by The Leopard
Marguerite silenced him with a glare. “Nonsense. It’s still well before sunset, and the city is overrun by sergeants and beadles whose duty is to keep the peace. We’ll be perfectly safe.”
Astra felt a prickle of warning in her belly. She had seen for herself that London could be a dangerous place, even in the daytime. How much more so would it be after dark? She glanced at the two knights who walked behind them. The men were armed to the teeth, and Marguerite had promised to remain in sight of their escort at all times. Astra wondered if her naiveté made her exaggerate the dangers of the city. Besides, she really did want to see the famous bridge. She joined Marguerite and the two knights in the wherry.
The river was swift but relatively calm this night. Still, Astra was relieved when they disembarked at a wharf near Billingsgate, and Marguerite announced they would walk the rest of the way. It was a lovely evening. Behind them, the sky glowed with the dazzling orange and violet of a summer sunset.
They passed the Tower and came out on Walbrook Street at the entrance to the bridge. Astra gasped in amazement. There were houses and shops crowding the narrow causeway across the Thames. “Sweet heaven—it’s almost a town unto itself,” she murmured.
“Just imagine, Astra, there are likely more people living on the bridge than in the whole village of Stafford.”
Astra nodded, feeling awed. Watching the waning sunlight reflect from the jumble of buildings covering almost every inch of space on the bridge, she realized this was a sight she might well tell her children about someday.
They passed through the massive gatehouse and began to traverse the bridge. Astra’s pleasure turned quickly to apprehension. Houses and shops loomed over the passageway across the river, almost blocking out the sky. The street itself was so narrow two horsemen could scarcely pass. The bridge stank of excrement and garbage. Astra felt a sense of suffocating enclosure, and she was greatly relieved when they finally reached the other side and progressed into open space.
“You’ve seen the bridge then, Lady Marguerite,” the older of the Fitz Hugh knights said sharply. “It’s time to return to Westminster.”
“But we haven’t eaten yet, and I’m starved. Aren’t you, Astra?”
Marguerite looked to Astra for confirmation. Astra didn’t know what to do. She heartily agreed with the knight that they should go back, but the thought of immediately returning along the airless, almost subterranean route they had just passed through filled her with dread. “I suppose we could rest awhile.”
Marguerite smiled delightedly. “Well, then, now to find a place to dine.” She set off briskly down the quay.
“This is Southwark, my lady,” the younger knight called after her. “There are no eating establishments in this part of the city that are fit for gentlewomen.”
“Of course there are, de Saer.” Marguerite cast a wicked grin backwards. “I’ve heard you say that a man can find anything he wishes in Southwark.”
De Saer flushed at Marguerite’s teasing. The older knight, Weland, flashed Marguerite a resentful look and then shrugged at de Saer. “It seems Lady Marguerite must learn for herself.”
Astra felt her stomach do a little flip-flop. It was obvious their escort had doubts about their destination, but they were not willing to do anything to deter Marguerite. With utmost reluctance, she joined the knights and followed after her friend. She felt relatively safe with de Saer and Weland on either side of her. It was Marguerite—walking far ahead—she worried about.
De Saer had not been exaggerating, Astra thought grimly. Even compared to the rest of London, the filth of Southwark was appalling. Manure and refuse were piled everywhere. Shabby dwellings crowded almost to the river, and down the runnel-like streets ran hordes of half-naked, dirty and emaciated children. As they turned off the quay, beggars immediately accosted them. Marguerite had one of the knights scatter a handful of coins from the purse he carried for her. As the wretched souls scrabbled and fought over the money, Astra shuddered. She remembered a similar depressing scene in the courtyard of St. Paul’s, and Richard’s remarks about only the strong surviving.
They walked among the low-slung alehouses huddled along the narrow streets, and Astra saw with surprise that there were well-dressed knights mingling with the ruffians. As they turned the corner, she caught a glimpse of a broad-shouldered, dark-haired man a few paces ahead of them. Almost immediately the man turned and spoke to his companion, and Astra realized it was not Richard. Even so, her heart pounded, and a hot ache throbbed inside her. Suddenly, in her mind, she was in the garden by the Tower again, watching Richard take off his tunic. She had not been able to look away from his gleaming brown skin and thick corded muscles. When he had leaned down to kiss her, his mouth sensual and moist, she had reached out and touched him. She could still recall kneading her fingers into his naked silky skin, how she had lost herself in his scent and feel and taste.
