by Lisa Hilton
‘Thank you,’ I murmured. ‘Thank you, thank you.’
Tomas cantered up behind us, I had forgotten all about him. ‘I knew you could do it!’
I grinned at him, proud and fierce, my hair tumbling into my eyes and my face burning with pleasure. ‘I did, too.’
We galloped, over and over again, until Tomas saw that the sun was low and made us turn back. He let out a leading rein for Othon and settled me against his chest, my legs demurely to one side, and I fell asleep against him, my nose full of leather and horse sweat and the strange blood-like tinge of the balm, rocking slowly through the green lanes back to Lusignan.
All that summer and into the autumn until the weather turned and the rain came, I rode out on Othon each day. I was diligent with my prayers and my sewing, my music and deportment so that Agnes could have no cause to forbid me the release I waited for each afternoon. Tomas found a plate coat that had been made for Hal when he was about my age and persuaded Agnes to let me wear it over my gown, saying it should protect my back if I fell. He also gave me a pair of Hal’s leather britches, which I slipped on under my gown, and which we didn’t mention to Agnes at all. Lord Hugh seemed delighted with my new accomplishment and presented me with a falcon, a delicate merlin with deep blue feathers, a set of silver jesses and a gauntlet traced in silver thread. I was allowed to accompany him, dressed in one of my best silks and nodding along placidly on my side-saddle, when he hunted with his guests. I liked best, though, to go out with Tomas, and better still to leave him to doze and whittle in the shade while I explored the allées of the forest alone with Othon. I longed to bathe and comb him myself, but of course Agnes could not allow that, so I begged scraps of parchment from the clerks and twisted them into paper flowers to decorate his stall and made a picture of myself with a finger dipped in soot so that he should not be lonely for me in the night. I gave no thought to Hal, or my marriage, or what was happening in the world beyond the castle. I no longer listened in doorways or heeded the whisperings of the guards. All I wanted was to be alone in the woods with Othon. But then the leaves turned from green to yellow to brown, and when the forest was bare and we had kept the Christmas feast at the castle, a message came that my father was coming, and with him the English king.
CHAPTER FOUR
I WAS BOTH GLAD AND SAD AT THE NEWS OF MY FATHER’S return. Glad because I should see my papa again, and sad because Hal had remained with him, learning the duties of Angouleme, which would one day be his in right of his marriage to me, and their coming would bring the marriage close. I was curious, though, to see John, brother of the great Lionheart, the last of Queen Eleanor’s unhappy sons. My father came first, with a long train of men-at-arms to prepare against the king’s arrival, and I leaped joyfully into his travel-stained cloak and snuggled my face against his beard. I had grown used to Lord Hugh but now I was struck again by how cold and elegant he looked next to my father, who was rounder and more red-faced than ever. I hopped about Father, asking him where he had been and if he had experienced any adventures, and teasing him for presents.
‘I hear you’ve become a fine rider,’ he smiled. ‘So I thought you might want this.’ He gave me a thin parcel wrapped in vellum. Inside was a whip, an ivory whip tooled in silver with a scarlet tassel on the grip.
‘Thank you, oh thank you, Papa!’ I hoped he couldn’t hear the disappointment in my voice. It was a beautiful gift, but it was a lady’s tool, far too small and delicate for Othon. I suddenly felt very sad. Why did things change? Why did people go away and when they came back everything was different? Now that I looked, I could see my papa was older, the lines on his face deepened into little runnels, with streaks of grey in his beard. I was ashamed of my ingratitude and determined to behave beautifully, to make him proud of my accomplishments. His hand felt the same, though, so big and rough around my palm. In that moment I never wanted to let it go.
Hal had grown upwards, not outwards, and I had to think that he looked fine, broader through his shoulders, but still with that same sullen air. We greeted one another coolly, playing at grown-ups, but he barely spoke to me again as we sat over a simple supper of bread, cheese and dried fruit. The kitchens were already swarming with King John’s purveyors, who had commandeered every deer and game bird for miles around.
‘They’re making entremets of marchpane,’ I couldn’t help whispering excitedly to Hal. ‘We can save some for my horse, Othon. He loves sugar.’
‘What do I care about your horse?’ he hissed back rudely. So he was just as stupid as ever.
