The Lily and the Lion (9 page)

‘Did Lady Mary know of your association?'

‘No, I kept it hidden from her. At that time I only longed for conversation and a friendly face.'

The inn was quiet, the room stilled by the steady flow of Gillet's calming voice. ‘I could not have foreseen what was to occur between you and Salisbury and your flight with Anaïs, nor that Lady St Pol would make me your protector.'

‘Deceit then,' I replied quietly, watching his face, ‘for Lady Mary would not have done so had she known the truth.'

‘A common weapon used by many,' interjected Lord Wexford who had slipped unnoticed into the room. ‘Sit down!'

Obeying his command I selected a seat as far as possible from both men.

‘On the matter of deception, young lady, I have only just learned that you met with a man at this very inn.'

‘Who?' Taken by surprise, Gillet's anger quickly resurfaced.

‘Lord John Moleyns.'

‘What? I told you to remain hidden, to take care!'

‘He was most helpful,' I defended, anxious at the displeasure of both men. ‘I did not disobey you. I did not leave the inn. He did me no harm. He was kind and thoughtful.'

‘Moleyns is Salisbury's dog and we have no idea the length of his leash!' stated Lord Wexford. ‘We have to leave and soon, before he returns with his pack of hounds. I suggest we retire to my residence in London, where I will be able to call upon further support.'

‘Agreed, I will make arrangements,' added Gillet

‘But what of my sister?'

‘What of her?' I could not mistake the tone in Gillet's voice. He was most unhappy with you. ‘You berate me, Catherine, but your sister chose the bed in which she now lies. Send your sanctimonious recriminations to her!'

‘No! You judge her wrongly! Salisbury dispatched news of me to the Black Prince. When Cécile refused the Prince's advances, he used this knowledge to bend her to his will.'

Gillet's head shot up, his eyes boring into mine. ‘What are you telling me?'

‘Our future monarch is holding Cécile against her will,' I clarified.

‘That cannot be,' he exclaimed, rising to his feet. ‘I saw her myself, locked in her lover's arms, baring her breast for his suckling!'

My cheeks reddened. ‘She sinned, yes, but she tried to tell you, Gillet, she came to your room and …'

‘Are you suggesting that your sister is innocent?'

My chin lifted with indignation. ‘Monsieur de Bellegarde, I can assure you that prior to you departing the inn my sister's virtue was completely intact.'

He wrenched a chair from the floor and hurled it across the room. The small pile of timber created seemed somewhat trifling considering the extent of the damage caused. Never have I seen a man so affected by a single statement, for where he had been forlorn and contrite, now he was angry, even vicious, with your captor. ‘I'll cut off his balls for this! Sew them into a coin pouch for Sunday services!'

‘Come, lad, be wise with your words,' Lord Wexford offered. ‘I understand your fury but you need to contain it until we know the truth of the matter.'

‘Gillet, that is not all,' I continued, shaken by his display. ‘It was not only my safety he threatened, for he claimed that he was to have you arrested and tortured. Under the circumstances, Cécile felt she had little choice.'

‘How like our noble Prince,' hissed Gillet.

‘Return to Paris and seek an audience.' Lord Wexford grasped the younger man's arm and their eyes locked. ‘If the lady in question complied with her royal captor under duress, perhaps she might now be in need of your services.' With his temper cooled Gillet seemed willing to listen to advice. The forgiveness I had battled to find suddenly burst forth. I am sure that his actions of late have been much against his character and are more a reflection of his recent experiences than anything else. I accept that he regrets his coupling with Anaïs and I pray for the souls of both in this matter, as circumstances allow for each and every one of us to make mistakes.

Before me was a man much changed, ravaged by guilt and burdened with sorrow. He leaves this evening to return to Paris.

Lord Wexford, Anaïs and I are away to London. Dressed as peasants, we are to depart on the morrow as the sun reveals the new day.