Marguerite, now walking next to Astra, leaned over and whispered in her ear, “What deep thoughts are you thinking?”
Astra blushed. Marguerite saw the flush on her cheeks and smiled. “Ah, let me guess. You were thinking about Richard.”
Astra started to protest. Marguerite chuckled and patted her arm. “It’s all right, sweeting. I know you have not forgotten him. Indeed, he is not an easy man to forget. I still say he has the most splendid shoulders in Christendom.”
“Have a care for my feelings, Marguerite. The mere mention of Richard distresses me.”
“Oh, I am well content that it does. It takes only a tiny reminder of Sir Richard to make your cheeks go pink and your eyes to sparkle. I imagine the thought of him produces other interesting changes in your person as well. Perhaps your heart beats faster, your skin grows suddenly hot and tingling...”
“Marguerite! Your words are most unseemly!”
Her friend chuckled again. “I am right or you would not protest... nor would your face turn such a vivid hue. You are still in love with him. I would wager my last silver penny on it.”
“For the thousandth time, Marguerite! It was not love, but lust! The man arouses my most base, vile—”
“Hush, sweeting. You don’t want our escort to overhear.”
Astra clapped her hand over her mouth, utterly mortified. In her frustration she had been talking loudly, virtually announcing to the Fitz Hugh knights that she lusted for a man! She glared at Marguerite, who nearly collapsed in a fit of giggling.
“Find a place to eat, Marguerite,” Astra said coldly. “Otherwise I shall take our escort and leave you.”
Marguerite gestured to a nearby tavern. “At last. This place will do perfectly.”
Astra looked doubtful. The gloomy alehouse called the Black Swan appeared no better than the rest of the Southwark establishments they had passed. Their escort led the way into the place, and Astra saw that it was filled with grim-faced knights and villainous-looking sailors. De Saer and Weland exchanged an uneasy glance, and fingered their sword hilts.
Marguerite selected a table in the far corner, and a blowzy serving wench wearing a startlingly bright shade of lip rouge sauntered over to them and demanded to know what they wanted. Marguerite ignored the wench’s impertinence and ordered a trencher of food. The knights did likewise, and Astra also nodded her assent to the woman’s questioning look. As the woman cleared the table of used ale mugs, Astra could scarcely tear her eyes away. The bar maid wore a gown so thin and loose that her large, pendulous breasts were nearly visible beneath it. The thought occurred to Astra that the woman likely sold more than food to her customers.
As they waited for their meal, Astra perused the rest of the establishment’s occupants. A mangy pack of men diced at the other end, casting furtive looks at Marguerite’s party. In one corner a drunk slumped over a table, snoring loudly, while from a table of hard-eyed soldiers came guffaws of laughter. One of them stood up and stretched his long, lean form. Astra’s eyes widened in shock as she gazed across the dim tavern. As the tall knight moved aside, she cou
ld see a dark-haired girl sitting on a bench between two other knights. Her gown was down to her waist, her plump, round breasts fully exposed.
“Marguerite!” Astra gasped. “This is not a tavern, it’s a bawdy house. We must leave at once!”
Marguerite glanced at the half-naked girl and set her jaw. “We came to eat and so we shall. I won’t be driven off by a pack of ruffians who don’t have the decency to find a bedchamber in which to indulge their crude entertainments.”
“Lady Astra is right,” de Saer interjected angrily. “This is no place for highborn females. If there should be trouble...” His jaw clenched. “There are only two of us, demoiselle. We would not have a chance against a group like that.”
“Aye,” his older companion muttered. “If you were not paying us so well, Lady Marguerite—above and beyond what your father offers us—we would not have given in to this mad folly of yours at all. This place is a cesspool. No decent woman should allow herself to be seen here.”
