Gisborne: Book of Pawns (44 page)

Not blue. Please not blue
.

A plain
shift of ordinary quality
lay folded and a
girdle of plain homespun embroidered with field flowers draped
across the gown.
I closed my eyes at the generosity, telling myself it suited him to have a housekeeper dressed to her station in his house.

I
thank
ed him, turning toward the intimidatory silence.

But h
e had gone and wi
th him the fear of my past.

I barr
ed the door.

I was glad Gisborne
was gone frequently because when he was around, it was like a
n intimation of a
thunderstorm and the house whispers elucidated on the damage such storms could cause.

I remember
ed this about him – t
his
volatility
.
But could he be as thoughtless and
cruel
as those I had left?
Did
Halsham
still have a hold on him?
None of this sat well with me and I condemned him righteously
whilst sighing for what had been between us
.

But then I reminded myself that I too was d
oing almost anything for money.
By working in his house, was I not condoning what he did by smoothing the ruffles of w
hat had been a rough household -
a silk purse from a sow’s ear?

The afternoon before his guests arrived, I heard shouting and horses, and lifting my head from the herb garden where I picked borage and rosemary, I noticed
a cavalcade gallop past with Gisborne
at the head.

The men were armed
and
the hated Free Lancers’ black and red pennant streamed behind
.

I returned to the house, the basket of herbs on my hip, dirt fa
lling on the folds of the old brown
bliaut.
Laying the herbs on the table, I cut the boughs of elder I had collected earlier, my purpose to arrange two l
arge churns in the Hall.
The waxy cream elder flowers would look pleasant against the bitter blue of the borage and I was hoping the rosemary and whatever herbs I could find to throw on the fire w
ould conceal the smell of men. My mother had…
ah, but there was little use dwelling on that.

The cook clicked her tongue against her teeth behind me, sighing and then c
licking again.
I turne
d, knowing she wanted to talk.

‘Ellen, is there aught wrong?’

I touched her hand.
She had a heart did Ellen, more than the rest of this house.

‘Oh Linette. It’s
Owen
, my nephew…’ she sucked in a
breath.

‘Go on?’

‘They ride to arrest him.’

The
words gushed out, all a-tremble, almost as if she would cry.

‘Why?’

What could be so bad that Gisborne should arrest someone?

‘He stole a sheep.
He has fiv
e children and three are poorly.
Their barley c
rop failed and
their little savings
were taken in place of
their tax-share and Owen was d
istraught.
He stole one of Sir Guy’s sheep for food and
you know what that means.’

A theft punishable by hanging. My stomach flipped over as Ellen turned a pallid face toward me
.

Gisborne
… what are you bec
ome?

Much, much later I placed the last churn on the other side
of the hearth and stood back. I should have been pleased.
In a short time, this dour, heartless place so redolent o
f its tenant, had transformed.
I’d wager even
Halsham
woul
d be jealous.
And frankly who cared
,
i
f it brought down wrath upon this stinking
manor.

‘You know your job.’

The voice spoke from behind me.

Always he comes at me from secret places.

I needed two seconds to
think and then answered back.

‘
As you appear to know yours.’

I turned and he was leaning against the entrance to the stairwell, blocking my exit and with his arms crossed over his chest.

‘Meaning…
’ his voice was low and if he’d been a dog, I’d have seen his hackles rise.

‘A starving man and his family, Sir
Guy.
You should sleep well.’

He was across the floor in two strides, an arm lifted, but I stood
my ground and stared him down, forgetting my face.
The arm dropped but the sound of his breathing was
enough to ruffle any feathers. Finally I pushed past him.

‘Excuse me,
my lord,
’ the sarcasm dropped from my lips, ‘I go to the abbey.’

‘The abbey? You think to become a religieuse
?’ he mocked.

Do you remember how I said I should fail in the Church?

I turned, wondering if I should
see something familiar but the shadows of the chamber masked his
face and I could see nothing.

‘No, my lord. I go to pray for lost souls. Yours and Owen’s.’

As ever, I rarely thought before I spoke and
left apace
,
but not quick enough to avoid the sound of pewter hitting a wall.

Chapter
Fifteen

The abbey’s soaring, vaulted roof
and its handsome wooden pews should have sustained me but as I knelt for
ages
, my hands knotted togeth
er, no vestige of relief came.
Only a biting co
ld that soon had me shivering.

As well that I shiver
.

It approximated the incipient fe
ar that was beginning to stir.
How dangerous it would be to work in a hous
e that would entertain the high
bor
n of far and wide and who would know of my husband.

