by The Leopard
Richard’s heart raced. It was a daring plan, and he was not sure some of the men would agree to it. But still, it was better than doing nothing, better than sitting here, waiting to be attacked. And if he succeeded, the rewards would be well worth the risk. If he could report to Henry that at least one band of marauding Welshmen had been wiped out by his forces, the King might accept him back into his good graces, mayhaps even reward him royally.
Hope and exhilaration filled him, easing away the stiffness the rain and cold brought to his muscles and joints.
“Tom!” he called out softly to his companion. “Come here. I just had this idea.”
* * *
With all the royal family’s retinue and baggage, it took five days of traveling to reach Woodstock. Astra immediately decided the journey was well worth it. Compared to the squalor of London, the lush countryside of the Midlands was near heaven. The air was pristine and fresh, the manor itself stately and cool. Even the grounds around the estate seemed washed clean by the frequent rains. Still, like the palace at Westminster, the manor was filled to bursting with people, Astra found herself assigned to a sleeping pallet outside the Queen’s chamber, crowded in with a dozen other unmarried women.
Astra washed the dust of the road from her face and changed into a fresh gown, then joined the rest of the royal entourage in the King’s Hall. It was a luxurious room, with a high-vaulted timber ceiling and a floor of dark red tiles. Except for the light that shone in the large trefoil window on one wall, the room was dim. Velvet draperies along the walls kept out the cold in winter, and the heat in summer. The royal couple arrived to sit at the large oaken table on the dais, and the rest of the court guests took their places at the rows of trestle tables.
Halfway through the meal, a group of mud-spattered soldiers entered the hall and walked to the dais. Astra observed the King lean forward to talk with one of the men who had arrived. Something about the knight caught Astra’s eye. His shoulders were unusually broad, and despite his disheveled appearance, there was a graceful elegance in his stance. Astra’s breathing quickened. Was it possible? Could it really be Richard?
The man gestured. The King listened, his drooping eye giving him the appearance of being half-asleep, even though it was obvious he paid close attention to what the man was saying. The soldier turned, still gesturing, and Astra’s heart seemed to leap into her throat. It was Richard! He was there, at Woodstock, in the very room!
Astra clasped her hands together and tried to calm herself. If the men were there to report on the war in Wales, it seemed likely that the King would ask them to stay for the banquet. Afterwards there would be entertainment, and, while everyone lingered in the hall, she would have a chance to speak to Richard. It seemed almost too wonderful, too fortuitous to be true.
As Astra watched, the King nodded curtly to the group of soldiers. Then he turned his attention to the food set before him. Obviously dismissed, the bedraggled delegation bowed to the King and Queen, then left the dais and began to make their way across the hall. Astra stared in desperation after Richard’s departing form and prayed he would rejoin the banquet later.
Servants brought in steaming platters of roast coney, sturgeon in sauce, capon in crust, fresh onions, leeks, and fruit tarts and pies. Astra took tiny portions and absentmindedly pushed the food around on her trencher. She had no appetite for anything except the sight of the man she loved.
The meal progressed and Richard did not reappear. Astra began to worry the King had ordered the soldiers back to Wales immediately. She cursed herself for not following Richard the moment he left the hall. He had been so close—not more than two dozen paces away—and she had let him leave without speaking to him. The frustration built inside her. She began to squirm and shift in her seat until several people cast her reproving glances. Unable to bear it a moment longer, she excused herself from the table and left the hall.
Astra’s heart sank when she saw the nearly-deserted courtyard. It seemed all too likely that the party of soldiers had left. Her only hope was they had been forced to rest their horses before setting out again. After questioning a servant, Astra made her way through the maze of alleyways and outbuildings behind the manor and found the stables. There she encountered plenty of horses, but no soldiers. She asked one of the King’s grooms, and he shook his head. He had seen no knights recently in this part of the royal complex.
