Mary Gillgannon

by The Leopard

  Of course, if she was truly that good and sweet, she probably deserved better than him. He knew a tiny twinge of guilt, then immediately shrugged it off.

  Moving past the beggars and half-naked whores who called out to him, Richard turned into the Black Swan Tavern. He pushed by the drunken, raucous sailors filling the main room and made his way to a back table where his companion sat.

  “Been waiting long, Will?”

  “Not nearly so long as Ruby. She’s been back here a dozen times, looking for you. I think she’s in love.”

  Richard laughed. “Are you suggesting she prefers me to this group of depraved misfits? I’m not even certain that’s a compliment.”

  “At least you don’t smell as bad as the rest of this lot.” Will wrinkled his nose in distaste.

  “I must say that tonight I share your disgust for this crowd. After having sipped ambrosia from Lady Astra’s luscious lips, I may never be satisfied with a crude whore again.”

  Will’s eyes widened. “It went as well as that? Lady Astra let you kiss her?”

  “Aye, she let me—after a fashion. I suspect she was simply too startled to repulse my attentions effectively.”

  “You’re a miracle worker, Richard. From what Lady Marguerite said, Astra intended to hide away in the Queen’s chamber for the rest of her life rather than face you. Whatever did you do to change her mind?”

  “I spent a few minutes on my knees begging her pardon, and the lady melted like butter in the sun. She’s a genuine innocent, Will, as sweet and guileless as a lamb. I mumbled some blather about her reminding me of an angel, that her beauty and goodness was pure balm to my soul after my gruesome life as a soldier. She went all pale and starry-eyed. I honestly think she believed it was her duty to forgive me.”

  “Jesu, Richard, what a wicked devil you are. Don’t you feel a little guilty about deceiving her so ruthlessly?”

  “I wasn’t really deceiving her,” Richard protested. “I meant at least half of what I said. Besides, if she’s anywhere as rich as Lady Marguerite, I intend to make Lady Astra my wife.”

  “Your wife!” Will put down his ale cup with a thud. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

  “Why not? I’m not likely to ever meet a woman as beautiful and desirable as Lady Astra, and she’s rich in the bargain. I can scarce believe it, Will. It’s as if the answer to my prayers had suddenly dropped into my lap.”

  Will narrowed his eyes. “How do you know Lady Astra will accept your offer? More to the point, what will Lord Fitz Hugh think about someone like you wedding his niece? He likely has other marriage plans in mind.”

  “He may be reluctant at first, but I feel sure I can convince him. I intend to take Lady Astra to bed, then see to it that old Fitz Hugh learns of it. He’ll not refuse my offer of marriage then.”

  “You’re going to seduce her? Good God, Richard, Fitz Hugh will kill you!”

  “I think not,” Richard answered. “I made a few inquiries, and it seems the old man’s naught but bluster and bluff. He caters shamelessly to his daughter’s whims, allows her to run utterly wild. He has no more backbone than Henry does. If I compromise Lady Astra and she admits to it, I believe Fitz Hugh will make his mark on a marriage contract.”

  “What about Lady Astra? Has she no say in this?”

  “I’m not going to ravish her, if that’s what you mean. She’s going to enjoy every minute of the seduction, I assure you.” Richard leaned forward, intending to share the specifics of his plan. He started when he felt a caressing hand upon his cheek. “Jesu—Ruby?”

  “Oh, so the bastard admits he knows me.” The comely, hazel-eyed tavern maid smirked as she tossed her copper-colored curls and then leaned over to brush one of her full breasts against Richard’s arm. “I thought perhaps you had decided you were too good for me and were seeking your pleasure in the arms of one of the haughty bitches of the King’s court. Don’t even think of it, darling. You know they’ll never please you like I do.”

  “Damn it, Ruby! You ought not sneak up on me like that! I swear you took a year off my life.”

  “Better than an inch off your cock,” she purred. “And how is my sweet pet this evening?” She dropped a hand to Richard’s crotch.

  “Get your hands off me,” Richard growled as he grabbed her wrist and pushed her away. “I don’t belong to you or any other woman, Ruby, and don’t you forget it.”

