Gisborne: Book of Pawns (36 page)

But I could never tell Cecilia. I just looked out the window again. I decided to trust myself to her hands because the one thing I knew about her was that she was indomitable, that problems existed to be solved and that the inevitable might as well be accepted as fought against. I also learned that many little wins could lead to a mighty big win. This was the legend that was Cecilia Fineux of Upton and I was to lose her … just as I had lost all who loved me. Another one…

‘How far along are you? That is the key.’

‘My courses were last at Cazenay the week before Gisborne arrived.’

‘Well then, give or take a week, you must be almost two months which means you shall have to claim an early birth. Mary Mother but I hope he is away when you deliver.’

The so-called marriage, for all that it would be officiated by Brother John, took a lesser position in my mind as I pondered hour after hour about this child I was brewing. That it was Gisborne’s created a dichotomy of emotions; on the one hand a type of fury that the man who had spurned me had got a child upon me. On the other, the vague belief that if he knew of my condition, he might spirit the babe and myself away from all that was inglorious.

But Ysabel, he has a life plan. A man who wants status and power does not desire a penniless wife who can bring nothing remarkable to his table, child or no. And besides, you have no trust in the man and do not forget it.

But it seems I would forget a lot to escape the approach of my personal apocalypse. I would ask myself repeatedly why De Courcey was so set on marrying
me
the penniless bride, and that would remind me of the wedding and I would quickly turn my turmoil back to the babe again.

But the hours of night are long and there was many a moment that I lay wondering why Guy of Gisborne, a man apparently on the rise, should find my situation so repugnant when De Courcey did not. And all I could deduce was the oft mentioned fact that by marrying a noblewoman connected with royalty, De Courcey was giving himself
prestige
he would never have had otherwise whereas Gisborne was already from an ancient and noble family and needed no woman’s antecedents to give him such gravitas. He only required wealth and that he could earn without the inevitable ties.

De Courcey’s history was a rough one. Ulric told it to me in that week before the marriage, as we sat watching the blacksmith shoe horses.

‘He comes from a small
estate
– family of little importance. He left his home when his father and mother died of a pox and the manor and its roughshod lands reverted to the lord of the time. It was a none too fine estate on the southeastern coast, a place called Rickham. It had no pretension to anything, least of all grandeur and no monies either. De Courcey did not care for the bucolic life and chose to develop what were his real skills – bullying.’

‘Ulric! Hush, you shall be heard and…’

He looked around but we were alone and the noise of the blacksmith’s anvil muffled our words.

‘My lady, I am surprised you have not been made aware of your soon-to-be-husband’s background. It is important you know, as it is part of the man. He hired himself out to bigger estates, gaining a reputation for fighting skills and tactical wherewithal and he was soon in Henry’s eye after he began to put a small force together. He received his titles as an inducement to stand behind Henry in any engagement and in fact helped Henry resume Cumberland, Northumbria and West Moreland.
In addition, he was an exceptionally young man at that time which stood in his favour. But he is a man with an eye to the future and has played both sides with great ability. He had a small force with Barbarossa in Northern Italy and as well, Venice has had their eye upon him. Thus he is as rich as Croesus because when he fights he fights with dirty cunning and when he plays, he plays to win. But he is what he is, a common bully.’

‘And yet you…’

‘It seems odd, my lady. But I am adept at languages and I can write…’

‘Ulric, I did not know.’

‘He uses me to draft secret code that is taken across the Middle Sea to Italy, Constantinople, to wherever his private forces are at work.’

‘But…’

‘It is money. I am paid. My mother shall not starve.’

‘But ethics? Morals?’

‘Are for those who have the liberties of life, my lady, not for those whose families may be
in extremis
.’ He looked down at hands that I noticed were ink-stained. ‘You know why he marries you?’ He took a giant breath and muttered as if to another part of himself. ‘I should not be saying this but I like you and you remind me of my sister who died. I would you were forewarned because forewarned as they say, is forearmed.’

‘Ulric, whilst you scare me a little, I am aware he is a dangerous man. But tell me and have done. Why
is
he marrying me, the penniless daughter of Moncrieff?’

Ulric looked into the distance beyond the blacksmith. I noticed it was a habit he had when relaying words of heavy weight, as if he couldn’t bear the response he might find on a person’s face.

‘He took Moncrieff by force. Not by the kind of force you expect, but an uglier more insidious one. There have been rumblings of disgust through the nobility, perceived un-knightly behaviour. By taking you, the daughter of the estate as his wife, he nips that in the bud. Richard Plantagenet has blessed it after all and thus all is right with the Baron’s world.’

And so Ulric, bastard son of a knight of Camden who had been killed in a drunken brawl somewhere between Acre and Famagusta, had turned from guarding me
for
De Courcey, to guarding me against De Courcey. All in a week, and I was glad because I was moving closer to the day I would lose not only my life, but my godmother and it seemed to me I needed such support.

I asked myself if it was my hand on Ulric’s arm that did it or was he merely a genuine friend just when I needed one. In any case I spoke carefully, hand on his arm again.

‘Ulric, you put yourself in grave danger by speaking thus.’

‘Not to be cocky, my lady, but I am the only one he can rely on to create and decipher code. He will not rid himself of me in a hurry.’

So was any of what Ulric had revealed any different to what I had thought or what Gisborne had said? Not at all. But it confirmed a belief and in that there was some relief because it allowed me to accept what was happening and to guard against the inevitable hurt that would go with it. Ulric hovered on the edge of my existence like a quiet dog, Cecilia waded right in like an alaunt, snapping and keeping everyone away and Brother John just wafted between the opposing forces of good and evil, as I had come to think of De Courcey’s side and mine, like a guardian angel.

