“My lord,” she said quietly, “you must understand that my feelings for Kenrick of Arcote were idealistic, the romantic longings of a child growing into womanhood. Who knows if they could ever have materialised into the mature love of a woman for her man? He is gone and I shall always think kindly of him but I am true wife now—and—and—” her whisper was tearful “—you have aroused me to delights I could not have imagined.”
He was very still and she thought he might well have slipped off into slumber and not heard her tearful avowal of love. She leaned down to look at him and his lips curved into a smile, half-content, half-triumphant.
“Then you do love me, Gisela of Allestone, just a little?”
She half turned away, nervous now of betraying herself too much. “I am your wife. It is my duty to…”
“Do you love me? Tell me?”
“Yes,” she said at last in a little hiccoughing gasp. “Yes, Alain de Treville, I truly love you.”
He drew her down again and kissed her so fiercely she thought she would die, bereft of breath and the aching, sweet pain emanating from the throbbing rapture of their combined passion.
They drew apart and she swallowed uncertainly, unwilling to break the pleasure of the moment by referring to the bone of contention between them, yet she owed Aldith an attempt to win some mercy for Sigurd. Surely Alain would listen to her now and grant her plea—yet she knew this was not the time. Something was disturbing him. She had sensed it earlier, as if he despaired of losing her even now. She waited in an agony of apprehension for him to broach what was on his mind.
At last he broke silence. “I have to leave Allestone tomorrow.”
She closed her eyes in sudden dread. What she had feared was coming to pass. She said tremulously, “Has Sir Rainald summoned you to the King’s assistance? I thought that might be the purpose of his visit.”
“In a way.” He hesitated and turned to look into her troubled eyes. “I need to travel south with only a small escort—in fact, my business there must be kept a secret for the time being.”
“Will you be in danger?” She reached out to touch his chest, her fingers curling in the dark hair there, in her sudden agitation.
“I do not anticipate any trouble,” he said lightly, but he was not looking at her now and she thought he was not as confident as he seemed. “I shall take Edwin and Sigurd. That,” he added grimly, “should keep them both out of trouble for a while at least. They can make themselves useful and be under my constant supervision.”
“Sigurd?” she said worriedly. “He is no trained soldier. Should you not have a more stalwart companion at your back?”
He gave a little grim bark of a laugh. “I do not intend either of them should fight. No man these days goes without an escort, however small, but my purpose is not military.”
“Then you go to reconnoitre—for the King?” Her voice was troubled. “Could you not be taken by one of the opposing armies as a spy travelling in their midst?”
She was so close she could see one mobile eyebrow rise at her suggestion.
“I could, but by travelling with so small an escort, I pose no threat, nor am I likely to be attacked by any routier band, since a man so obviously unarmed and ill prepared for combat could hardly be wealthy enough to make the raid worthwhile.”
Her fingers clenched so tightly upon the hair on his chest that he gave an involuntary little gasp and she released her grip instantly.
“This mission is vital to the King’s cause?”
“It could prove invaluable,” he replied cautiously.
“But why you?” she pressed. “There must be many others at Wallingford who could go, and nearer the south country—Sir Rainald himself…”
“He would not prove suitable, nor would those other knights in the King’s train. He knows that only I could be trusted to accomplish this mission and, of course, I cannot refuse him.”
She went cold as she thought how, only hours ago, she had challenged his courage; now, instinctively, she knew he was going from her into very real peril and she felt helpless to prevent it, yet desperate to try anything that might keep him safe.
“You will go in disguise?”
“Hardly.” He laughed. “Nothing so dramatic. I shall travel in merchant garb. There are many such on the road going about their various businesses. Simple men cannot barricade themselves upon their property, despite their very real fears of venturing forth. The wars have gone on much too long for that. They would all be ruined.”
Her brain raced as she visualised the difficulties of such a journey. He might not face direct challenges, but he would be subject to insult and taunts most likely. This proud, honourable, stern man was not one to stomach such easily.
She said hesitantly, “It might arouse less comment if a merchant was travelling with—his wife.”
One arm round her waist tightened and she pushed herself up in the bed to look down at him. “Alain, let me go with you? Give me the chance to redeem my hard treatment of you. I had no right to impugn your honour and now I see how wicked and foolish I was. I will be obedient and circumspect, I swear it. I owe you recompense for the deadly insult I threw at you. Let me wipe it out by my presence at your side when you have need of me.”