“Are you implying that Lady Astra and I are not decent women?”
Weland flushed, and Astra guessed that Marguerite’s clever tongue was too much for these simple fighting men. By the time they finished arguing, the food would have arrived, and Marguerite would see that they stayed to finish it.
She stood. “Marguerite, I insist we leave. If you don’t allow these men to escort us home immediately, I will no longer call you my friend.”
Marguerite gave a hurt little sigh. “I must say, you can be a tyrant at times.” She rose and leaned to whisper in Astra’s ear. “We can’t leave yet. I promised someone I would meet them here. You wouldn’t want me to go back on my word—would you?”
Astra made a strangled sound. It was all clear to her now. Marguerite had an assignation with a man, a man she dare not meet at the palace. “Dear Lord, Marguerite,” she whispered back, “Who is he? What have you done?”
Marguerite gave her a sly smile. “There’s no harm in it. He’s a nobleman, a very respectable man. He’ll see to it that we are safe.”
Astra opened her mouth to express her exasperation but had no chance. The tall soldier from the other table walked towards them. “Leaving so soon?” he leered.
Weland stood and grabbed Marguerite’s arm, steering her urgently toward the door. De Saer was on his feet a second later. He put his hand on Astra’s sleeve and guided her after their companions.
The tall knight moved directly into their path. His face twisted into an evil grin. “I was addressing the lady.”
Without answering, Weland drew his sword. The sound of other weapons being drawn hissed through the room.
The tall knight jerked his head. “We only want the dells, mate. Leave them here, and you can be on your way.” He smiled genially, displaying an assortment of black and broken teeth.
Astra held her breath as she sensed their escort’s hesitation. Mary, Mother of God! Please don’t leave us to these brutes!
A bare heartbeat passed before the Fitz Hugh knights lunged forward and the tavern erupted with flashing knives and thrashing bodies.
The dark-haired girl at the other table screamed, the sound echoing horribly in the low-ceilinged room. Astra and Marguerite clutched each other, watching hopelessly as their defenders groped and struggled directly in their pathway.
“The back way!” Marguerite gasped. Astra nodded and joined her friend’s frantic race across the slippery, sawdust-strewn floor. The red-rouged serving wench loomed in front of them, gaping at the confusion. Astra shoved her aside.
They sped through the narrow, smoke-filled kitchen. As the back door came in sight, a tall form appeared in their pathway.
Seventeen
“Astra! Marguerite! What’s happened?”
Astra threw herself into Richard’s arms. “Help us, Richard! Help us! Those horrible men are after us, and they’re killing the Fitz Hugh knights!”
“What? Where are they?”
Astra and Marguerite pointed breathlessly. Richard drew his dagger and tore through the kitchen.
The two women hugged each other in relief. Then, after a moment, Marguerite announced: “I’m going back. Those are my father’s men. I’m responsible for them.”
Astra nodded. “I’ll... I’ll go with you.”
The two women crept cautiously back to the main room of the tavern. The sounds of fighting had abated, but they could hear angry shouting. They peeked around the doorway. The serving wench blocked their way, but Richard’s smooth, taunting voice came to them clearly.
“Even your cowardly lord, Faucomberg, won’t be able to get you out of this blunder, Fitz Warren. Those women aren’t cheap doxies you can abuse for your pleasure. They’re gentlewomen, the Queen’s own ladies.”
“A likely story, Reivers,” Richard’s opponent sneered. “I hardly think any of the Queen’s ladies would be wandering around Southwark after dark.”
“It’s true.” One of the Fitz Hugh knights spoke. Astra wasn’t sure if it was de Saer or Weland, but she recognized his slight northern accent. “Lady Marguerite is the daughter of Lord Reginald Fitz Hugh. He won’t take kindly to having his daughter frightened and mistreated.”
“Lady Marguerite, is it?” the man named Fitz Warren gloated. “The word is that Fitz Hugh’s daughter is a light skirt. That she’ll lift her linen for any man who wields a shaft big enough for her tastes. And the little pudding-pie doll with her—she looks like a fine piece as well.”