P
eril
, Ysabel
.

‘My child,’ a hand gra
sped my shoulder and I jumped.
‘You have been on your knees longer than it takes to ask God for assistance and I can feel you are as cold as ice. My abbey is a marvel of construction but men forget that warmth is
as much one of God’s blessings.
Come with me.’

I turned to look at the woman who spoke and met
steady
eyes an
d a tranquil face of some age.
By the white of her veil I knew her to be the Mother Superior, Beatric
e of Locksley, and one whom I should have sought out long since.

‘Thank you,
Reverend Mother,
I
am
chilled.’

Later, in front of a
warming
fire and with bread, cheese and
spiced wine in my belly,
Beatrice had
inveigled my distress from me. My disgust of Gisborne
, my fear of incoming nobles, my desperate need for coin.

‘M
y
dear
,
we are not able to pay what Guy
has promised you, but you would be welcome to stay
here and work in the gardens.
The infirmarian needs help with the herbs, they have got away from her and she is so very busy here and in the village.’

I listened to the silence
, surprised at how familiar the Reverend Mother was with his name.
The only sounds were the crackling flame,
the occasional swish as
a nun
ente
red the chamber and then left.
There was order and calm and it sustained me like nothing else had for weeks.

But it was not part of my plan.

‘Reverend
Mother, I thank you, but I will
fulf
ill my obligations to Sir Guy. By then
I will ha
ve enough monies to reach Wales.
If I can travel with traders or pilgrims, I sh
all consider myself fortunate.
My fear at the momen
t is my anger toward Gisborne. He never used …
’

M
y words were halted by the tolling of the Abbey bell.

‘Tis Matins and I must hasten.
’ Beatrice of Locklsey stood.
‘I can see you are exhausted and must not return to the manor
this night. There is a
cot in
the dorter that you may use.
One of the lay sisters will direct you and you
must break
you
r fast with us in the morning.
Perhaps you might attend
Lauds and pray for guidance as well?’

Whilst Mother Superior couched this last as a question, I knew in fact it was a polite order
.
I t
hanked her as she moved away and n
ot long after, a lay sister called
Matilda led me to the dorter.
Although stone and sever
ely plain, it had a glowing brazier
and was warm
enough
and even though no one else slept in the other cots, I cared not, wrapping mys
elf in my cloak and the blanket
provided and falling into a deep oblivion.

It was only moments later, I swear, and Ma
tilda was shaking my shoulder. The room was dark, still and
cold and her b
reath blew over me like a fog.

‘Lady, wake you.
The bell for Lauds is ringing.’

I groaned
, remembering Thea
, thrusting fingers through my hair and
scrubbing at my scratchy eyes.
As Matilda hurried me through the cloister, I spotted a
fountain and quickly rinsed
my face.

Nuns passed in pairs
like shades, their feet soundless, their veils brushing my arms, their heads b
ent in presumed contemplation.
Matilda led me into a small Lady Chapel and we sat with the other lay workers, all women, whilst the nuns seated themselves behind a carv
ed screen and began the hymnal.
Under any other circumstances, I would have been transported by the purity of the women’s voices but already I felt the familiar tug:
g
o, stay, go, stay.

I needed to
be paid, that much was obvious. After that…

A ruckus arose at the a
bbey doors and
the voices dwindled as
booted and spurred feet could be hear
d approaching the Lady Chapel.
The portress jumped up from behind
the screen and hastened to the a
b
bey proper, Reverend Mother following
, pulling a further screen across the entrance to our chapel and sealing the nuns and lay sisters from view.

‘Where is she?’ I could not mistake the voice. ‘Is my housekeeper here? Answer me, g
oddamn it!’

‘Sir Guy!’
The Mother Superior’s voice lifted b
riefly and then lowered again.
‘How dare you raise your voice in God’s House and how dare yo
u disturb the Sisters at Lauds.
I must ask you to show respect and remove yourself.’

I could see his face in my min
d, the painful effort of self-control.

‘Reverend
Mother, at least tell me this.
Is she here or must I drag the river or send searchers into the forest?’

Why would you do that?

‘She is here, sir.
There
is no need to be precipitate.
She is safe within the Abbey confines and I expect she will return to the manor
when she is ready.’

Oh Reverend Mot
her, thank you
.

‘Then tell her m
y guests arrive at Sext.
If she wants to be paid in full, she must see their stay through to their departure on the morrow.
If she does not return, she will receive nothing.’

‘That is not the act
of a god-fearing man, Sir Guy.
Has she not already ordered your house fit for princes?
You owe her for that at the very least.
’