Agnes wanted to put me to bed after we had eaten, but I begged to be allowed to sit a little, first mixing the men’s wine so that my papa smiled at my grave new manners, and then leaning against him on the settle. The hall at Lusignan had a new fireplace, a huge stone chamber that could take a whole tree, and the heat from the flames made me doze. I slipped in and out of dreams until I was roused by one of my father’s mastiffs licking my hand, but something made me keep my eyes closed and let my head drop more heavily against his shoulder.
‘Do you think he will really do it?’ my father was asking.
‘Of course. Look at her. He’s known for it, after all,’ replied Lord Hugh.
My father’s rough hand stroked my cheek, I muttered something and twitched my face away as though he had disturbed my sleep. ‘Look at her, though. She’s such a little maid.’
‘You thought her old enough for my boy.’
‘Indeed.’
‘And afterwards?’
‘We’ll wait a while. And then, Duke Arthur knows what we wish.’
Why were they talking about me like this? And why Duke Arthur? Behind my eyelids the firelight glowed red. I was wide awake now, but I kept my breathing soft and regular. For a while there was no sound except the horn beakers on the trestle as the men drank their wine.
‘I regret La Marche. Sincerely I do,’ Father began.
‘No matter. There will be other lands.’
What was my father talking about? La Marche was his county, our county. It had been ever since he had sworn loyalty to King John. La Marche was the reason I was betrothed, was it not? The county that had been contested between Lusignans and Taillefers for generations? When Hal married me, the Lusignan lands, Angouleme and La Marche, would be joined together, creating one apanage for our children.
‘I think,’ Lord Hugh was speaking now, ‘that she has been happy here. I hope she will be obedient.’
‘She is my daughter.’
And then the steward came to speak to Lord Hugh and my father picked me up in his arms and carried me to Agnes. He had not done such a thing since I was a tiny child. It had always been my mother who kissed me goodnight.
*
‘Oh, Lady Isabelle! Look! What are we to do?’ Anges was distraught.
I had stopped my secret snipping when Othon came, indeed forgotten all about what I had done to my betrothal gown, and now here it was in tatters on my chamber floor.
‘There must have been mice,’ said one of the maids.
‘I hated it anyway,’ I said stubbornly. I was bad tempered because Agnes had made me have a bath, even though it was bright outside and the ground solid and I could have been riding.
‘Shame on you to speak like that of your mother’s gift. And what are you to wear? You were to have new clothes at your birthday, all your other gowns are too short,’ Agnes scolded.
‘You can’t blame me for growing.’
Agnes put her hands on her hips. ‘Lady Isabelle. Today of all days, I will not have you being insolent. I will not have it, do you hear?’
‘What’s so special about today?’
‘Never you mind. Now go and have your hair combed, you look like a beggar.’
I was sitting on a stool, muttering as the maid wrenched my stinging scalp this way and that, when Lord Hugh appeared. The maids were shocked to see him in my chamber. They leaped up, curtseying and blushing and apologizing all at once, whisking a napkin over the cha
mber pot and patting their half-pinned hair.
‘For you, Lady Isabelle. Excuse me, mesdames.’ And he handed me a canvas parcel. Inside was a plain white dress, light silk, with no embroidery or ornament, and a pale fur mantle with a deep hood lined in green satin. They were pretty, but I did not think them very fine. ‘Dress her.’
The maids shuffled me behind the bed curtains and tugged on the gown.
‘Undo her hair,’ Lord Hugh demanded. The maids did as they were told, looking puzzled. What was a man doing telling them how to dress me? ‘And this is for you, also, Lady Isabelle. You may go into the garden to play with Agnes when you are prepared.’ He bowed to the girls, which made them blush all the more, and withdrew.
I looked at what he had handed me. It was a ball. A cloth ball of red and blue patches with silly brass bells on it, like a jongleur’s cap. Why had he given me such a stupid toy? I had a horse and a falcon, what did I want with balls? I was mortified to think that Hal might see me with it when I had been plotting to astound him with my riding.
‘Come along,’ said Agnes, in a voice that I knew meant no argument. I trailed after her along the passage, the fur mantle bunched around me. ‘Now we can have a lovely game.’ Her voice was high and artificial, as though I was a strange child she didn’t much like.