  The woman put her hands on her hips and pursed her full lips into a pout. They were heavily painted with the particularly vivid shade of lip rouge that had earned Ruby her nickname.

  “Touchy tonight, aren’t we? What’s wrong with your friend?” she asked Will in a sharp voice. “Has he spent so much time with you that he’s taken up your filthy habits?” She eyed Will malevolently. “If I find you a couple of boys, will you leave Richard alone?”

  Richard reached out and grabbed Ruby’s arm. “Apologize. Now!”

  Ruby’s hazel eyes glinted with defiance. Then she shrugged her shoulders. “All right. I apologize, Lord de Lacy,” she said insincerely. She cast Will another scornful look, then, as Richard released her, turned and sashayed off.

  “That wasn’t necessary, Richard. I don’t really mind anymore.”

  “Well, I mind, by God!”

  “You didn’t have to be so harsh with her.”

  “She asked for it. Besides, I’m a regular saint compared to most of her customers.”

  Will leaned back and took another sip of his ale, regarding his friend intently. Even after all these years he’d known him, Richard was an enigma. He could be sweet and charming one minute, and violent the next. Will had personally never known Richard’s wrath, nor did he want to. Considering Richard’s plan to seduce Lady Astra, he decided he didn’t relish what it would be like to experience Richard’s compelling charm either.

  He had only recently met Lady Astra, but already he felt sorry for her. The sweet-faced, innocent young woman was no match for the Leopard.

  Nine

  “I’m not sure it is a good idea to let Sir Richard and Lord de Lacy show us London,” Astra said as the two women dressed the next morning. “Remember what happened to us at Tudbury?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Marguerite scoffed. “Those men were low-born knaves. Will and Richard are gentlemen. They would never let harm come to us.”

  “We should at least take some of your father’s knights for protection.”

  “I can hardly think of a greater deterrent to romance than having a group of armed knights breathing down our necks.”

  Astra paused in pulling on a fresh chemise and regarded Marguerite in surprise. “Romance? Are you seriously pursuing Will?”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “No reason, I suppose. He is handsome. Not to mention well-mannered and rich. Even your father approves of him.”

  “And he is also something I like even better,” responded Marguerite. “A challenge.” She shot Astra a sly smile. “So far, Will has been rather cool to me, but I intend to change that. I’ll wager that by the end of the day, I will have Sir William de Lacy fawning over me the way Richard does you. Tell me—what odds will you give me?”

  “Gambling is a wasteful vice,” Astra answered. “And furthermore, I’m dismayed by your plan to entice poor Lord de Lacy. Must you see every man as a conquest?”

  “Tush, tush. You’re always so serious. Some day I will be a wedded woman—sober, proper and dull. In the meantime I intend to enjoy myself.”

  “I can hardly imagine you ever being proper and dull.” Astra shook her head, then widened her eyes as she saw the gown Marguerite had pulled from the heavy oak wardrobe.

  “The saints preserve us—surely you’re not going to wear that!”

  “Why not?” Marguerite smoothed the wrinkles from the exquisite surcote of deep blue samite threaded with gold. “Don’t you think it’s becoming?”

  “Becoming? It rivals the Queen’s own ceremonial robes. But you saw the streets when we arrive
d, Marguerite. How can you think of dragging that beautiful thing through the muck of London? It will be utterly ruined before the day is over!”

  “Then I’ll have it sent to the fullers or trimmed off to make a shorter overtunic. I intend to look my very best today, Astra, and I don’t have the advantage of your stunning figure.”

  “Wear what you wish then, but don’t expect me to spoil my new clothes. I’m wearing my plain gray bliaut.”

  “Oh, no you aren’t.” Marguerite again dug in the chest. “I’ll not go out looking like the peacock and you the little wren. You’ll wear something elegant as well. This...” She fluffed out a gown of saffron-colored sarcenet, the bodice delicately studded with pearls. “This will be perfect.”

  Astra stared in dismay at the vivid garment. Not only was it garishly bright, she also considered it much too tight and revealing to wear in the daytime.

  “I couldn’t possibly go out in that.”

