Gisborne: Book of Pawns (35 page)

Ulric remained silent, staring at the curls as if he could see the story they told.

‘Give me your arm if you please, Ulric,’ I asked. ‘We shall visit their families first.’

Cecilia and John led the way, Ceci leaning on John and with a staff in her other hand. I rested my hand in the crook of Ulric’s arm and he seemed embarrassed as we left by the castle gates, his face flushing as the other men whistled and called.

‘The men are illmannered. Take no notice,’ I said. ‘You do me a service, Ulric, for I am still weak.’

In truth I was not but it served to have him believe he was most necessary to me. Something about his gentility and deference made me wonder if he
could
be a friend because I needed to build a force of loyal supporters. He was politely quiet when we met with Wilf’s and Harry’s families and I relayed the dreadful story, telling them how brave were the men.

‘Were they braver than those soldiers?’

One of the children pointed to the castle.

‘Much braver.’

As I spoke I silently begged for Ulric’s forgiveness, wanting him to see that I mended children’s broken hearts and nothing else. I would not have him lumped in with the disreputable men that comprised the baron’s army.

‘Were they knightly?’

‘Mary mother, of course! The most knightly you can imagine. They saved my life as they lost their own, fought like heroes and will always be remembered as such.’

‘That baron’s not a real knight.’

The younger children were outspoken as children often are.

‘I fear he is,’ I said. ‘It is best you do not speak thus or his wrath may strike at your families. Will you do that for me? Keep silent? You see the King has deemed him a knight and you must show him respect. You know you can’t gainsay your king.’

‘I hate the baron. He takes grain that is ours and we have no bread.’

‘Then I shall make sure you have grain back. Don’t fret.’

Ulric listened to all of this and spoke as we returned to the castle.

‘My lady, you might be able to give them grain whilst the baron is gone but he shall find out and may penalize them.’

‘Ulric is right, Ysabel,’ said Ceci and Brother John nodded his head. ‘You should not promise what you may not be able to give.’

‘I will tell the baron myself. If he has a complaint it shall be with me. Ulric, when we return, please make sure that one bag of grain for each household is taken from the granary. The village is not so big, and I’ll wager the castle granary can afford it. The people are not to starve until the harvest.’

‘Are you not afraid?’ Ulric helped me step over a puddle.

‘Not now but I shall probably tremble when I confront the baron.’

‘You are quite a surprise, my lady.’

‘How so?’

I turned and gave him my full attention. His blonde hair gleamed in the dull light of an insipid sun and his blue eyes stared beyond me to my lake.

My
lake?

‘He is…’ he seemed to struggle with his words.

‘Yes?’

‘Be careful, my lady.’ His gaze switched to my face and became intense. ‘His temper is … well known.’

So, he uses his hands
,
does he?

‘Consider me warned, Ulric, and thankyou.’

The villeins received their grain and life continued in a placid fashion as the leaves thickened and the late spring promised better weather to come. Brother John and I went fishing, caught some pike and talked … at least I talked and he listened. Occasionally his mouth would tighten but he let me empty of my thoughts and hurts.

Finally, ‘I think Cecilia is right about Guy and that you see it wrong, Ysabel. He was more than honest here and was highly regarded by noble and serf alike. I can’t see the man you talk of at all. It will be proved ultimately, I am sure.’

‘You do not convince me, Brother John. And in any case, it is too late.’

‘I know. But time will tell. What’s that?’

We heard a voice shouting from the banks and Ulric waved his cap in the air. Brother John poled us over and Ulric’s face glimmered and flushed as if something was awry.

‘Ulric?’ I asked.

‘The Baron is returned. The letter from the King has arrived. He wishes you and the Lady Cecilia to attend him in the Hall. Brother John as well.’

My time of calm had ended, my heart speeding up. But I would not let the others see and so I hopped to the shore, grasping Ulric’s hand, holding the folds of my
bliaut
high.

‘Then let us discover what Richard Plantagenet would do with me. Come on!’ I chastened them. ‘I would not have us suffer the Baron’s wrath so soon.’

We hurried over the causeway with our fish, tossing the catch to a kitchen-hand and continuing to the Hall where the baron lounged against my father’s chair, his back to us as he played with a thick packet. He turned around as we clattered in, resplendent in a scarlet surcoat. His hair blended with the rich autumnal tints of his clothes and if it wasn’t Benedict De Courcey, one might have been impressed with the figure he cut.

He glanced at the fish stains on my gown, at my hair blown away from its plait.

‘Jesu, there is little of the lady about you now. I shall forgive you because I see you have colour in your cheeks at last and your eyes are clearer.’

It is not for
you to forgive
anything.

I dropped to a curtsy, my head bowed. Might as well start with the pleasantries.

‘I am much improved, thank you.’

‘If I didn’t want to know immediately what the King shall say, I would ask you to wash and change and return in a state fit to hear what is your future. As it is…’ he passed the packet to Brother John. ‘Open it, priest, and apprise us of the royal wishes.’

Brother John slipped his finger under the thick royal seal and fragments of red wax fell to the paving stones like drops of blood.

An execution warrant. Nothing less.

The parchment crackled and I waited, an out of body experience, cursing my head for its lightness, holding onto Ulric’s arm as to a lifeline. His fingers crept to my hand and squeezed.

‘Courage, madam,’ he seemed to say.

