Gifts of the Queen

by Mary Lide

  So I put Mistress Alyse de Vergay's words and Raoul's warnings out of my thoughts. I should not have done. The men who rode escort on her to her father's lands (for we gave her fitting departure so no one should realize how few men we had), on their return, those men warned me, too.

  'Lady,' they said, cautious how they phrased themselves, it not being fit for squire or knight to speak harshly against womankind, 'it is said she looked to catch a man herself whilst in your household, having three times force led a man to the altar and at the last moment he escaped, who can blame him, wedding such. They say, thwarted of husband, she dotes upon Isobelle de Boissert, helps her with her affaires, and lacking lovers of her own, enjoys as voyeur those of Isobelle's.' They fidgeted then, as well they might, to speak such slander; but it was concern that made them continue, 'Lady Ann, they say she hoped to rule you, you being young, and act as spy in your household for the Lady Isobelle, who, had she been wed here as was hoped, had promised Alyse the post of chateleine, to keep the keys and be mistress of the household. Robbed, as she now insists in some strange, twisted way, of husband, position and rank. Mistress Alyse turns her spite against you and Lord Raoul and contends that, knowing as you must the condition of Sieux, you wronged her to bring her here, and such wrongs must be avenged.'

  More than that they would not say, although more no doubt was told to Lord Raoul. I heard their words but let them slide by, too many other preoccupations at the time; nor did I welcome news of that Lady Isobelle. I should have paid more heed. As an older woman with pretensions to grandeur above her place, with bitter hopes of being wed, with malice that some cunning steel-honed, Alyse de Vergay was not likely to let that malice go unfed. But how could I, or even Lord Raoul, who was more used to such intrigue, how could we guess what women's work would one day do? For the while I forgot Mistress Alyse, sought, perforce, for help among the village women of Sieux in their straggle of huts on the further side of the castle walls; I'd rather be served by them than Norman ladies swollen with rank and pride. And, in truth, more kindly and honest souls I've yet to meet. So I lived among them, shared their daily bread, black and moldy for the most part, such as knights would scorn to eat, watched them with their own children, and so learned from them. What time I could, I spent with my noble lord, who drove himself and his men so hard that their task seemed harder, more like to landless man than belted earl or count. For is it not also told by women as we sit alone, around a fire or at our spinning wheels, that of all times else, women lust for men when we are already great with child? And do not men feel greatest tenderness for their wives when they hope to have an heir?

  I cannot claim the truth of these things. I say only I gave what comfort I could and took back eagerly what was returned. And if I was not lady of a great and noble hall, if all about me lay in ruins, yet was I mistress still of my lord's bed. And that too seemed most natural.

  So, as each day burned to its close and the summer began to ripen now around us like a flowering vine, even the ruins of Sieux brought some happiness. We sorted through the queen's gifts, rich furs, tapestries, and jewels wrapped in leather bags, blues and greens and flashing reds more than even I had dreams of; a lord's ransom had she given us. The men picked through their gear; we waited for the fair day in the nearest town, at which time Raoul hoped to buy the masons for their fee. Nothing threatened us, praise God, north or south; but all was poised and waiting like a morning without breath of wind.

  Yet, if sometimes in the dark hours of the night when thoughts run darkest, I wondered if I should have consented to become Raoul's wife, perhaps that fear was natural also. We put a double burden on him, the child and I. Without us, unencumbered, he could have managed differently and would have been free to act as he wished. And sometimes, when I saw his weariness—he never seemed to rest, one difficulty solved, another took its place—sometimes I wondered if, despite himself, he resented what the king had made him do. And suppose that in giving birth, I should die, as my mother had with me, would he take the child then to his heart, build his hopes and dreams on him as had my father or his son? Or, not acknowledging him, set him aside, make disdain and dislike his lot as my father had done with me? These thoughts were for the lonely dark hours, I say; I was too proud to voice them aloud, but it would have been a comfort to have had someone of my sex and rank to share them with.