For the meeting with Lord Moleyns, I am in disgrace.

I remain most unsure of my new guardian. I cannot tell if his behaviour is unusual or reflects that of most men. My experience is wanting. He continues to question me and have me reply. Similarly, he expects me to frame my own thoughts and to share them! The Lady Mary lectured novices of the sinfulness of individual ideas as an evil and imperious act. Yet I have considered much this last week and do not feel in the least dogmatic. However, I do see her point. Though not evil, Lord Wexford is certainly arrogant.

My dearest, before I conclude I feel that I must offer you a reprieve, for I have prayed for guidance and our Lord has answered me. My childhood, though strict, was both demanding and rewarding. Given your current circumstance and the difficulties that lay ahead, I urge you to consider dedicating your life to the church for there you will find peace, acceptance and forgiveness and the fear of further conjugal unions will be removed. I am sure that Mary St Pol will give her blessing and recommendations. I will await your reply and continue to pray for the forgiveness of our sins.

Your beloved Sister Mary Catherine.

Written from the King's Arms, village of Aylesbury, 3 May, two days after the Feast of the Apostles, Saint Philip and Saint James the Less, 34 Edward III.

The dilapidated cart had cost Lord Wexford far more than he would normally agree to part with, but he doubted that the skinny novice could ride. He had considered placing her on his mount but the idea of having her so close bothered him. Reaching for the ale, he made to fill the tankard but instead stayed his hand. He needed a clear head and a sure arm.

Simon sat back upon the bed and drew his hands through his hair. If he knew then what he did now, would he have agreed to become involved? He honestly doubted it. These girls were trouble. He could feel it in his bones.

To the worthy and righteous Catherine of Pembroke be this letter delivered.

Dearest sister, I have not lost you.

I am hidden in an abbey that nestles amongst the meadows outside Paris. I have suffered a terrible fever and my recovery is slow. Upon waking I struggled to recall the events that brought me here but I was not to wonder for long. My memory returned in a frightful nightmare that same night.

When I first opened my eyes I was confused but it was quickly usurped by astonishment as I beheld Monsieur de Bellegarde, his own face illuminated with joy.

‘She is awake! God be praised.'

‘Cécile!'

I was absurdly musing on how my hand came to be grasped so firmly within his, but I turned with a cry at this new voice. ‘Armand!' My cousin raced to my bedside and we fell into each other's arms, his almost threatening to squeeze me back into darkness.

‘Thank God and all high creation! Don't ever frighten me like that again. What would I do without my Cécile?'

With discretion, the courier vacated his place and strode to peer out the tiny window, tiredly rubbing his eyes. He leaned against the casement and inhaled deeply.

Aware of my distraction, my cousin smiled at him. ‘You are exhausted, my friend. Come, sit with us. It is over now, she is awake.'

‘Have I been such a burden?' I asked, sliding up and taking note of the sparse monk's cell.

‘No more than usual,' quipped Armand. ‘But had it not been for Gillet, here … well, you owe this man your life, sweetheart, for he alone pulled you from the Seine. You would have drowned except that he blew life back into your lungs. What were you thinking, trying to row a boat in a storm?'

Ignoring his rebuke, my hand slid to my chest and I tingled at this intimacy. ‘Your breath is in my body?'

‘Your cousin makes too much of it,' replied Bellegarde as he sat. ‘I merely stole the chance for another kiss.'

‘Always the opportunist! I forget, Monsieur, you take advantage of the unconscious.'

‘Ho!' erupted Armand. ‘So that's how the land lies, eh?' His hand curled over mine and squeezed. ‘Dismount your high horse, cousin. If Gillet had not acted promptly I would not have you here now. We owe him much gratitude.'

‘No,' said Monsieur de Bellegarde, his eyes finally meeting mine. ‘I absolve you, Lady. The only debt owed was the one to your father, Comte d'Armagnac, and I trust I have now paid in full.'