  “Oh, but you will,” Marguerite insisted. “You’ll wear it to please me, won’t you, ma petite?”

  Astra sighed. It was because of Marguerite’s generosity she had all these beautiful clothes. It seemed ungrateful to refuse to wear them. With resignation, she reached for the yellow garment.

  The two women finished dressing and were fixing their hair when one of the Queen’s men-at-arms announced their escort had arrived. Astra gave one last careless pat to her hair—Marguerite had insisted she wear it covered with only a thin veil and circlet—then followed her friend to the door to greet Sir Richard and de Lacy.

  As soon as she saw him looming in the doorway, Astra’s heartbeat quickened and her knees began to wobble. For all that Sir Richard was attired like a gentleman—his dark clothing clean and brushed and only a short sword in his belt—there was still an aura of menace and danger surrounding him. She stepped forward hesitantly and acknowledged his low bow with a quick nod of her head.

  “Demoiselles, you look exquisite today,” he said.

  “Indeed.” De Lacy smiled warmly. “We will be the envy of all of London when we are seen in the company of these beauties.”

  Astra flushed, acutely aware of her inappropriate attire. Marguerite had no such qualms—she gave de Lacy a seductive look and reached out to pat his elegant crimson tunic. “You two gentlemen look equally dashing. Of all the gallant knights that serve the King, I can think of no others I would rather spend the day with.”

  Sir Richard seemed pleased by Marguerite’s words, while Lord de Lacy appeared embarrassed. Astra felt a stirring of sympathy for the young nobleman. She was intimately acquainted with Marguerite’s forceful nature, and she did not envy de Lacy if his plans for the day ran counter to Marguerite’s intentions.

  They set out to see the sights of London, first taking a wherry to Queenhithe. As they disembarked the small boat, their noses were assaulted by odors from the fish-market of Billingsgate. It was a hot, muggy day, and the odor of decaying fish was almost unbearable. The ladies held scented pomanders to their noses, but Astra was still greatly relieved when they turned north and the air grew fresher.

  Marguerite and Will chatted companionably, but Astra and her escort remained silent. Astra had no gift for small talk, and she was too busy watching her step to make conversation. In places the gutters had overflowed, sending wash water, kitchen refuse and god-knew-what-else into the street. As she grew more adept at keeping her gown safely out of the mire, she began to admire the sights they passed: massive, tiered houses crowding over the street, churches, convents and schools, as well as guildhalls and shops of workers in metals, leather, cloth and fur.

  The streets were filled and everyone seemed to be in a hurry. The variety of people bustling by reminded Astra of the fair at Tudbury. In addition to the familiar nobles, clerics, farmers and merchants, Astra saw cripples and beggars in rags, bands of filthy children who roamed the streets in packs, as well as armed sergeants and beadles in striped robes who were charged with keeping order in the city. At one street they met a group of sheriff’s men leading a prisoner. His hands were bound and the ends of the rope that tied him were attached to the wrists of his captors.

  “What has he done? Where are they taking him?” Astra asked her escort.

  “Hard to tell. Whatever he’s been convicted of, he’s likely headed for Newgate. You have to pity the poor bastard. I’d rather be hung right off than spend a night in that hellhole.”

  Astra shuddered. She was curious about the horrors of Newgate, but she also realized she really did not want to know of them.

  They reached the market of Cheapside, and she had another shock. Two men and a woman were bound in stocks outside the marketplace. They looked utterly wretched, their tongues hanging out in thirst, their faces bespattered by the garbage and dung the crowd had hurled at them.

  “And these poor unfortunates...” Astra shuddered sympathetically. “What have they done to deserve such torture?”

  “The one man’s likely a fishmonger who sold bad fish,” Richard answered, gesturing to the rotting sturgeon that hung from the older man’s neck. “As for the others,” he shrugged dismissingly. “They probably cheated someone as well. You must not feel too sorry for their kind, Astra. If the authorities did not punish people this way, the greedy merchants of this town would poison the lot of us.”

  Astra turned away, unconvinced, and looked uneasily for Marguerite and Will, who seemed to be lagging behind.

  “Should we not wait for them?” she asked as Richard guided her into the noisy crowd.

