Lord Gawain's Forbidden Mistress

by Carol Townend

  ‘There are other wet-nurses,’ Vivienne said slowly.

  ‘Please say you’ll come.’ And, as if Pearl sensed what the two women were talking about, she chose that moment to finish feeding and gave Vivienne such a beatific smile that Elise had to laugh. ‘See? Pearl agrees with me.’

  Vivienne’s lips curved. ‘Elise, she has wind. I am not sure it’s a real smile.’

  ‘It’s a real smile. Pearl wants you to come with us. Please say you will.’

  ‘I shall think about it.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  A trill of laughter outside caught Elise’s attention and she peeped thorough a gap in the shutter. Gabrielle, the girl from the Black Boar, was flirting with one of the men-at-arms. Her laugh was light and her expression carefree. Gabrielle glanced at the house and Elise’s heart jolted. Did she have news of André? Gabrielle’s face was bright with laughter. She didn’t look as though she was bearing bad tidings. None the less, Elise didn’t want to hear what she had to say with Vivienne as witness. If it was bad news, Elise wanted time to work out how best to break it to Vivienne.

  Rising, Elise took up her shawl and wound it about her before picking Pearl up and securing her next to her heart.

  ‘I am going to stock up on flour,’ she murmured. ‘Until we move to the manor we shall still be doing our own cooking.’

  Vivienne blinked. ‘We’ll have a cook at the manor? Lord.’ She paused. ‘Not that I’ve agreed to come with you, you understand. I’m going to wait until André returns. We shall decide together.’

  ‘Of course.’ Elise put her head to one side. ‘We’ll have a steward and men-at-arms. We might even have a maid.’

  Vivienne’s eyes were as round as pennies. ‘A maid?’

  ‘I thought that might tempt you,’ Elise said with a grin. ‘Think about it. I won’t be long.’

  Chapter Eleven

  In the street, Elise gestured for Gabrielle. With a toss of her head and a farewell smile at Gawain’s men, Gabrielle followed her to the crossroads. From inside the shawl, Pearl gurgled. A small arm appeared around the edge of the fringing.

  Gabrielle leaned closer to touch her. ‘She’s beautiful,’ she said softly, and some of the gaiety left her expression.

  ‘I think so,’ Elise murmured. ‘Though I’m bound to be biased.’

  Gabrielle sighed and stepped back. ‘Which way?’

  The bishop’s palace lay on their right hand; the bridge over the canal on their left. Elise nodded towards the bridge. ‘I’m headed for the market. I’ll walk with you to the tavern.’ She met Gabrielle’s eyes. ‘Thank you for your discretion back at the house. I don’t want to worry Vivienne unnecessarily and I can see you’ve heard something.’

  Gabrielle picked up her skirts to avoid a bundle of hay that must have fallen off one of the merchant’s carts. ‘It’s not much, but I thought you’d want to know. Yesterday morning some castle guards came to the tavern. They were talking about you.’ She smiled. ‘Well, not you exactly. They were talking about Blanchefleur le Fay. They knew she was going to sing at the palace. One of them was determined to hear you. He was most concerned about how you would sing without your lute-player.’

  ‘I hadn’t realised that you knew I was Blanchefleur.’

  Gabrielle’s smile was mischievous. ‘I didn’t at first, but it’s hard to keep secrets in Troyes. Anyhow, your admirer in the guard had been on patrol on the city walls and he’d seen André take the road to Provins. He thought it curious that André had his lute with him—it made him suspect that André was intending to be away for some time.’

  ‘André was heading for Provins?’ Elise thought quickly. Provins was another of Count Henry’s market towns. As well-known as Troyes, it lay halfway between Paris and Troyes. André had never mentioned knowing anyone in Provins, but if he had become involved with rogues and counterfeiters elsewhere in Champagne he would have good reason not to mention it. Lord, what was he embroiled in? Her stomach sank. Was he in over his head?

  In the shawl, Pearl whimpered. Elise was holding her too tightly. Relaxing her grip, Elise kissed Pearl’s forehead and concentrated on what Gabrielle was saying.

  ‘Your admirer hadn’t heard about Baderon agreeing to play for you—he was most anxious on your behalf. He’s been watching out for André’s return.’

