‘My aunt was de Warrene’s mistress? Why did he not marry her?’
Gillet shook his head. ‘He could not. He was married to Jeanne de Bar and never obtained his divorce. He tried for most of his life.’ He gave a low whistle. ‘I could tell you some stories of that household.’
I mused for a while on this new revelation. ‘Then we were destined to meet. Gillet? Do you think to reunite me with my real father, now that you know who he is?’
Gillet scowled. ‘But that would lead you straight back to the Black Prince. If Salisbury is Edward’s right hand man, then Thomas Holland is his left!’
My hand smoothed my belly. ‘Then I cannot risk that.’ There was a moment of silence before I whispered. ‘And what of us, Gillet?’
His thumb gently trailed down my throat. ‘I promised Comte d’Armagnac that I would protect you, Lady. But who will protect me from you?’ He caught my face between his palms, his lips descending onto mine in a tantalising caress, as venerably as if drinking nectar from the gods.
As a knight, he was honour bound to obtain court permission to marry but he could not approach either King. How long would I be able to resist his advances? Would I even try? After all, my own aunt, Isabelle Holland, had lived her life as an official mistress.
Leaning back against the tree in quiet repose, Gillet looked peaceful and I thought he had fallen into slumber.
‘Gillet?’
‘Hmm.’
‘Have you ever been in love before?’
He inhaled a long, measured breath and his lashes flickered open. ‘I would have to say yes, though I probably did not realise it at the time.’
‘Oh … was … was she pretty?’
Gillet burst out laughing. ‘ Dieu non! She was a scrawny bag of bones, a freckled rapscallion with a fiery spirit, but she had a glorious mane of hair.’ He smiled in reminiscence. ‘I was about ten at the time.’
‘You were naught but a child,’ I burst. ‘What of later years?’
He plucked a petalled stem. Scowling in thought, he began to deflower it. ‘No. I had mistresses but none that I cared to love.’ Intently studying the denuded stalk, he murmured, ‘I was haunted by the memory of that young girl and often wondered into what sort of beauty she had grown.’
A flash of jealousy ripped through me as I casually scored the seam on his sleeve.
‘Then when did you first fall in love with me?’
He smiled and cupped my cheek. ‘I would have to say the first time I saw you.’
‘At the palace? But I was unforgivably rude.’
‘Yes, you were. That day you scorned me for not immediately toppling to my knees in your presence. You appeared as delicate as a butterfly but, Lady, you stung like a bee. Were you so used to having men fall at your feet?’
‘No, you are right,’ I agreed, laughing. ‘I was insufferable.
But the women at court had been cruelly amusing themselves with the news of my broken troth and I was full sore.’
‘And you thought to lash your vengeance upon me? I remember you forlornly standing by the roses. The sun was shining brightly, dazzling my vision, and all I could see was this golden-haired goddess. I could not believe it was you.’
‘And you,’ I said, poking him in fun, ‘were a tall, dusty, handsome, and very surly courier,’ Laughter rumbled in his chest as I snuggled closer and sighed. ‘Marry me, Gillet.’
‘Careful, temptress, one day I just might.’ His lips closed over mine.
He sat back, his brow furrowed. ‘We must leave Arras, Céci. It is no longer safe.’
‘But where are we to go?’
‘Calais.’
‘Calais? But Edward is there. We will be walking barefoot into a rat’s nest!’
‘Armand can help us. Anaïs will reveal we are in Arras but she has no reason to think we would dare risk Calais.’
‘But Edward has no authority here.’
‘No, but Jean le Bon does. Edward knows of the accusations against me. Do not forget Edward keeps company with our King in the castle at Calais.’
‘You think he would inform on you?’
‘My head on a platter would make a fine peace offering at the ratification feast! To slip past them unnoticed is our only chance. I doubt they will expect it.’
‘To what end? To where do we go?’
‘Kent.’
‘Kent? England? But my own father is …’
‘Earl, yes, but he is not in residence. Listen, Cécile, it will be dangerous but when I need it the most, will you trust in me? I do not ask this lightly.’