  “Perhaps they want to be alone. Have you not heard the saying, `two’s company, four’s a crowd’?”

  “That’s ‘three’s a crowd,’” Astra answered stiffly. “And I think we should all stay together. We would be safer that way.” Astra slowed to let Marguerite and Will catch up. Her apprehension was genuine. With their shifty eyes and hardened faces, Astra guessed that some of the ragged men and women in the crowd around them were pickpockets, thieves and other unsavory characters. She wondered if she was truly safe even with Richard at her side.

  Will and Marguerite continued to lag behind as Marguerite stopped to examine the merchandise at nearly every booth they passed. Astra’s attempts to keep them in sight fell by the wayside when she was distracted by the sight of a large crowd gathered around a huge wagon-like structure. It was the stage of a miracle play, the back of it grotesquely painted to resemble the flames of hell. Before the backdrop, a man in a flowing white robe and unnatural golden locks appeared to represent Christ, while another man with a purple cloak and flaming red hair portrayed Pontius Pilate.

  Astra stared in amazement as the two actors worked the crowd—the shabby Christ inspiring praise and sympathy, while Pilate was greeted with jeers and catcalls. She could not decide if what they represented was blasphemy or merely a gaudy form of worship. By the time she thought to look for Marguerite, she realized her friend had well and truly disappeared. Richard had stayed watchfully by her side the whole time. Now he drew even nearer, taking her hand in his. “Are you frightened, Astra, now that you are alone with me?”

  Astra pulled away slightly and regarded him with a disapproving frown. “You promised to protect me. If you are a man of honor you will guard me from evil influences, including those you harbor in your own heart.” Despite her cool words, Astra felt her heart pounding. She feared being alone with Richard. She suspected he would try to kiss her again.

  He laughed delightedly. “What a spirited little thing you are! I find your primness refreshing after the honeyed seductresses of court. I was not wrong about you, Astra. You are as delightfully pure and untouched as I had imagined.”

  Astra watched him warily, unsure whether he was flattering or poking fun at her,

  “Alas, the sun has gone behind the clouds. Tell me, Astra, what makes you frown? Don’t you like what you have seen of London?”

  “In truth, I cannot tell. I see many beautiful things, but I see much ugliness too. There are so many poor people. The peasant
s around Stafford have little, but they do not seem so hungry, so desperate.”

  “The city brings out both the good and bad in people. It can be a desperate place if you are one of the unfortunate ones.”

  Astra nodded, feeling a cold shiver down her spine. What must it be like to slip into the hellish netherworld she had just glimpsed?—the emaciated beggars with twisted limbs and open sores, the raggedy, sharp-eyed children who lurked at the edge of the crowd, waiting for a cart to topple or a distraction to lure a shopkeeper away from his wares, the skulking, grim-faced men who were surely criminals, capable of any cruelty or depravity.

  Astra allowed Richard to take her arm and guide her through the jostling crowd. She could only gape as he led her swiftly past more delights and corruptions: reeking meat and poultry shops surrounded by pools of blood and piles of rotting entrails; goldsmith shops, the counters bright with the gleam of gold and jewels; clothiers displaying bolts of damasks, sarcenets and velvets; rude cookshops that stank of stale ale and rancid grease.

  They stopped at St. Paul’s Cathedral. The courtyard was crowded with ragged, hollow-eyed people, and as they reached the entrance, a group of scrawny children surrounded them. When her escort moved to push them aside, Astra stopped him.

  “No, please—I want to give them something.” She reached to her girdle for the small leather purse Marguerite had pressed upon her earlier, and pulled out a handful of coins. She attempted to pass them out to the children, but a black-haired, bony child who was bigger than the rest grabbed the coins from her hand and ran off.

  Richard laughed. Astra turned indignantly to see him regarding her with a sardonic, self-satisfied smile. “Now you see the futility of doing good works, Astra. You can’t help the genuinely needy ones, because they’ll only be robbed. London is a cruel world, and only the strong survive here.”

  “At least I tried,” Astra said coldly. “At least I can go into the church in good conscience, knowing that I did not turn away completely, that I tried to help my fellow man.”