It was almost twilight, and Astra was growing desperate. Retracing her steps, she made her way to the entrance of the manor. She had intended to ask the guard at the gate if he had seen the knights from Wales, but when she glanced out at the darkening forest, she guessed where Richard was. A veritable army camp had been set up on the strip of parkland between the manor and the woods. The soldiers who accompanied the King were preparing to bed down for the night outside the gates of the manor. It was likely that Richard and the other men from Wales had made camp there as well.
Wistfully, Astra stared out at the tents and glowing campfires. There was no way to see Richard now. It was growing dark, and she could not leave the manor without attracting notice. Besides, if she stayed away from the hall much longer, the gossip would begin.
Astra returned to the hall and reluctantly took her seat. There were a few curious glances sent her way, but nothing truly ominous.
The royal gathering was being entertained by a jongleur. The Queen favored traditional love stories from her native land, and this evening the ballad was about Tristan and Isolde. Astra was usually unaffected by tales of love and woe, but tonight the singer’s words had special poignancy. She nearly wept when he reached the part where the lovers were separated. It seemed so much like her own fate. Richard was here, living, breathing—and likely sleeping now—in a tent not a stone’s throw away from where she sat. But he might as well have been in the Holy Land. Worse yet, he would likely return to Wales and the dangers of battle without ever knowing how she felt about him.
The performance ended, and the King and Queen rose to retire to their private quarters. As the mass of courtiers and ladies began to leave the hall, a sudden thought came to Astra. The manor was exceptionally crowded, especially the sleeping apartments. If she could manage to slip out during the night, she would never be missed. Still, how would she find her way around the manor? How would she get through the gates? She wished Marguerite was here. Since she wasn’t, she would have to manage by herself.
As the crowd of Queen’s ladies filed from the hall, Astra knew abruptly what her plan must be.
“Lady Alyce,” she called out pleasantly to a small dark-haired girl who lingered behind the other women. “Wait for me. I would have a word with you.”
Nineteen
“What is it, Astra?” Lady Alyce’s large brown eyes were both interested and wary as Astra hurried up to her. Astra held a finger to her lips and drew the other woman aside. “I have a favor to ask of you,” she whispered. “Can you keep a secret?”
Lady Alyce shrugged. Astra took a deep breath, weighing the risk she was taking. Alyce was quiet and kept to herself, but it was rumored she regularly left the palace to meet lovers. It might be only gossip, but Astra suspected not. When any knights were around, Alyce’s smile always seemed to grow brighter, and her melting brown eyes danced around like little birds seeking a branch to alight on. Of all the ladies who served the Queen, Alyce seemed the one most likely to be willing and able to plan a nighttime excursion outside the manor.
“There is someone I must meet with privately tonight,” Astra began. “He is camped outside the manor with the other knights. Can you help me?”
Alyce’s eyes perused Astra’s face shrewdly. A slight smile touched her lips as she answered. “’Tis easily done. Most of the guards will help you, if you explain what you’re about. The few who are stubborn can usually be bribed.”
Bribed? Astra’s heart sank. She had no money, not a penny.
Alyce saw her look and smirked. “Not with coin, you ninny. A quick feel, a long hot kiss—that’s a
ll those sort are after.”
Astra felt decidedly sick.
“I’ll go with you if you like,” Alyce offered. “There’s a big Saxon I’ve had my eye on. I’m afraid he’ll be marching for Wales soon.”
At the mention of Wales, Astra’s determination intensified. She couldn’t let Richard go back to that horrible war without telling him how she felt.
“What time?” she asked grimly.
“Listen for the bells of matins. I’ll be awake. We’ll wait for the watch to go by and then slip out.”
* * *
It wasn’t cold at all, but Astra shivered as she and Alyce crept out of bed and slipped past the rows of sleeping women. Alyce went ahead of her, moving with the confident stealth of one accustomed to night errands. Their hair was covered and both wore drab worn clothes meant to disguise them from curious eyes. Marguerite would be appalled that Astra was meeting her lover in a simple brown bliaut and ragged cloak, but it couldn’t be helped. If they were stopped, they would claim to be kitchen maids.