‘Yes, of course I will.’
He nodded, satisfied. ‘Then I will take you to Kent, to a place I know, where we can stay for as long as necessary. Even the Black Prince would think twice before demanding you from this refuge. You can remain in safety until the birth of your child, and longer if need be.’ Gillet arms enfolded me. ‘Tell me, are you well enough to travel as soon as tomorrow?’
‘Yes. Why should I not be?’
His palm slid over my stomach. ‘I must remember there is more than one life to protect now. And also I saw Madame Duvall in the village. She told me that you had been ill and the nature of it. Has this ailment troubled you before?’
‘Oui, at least twice. In Amiens when Madame de Caux came to my room to taunt me. It happened then.’
‘Hmm. I did not take that woman’s measure seriously enough. But I had good reason for keeping her company.’ Gillet stood and held out his arms to help me to my feet. ‘I have heard of this breathing malady before. It can be very dangerous. Perhaps when we arrive in Calais, we should seek a physician’s advice. Come, the Mesdames will be returning soon.’ He grinned sheepishly. ‘I believe you have some pottery to clean up before they arrive home?’
And so it is, dear sister, that the Mesdames have clucked delightedly, firstly over Gillet and then the thoughtful gift of kid gloves he presented to each of them. I sit in front of the fireplace, writing this letter whilst the good ladies entertain him. He will meet with our courier before our departure and instruct that your return correspondence be delivered to Calais.
Madame Rosetta pulled out an old chessboard and the Mesdames now play under his instruction, their laughter ringing in my ears as he tries to improve upon Armand’s tuition. Tomorrow will see us take our leave of these two wonderful ladies, whom I came to love with all my heart. Has the journey from Paris to Arras changed me so much?
May God keep you in His care, my sister.
Written by Cécile d’Armagnac, Maison de les Fleurs, Arras, 15 September 10 Jean II.
My most beloved and cherished sister, Cécile d’Armagnac, Lady Holland.
I long for the return of Gillet, so desperate my need to hear from you and receive your forgiveness, for though my head tells me not to fret, I am burdened with great sadness, my heart weighed heavy with guilt. I am also fearful of the dislike that I have developed for my maid!
I have become quite adept at avoiding Anaïs, as she wails disappointment for her marital state to all trapped in her company. I am most pleased, though, with the growing relationship I am forming with Lady Matilda. We could not want for a more amiable aunt. She has accepted my many and varied questions concerning our family, delighting in the attentions from her new troublesome niece. I hope that I may share some of my happiness when I impart news of our brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts, for we are very far from alone in this world.
I will begin by telling you of our father’s family. He is the second son of Lord Robert Holland and Lady Maud, both of whom died some years ago. As you know, Thomas was the seneschal steward to the Salisburys prior to being made the King’s lieutenant, and was granted the title of Earl of Kent, on account of our mother. His elder brother, Richard, was killed in battle and his younger sister, Matilda, remains unmarried.
Our mother, Joan, is known as the Fair Maid of Kent and she, as I previously wrote, is the daughter of Prince Edmund and Margaret Wake. Our grandmother died of the Black
Death seventeen years ago.
The most gratifying news was the discovery of our brothers and sisters, all of whom were born after our parents were reunited. There is Thomas, who is now but five years, then Joan, who is four and also looks much like our mother I am told. Then we have John, titled Duke of Exeter, and the recent addition of Matilda, thus named after our aunt and who is yet to see her first birthday.
So, my cherished sister, we have many younger siblings to nurture and I look forward to the day when I can meet them all. But this does not, and never will, equal the yearning I feel for you. I pray that the day will soon arrive when I can hold you in my arms, my sister, my dearest one.
Lady Matilda took great delight in the telling of the inception of the Order of the Garter, for it is much associated with our mother. It would appear that our parents are close friends of the Black Prince. I know this may cause you some pain, so thought it best that I tell you this disturbing news, rather than have you discover it by other means.