“Shut your filthy mouth!” The rage in Richard’s voice made Astra tremble. She pushed forward, trying to see past the serving woman. She caught a glimpse of Richard’s back, but still could not see his antagonist.”
“What’s it to you, Reivers?” the man named Fitz Warren snickered. “You’re only a low-born bastard. But then, it’s rather appropriate for you to defend these whores. After all your mother was one herself.”
Astra could see Richard tense and raise his knife to attack. She gasped in terror and forced her way into the room. Richard’s opponent’s sword glittered in the dim light.
The sword flashed. Richard jumped back, then a moment later, sprang to meet his enemy. There was a terrible anguished cry. Richard’s opponent collapsed to the floor, moaning and clutching his face.
“No!” Astra called out.
Richard turned. “Get away, Astra. Don’t look!”
It was too late. Her gaze was compulsively drawn to the wounded man who thrashed and moaned on the floor. The man held his hands to his face, helpless to remove the dagger that protruded from his bloody, ruined eye.
Astra swallowed convulsively. The room began to sway.
Her legs turned to water beneath her, and she crumpled to the ground.
* * *
Richard was halfway across the room when Astra collapsed. Two steps more, and he knelt beside her. He reached out to touch her pale face and then hesitated. Astra despised violence and bloodshed. Would she ever forgive him for what he had done today?
“My God, is she all right?”
Richard looked up to see Marguerite’s shocked, drained countenance. His fury broke loose again. “Why did you bring her here? What madness possessed you to subject Astra to the scum of Southwark?”
“I...” Marguerite stammered. She glanced uneasily at the tall, blond-haired knight who had just entered the tavern.
Richard’s eyes flickered to the man, then back to Marguerite. “You were meeting Baldwin, weren’t you?” he accused. “You brought Astra here to disguise the fact you were meeting your lover.”
Marguerite’s fine features darkened with resentment. “We were guarded by my father’s men the entire time. I never imagined anything would happen to Astra. Indeed, nothing did. I’m sure she only fainted because she was so appalled by your savagery.”
“My savagery! Would you rather I hadn’t come to your aid? Would you rather I let that sick bastard ravish you and Astra?”
“It wouldn’t have come to that,” Marguerite said coldly. “De Saer and Weland could have dealt
with him.”
Richard frowned in disgust and then glanced again at Astra. She stirred slightly. He gave her a stricken look, then stood and addressed Marguerite’s companion. “Get Astra back to Westminster, Baldwin. Make sure nothing else happens to her.”
The knight nodded. “Of course, Richard. I’m happy to do whatever I can. I only wish I’d arrived sooner. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have been forced to take on Fitz Warren by yourself.” He cast an apprehensive look at the wounded man, who was now surrounded by his rough companions. “I hate to think what Faucomberg’s going to make of this. He’ll likely go to the King and denounce you.”
Richard shrugged. “It was worth it.” He gave Astra one last look, then began to push through the crowd of knights and ruffians. On the way out the door, Ruby caught his arm.
“You were magnificent, love, simply magnificent.”
He shrugged her hand away. “Not now, Ruby.”
* * *
“Which green do you prefer, Astra?” the Queen asked thoughtfully. “This one seems too bright, the other too drab.”
“It would depend upon where you are going to hang it.” Astra fingered the lush velvet cloth spread out across the table. “If it’s a dark room, the brighter shade would not seem so vivid. The light you view it in will make a great deal of difference.”
Queen Eleanor nodded. “I’ll have to take both bolts to Woodstock and examine them in the bedchamber there. Then I must also consider the paint and the design for the wainscoting.” She sighed. “There is so much to do. I am glad you are coming along to help me, Astra. I truly value your opinion. For all that you were raised in a nunnery, you have reliably good taste.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I’m pleased I can be of assistance.”
“Your Highness, there is a Lord de Lacy outside asking to see Lady Astra,” a servant interrupted.
“De Lacy?” Eleanor cocked her head in surprise. “Isn’t he keeping Lady Marguerite’s company these days?”
“Aye, Your Grace,” Astra answered. “Perhaps he seeks my advice in some matter regarding her.”