  * * *

  The nearest town was but a few hour's ride away, outside Lord Raoul's lands, yet having close ties to it, named, as was the church that crowned its hill, for the patron saint of these parts. Saint Purnace. The day of the fair dawned bright and clear, a feast day in early June with a hint of heat beneath the morning's cool, with a hint too of something else, like the faint scent of woodsmoke to give the alarm of fire. The day before, we had labored mightily to get all things arranged and packaged; now the time was come, expectations rose. We splashed through the river shallows at first light, sending the silver water showering into mists. I say we because I rode along too. Wrapped into the best clothes I could squeeze into, an old gray cloak about my shoulders, I might have been any woman with any bunch of men mounting escort one last time on a baggage train. There are those who even now sneer that I did so, but there was no other choice. And cruel choice it was for Lord Raoul to make, since riding or staying was equally unsafe, with only a skeleton guard left at Sieux, more for show than strength, the rest of his men needed with him and nowhere else for me to hide. It was like Raoul, of course, to give no sign of what he felt. Expecting danger, he did not shrink from it. He acted in his decisive way, deployed his men to their best advantage, trusted to God and his own strength to win us through.

  Yet, despite his calm, there was a strange mood to that day that set the senses flaring, uneasiness pulling like an undertow in the way men moved and spoke, a current beneath the things they left unsaid. They all rode armed, with helmets on, lances drawn, yet no mark of rank, not even a flag to show who they were. Raoul himself rode at their head, his black horse already pawing dust, churning the ground white beneath its feet.

  Turn by turn about, Raoul and the captain of his guard cantered back and forth along the line, joking with the men, urging the villagers who drove the carts behind us to whip them up. Sometimes as he passed, he smiled at me. I should have remembered that smile. I had seen it before when things looked dark. But, 'Cheerily, cheerily,'he said as he went on, and the dust eddied beneath those great hooves, 'we'll be free of this in another hour.' Free, but of what, dust or danger, he did not say. I noted how he still could not wear his hauberk, had his sword belted for left hand use, and how the sun caught at the thin scar on his face. His men were in strange mood, too; they laughed and jested as they went. So they used to ride out from their border camp when they knew trouble waited ahead. In truth, there was no way we could have hidden our progress across those woodlands. 'Woodlands' is not the name for them, more like to grassy fields with large clumps of trees in between. The woods around Sedgemont are so thick you must force your way through the underbrush. Here, if I looked back, I could see the winding train of carts and men, hear the straining oxen plodding through the dirt, hear the creak of leather and rumble of wheels as we moved from one stand of trees to the next. And I could mark, as any watcher might, the white trail of dust that streamed in our wake.

  But perhaps I was in a strange mood myself. For despite those prickles of unrest and unease, I felt in better spirits, full of hope. So they say it often is for fighting men, that when the moment comes, their blood runs faster, their courage mounts, they seem impervious to fear or threat, might even welcome danger with open arms. So it was too for my squires, who clung like limpets to either side of me; they chattered on to hide their thoughts, but apprehension and excitement glowed about them like a sheen.

  I liked to hear my squires speak, especially Walter, the older one. His west country burr reminded me of home and he had that sweet tongue of a border man, hung in the middle to clack both ways. His peat-brown eyes were west country, too
, and sparkled with delight at a good tale. It was he who explained how the queen's gifts would be exchanged for gold inside the town where there were rich merchants who would make a bid.

  'Or rather,' he said, warming to his yarn although, as I knew, he had never been to Saint Purnace before and spoke from hearsay, full of scraps of knowledge as a stable is with straw and husks, 'rather they will look and covet, but the Jewish traders will be the ones to buy. They say these Jews are the richest men in France. They live in hovels in the worst parts of town, yet behind their broken doors are strongrooms full of gold and such, lendings for many a noble lord. But of all things I shall best like to watch, it is the masons of Saint Purnace. They say they are a quarrelsome lot who love to bargain for a higher wage and are more zealous for their rights than any lord about his rank. They'll take their time, depend on it, to wring as much from us as they can, each man of them speaking his mind as freely as a belted knight. They say they are hot tempered too, free with their fists. They like to fight and often taunt their fellow townsfolk into open dispute with knives and daggers instead of swords. I'll wager we'll have our fill of townsfolk before this day is through.'

