The Order of the Lily (48 page)

The incessant calling of a cock finally woke Catherine the next morning. She opened her eyes and was greeted by a strange sight.

Garçon was awake and nestled comfortably in the crook of Gabriel's arm, being fed his morning milk. She felt a strange longing in her chest, her soul so full of gratitude, for here was a man, a truly beautiful man, who had all but given his life to save a child. She propped herself up and smiled at Gabriel, who responded in kind.

‘I have not yet thanked you.' Sliding out from under the coverlet, she wrapped herself in Simon's discarded cloak.

‘There is no need, Madame,' Gabriel whispered, his gaze returning to the infant.

‘Oh, but I think there is, for you could have been drowned, yet you chose to hold onto the baby, rather than the bridge.'

He said nothing, his free hand running compassionately over Garçon's soft, dark curls, the empty cow's horn now lying on the floor. ‘Gillet is very lucky, oui?'

‘Yes, he is,' she acknowledged. ‘Do you not think Garçon is very much like you?' she asked Gabriel, as she sat next to him on the floor.

‘Lady Wexford, the swim in the river has affected your eye-sight' he laughed, rubbing his own blonde locks.

‘I was not referring to your looks,' she said with amusement. ‘I meant your courage and strength and your beautiful spirit.' He blushed perceptively. ‘I think Gabriel is a beautiful name. What about you, Gabby, what do you think?' she asked the sleeping newborn.

Gabriel, touched, looked upon his namesake. ‘Thank you, Catherine, thank you.'

Simon and Armand lumbered into the room carrying further supplies and additional blankets.

‘We have arranged your passage to Dover,' Armand informed her.

‘The sooner we have you back on English soil the better, methinks.' Simon sat beside Catherine, his palm caressing her forehead, checking her temperature.

‘I long to see Cécile.'

‘I know. We will be away soon, I promise you.' He smiled an expression to which Catherine was beginning to become accustomed. ‘I want you to rest, for I know Lady d'Armagnac will have my hide should you arrive with a fever!'

Catherine agreed and hitched the blanket over her shoulder. She closed her eyes and attempted to picture the scene as she arrived in Kent. She had much to tell her sister, but it was not all good news.

Gillet stared from the casement and sighed for the fifth time. Catherine's letter was crumpled in his hand. ‘I am sorry, Cécile, truly sorry. To most, Sir Thomas Holland was a good and decent man.'

Cécile lay on the bed and stared dry-eyed at the beamed ceiling. ‘I prayed for our release, Gillet, but not this. I did not wish him dead.'

‘No, but someone did.'

Cécile rolled onto her side and cradled her belly protectively. ‘Who?'

Gillet shrugged and came to sit beside her. ‘I must go to London. And I should call in at Broughton, in case Lady Matilda has not yet heard about her brother.' He placed the letter on the bed. ‘Lord knows it took long enough for the news to reach us here, in this weather.'

‘Exactly. And now you tell me you are going to ride to London in it? You and Inferno will freeze long before you get there.'

‘I shall be gone twelve days at most. I have no wish to be away too long.' His gaze fell upon her ripened condition, ‘but it must be done and I still have friends at court. For Simon's sake I must discover whether Thomas managed to obtain an annulment.'

‘And what if you are seen? You are in exile, remember?'

He leaned forward and kissed her brow. ‘I'll just have to make myself invisible.'

His mind made up, Gillet departed the following morning, tucking his determination stoically beneath his thick cloak as the gloomy, grey skies above promised sleet. Cécile watched him leave with a heavy heart. She padded into the solar, which was to become her retreat for the next few days. By the sixth day, Cécile was glad Gillet was not present. The pain came upon her fast and she screamed in agony.

Minette hurriedly dispatched Ricard for the midwife and returned quickly to her mistress' bedside. The servants spoke in whispers, all ears tuned to the ‘noble dame's' chamber above. By the time the midwife arrived, out of breath, Cécile's pain had ceased.

‘Your babe is trying to turn.' The midwife thrust her hands into the basin of warmed water. Cécile was still blush-ing from the intimacy of her assault. ‘I shall leave you some herbal potions which will ease the cramps. Be pleased that your child tries, but you must stay abed for the rest of your confinement. Your kitchen boy knows the way to my house. Send him at once when you require my services further.' Her palm alighted upon Cécile's sweating brow. ‘Rest now and allow God do His work.'