  Elise took Gabrielle’s arm. ‘Do you know when André left exactly?’

  ‘The guard didn’t say, but I got the impression it was fairly recently—within the past couple of days.’

  They crossed the bridge over the canal and took the main thoroughfare. Shadows were shortening and the streets were already filling with townsfolk.

  Gabrielle glanced at the sky. There wasn’t a cloud in sight. She sighed. ‘It will be hot again today.’

  ‘I fear so.’

  Gabrielle touched Elise’s hand. ‘I’m sorry I don’t have more to tell you.’

  ‘You’ve been a great help, thank you. At least we know that André was alive a few days ago.’

  ‘What will you do? Will you go to Provins?’

  Overhead, a swift screeched, darting back and forth over the tall, wooden houses. Eyes on the swift as it wove patterns in the sky, Elise hesitated. ‘I don’t know.’ Her thoughts churned. She might well have to go to Provins, but she was reluctant to admit as much to Gabrielle. True, the girl had been helpful, but Elise hardly knew her. Could she be relied upon to be discreet?

  ‘Provins is on the Paris road,’ Gabrielle added. ‘It is quite a way. Do you ride?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘You could walk it over the course of a few days but your feet are likely to be blistered at the end of it. And what with this heat—’

  ‘It would be unbearable.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Gabrielle slanted her a look. ‘It’s a pity Lord Gawain is occupied with Lady Rowena, otherwise you might have joined his party. I heard he was heading for Provins.’

  Elise looked coolly at her. ‘He was headed for Sainte-Colombe.’

  Gabrielle grinned. ‘Which lies cheek by jowl with Provins.’

  Elise held down a sigh. Did the world know about her and Gawain? ‘I am not certain I need to go. Likely André will return in a day or so.’

  ‘Very likely.’ Gabrielle squinted towards the sun. ‘Heavens, it’s late. Agnes needs help in the kitchen.’ She pointed down a shadowy alley. ‘I’m going that way. It’s quicker. Fare you well.’

  ‘Farewell, Gabrielle. Many thanks.’

  ‘You are most welcome.’ Gabrielle took a few steps down the alley, skirted round a heap of yellowing cabbages and looked back. ‘Elise, one thing further—if you find yourself in Provins and can’t find your friend, you might make enquiries about the caves.’

  ‘Caves?’

  Gabrielle’s smile was crooked. Her voice was low, rushed. ‘Ask about the caves. Farewell.’ She hurried into the shadows and Elise was left staring after her, a statue in the stream of people flowing past the alley.

  Caves? What caves? It was clear Gabrielle knew more than she was prepared to say. Elise stared blindly at a sagging door frame and grimaced. The stink of rotting cabbage in this street was unbearable.

  Hand covering her nose, she turned thoughtfully towards the market. Provins. Saints, with Gawain pursuing his courtship of Lady Rowena nearby, it was the last place she wanted to go. Of course, André might not have gone to Provins. He might have stopped off en route. Except it sounded extremely likely that Provins would have been his destination. A town that was similar to Troyes would be exactly the sort of place that low-life fraudsters might choose for their headquarters. There would be plenty of hiding places. Caves?

  André’s welfare was what counted. Like it or not, she must go to Provins. And she must go soon. Before the Guardian Knights learned that André had been seen
on the Provins road. André needed her and, compared to his welfare, worrying about avoiding Gawain was a trivial matter. It wouldn’t stop her from going. In any case, it should be easy to avoid the Count of Meaux. He would be moving in very different circles. He would be staying with Count Faramus in Sainte-Colombe. If Elise went to Provins, she was unlikely to see him. André was in deep trouble. She was sure of it. And before she set off, she would find out about the caves.

  Baderon! Elise’s spirits lifted. Baderon knew Champagne like the back of his hand. He would surely tell her about the Provins caves.

  * * *

  Vivienne flung the wooden spoon aside and slammed down the lid of the cooking pot. ‘I’m coming with you!’

  Elise flinched. ‘Careful, love, I only just bought that pot.’

  ‘Jésu, as if I cared! André is in peril. I know it. We both know it. I’m coming with you.’

  Elise shook her head. It was evening already and the babies were resting in their cradles upstairs. For the past hour she and Vivienne had been arguing in circles, with Vivienne insisting she too must go to Provins, and with Elise trying to convince her otherwise.