  Thus he lured us on the hot road with snippets of fact and fantasy, although, on the whole, what he said was right. And his wager too came true, although not quite as he had expected it. And so we edged our way along, sweating by now in the hot sun, expecting attack perhaps at every turn. None came. It occurred to me afterwards that if our progress was so clearly seen, so would that of any other horsemen, and an ambush relies on secrecy. The place for attack was not on these dusty plains. And so in safety we came to Saint Purnace.

  The town was not large, but was surrounded by walls, pierced north and south by great iron-studded gates of which the townspeople were justly proud. Outside the northern gates, under the walls, the fair of Saint Purnace had been set up. It was the kind of fair you find in country parts for selling of pigs, sheep, and goats. Their rank smell, combined with the heat and dust, made one's senses reel. Many traders were there, shouting, haggling, and arguing over price. They quieted, though, on seeing us, and watched almost in silence while the peasants unharnessed the oxen and unloaded the carts. Some of our men carried our bundles wrapped in their plain canvas bags (those with the queen's cypher seeming too obvious for use) inside the town, under the supervision of Raoul's seneschal, a youngish man, hastily summoned back to Sieux from one of the other estates, it not being proper work for a lord to negotiate price. The other knights had their pages and squires untether the horses that were for sale and trot them up and down. If the men were distressed to see their chargers sold, they never showed it, but it must have been so, especially for squires like Walter and young Matt. A squire needs a horse to become a knight; without these, their knighting must be that much further postponed. It struck me as I watched them ring the horse pens round, that, like their master, our young men made sacrifices also for loyalty. But they showed no sign of resentment or despair, jutted out their hips as men do when they want the world to see their swords, swaggered in good imitation of fighting men, and made sage comments on each horse's good points as it went round and round, with boys hauling on the leading straps to keep it under control.

  At first I wondered that country knights would be so eager to bid for battle steeds, but then I noted that, among the local men, there were men-at-arms and bailiffs from many different regions, as I could tell from their speech. Raoul's knights noted that, too. Without fuss they began to move toward the town gates, too many armed men about to take a chance, too many outsiders to be safe. They left their village spokesman, that stolid cautious man, to make arrangements for the final sales. Together with all Raoul's other men, we should take shelter inside the city walls.

  The city of Saint Purnace, as I have explained, was not large, and two main streets, stretching from each of the gates, came together in the central square. In between, the town was a maze, honeycombed with smaller lanes, passageways, crammed tight and intermeshed. Even the houses were laced against each other so that the upper stories almost met, a fire hazard at worst, at best a weakness to the town's defense, for there were spots where the buildings were carved into the outer walls. At first, the town seemed cool and empty as we passed the gates. The guards in the towers lounged carelessly, not exactly friendly, not hostile either, impassive in their leather jerkins and steel caps. They let us through without constraint, although I saw how other travelers, perhaps not having our air of fierce resolve, were stopped and questioned. I suppose on fair days it was hard to keep track of everyone, but there seemed many strangers about. Once inside the town, the impression of coolness was soon dispelled. A country midden in summer heat could not be worse. At least my squires, who followed at my heels like shadows, wore boots to keep themselves above the filth. The main street, if I may term it thus, was not clearly marked, and on passing beyond the gates, veered to the left. Not knowing this, Walter took a middle road that seemed to offer the most direct route toward the square, whose position we could judge by the stone steeple that crowned its church. This central road quickly narrowed to a lane, wound in and out, and we were soon separated from the rest of our men. In ordinary times, I would have enjoyed walking through the town, despite the smells and heat, for these smaller streets were full of women and children about the daily business of their lives; and beneath the overhanging eaves were stalls, loaded with goods of many kinds. Yet, as soon as they saw us, the women and children seemed to disappear, to shrink back behind their wooden doors; and whenever we stooped to examine the contents of the stalls, their owners clapped great shutters down and hammered home the iron bars. I even saw one man make a sign behind our backs to turn away the evil eye. At first I thought it was the presence of my squires—soldiers and townsfolk do not mix—that made the people start with fright. But since they never looked at us, kept their eyes fixed around or above us as if we did not exist, the feeling grew on me it was not we that they feared.