I thought that everyone at Lusignan had run mad that day. Lord Hugh in the wardrobe and my father babbling about Duke Arthur and now Agnes, who disapproved of any game where I didn’t sit still, capering about on the lawn with a ball.
The low January sun was captured within the garden walls and dutifully chasing Agnes’s throws I grew warm and dropped the new mantle on the ground. I threw the ball back and the bells jingled as she caught it. She tossed it straight up as high as she could as I hovered underneath, catching it and hurling it higher again. I stopped minding the childishness and thought only of the spinning colours against the blue sky. We were both laughing now. It felt so good to play together again in the air, and for once Agnes wasn’t telling me not to get dirty. Higher and higher the ball flew, until I threw it so hard I thought it must have got stuck on the chapel roof. We craned our necks at the gutter, until a voice spoke behind me.
‘Is this yours, Lady Isabelle?’
The man holding my ball spoke French, but with an odd accent, not the clear, light tempo of the langue d’oc. He was short, hardly taller than Agnes, and his face was sallow and thin, though I could see a paunchy belly poking through his stained travel cloak. He wore riding gloves and a heavy fur cape, which he had pulled about him, though it was noon and really quite warm.
‘Where are the guards?’ Agnes was anxious.
‘Excuse me, madame. I am a guest of the Count of Angouleme. I assumed this must be his charming daughter.’ He bowed, and I curtseyed back diffidently.
‘Ask the gentleman if he would like to join our game,’ prompted Agnes.
I stared at her, but her face was urgent, her eyes wide and expectant, so I held out my hands for a throw. And we carried on like that for a little while, Agnes and the gentleman and I, though Agnes’s laughter no longer sounded real and her tread had grown lumbering. When the gentleman dropped the ball and bent to the ground I saw a bald spot shining with grease in the middle of his muddy hair. Perhaps he was a priest.
‘What other games do you care for, sir?’ I asked politely. Agnes would be pleased if I showed fine manners to a priest.
‘I like to play dice.’ He reached into his pocket and took out a small ivory box. ‘In fact I have a fine set here. Shall we play?’
I was sure that playing dice was sinful, like the Roman soldiers beneath the Holy Cross, but he must know better. Agnes gave me a consenting nod and the gentleman spread his fur wrap on the ground for us to sit on, pulling the wool cloak tighter around him.
‘Here sir,’ I took my own discarded fur and placed it over his shoulder. ‘You will be cold.’
‘How kind you are, Lady Isabelle.’ He shook the box as a cup and threw, but fur wasn’t very good to play on, as the dice got tangled in the hairs and couldn’t roll. We tried a few times, but it was no good, the gentleman looked foolish.
‘Perhaps we might go in, sir?’ I asked gently. ‘I too am rather cold, now.’
‘Thank you, I am quite comfortable.’
There was a silence. I wondered what my mother would do. She would speak of some pleasing topic to make the guest feel comfortable. So I told the gentleman all about Othon, and how I liked falconry, and then somehow I remembered the marchpane entremets, so I began to tell about the king’s visit and wonder what he would be like, and I grew rather bumptious, repeating some of the stories I had overheard in the stables, that the Lionheart’s brother was going to war with the king of France, and that perhaps he would lose his lands and have to return to England, which was a horrid place full of fog and blue haired barbarians. Agnes was glaring at me, but I was carried away with the idea of myself as the gracious hostess of Lusignan, there on the lawn in my smudged gown, and I told that the English king was famous for his terrible rages, where he hurled the crockery and chewed the hangings, frothing at the mouth like a mad dog so no one dared go near him. I didn’t stop until Agnes jumped to her feet muttering about dinner.
‘But we’ve had our dinner, Agnes. And I was just telling the gentleman—’
‘I’m sure the gentleman has heard quite enough of your prattling,’ she answered grimly, grabbing me hard on my arm to haul me up.
The gentleman jumped to his feet as we stood and bowed again. ‘Thank you for our game, Lady Isabelle. And for such a delightful conversation.’
Agnes marched me silently up the staircase to my chamber, shooed away the maids and closed the door. She was not angry; she looked frightened.
‘What’s the matter, Agnes? I’m sorry if I was forward. I was only trying to entertain the gentleman.’
‘Your father and Lord Hugh will be furious.’