The manor was quiet, the only noises the soft snores floating from the sleeping chambers and the scuffle of rats among the floor rushes. They left the royal family’s private quarters and stole breathlessly through the Great Hall.
It was eerily still. Rushlights burned along the walls, illuminating the large cavernous room. Alyce led Astra into the kitchen. In the huge hearth a fire was left burning. A dozing page kept watch nearby. The leftover smells of food stirred Astra’s senses and made her hungry. Alyce carefully opened the creaking door, and out the back way they went, scurrying like mice.
The damp night air washed over Astra’s face. She was alert now, intensely aware of everything around her. There was a bright full moon, the Corn Moon the peasants called it. It lit the manor courtyard with a blaze of whiteness. Glancing up, Alyce shook her head. “There’s no hope we won’t be seen. We must find a guard to help us.”
Astra nodded. The anxiety in her belly tightened. They circled the yard and passed the buttery, the granary, then the mews. As they neared the gate, they heard a low growl. Astra stiffened, expecting the dog to attack.
“Hullo, boy, what is it?” a voice muttered.
Alyce stepped out of the shadows to face a lean, wraithlike soldier.
“It’s us, sir,” she said calmly. “We are scullery girls from the kitchen. We have an errand in the camp. Will you let us pass?”
Even by moonlight, the man’s leering smile was obvious. “An errand, have you now? And what errand might that be?”
Alyce’s voice was suddenly seductive. “One of the knights has asked for... entertainments. You would not want to disappoint the Black Leopard, would you now?”
Astra drew in her breath sharply. She had made no mention to Alyce of who she was meeting!
The soldier was almost as surprised. He guffawed low, and then grabbed Astra’s arm, pulling her out of the shadows. He stared hard at her face, and Astra’s stomach seemed to fall into her legs.
“Aye, he might be wanting you, for all that,” he said in a thoughtful voice. “You two are right comely wenches. But it seems unfair he should get both of you. Some of us other soldiers get lonely, too.”
“He asked for us both,” Alyce said coldly. “Would you dare to disregard the Black Leopard’s wishes?”
Astra couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw the man’s eyes widen in fear. Then his face again twisted into a crude smile. “I’ve heard of the Leopard’s voracious appetites. No doubt he’ll take you both at the same time—the greedy, gluttonous bastard!”
Astra stared, unable to believe what she’d heard. It couldn’t be true—surely Richard didn’t indulge in such depravity. The man was simply jealous and eager to disparage his betters.
“Will you help us?” Alyce coaxed. “There might be a reward in it for you.”
“Aye, I’ll help,” the man growled. “Take you right to his tent I will. I just hope the Leopard thinks it’s worth his while. If he don’t...” His eyes glittered. “I’ll expect to get my reward anyway.”
Alyce nodded, and the man turned and led them to the gate. He spoke low to the sentry and then stepped aside so the guard could see them more clearly. Astra resisted the urge to pull up her hood. The guard appeared to inspect her to see if she was alluring enough to interest a famed knight like the Leopard.
After a moment, he grunted. “I guess Reivers is up to his old tricks. Been a long while since I’ve known him to take two wenches to bed.”
Astra frowned. She really must speak to Richard about his shocking reputation.
The soldiers’ camp was much noisier than the manor. Despite the lateness, many of the men were still up, dicing and talking around the fires. As their escort led them unobtrusively through the rows of tents, Astra could hear snores, grunts, sighs and occasional feminine laughter. She was glad she had asked Alyce for assistance. Even if she had been able to get through the gate unnoticed, she would never have found Richard’s tent, and the thought of wandering around alone at night among all these soldiers unnerved her.
After a while the man guiding them stopped and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“What’s wrong?” Astra whispered.