  Walter noticed their manner, too. He tried to hurry, me along, although it was difficult to walk faster through the piles of dirt. But presently, rounding another bend, we caught a glimpse of the main square and some of our guard, pacing to and fro. We were not far from them, perhaps two hundred yards or less, and the closeness of those familiar figures made us feel more at ease. So, when I stopped in a patch of sun to buy a cup of ale from an old woman selling it, Walter let me drink, leaning on his scabbard.

  'I drink your health. Countess of Sieux,' Matt said shyly. Younger, he was not free of speech and his fair skin blushed easily when he spoke, but his blue eyes shone. He saluted with the old horn beaker as if with a silver cup. 'Success and long life at Sieux.'

  He set the beaker carefully down on a wooden bench. The old woman muttered and snatched it back before melting away into the shade. I smiled at him kindly, for I liked him well; he was not more than a lad, fresh out from home.

  'I'll drink to that,' I said, 'when we return and the first stones are laid.'

  Walter took my arm, helped me to my feet. 'And I too. Lady Ann,' he said, eyes narrowed against the sun, his face stern. 'Pray God the masons' fee not be too high.' He settled his sword. 'They say their master mason is a shrewd but honest man. That's more than can be said for most town people. They claim that we countrymen be full of whims. But I think these city folk are mindless as a gust of wind. Blow them up like bellows, they spew out hot air. I'll be glad when we get back to Sieux. I'd rather broken walls than these rabbit warrens.'

  Behind us another shutter clattered close, a tile fell to the ground almost at our feet. It made us aware suddenly where we were, and then, too, how far off seemed the square and the men in it, too far away, distorted by a trick of light, yet only two hundred yards, as I have said. It speaks much for the scorn our enemies had for us that, within sight and sound of Lord Raoul and his guard, they should strike as they did.

  That sense of distance, that distorted light, sent a chill, a tingling to the fingers, like touc
hing ice. I paused to fuss with skirt and gown, pulling the hood closer about my face, as if to hide. That pause saved us. From out of the shadow of a wooden gate, which stood half-open to a passage thread, something stirred, a movement perhaps, an extra depth to the darkness there. The squire on my right, young Matt, must have sensed it when I did, or my hesitation warned him. With one hand, he knocked me back, so that I fell and slithered on the stones. His other arm flew up to take the blow. Along the length of his mail sleeve, a line of red jetted out, where a knife caught and ripped, and clattered to the ground. Even as he clutched his arm and gave a shout, a group of men plunged at us with drawn swords. Walter already had wrenched his own blade free, swung up at them, straddling me until Matt behind could drag me up. We crashed against the house wall, both squires now together thrusting out. Our attackers, some half dozen or so, hampered for a moment by the narrowness of the passage where they had issued forth, startled perhaps by the clearer space, paused, bunched together still, not having the sense to fan out. Their hesitation gave Walter time to shout again, lunge through them, driving with his sword point.

  One of them reeled back, cursing as his own arm was sliced. In the square, our men spun round. Some, seeing our plight, began to run, but slowly it seemed, in their heavy skirted mail and spurs. Others leapt to their horses' heads. I could hear Raoul's voice thunder command even as he spurred his stallion down the lane, bent low over its neck to avoid the overhanging gables and walls. Our assassins held their breaths, drove on. My squires had been well-trained; they knew how to back each other, and how to thrust and slash, yet they were two to five—no, less, for another of their number had taken a gash in the throat. But Matt by now had begun to falter, his sword hilt sticky with blood, knees buckling as he moved. One to four, and a woman to defend. There was a great clatter in the lane, sparks flying where steel hooves struck stone, even as the fourth man, masked with coif and helmet drawn low, grabbed me round the waist and began to drag me toward the passageway. I saw Walter stumble and go down. Raoul's sword smashed through his attackers' guard. Over one went, crumbled like chaff; a second fell, backed into that left-handed sweep, a third, turning to run, was trampled under those heavy hooves. And before the horse had ceased to snort and rear, Raoul had wrenched his feet free of the stirrup irons and dived over its side, running as he hit the ground. Only his own quickness prevented his cutting me through as he lunged after me into the passageway. The fourth man who held me had thrust me to the front, so he could retreat, using me as shield.