‘Why? He was only some old priest. Why should they care? He was lucky I spoke to him at all.’ Agnes sank down on the settle and wrapped her arms round me. ‘Oh, little one. I forget sometimes. Tha-that gentleman … he is to be your husband.’
‘What?’ I was in shock. ‘What about Hal? You mean he’s not a priest?’
‘No, Isabelle. He is the king of England.’
If I had been a lady in a poem I would have swooned away, but all I could do was goggle at her like a simpleton.
‘His Majesty wished to meet you for the first time this way. So as not to alarm you. It is an honour, Isabelle, a great honour. Your father has agreed to it.’
I recalled what I had heard in the hall, my papa saying that I would be obedient, as I was his daughter.
‘Won’t Lord Hugh be angry? I don’t understand.’
‘Speak softly. We could be overheard.’ Her voice was very low and clear. I could feel her breath on my hair. ‘Lord Hugh will be angry. But he will be pretending, like a play. When the king leaves, we will be with him. Your mother will join us at Bordeaux in a few months’ time. Everything is agreed.’
‘But I am betrothed to Hal.’ We had said the words. I knew that in the law of the Church we were as good as married already.
Agnes softened her tone. ‘Well, you never cared for Hal much, did you? And think, Isabelle, you shall be a queen! I shall have to kneel to you.’
So would Hal, I thought. Queen. Queen Eleanor had followed her husband on Crusade, had she not? She had ridden through the Holy Land and watched a great battle at Mount Cadmos. Queen. I would see the sea, I would be crowned, I could have as many horses and Venetian silks as I wished.
‘What about Othon and Tomas? They have to come too.’
‘Good girl, Isabelle. Of course Othon shall come, and old Tomas too if you wish it. I will go to your father now.’
She left me and I climbed into the windowsill, looking down at the forest where I had been so happy, where I had believed I would live forever. No more sewing, I thought, no more prayers. I would be able to do ex
actly as I pleased, go riding and hawking every day. Queens were not scolded or told not to gobble their custard, and they certainly didn’t have to endure silly ill-mannered boys. I remembered the dream I had conjured over a dish of raspberry marmalade, of my mother and I in an Eastern palace full of fountains and Hal locked up in a dungeon full of snakes, at my pleasure. I would not be sorry to leave Lusignan, not when a queen could see the whole world. So I lost myself in my imaginings as I used to do so that it was not until the next summer, when I stood before the altar of the cathedral at Bordeaux, that I thought of John, the gentleman, at all. But before we could leave, I had to act a little longer. While I remained at Lusignan, I was Hal’s betrothed, the heiress of Angouleme. I had learned by now that dissembling was easy for women. So long as we stayed silent and waited passively for men to move us like quoits, we were invisible. Only by watching could we learn what was to become of us.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE NEXT DAY, MY FATHER AND LORD HUGH WERE TO swear their fealty to King John. All the magnates of the surrounding counties rode in to witness the ceremony, and I stood quietly among their ladies with Agnes and made my face as smooth as milk. After Mass, we trooped into the hall, which had been scrubbed and freshly laid with clean rushes, though the weather had turned again and fingers of icy wind clawed through the casements, tweaking at the fire and filling the room with wraiths of smoke, as though the ghosts of Lusignan ancestors were among us. Lord Hugh was wearing the serpent brooch, as usual; I wondered if Melusina had twined her way along the battlements to watch a Lusignan swear his fealty to an English king.
John looked more like a king today. He wore a gold circlet on his brow and a red velvet mantle with a huge gold chain hanging from his chest, and as he passed through the hall with his chamberlain bearing his sceptre the company sank to their knees and bowed their heads. I peeped out under my loosened hair and watched him as he passed, swaddled in his furs. Lord Hugh and Hal walked behind him, followed by my father, and knelt as he took his seat under his royal canopy. I thought that I should have a cloth of state too, when I was queen, and hid a tiny smile. Lord Hugh and Hal kissed John’s hand and gave him their homage for the Lusignan lands and the county of La Marche, declaring themselves his vassals, bound to fight for him in honour, as my father had already done for Angouleme. They were King John’s men, now. The ladies withdrew while the men dined and took wine, and as they dipped manchet bread into cups of sweet liqueur and munched little almond cakes they chattered of the king, how he had put aside his English wife, Hadwise, who had given him no children, and now sought the hand of a princess of Portugal.