Apparently, some years ago our mother and that fiend were dancing together when a blue garter slipped from her leg to the floor. She was allegedly mortified but in an act of chivalry the Prince picked it up and tied it around his own leg, as though it were a matter of no consequence. When he heard the sniggers of the men around him, he was heard to remark, ‘Evil be to him who evil thinks.’ Some time after this event, the King fashioned the garter into an order, bestowing it upon the staunchest of his supporters, including our mother and father.
Aunt Matilda intimated that Mother was partially responsible for its design, for it was she who suggested blue and gold, quite aware how annoyed the French would be by the use of their royal colours. Could it be that our parents also support King Edward’s claim to the French throne?
I spend many hours peering at the wonderful tapestries hung about the house and was much engaged in this pas-time when pounced upon by Lord Wexford, his face florid.
‘Catherine.’ He was breathless, as though having run for some great distance. ‘I seek Matilda.’
‘I believe she is in her parlour,’ I replied, pursuing him as he made his way down the southern corridor. He knocked on her door but entered before she responded, the Lady herself rising instantly to her feet.
‘Simon! What is wrong?’ she inquired.
‘Anaïs has disappeared! I fear that she has left the grounds.’
I gasped. It had not taken her long.
‘Are you sure?’ asked Lady Matilda.
‘Quite,’ he said. ‘I have checked the stables and all the horses are accounted for, yet her personal belongings are gone.’
‘She wouldn’t have walked,’ I added, knowing how lazy she is.
‘No, but she could have slipped out on one the wagons that delivers bartered goods from the nearby village,’ suggested our aunt.
‘Permission to lead out a party of men, M’lady?’ requested Simon.
‘Yes, by all means. Enlist whomsoever you please, but let me suggest that you begin on the Winterslow Road. The Earl of Salisbury has a house near Farley and I suspect that will be her destination.’
Simon’s expression was grave as he nodded to me before departing.
‘This is unexpected. I had hoped we would have had more time.’ Sitting at her desk, Lady Matilda produced a sheet of parchment and deftly began to write. ‘We must send a message to Gillet. I fear for his and your sister’s safety. He told me on his departure that he intends to take Cécile to her cousin in Calais.’
‘Calais? But the Prince is there!’
‘Gillet knows what he is doing.’ She finished her note with a flourish before instructing the maid to secure a courier.
Oh, my dearest, my heart skipped a beat. What if the Prince should learn that you were in Calais? Would Gillet be able to protect you? And, of course, the child, you would not be able to hide your condition.
I returned to my room to continue this letter to you, hoping and praying that Anaïs will be found prior to reaching the home of the Earl of Salisbury, even though this appears to be unlikely. I wondered, not for the first time, what relationship our father shares with the Black Prince, and have pondered whether this will change once he learns of our dilemma. Have you considered what you will tell our parents about the babe and Gillet? I will pray for guidance and know that, no matter how painful, the truth is the only sure path to tread.
15 September
My dearest, I take up my quill after five days, having been much occupied by events that are extremely difficult for me retell. Never have I had to face such heartache and loss. But I must explain, for as you can imagine this is a great tale indeed.
’Twas the thirteenth of September, a day I shall never forget. One of Broughton’s young stable lads was found exhausted and bloodied at the west gate. He has been riding out with Simon and several other men and before collapsing reported that the group had been involved in a confrontation. The survivors were being held captive within Salisbury’s estate.
Our aunt, rather than flit about in a whirl as I had expected, methodically issued orders, with maids, the cook and the senior stable hand all appearing from thin air. I was surprised by her decision to lead a rescue party, albeit a party of only three.
‘Catherine,’ she said upon seeing me at the door, ‘go to your room and change into your most serviceable riding gown.’ She waved her hand, dismissing the cook. ‘Make sure to bring a cloak and, my dear girl, please do be quick.’
