Gisborne: Book of Pawns

by Prue Batten

  ‘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 osiers 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.

  Pers tinted, its shade and texture raised memories that threatened to crush me. I held the fold of velvet in my hand. Thicker than the wool of Gisborne’s gown, it nevertheless felt as soft. The hem was padded and the sleeves were tight – a beautiful blue bliaut, but I didn’t care.

  This was the gown I must wear to dine with our guests because De Courcey wanted everyone to see that his future wife wore the colour of faith and love. I would have moved heaven and earth never to wear a pers tint again.

  The noise from the Hall was more ordered, a deep resonance, the occasional burst of masculine laughter but what I called a sophisticated sound. I stood rather in awe of these guests who had wrought such change in so short a space of time. I had already decided they must be some of Richard’s finest and that they had been sent by their monarch to mark this occasion rather than coming of their own volition.

  I would be interested to see how they engaged with my questionable husband-to-be. This perhaps, was Richard’s gift to a man with a private army … to sweeten him by giving him the respect he craved. The only thing that could have made more of a mark was the King’s own presence but he was deep in the construction of his kingship in London.

  Cecilia tugged at my folds and patted down loose curls.

  ‘The blue suits you, it echoes your eyes but I worry that you knotted your hair instead of plaiting it. And the veil, do you not think the baron might be angered when you arrive with your head uncovered?’

  ‘Let him be angry. I do not care. And let others see that Ysabel Moncrieff has her own mind.’

  Ceci ‘tsked’ and I knew she thought I pushed my boat too far and probably into muddy waters. But it mattered little to me because it was difficult enough to attend this function, let alone wear the blue gown and present myself as the precious ‘bride’. After tomorrow, I should be obliged by convention to wear veils and wimples like a nun in a convent, so why not taste freedom whilst I could?

  ‘You do realize that your condition is placing a bloom upon you that many might see as the excitement of love and marriage, my dear. It is ironic that another man’s child should make you look so perfect for the man who professes to make you his wife on the morrow.’

  We had almost reached the Hall and I swung to Cecilia.

  ‘If I bloom then I could almost hate the babe for making it so and yet the babe itself is the only thing that makes my future worthwhile and so I shall love it instead.’

  I gave her a small smile that barely curled my lips and reached forward and kissed her smooth cheek, letting my lips linger with affection and gratitude in a gesture I doubted De Courcey would allow me to make later. She held me hard in her arms for a tiny moment only and then gave me a smart push to Brother John’s side so he could escort me to the table.

  The Hall quieted as we entered and I walked on, glancing at no one, seeing my chair waiting for me. I knew I was being assessed and measured and I wondered if they approved of the future partnership. Could they see in the rigidity of my body and the stiffness of my face that I despised the man who stood as I walked closer?

  His auburn hair sat on a thick rolled collar and a long blue velvet tunic fell away to his toes. A gilded girdle hung low on his hips and he emanated vivacity. His eyes sparkled with ownership and he glanced quickly away to calculate the effect of my arrival. In that moment, I noticed Halsham stand and bow his head with much irony in his stance. He moved slightly to allow the guest on his other side to push his own chair back and stand and my gaze shifted to the tall man who towered over him.

  Now I understood his irony.

  Clad in black velvet and with no jewelry and cold eyes, Gisborne watched me approach.

  It was like walking toward the devil.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It takes a moment to place one foot in front of another and in that time I studied every loved and hated detail of his face, the minutae of his surcoat which was edged in even darker ebony embroidery so thick it weighted the garment against his frame. His gaze caught mine and burned into my soul.

  One step only and all that happened in the blink of an eye.

  I flushed, the heat of it warming my cheeks. Quickly I glanced back to the Baron to see if he had noticed my attention engaged far from him but he was only just turning his head back. Worse was the look that Halsham gave me. A satanic grin and then a wink.