Finally Brother John unfolded the letter and began to read.

‘
Richard by the grace of God King of England, Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine and Count of Anjou, to my Lord Baron
De Courcey
, greetings.
We were saddened to hear of the
straitened circumstance
of Our
cousin
, Lady Ysabel of Moncrieff and owe you gratitude for thinking of her care. Our mother Eleanor by that same grace Dowager Queen of England, has let it be known that S
he would
welcome Our cousin to Her court
but t
hat She has no purpose for her
. As you indicate,
Our own Godmother
Lady Cecilia
Fineux of Upton is also the Lady Ysabel’s
godmother and but for her increasing age would have offered fine care of
Our cousin. It seems thus
that the Lady Ysabel can best be provided for by marriage…’

I gasped. My future turned and looked at my present and shattered into a million pieces.

‘…by marriage,’
Brother John repeated.
‘And it would please U
s
that a man W
e respect
and admire can offer his hand and his beneficence
. We therefore propose and approve the betrothal of Lady Ysabel
of
Moncrieff to Baron Benedict
De Courcey
…’
in the silence, Brother John finished the message.
‘… of Moncrieff.’
He looked up.
‘It is of course signed and dated by Richard Plantagenet.
’

I closed my eyes to prevent the world spinning but it continued to spin anyway and I began to pool in fishy folds at Ulric’s feet.

‘This is becoming a habit, Lady Cecilia. What ails her?’

‘Shock, Baron. What think you? That she is happy to marry a man she barely knows?’

‘Other women have done it as a matter of politics since Time began and she maintains a position in her familial home. It should be enough. Not many would want her, penniless as she is and with a reputation.’

‘A reputation?
What
do you say?’

Cecilia’s ire crept into my brain and sharpened my dulled wits.

‘They say she may not be the maid she pretends after weeks alone with Gisborne.’

My eyes closed with the memories.

Foolish, naïve Ysabel. Virginity lost. And how you shall pay!

‘Have you asked Gisborne?’

‘In fact I did and we came to blows, he denying he should want her at all and that I was disparaging
his
reputation. He also said he had an idea she would be very poor and it did not suit him. I laughed at that.’

Snake, Gisborne, snake!

My back ached but I kept quiet.

‘Fix her, Lady Cecilia. We shall be married by week’s end. The King cannot be present but a few of my friends shall attend. It shall be a small occasion.’

‘Do you not want to shout it from the rooftops to all England, my lord baron?’

The sarcasm in Cecilia’s tone was as ripe as well-aged game.

‘It is enough that the daughter of Moncrieff shall be my wife. And may I say enjoy the next few days with your god daughter because at the end of the marriage banquet, there will be no need of you here any longer.’

No!

I heard his boots tap over the floor, spurs jingling and then the door shut.

Wife, wife, wife!

But in truth I was not sure what hurt the most; that I should be this man’s wife and consort, that Cecilia was to be banished or that Guy of Gisborne had said he did not want me at all, that I did not suit his reputation and that I was poor.
He
had said that about
me.
My back stabbed, the pain convulsing around to my loins and I grunted. Hearing the noise, Cecilia was instantly at my side.

‘Huh, you are awake. I think, my dear, that it is time you and I had a little talk.’

‘Cecilia, he is sending you away!’ I held her hand tightly, her rings cutting into my palm. ‘I cannot lose you. I cannot survive without you.’

‘Hush, we shall not talk of this yet, although I could have gelded the bastard when he spoke.’

Her hand closed to a fist beneath mine and I could imagine her grabbing his organs and squeezing before delivering a sharp cut and oh, how I would have helped!

‘Tell me about this pain of yours,’ she continued. ‘Where is it exactly?’

I pointed at my lower back and my belly.

‘And you are faint and lacking in appetite and I dare say you are nauseous daily. Tell me, when did you last have your courses?’

Of course I knew. Perhaps I had known all along but in typical Ysabel fashion chose to deny the truth.

‘I am with child,’ I whispered.

Cecilia nodded, her wimple straining against her chin.

I pushed off the bed and went to the window to stare out, seeing a man with black hair flying off his collar as he strode away. I tried to speak but nothing emerged and so I just shrugged my shoulders. What does one say?

A crow flew past the window and then back, dipping and soaring on the eddies that circled the tower. I longed for his freedom but I shivered because crows hung about with legend … death, witches, all things unpalatable.

‘He will kill me when I produce another man’s child.’

‘Most likely.’

Cecilia, never one to gild a lily, said it like it was, determined to make me face some truths. The fire crackled and then more un-gilded and surprising words reached me from where she stood on the far side of the room.

‘
If
you tell him.’

‘I should think it will be obvious when my stomach begins to strain like a cow with bloat.’

‘But he needn’t know it is not his child. It is you and the babe we must think on presently, my dear, because you
are
in trouble, that cannot be gainsaid. I think it is as well the baron is marrying you this week. There is time for him to do what he must and then you can claim he is to be a father and for the next few months he will accept your changing form as a product of his manly seed.’

‘Cecilia, please!’

The thought of opening my legs to De Courcey filled me with horror and not just because I now carried a child who belonged to another.

‘Face the facts, my girl. Surely when you allowed Gisborne to dip his wick you realized this might be an outcome? This is no time for shyness.’

Did I? I don’t think I gave it a thought. Even more naivety, Ysabel.