I heard it again. Something in his tone that made me feel I was a disappointment. ‘As you wish, Monsieur' I replied, turning my attention back to my cousin.

‘We must get you well, chérie, and soon,' said Armand. ‘All the bells of Paris chimed yesterday to declare the truce. Edward is to leave our shores and he searches frantically for you.'

‘So you will take me home?' My heart leaped but my cousin shook his head.

‘Alas, the way south is still blocked by the English. It would be folly to try.'

‘Oh. Then where?'

The two men glanced meaningfully at each other. ‘I think you should rest, Lady d'Armagnac,' said Bellegarde, ‘and leave your rescue to the employ of those who know what they are doing. Armand?'

My cousin nodded his agreement and leaned over to kiss my brow. ‘Go back to sleep, my pet, for this time I know that you will wake.'

‘How long have I lain here?' I asked, eyeing them both. Blue eyes swept across to meet the dark ones.

‘You have been unconscious for three days,' answered Armand.

Three days and the courier had my cousin eating out of his hand. To me that seemed a far greater miracle than my recovery!

That night I woke screaming and bolted upright in bed, perspiration beading my forehead. My door flew open and I fell against a solid wall of flesh, sobbing as strong arms closed securely around me.

‘Hush. 'Twas a dream, nothing more. You are safe here.'

Nestling deeper against the thin batiste of his shirt, the shivering that racked my limbs eased and my weeping subsided to intermittent snivels. Gently the hair was brushed from my eyes and my face was encased between two palms.

‘You have remembered, yes?'

‘Oui,' I whispered, ‘and I recall the shame I have brought to my papa.'

A finger hooked under my chin, my head tilted until I was forced to meet the dusky eyes. ‘Did the Prince hurt you?'

‘Please, Monsieur … would you light a candle? I cannot abide the darkness. It reminds me of the river.' A spark of flint ignited the wick and a soft glow illuminated the room as he set the candle upon my bedside table. ‘Would you have me fetch your cousin in my stead?'

‘No. I am recovered.' I noted he was still fully dressed. ‘You do not sleep yourself, Sir?'

He emitted a weary sigh and raked back his midnight hair with ink-stained fingers. His face was ragged in the half shadows. ‘I have correspondences to complete. The Prince is leaving for Louviers where he will ratify his part in the treaty. You should be pleased to learn that King Jean le Bon is to be moved to the Tower in London. Luxury apartments, entertainment and a well fed belly, King Edward plays a gracious host to his prisoner now that peace is restored.' He smiled bleakly and fell silent as though he had said too much.

A chorus of melodic voices from the chapel heralded the mass for matins and filled the awkward moment.

Restless, I plucked at the coverlet. ‘I suppose I should thank you for saving my life.'

Gillet de Bellegarde leaned upon the casement and stared out into the gloom. ‘Yes, you should. The water was freezing.' Once more I felt his underlying displeasure. ‘If you are unable to sleep,' he said, turning suddenly, ‘I have your sister's latest correspondence within my room. Would you have me fetch it?' At my nod he moved to the door but paused and looked over his shoulder. ‘The bravest of men would not have dared cross the swirling torrent that night. You showed great courage, Mademoiselle.'

He disappeared into the corridor. I had paid quite a price to earn some praise from the St Pol Steward, but at what cost to my future?

Closing my eyes for a moment, the alarming visions that had disturbed my sleep danced into order and played out before me as in a well-rehearsed performance.

At the
Thorn and Thistle Inn
I had stood in front of Edward's chamber and prayed to Saint Christopher for the safe delivery of my letters in the courier's pouch. Bellegarde had thundered from the courtyard on his great beast an hour earlier. I wondered which saint would now best serve me – Saint Geneviève was not answering. Saint Anthony, then? The patron saint of things lost? How appropriate it should be the feast day of Saint George. I was about to be devoured by an English dragon. Perhaps Ignatius of Antioch, thrown into the Colosseum for the sake of imperial games, would appreciate my situation.