  ‘Vivienne, please be calm.’ Elise gestured at the ceiling. ‘If you come, we’ll have to bring the babies. They will slow us down. Why, they might even be put at risk. You have to stay here. Sergeant Gaston will look out for you. He will ensure you have everything you need.’

  ‘I need André.’ Vivienne bunched her fists. ‘I don’t need Sergeant Gaston, and I certainly don’t need you ordering me about.’ Her voice broke and she covered her eyes with her hand. ‘I just need André.’

  ‘I will do my utmost to find him. Lord, we don’t even know for certain he will be in Provins. All I was told was that he was seen taking the Provins road.’ Moving to the fire, Elise put her arm about Vivienne’s shoulders and hugged her. ‘I will do my best to find him.’

  Shakily, Vivienne returned the hug. ‘I know you will. I’m sorry to snap at you, but I miss him so. When he’s not with me I feel as though I’ve been torn in two.’

  Elise nodded. She understood how that felt. The thought of Gawain riding off to Sainte-Colombe with Lady Rowena had her in shreds.

  Vivienne blinked at her, eyes watery. ‘However, I don’t want you rushing headlong into danger either. You can’t go alone.’

  ‘I had worked that out for myself,’ Elise said drily.

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘Baderon knows every highway and byway in Champagne. I’ve asked him to come with me.’

  Vivienne brightened. ‘That’s a good idea. Do you think he’ll agree?’

  ‘He jumped at the idea. Provins is just as important as Troyes. There will be plenty of opportunities for him to play at the castle.’

  ‘You could sing too! Follow up the success of last night’s performance at the palace. You’ll have all of Champagne at your feet.’ Vivienne gave her a wobbly smile and Elise knew she would have her way. Vivienne and the babies would be staying in Troyes, safe under the watchful eyes of Sergeant Gaston.

  * * *

  Gawain had to admit he was given a warm welcome at Jutigny Castle, the Sainte-Colombe holding. As his cavalcade trotted into the bailey under a crimson evening sky, Count Faramus appeared at the head of a long flight of stone steps. Gawain and Lady Rowena were swept into the great hall.

  Count Faramus beamed with bonhomie as he gave his daughter a brief hug before focusing his attention on Gawain. ‘Wine, my lord? Ale? Whatever you wish is my command.’

  ‘My thanks.’ Gawain accepted a cup of wine. His surcoat was more grey than red—he was covered with the dust of the road. He was hot and sticky and his neck itched. ‘I confess I would kill for a bath.’

  ‘Of course. I’ve never known heat like this.’

  Count Faramus—a round, bewhiskered man in his early fifties—was less imposing than Gawain had imagined. So this was the ally his uncle had taken such pains to cultivate? He looked like a benevolent uncle rather than the great warrior Gawain had heard so much about. Gawain tried to look interested and listened with half an ear as Lord Faramus outlined the entertainments planned for the coming weeks. It was hard to concentrate and ever harder to keep smiling. He was becoming increasingly concerned about his forthcoming marriage.

  A door opened at the end of the great hall and a stately lady swept in. This must be the Countess of Sainte-Colombe. The countess held out her arms and Gawain watched with astonishment as Lady Rowena’s face transfigured. All smiles, she flew into her mother’s embrace. It was galling to see Lady Rowena look so happy. Not that Gawain didn’t wish for her happiness, but the most he had been able to wring from his betrothed had been a polite smile. Arms wrapped round each other, the women left the hall, heading doubtless for the ladies’ solar.

  Gawain held down a sigh as his betrothed whisked out of sight. He had taken his time over the journey from Troyes. They had passed a night at an inn. He had hoped that Lady Rowena would become less skittish in his presence and that, if he gave her the chance to be alone with him, she would see that he wasn’t an ogre. Naturally they hadn’t actually been alone. An escort of twenty men and a couple of maids had seen to that. But you’d think she might have reconciled herself with the idea of marrying him. He’d been polite. He’d been attentive. To no avail, she’d sat there clutching her cross and chewing her lips, plainly so terrified that at times she’d been barely able to speak. Did she fear all men, or was it just him?