De Courcey had disappeared again, Ulric said to Ely and part of me hoped that he would be delayed or attacked on the road – something, anything, to change my fate. But if it didn’t change, I just hoped he would disappear as frequently after our marriage.

Each day passed with odd guests arriving and being billeted around the castle. All men. Not a solitary woman amongst them. What a ghastly wedding feast this would be! So different from what I had imagined for myself as Khazia and I journeyed along the highway two months before.

The guests were noblemen of a high order, evidenced by their
embroidered
robes
,
by the number of their retainers, by the deference that was paid by De Courcey’s own men. To feed and house such an increase in our population must be costing my future husband a fortune, but I cared not. I was merely pleased that these new arrivals had about them a mode of etiquette and that they respected my family home. It seemed to quieten De Courcey’s own men by consequence.

I wondered if these were the nobles who had disapproved of De Courcey and whether they came because they must, because this marriage had a royal seal upon it. Whatever the case, the castle ran smoothly under the bailiff’s and Cecilia’s care. I preferred not to be involved, enough time for that later. I watched from the window and when I did venture out, it was through the kitchens and as inconspicuously as I could manage.

Once Brother John and I went to the punt, me dressed in monk’s robes, and he poled me far to the other side of the lake. It was a calm, summer’s
day.
The lazy damp wind had died and everything was still. We could hear the guests challenging each other to archery contests, or riding out with the falcons and if one forgot they were connected in any way with De Courcey, it was a pleasant enough sound.
The osier
s had cast a few unwanted leafsprouts
into the lake and a dainty flotilla of yellow-tinted leaves floated around the water’s edge.
The birds piped, quacked and chirruped and somewhere a fox barked and it was hard to imagine that my world was shifting, that it would never be the same again.

‘I suspect he will leave you alone for long periods, Ysabel,’ Brother John said as he stuck the pole in the mud to hold us steady.

‘I have no doubt. But it is the time he shall not that worries me. He is rough they say and I am but a woman.’

‘Surely he would not dare to hurt the King’s god-sister, or the mother of a child.’

‘Time will tell, Brother John. But I tell you, it is all I can do not to run right now and get as far as I can. If I didn’t think he would have the lymers on my scent and me baled up like a fox in a hole, I would do it.’

‘What has stopped you?’ Brother John looped a worn rope around the pole and held us still.

‘Perhaps the quieter I am and the less fuss I make the better. And I have the Moncrieff folk to care for and who will care for me in return. That makes it bearable.’

‘If it gets too hard, rest assured Richard shall know.’

‘I am not sure Richard would care. A force to add to his own army is more important than a mere woman so distantly connected.’

Brother John didn’t reply, just pointed to an empty bird’s nest strung between reeds and laced in sunlit cobwebs.

I cherished this time of day. The sun lay behind the world around us and every minikin thing was illuminated by its subtle beams … bugs and flies, mosquitoes and spiders, motes of dust and seed-heads … busy but beautiful to behold.

‘I love Moncrieff,’ I said, as if that made everything acceptable.

The day before the wedding, Ulric walked in loaded with a heavily wrapped bundle. ‘The Baron has sent this to you, Lady Ysabel. He has just ridden in and is accompanied by Sir Robert and two others. All the guests have arrived now.’

Halsham. My cup runneth over.

‘And not a woman in sight, Ulric. Are none of these knights married? I feel at a disadvantage.’

‘Then it as well you have me.’ Cecilia was not in a good mood and her manner lacked her customary brightness. ‘If only for one more day.’

‘Do not say it. I find it easier to bear if we do not speak of it, Ceci. But I tell you this – he will have to let you return when he hears of my condition, I will make sure.’

She swung quickly to me, her brows creased and her mouth in a flat line, but already I realised I had revealed something within Ulric’s hearing that perhaps I should not. Both Ceci and I looked at him at the same time.

His eyes were wide and his mouth had formed a small ‘o’.

I took the bundle from him.

‘Thank you, it feels like clothing. And yes, now you know I am with child. But not to the Baron. If you feel you must tell him, there is nothing I can do to stop you. But please Ulric, think on the babe, if not on me.’

He shook his head and began a circumnavigation of the Lady Chamber. He did not ring his hands but the intimation was there.

‘Lady Ysabel, I would not dare tell him.’ He walked past my secret passage, the rug lying snug and flat against the wall. ‘I know I should but I will not. Not just for the babe’s sake, but for your own. The father is…’ He stopped. ‘I would say it is a pity the father does not know. It would be all to the good if he did.’

‘Ah,’ I said. ‘I wish you were right but you are so very wrong. This babe’s father has no interest in saddling himself with a mother and child. So we must play-act, Ulric. This must be the Baron’s child that I bake, do you see?’

‘I do and you must not fear that I shall reveal anything else, my lady.’

Ceci had watched this and said nothing so that it was a surprise to Ulric when she clasped him in her thin arms and hugged.

‘Mary Mother but you are a good boy, Ulric of Camden. I would be proud to call you my son and I shall be more content now, knowing you care for my godchild. She needs someone like you.’

Ulric blushed, the stain spreading into his blonde thatch. He smiled and then turned, saying over his shoulder.

‘The Baron wishes you to dine in the Hall tonight with his guests. He asks that you wear the blue one.’

He shut the door, as ever, quietly behind him.

The parcel fell open to reveal velvets and damasks from across the Middle Sea, of a quality I had never seen, not even at Cazenay. On the top lay a deep rose damask woven with gold thread through the warp and weft and edged in a roll of velvet the same colour. I had no doubt this was to be my wedding gown as De Courcey had a predilection for the autumnal shades. A soft veil sat atop. But the gown beneath caught my breath in my throat.