“Can’t find it. Thought he’d have his banner up to mark his tent, but he don’t.”
She wanted to scream with frustration. The man had no idea where he was going. All this time he’d probably been leading them in circles!
“Might as well ask someone,” he added. “Wait here.”
Astra closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. Her plan was absolute folly. By the time they found Richard, it would be almost morning, and she’d have little time to talk to him. She should never have attempted such a foolish thing. Marguerite was good at intrigue, but she was not. When she tried it, everything ended up so bungled it was almost comical.
Behind her, Alyce yawned. Astra turned, regarding the sleepy-eyed woman curiously. “This sort of thing—do you do it often?”
Alyce shrugged. “Often enough. It’s easier at the palace. I know the guards there, and they aren’t such bumbling dullards. I tell them who I want to meet, and they take me there, for a price, of course.”
Astra nodded, feeling a faint queasiness in her belly. For all that she dressed in fine clothes and put on airs for the Queen, Alyce was little better than a strumpet.
“Why... why do you do it?”
Alyce made a vulgar sound. “What think you? I like it. My father plans to marry me off to some filthy rich old geezer. Why shouldn’t I enjoy myself with lusty young men while I can?”
“Are you in love with any of them?”
The moonlight was bright enough for Astra to see Alyce’s face quite clearly. Her delicate features contorted into a sneer. “Love is for ninnies.” Her brown eyes fixed coldly on Astra. “You think your precious Richard truly cares for you? Hah! You’re only his latest challenge. As soon as he has you, his interest will wane quickly enough.” Alyce’s brittle smile returned. “Perhaps then he’ll seek me to warm his bed. Or we could even pleasure him together, what the French call a ménage à trois.”
Astra’s eyes widened. “You can’t really think Richard would agree to that!”
“I’ve heard the Black Leopard’s tastes are quite varied,” Alyce purred. “And he’s not easily satisfied by the commonplace or ordinary.” She perused Astra assessingly. “Which makes me wonder what use he has for you. The gossip is that you were raised in a convent and know absolutely nothing about men.”
Astra was too stunned to respond. She had no chance anyway. The soldier had returned and was motioning for them to follow him. They walked back through the camp, seemingly taking the same route they had just traveled. The man finally paused in front of an unmarked tent. “Here in dwells the Black Leopard. I suggest you wake him and ask for my fee.”
Astra stared at the shadowy tent uneasily. What if the man was wrong and it wasn’t Richard’s tent? What if Richard did not greet her eagerly? Worst of all—what if he
was not the man she knew at all, but a stranger with bestial habits?
She glanced at her two companions and realized her doubts were irrelevant. Alyce and the soldier expected her to go into the tent and face the Leopard alone, and they would not abide a long delay.
Slowly, anxiously, Astra pulled aside the tent flap and looked in.
At first, it was too dark to see anything, but gradually her eyes adjusted to the dim torchlight that filtered in through the tent opening. The place was a frightful mess. Weapons and clothes lay everywhere. A huge chest sat near the entrance, a chessboard on the top. Finely-carved game pieces were strewn across it like discarded children’s toys. She took a step into the tent and stumbled on a wineskin.
“Who goes there?”
She righted herself, looking deeper into the tent, where she could make out Richard’s form as he sat up. The shape of his bare chest was visible, his face still shrouded in shadows. She took a deep breath and answered. “It is I, Astra de Mortain.”
She could hear his indrawn breath. Moments passed. “Astra?” he finally asked. “Is it truly you?”
She nodded and then felt a fool. He probably couldn’t see the movement. “I’ve come to talk to you.”
There was a rustling sound as he threw the blankets side. The tent was too low for him to stand up. He approached her awkwardly, his head bent down.
“Astra? What are you doing here?”
“As I said, I need to speak to you.”
He moved close to her and then stopped. She still could not see his face. She glanced at his body and then regretted it. From the light coming in from an opening in the tent, Richard appeared to be completely naked.