ‘in Ferrières-sur-Ariège to offer them comfort.'

Ferrières-sur-Ariège? I pricked to attention. That was in Foix territory. Shifting uneasily, I glanced at Armand but he was too intent on lifting her fingers to his lips as Gillet began the introductions.

‘Albret?' purred Lady de Caux. ‘I have heard of them.'

Gillet flashed me a quick smile. ‘And this is Cécile, Armand's cousin.'

‘Non,' she exclaimed, seemingly astonished. ‘I thought you were brothers and sister. You look so much alike.' For the second time in less than a minute, wine seared my throat. Was the woman dimwitted? Discreetly I regarded her again. Non, beautiful, cunning perhaps, but not idiotic. As she held out her hand to Gillet I decided it was time to put an end to this nonsense. My goblet toppled over and its contents rushed to the edges of the board, thoroughly soaking his legs.

‘What the devil?' He jumped up, angrily brushing at his chausses.

‘Sorry. It slipped.'

‘If you wanted my attention, Cécile, you had but to speak.' Thomas appeared with our meal and grinning, threw his cloth to Gillet.

Something sat ill with me. The lady was heading to the Ariège region and the last I had heard the Comte de Foix was raiding my papa's lands again.

A pang of regret pierced my heart. I missed Papa and Jean le Bossu. The conversation faded, my own thoughts back in Larressingle. It was deemed too dangerous to send a letter so far south, although Madame de Caux was heading in that direction. I glanced up at the beautiful widow. She had effortlessly mesmerised my companions. So could a serpent. No. I would not trust her to deliver milk to her own baby!

‘I am sure one or both of these gentlemen would be happy to accompany you, Madame de Caux. As you have correctly ascertained, neither man is attached,' Madame Duvall was saying.

What had I missed?

‘I must withdraw from the invitation,' replied Armand. ‘I really do not feel well.'

‘Then I am sure,' continued my chaperon, ‘that Monsieur de Bellegarde will be happy to escort you.' She punctuated the end of her sentence with a blustering sneeze.

‘What function?' I asked.

Gillet raised his eyebrows. ‘Were you not listening? Lady de Caux informs us there is to be a play in the village tonight. She wished to attend but had not wanted to go alone.'

‘And you are to escort her?' I looked anxiously at Madame Duvall.

‘That was the idea,' replied Gillet, making a great show of wiping his sodden chausses. He looked up with a grin. ‘Would you like to come?'

‘Oh yes!' I caught the flicker of disappointment in Lady de Caux's eyes.

‘How delightful,' she murmured. Her hand gently alighted on Gillet's. ‘And please, call me Rosslyn.'

In between eating and Madame Duvall's sneezes, we learned that Lady de Caux had been married just short of a year before her husband was killed in Picardie. During her heart-rending account, I studied her face and begrudgingly decided she must be no older than Gillet, whom I knew was well into his twenty-fifth year, and no younger than Armand, who was just over his twenty-third.

‘You must forgive my curiosity,' she said, her eyes intent upon the men's fading bruises. ‘I thought a truce had been declared but you both look as though you have seen battle recently.'

‘Merely a local dispute,' answered Armand.

‘Then I hope the spoils warranted the peril.'

‘All part of a knight's duty, Madame,' he replied, winking at me. ‘Saving maidens in distress.'

‘How honourable.' Her gaze slid to the sickly yellows and pale purples that swirled over Gillet's cheek. ‘Had you worn such colours for a widow, she would have been able to thank you properly.'

The men exchanged looks and shifted uncomfortably as Madame Duvall covered another resounding sneeze.

‘Madame Duvall, you are as flushed as a smithy,' observed Gillet, frowning.

‘In truth, I do not feel well at all. If you have no objection, I will confine myself to my chamber.' She rose at once. ‘Cécile, would you mind assisting me, dear?'

Armand slid out, brushing his own brow. ‘I think I will follow your good example, Madame.' He bowed apologetically to Lady de Caux. ‘If you would excuse me, I am feeling a little unwell but I'm sure Gillet would be happy to advise you on the accommodations in Compiègne.'

‘Yes,' I added, sliding out. ‘How soon did you say you were leaving?'

‘Oh! What a darling girl,' she tittered. ‘So innocent.'

I hurried after Armand, inwardly cursing. She had missed the look of displeasure that crossed Gillet's face. Her remark had reminded him of the one thorn that lay between us – my
lack
of innocence, thanks to Edward, the Black Prince.

‘You look as though you've just discovered someone has cut the coin purse from your belt.' I plumped the cushion behind my cousin's head. Madame Duvall was abed and I helped Armand into his.

‘Faith be, Céci, I feel as though someone has cut my throat instead! I might have to postpone our chess instruction today. Think you can amuse yourself this afternoon?'

‘Of course. I promised Ruby a good rub down. That's if Gillet can tear himself away from Madame de Caux long enough to take me for our daily ride.'

Armand laughed. ‘What? Jealous?'

I spluttered inelegantly and thumped another cushion into place. ‘No, are you?'

‘Oh, I have a sneaking suspicion that I am not in the running.'

With my cousin settled, I headed for the stables and met Gillet at the bottom of the stairs. He received one of my very best smiles.

‘Ah, Cécile, good. Turns out this play is to be held at the mayor's residence so wear your best velvet, Lady Sprite.' He winked at me and, humming to himself, took the stairs by twos. My smile was left to hang as wan as an old, ragged tapestry. Clarissa!

Half an hour later I was brushing Ruby with far more gusto than the poor mare deserved. Dropping the brush in favour of the comb, I attacked her tail. Ruby eyed me warily, stomping her hoof as I ruthlessly pulled at a knot. The comb landed next to the brush and I collapsed with despair onto the straw, tears welling. Clarissa's father had already sold my blue velvet gown.

Gazing out from my chamber window as the vesper bells chimed, I sighed wretchedly at the silhouetted landscape. A full, golden moon was on the rise. The evening would be a perfect one but it would not be mine to enjoy. My stomach lurched as the inevitable knock sounded. I opened my door to Gillet's quizzical stare. He observed my green bliaut with distaste. ‘Cécile, we are to leave soon. You are not attired!'

‘I cannot go.'