With the shutters barred against the weather, and the very real chance of an evil spirit entering the room and the babe's soul at the moment of birth, Cécile lay in her bed with only her own company. Never had she felt so alone. Gillet was in London and Armand had taken Marguerite and Veronique with him when he departed for Arras. Griffith had accompanied Gillet, and if Minette were quiet before, now she was practically mute. Cécile smiled to herself as she recalled a touching scene she had inadvertently witnessed before Gillet's departure. Believing themselves unseen in a secluded corner, the squire had bestowed a kiss upon Minette's hand, his eyes intent upon her face, hers downcast, her cheeks glowing. Cécile tiptoed discreetly past and heard Griffith's whispered promise.

‘As soon as we return, I shall ask the Sire's permission.'

Cécile decided that this new love must not go unrequited and made her own promise to speak to Gillet. A meow echoed from the corner as Cinnamon chastised one of her kittens. Nutmeg sat on Cécile's bedside table, calmly washing his paws, content as he reigned over his domain of females.

On the sixteenth day of January, a noisy clatter of hooves announced Gillet's arrival home.

He strode into her chamber with a worried expression, having learned of her confinement.

‘Céci! Alfred told me that you have been unwell.'

‘'Tis only the babe's time drawing near,' she panted.

Gillet knelt by the bed and mopped her brow. ‘Are you sure?'

‘Yes. Tell me, what news from London?' It was then that she noticed another man hovering just outside the door. At Gillet's nod, the stranger entered. He kneeled in a courtly manner with his palms clasped at his breast.

‘Forgive my untimely intrusion into your chamber, gracious lady. Though blessed are my eyes, for surely they alight upon the fairest woman I have ever encountered. Madame, you rival the Duchess of Lancaster in beauty. Nay! You eclipse her and that is so close to treason to say so, I can feel the ghostly pull of a rope around my neck!'

‘Sweetheart,' smiled Gillet, ‘allow me to introduce a friend of mine. Geoffrey …' But before he could finish, the man sprang to his feet and bowed.

‘Chaucer. Penning eloquence with a quill, whe'ever I will.' He glanced at Gillet. ‘You are right, my friend. She
is
beautiful.'

‘I ran into Geoffrey in London and, as he was heading this way, we travelled together,' explained Gillet.

‘Dearest lady,' said Chaucer, ‘the holiest of all Mothers gave birth upon straw, and paid court in a stable. So noble was she that the beasts fell to their knees, and before you, I fall to mine.'

Gillet laughed as Cécile gaped open-mouthed. ‘No, do not suggest such surroundings, Geoffrey, for Cécile would do it! She came as close as I care at Noël.'

Geoffrey's eyes sparkled with mischief.

‘Abundant her beauty, her manner divine,

As she lay abed so sweetly,

And she spoke so fair and graceful,

After her scoundrel returned,

For France, and Paris bound.'

‘Paris?' Cécile frowned at Gillet. ‘What is he talking about?'

Gillet darted an exasperated look at the poet. ‘Only that Geoffrey is on his way to Paris, and has offered that I may travel under his protection.'

‘You go to Paris?' gasped Cécile. ‘
Now
?'

‘We will discuss this later, Cécile.' Gillet rose to pour three goblets of wine from the tray on the chest.

Geoffrey sat on a small stool. ‘Did Gillet tell you of the great service he performed for me this year past? He ransomed me from ze handz of ze mighty French!' His imitation was appalling, and Cécile could not help but laugh. ‘In fortunes of sharp adversity,' Geoffrey threw his arms open, theatrically, ‘the worst kind was this!' He smiled soberly. ‘But Gillet kept me sane inside the confines of my cell until I was released.'

The object of his admiration perched near Cécile's bolster. ‘As you can see, sweetheart, Geoffrey is given to imagination and flights of fancy. I secured his release. That was all.'

‘All? All? Do the mighty wish to fall?' Chaucer's blue eyes twinkled brightly in a freckled face and he grinned.

‘You were a good friend in a time of need

And the sights of Paris are dull, indeed,

When viewed from the window of a cell,

And as close as I have been to Hell.'