I flew down the hallway and up the stairs without hesitation, understanding that I was to accompany her. I felt no trepidation as I ran to my room and threw off my kirtle. As I struggled with the fastenings on the brown serge, I was filled with excitement for at last I was to be included, without any consideration of my age, gender or upbringing. It had simply been assumed that I would be a member of the party and I felt nothing but gratitude for this acceptance.
However, I cannot say that my confidence did not waver as we headed out through the large oak gates that had, until this point, held me safely within the confines of the Holland manor house. Accompanied by Bertram, whom I knew to be the gardener, we quickly sped to a gallop, my poor riding skills instantly apparent.
We rode for several hours before Lady Matilda’s mare slowed and halted upon the crest of a densely wooded hill. She called me forward and I wrestled with my own mount until we stood side by side, the valley below spreading out between the trees. A manor house was visible near the edge of a flowing river, its walls as dark as the surrounding vegetation.
‘That is one of the many country homes currently in the possession of the Montagu family,’ she said. ‘It was the residence of William, the first Earl of Salisbury, also known as Baron Montagu, and his wife, Katherine Grandisson. It is your place of birth.’ I grasped her hand, desperately needing her strength and support. ‘It is now the home of Elizabeth, the current Earl’s second wife.’ She turned to look at me then. ‘And where Lord Wexford and four of my men are now held prisoner.’
‘Prisoners?’
‘Yes, but with God’s good grace and a fair dose of luck, I intend to remedy the matter.’
‘But how?’
‘You must trust me.’
I nodded, although I have to admit that I certainly did not feel far from danger.
‘Ride close to me,’ she advised, ‘and say nothing. Cover your head with your hood.’
I did as instructed, happy to follow her lead as we approached the imposing gates, which had been left conveniently open and unguarded. Dismounting, we led our horses into the courtyard, but immediately turned away from the house. My heart beat rapidly as I scanned the many windows. ’Twas as though a thousand eyes were peering out, watching me. Taking my hand, Matilda led me into the dark interior of the stables. I shuffled forward, struggling to adjust my vision as day became night. I had not seen the woman in the shadows and gasped with fright at the unexpected sound of her voice.
‘Matilda, my dear …’
‘Elizabeth, it is good to
see you. How are you?’
‘I am well. Come,’ she said, ‘you must be in need of refreshment.’
‘We are, but first I must see Lord Wexford and my men.’
Nodding her head, the woman turned, her piercing gaze pinning me as she scrutinised my face. There was no confusing her look of contempt. I waited, expecting her to say something, but her lips pulled tight as she fingered the ring of keys held at her belt.
‘This way,’ she finally spat, turning her attention to one of the heavy doors recessed into the wall of the stable. As it creaked open, the air within rushed out, like an evil spirit desperate to escape. I could see several bodies lying in the hay, but none of them moved. I rushed forward and placed my hand to Simon’s forehead.
‘I am sorry,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I have done what I could, but Lord Moleyns has made it difficult. You have but today and tomorrow before he returns. I only hope this is sufficient.’
‘You have done more than I could ever expect or repay.’ Matilda’s voice was husky with emotion. ‘Whatever happens, my companions and I shall be gone by dusk tomorrow. Will you please have our victuals brought here, and also any spare liniments and strips of linen you might have?’
Elizabeth nodded, but the coldness in her eyes remained. With arms linked, the two ladies disappeared into the corridor, their whispered conversation barely audible.
Several of the injured men were now sitting up, their faces displaying obvious relief. Bertram kneeled over the crumpled form of a boy I knew to be the cook’s son. The lad’s clothes were bloodied and torn. His fight for life had ended and I sent a silent prayer for the saving of his soul. Matilda returned and assisted Bertram as he carried the body from the stable, collecting a discarded boot from the straw.
I squeezed Simon’s hand, fearful of the scent of death settling around me. Beads of sweat covered his brow and his eyes remained closed and though I whispered his name, he did not answer me.
‘We must examine him.’ Bertram and Matilda began to unwind the stained binding wrapped around Simon’s upper thigh. The wound was nasty and exuded a noxious smell.
The Lily and the Lion Page 33