  One day…

  ‘My lords,’ if the Baron had been a rooster he would have crowed. ‘May I present my betrothed, the Lady Ysabel Moncrieff, god-daughter of Queen Eleanor, god-sister of King Richard. May I also present the Lady Cecilia Fineux, ladywife of the late Sir Hugh Fineux and chatelaine of Upton.’

  What liberties you take with the noble names, sir.

  Hate roared through the blood vessels.

  The assembled guests stood and a polite round of applause greeted Ceci and I as we were seated, the high backed chairs shifted so as we were comfortable.

  ‘Whilst you are standing my lords, may I ask you to toast my future bride.’ The Baron raised a wrought pewter goblet. ‘The Lady Ysabel.’

  My name echoed around the Hall and emptied goblets were placed on the tables as the noise of pulled seats filled the space. A hand movement from De Courcey indicated that food be brought to the tables.

  Nausea filled my gullet. I could barely stand the sight of the rich courses of game that were placed in front of us. I sat between my future husband and Halsham; Cecilia sat on the other side of the Baron with Brother John at the very end of the head table.

  A happy little family.

  Only one person, Halsham, sat between my babe’s father and myself and that gentleman an insult to the word ‘knight’. If there were a tangible connection between the infant’s father and me, I imagined it would feel like touching a vibrating metal thread. Something that could drill into the core of one’s very being.

  I played with dish after dish.

  ‘My Lady Moncrieff, you do not eat?’

  Halsham leaned toward me whilst the Baron called across Ceci to one of the distinguished guests.

  ‘Perhaps it is the excitement of your forthcoming nuptials.’

  ‘Perhaps it is, Halsham.’ I spoke between gritted teeth.

  ‘Isn’t it fortuitous that I met up with my cuz in London and that he could be persuaded to attend your wedding?’

  ‘I am surprised he wanted to.’ At that point, I lifted my eyes to Gisborne, daring him to ignore me. ‘But no doubt he assumed it worth his while.’

  Gisborne said nothing, but his expression iced over and his shoulders angled away as if he were bored.

  ‘You are a sharp little thing, aren’t you, my lady? Of course, it’s worth his while.’ Halsham slapped the blade of his dagger against Gisborne’s arm. ‘
Isn’t it, cuz? Look around. Half the men who mean anything in Richard’s court are here.’

  ‘Then if the other half are in London, sir, surely as much would have been gained by staying there, without the inevitable discomfort of travel.’

  Gisborne spoke then and his voice sent a thrill through me and I wished I could throw myself onto his memory and mercy.

  ‘You do not wish me to attend your nuptials, Lady Ysabel?’

  No.

  ‘I have no say in who attends, sir. It is entirely up to my lord baron who shall attend. Obviously he wishes you to be here.’

  To rub your nose in his doings. To make you realize he is my husband, my liege-lord, my owner.

  How unnecessary it all was. Surely even De Courcey could see that a man who sold my whereabouts cared little for me at all.

  And then something jumped out and winded me. I coughed on my wine.

  ‘What ails you, my love?’

  De Courcey was so honey sweet it should have galled me but I just shook my head, gasping as I lifted the wine to my mouth again.

  For what had sucked the breath from my body was Gisborne’s face.

  There was no injury. No scar. No mark to show that I had hit him with a flagon and wounded him enough for a great blood-letting when I woke to find him in the Lady Chamber two weeks before.

  ‘Ysabel?’

  Cecilia called out and broke me from my trance. I raised my eyebrows and quirked my lips almost as if all was right with the world. But it was not. Not really. I had no doubt dreamed that ugly confrontation and confusion filled my head with aches and tension as I wondered if it really mattered.

  But why would it? Because tomorrow I marry the man to whom I was sold.

  It would never have been a normal wedding, even if my father had been alive to place my hand in my future husband’s. The day was hardly a normal summer’s day – the sky so low it touched the flagpole now resplendent with De Courcey’s flapping colours. The wind whined around the stones of Moncrieff and small white wavelets snapped at the breeze as it bullied its way across the surface of the lake.