  ‘You don’t like tourneys?’ Count Faramus had seen his frown and thought Gawain was questioning his plans for the coming days. ‘I had heard of your prowess on the Field of the Birds and I assumed—’

  ‘No, no.’ Gawain forced a smile. ‘A tourney would be most invigorating. Thank you, my lord.’

  ‘It’s a pity we can’t go hawking, but the birds are in moult.’ Count Faramus gestured at one of the men standing a few yards away. ‘And now, my lord, permit me to introduce my steward, Sir Macaire. He will show you to your quarters. We dine in an hour. Macaire, see to it a bath is brought for Lord Gawain.’

  Sir Macaire bowed. ‘Yes, my lord.’

  * * *

  Gawain’s chamber was at the top of the north tower. The bed was large and the oak canopy was draped with purple silk. Purple. The image of a purple pavilion with silver stars leaped into his brain and his head began to throb.

  Aubin and a manservant staggered in with one of his travelling chests. ‘Shall I put this by the wall, my lord?’

  ‘Please.’ Gawain’s mind seemed sluggish. He wondered if he had a touch of heatstroke. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he went to the window. A double lancet, it looked out over the Sainte-Colombe acres—a patchwork of field strips, vineyards and forest. Provins lay just over two miles away.

  There was a heat haze. The Sainte-Colombe acres seemed to waver as he looked at them. They looked well cared for. Orderly. In due course, if his marriage went ahead, this land would one day be under his stewardship. Gawain leaned his forearm against the stone window embrasure. The ditches were clear; hedges had been trimmed; people were walking up and down between the lines of vines, harvesting the grapes in the last of the light, putting them in baskets. It was an idyllic sight.

  Gawain had never felt more miserable in his life.

  Marriage with a woman who started at his every touch—no, it was worse than that, she started every time he breathed—Lord, what a nightmare.

  Behind him, Aubin and the manservant were ordering his belongings. He heard a bath being heaved in and the sound of pouring water.

  Is it worth it? The question appeared out of nowhere and another swiftly followed.

  How on earth was he going to go about bedding Lady Rowena? The purple pavilion lingered in his mind’s eye and he gritted his teeth. He’d never been one to look for love, but he’d hoped for a little passion in his lif
e. Lady Rowena—merciful heaven, this felt so wrong.

  Sighing, he moved away from the lancets. The bath was ready and waiting. His headache would surely leave him once he had bathed.

  * * *

  Riding pillion behind Baderon was more challenging than Elise had imagined. Progress was slow. And hot. Clouds of dust hung over the highway. Baderon’s horse, Magpie, was pestered with flies. Elise was no great horsewoman and after the first couple of hours her bottom felt bruised. Her arms ached from hanging on to Baderon. Sticky with sweat, she’d had more than enough. Still, she was pleased to have escaped the watchful eyes of Sergeant Gaston. When Baderon had appeared with his lute, saying that Countess Isobel d’Aveyron had summoned them to a private performance at Ravenshold, the sergeant hadn’t objected. Of course, there was no private performance. Elise and Baderon were riding to Provins.

  ‘How far are we going today?’ Elise asked, brushing a damp strand of hair from her brow.

  ‘We should manage about fifteen miles, but if Magpie tires, we’ll stop sooner. She’s not used to the extra weight and I don’t want to lame her.’

  ‘Of course not. Baderon, you’re a saint to come with me.’

  ‘It’s no hardship. There will be just as much work for me in Provins as there was in Troyes.’ Baderon paused and Magpie clopped stoically through the flies and the dust. ‘In any case, Lord Gawain asked me to watch out for you. He wouldn’t think much of me if I let you travel alone.’

  Elise curled her fingers round Baderon’s belt. It had been kind of Gawain to have taken such an interest in her welfare—he was very protective—but it wouldn’t last. How could it? He had many responsibilities and giving her the manor was his way of ridding himself of an unwanted and embarrassing burden. She was getting the manor because of Pearl. Her throat ached. Dragging her mind away from Gawain—it hurt to think of him—she changed the subject.

  ‘Baderon, have you played often in Troyes?’

  ‘Many times, at the castle and the palace.’

  ‘And how long have you known Lord Gawain?’ Elise bit her lip, but the question had escaped before she could stop it. So much for her changing the subject! Every thought she had seemed to wind back to Gawain.