Resigned to my fate, I lifted the latch and stepped into the lion's arena that would see the loss of my innocence.

Scooped up into royal arms and laid reverently upon Edward's bed, my petals were carefully plucked one by one. He stirred a delight that I had long waited to discover and it was not in me to play the tortured martyr. Encouraged, Edward was zealous until he realised the truth behind his less than easy possession. His eyes widened in disbelief, tears welling in mine as I stifled a whimper of pain. He stilled for a moment and gathered me in his arms.

‘Cécile!' His lips upon my lashes smudged the pearled droplets. ‘I shall be as gentle as I can, my love.' With tender patience he swept me along a new tide of emotion until the heat from his victory seared my womb.

‘Why did you not say?' Wrapped in his gown, Edward sank onto the bed and held out a goblet of wine.

‘Would it have made a difference, Milord?'

‘To your presence here? No, but Lady, there are ways to approach the first time and you allowed me to believe they were not necessary. I thought you and Bellegarde had been intimate.' He broke into cheerful laughter and kissed my fingers. ‘It matters not. You have made me very happy and I shall treasure your gift. Although, as vanquisher of your maidenhead, I suddenly find myself in a very tenuous position with regard to Comte d'Armagnac.'

I was struck with a sudden pang of guilt, for I had just lain with my father's enemy and the experience had not been entirely unpleasant.

‘So, Cécile d'Armagnac, what am I to do with you now? Hmm?'

‘Let me go home, Sire?'

‘Sweet Jesus! You are asking me to pull the sword from Arthur's stone. No, I will find a way to placate your father.' He paced to the hearth, rubbing his chin in thought. ‘Marriage then, to a family Armagnac himself could not censure.' His head lifted and for the first time I felt the strength of purpose he carried and it frightened me. This was no fledgling youth of sixteen years who had led the attack onto the fields at Crécy. He was twice the age now and steeped in confidence.

‘An Albret-Armagnac alliance would serve me well and since your father has raised one of their pups, he could hardly refuse.' He returned to sit beside me, his voice gentle. ‘Or perhaps an elderly lord, the payment of whose debts would ensure his obedience. Either way you need not fear. The marriage will be in name only. You shall receive titles and wealth but above all you shall stay by my side. Armagnac will concede,' he whispered, lowering his lips to mine, ‘if he ever wants to see his daughter again.'

The rising of the sun the following morning had not made my future any brighter. The Prince of Wales took his leave and Odette, my new confidante, informed me that Marguerite and Philippe were granted absence to attend to their latest duties. Edward installed his own staff at the inn but Guillaume remained as master of his kitchen domain. Odette was re-assigned as my personal maid.

She carefully placed a tray upon the table and with the familiarity that had grown between us, slid onto the bed with a giggle.

‘So, how was it? You look suitably bedraggled.'

I pulled up the covers, hugging my knees to my chin, and shrugged.

‘His kisses were not so bad then.'

‘No,' I agreed reluctantly, ‘but I did not choose this path. He may use me but he does not possess my heart.'

‘Well,' she declared, taking on a worldly look as she tugged her skirt to cover her exposed ankle. ‘Not yet, but he intends to. I was chatting to one of the boys in the stable. He said your courier has a dispatch for Edith de Willesford when he gets to London. I daresay the girl will be none too pleased. She is to be discreetly retired to the country.' She smiled knowledgably. ‘She
was
Edward's mistress.'

‘But the Prince is only using me to gain my father's compliance!'

‘And what a weapon you would be if he won your love, eh?'

‘Well, he shall not! You know I intend to escape soon.'

Odette shook her head and tutted. ‘Men know more tactics under the sheets than upon the battlefield. You must protect yourself if you do not wish to succumb to his charm. You must deter his advances until your opportunity for escape presents itself. How long shall you wait?'