She expected a hasty denial, but he lay quiet for a few moments then said slowly, “I confess the idea has occurred to me—especially as, despite your assurances, I am concerned to leave you here unprotected. De Burgh is no match for your determination should you decide to flout my orders and I know it. I feel in my bones you might well be safer with me—but…”
“I can ride well and…”
“I know all that. If you promise to be guided by my instructions I will take you, with Aldith in attendance, part way. After I leave you safely installed at some nunnery or an inn, I can manage alone, for the greater part of the journey through the ranks of both armies will be done, but I must be sure of your compliance.”
“I swear it.” Softly she breathed, “You will let Sigurd keep his hands—afterwards?”
“If he keeps them from thieving my rabbits in future,” Alain growled and she leaned down to kiss him heartily.
“Aldith will find me suitable clothing,” she said confidently. “We shall not delay you, be very sure of that.”
Grimly he tried to convince himself that he was doing the right thing. She would not delay him. He had seen evidence of her spirit and determination. In this winter weather there would be discomforts along the way, but he knew well Gisela would not complain but—he ground his teeth in anguished concern. Wherever he left her, even with Aldith and the boy, Sigurd, who both adored her, she could be threatened by any rogue who thought her easy prey.
In these days no one was safe when not immured behind the solid walls of a castle like Allestone. He would pray that his secret mission would come to a fruitful conclusion for the sake of all those simple folk who wanted to go about their daily business in peace. The risk he took, even with Gisela’s most precious life, was surely worth that.
They set off early next day; in fact, Gisela was surprised by the speed with which preparations were made. She had very little time to talk with her father and knew he was extremely curious as to Lord Alain’s reason for leaving Allestone at this time of year and, most of all, his decision to take Gisela with him.
Gisela knew she could not explain to him that Lord Alain’s mission was for the King and secret, and had to lamely agree with Lord Alain’s brusque explanation that the King needed him to conclude some important business he was unwilling to entrust to another knight.
Reluctantly Sir Walter took leave of his daughter. His only consolation, as he told her, was that he was considerably improved, thanks to the unceasing care of the Jewish physician, and would be leaving for Brinkhurst very shortly. Gisela embraced him tearfully, then hastened back to her chamber after breakfast to examine the clothes Aldith had procured for her.
It seemed it was not necessary for her to dress very differently
. Her own sober, dark-coloured warm clothing would suit her role as a merchant’s wife admirably and she would wear a plain hooded frieze cloak over all. When she descended to the hall again, it was to find Lord Alain clad similarly in dark chausses and a dark brown fustian tunic. Both of them forbore to wear any jewellery and Lord Alain’s cloak pin was a simple affair of beaten copper.
Gisela wondered, fleetingly, if her husband was wearing mail beneath his concealing tunic. No weapons were in evidence, but she did not doubt he carried a sword and dagger within his saddle bag. The cloak he carried over his arm, like hers, was of grey homespun. Gisela knew she would miss the warm fur lining of the mantles she usually wore in this inclement weather.
It was decided that Algar, too, should accompany the party, since Sigurd could not ride even the most docile of mounts. Gisela could not help thinking that it might have been better to leave the boy behind, but, doubtless, Lord Alain had his own reasons for insisting he be one of the small escort.
Gisela mounted her own palfrey, its fine caparisons removed, while Lord Alain chose a sturdy hack rather than his fiery-tempered destrier. Aldith was mounted pillion behind Edwin while Algar carried Sigurd. Aldith was clad, like her mistress, plainly and well wrapped against the cold, while all the men wore hooded frieze cloaks over homespun chausses and leather jerkins. No one wore distinguishing badges.
Edwin led a sumpter laden with two panniers containing, Gisela supposed, sample goods Lord Alain was pretending to market in the towns they would pass through. On questioning Alain, she discovered that was, indeed, the case and were examples of good woollen cloth he had hurriedly sent for from one of the most prominent Oakham merchants.
When he had lifted her into the saddle, he asked only one question. “You are sure you wish to do this?”
“Yes, of course I am.”
“Your father is not best pleased. Thank God he has no real inkling of just how dangerous this journey could prove to be, but he fears your palfrey might break a leg on some icy patch and throw you.”
She nodded. “I had to be evasive and I think he understood something of what you intend, though you told him little.”
“I have provided him with a small garrison of thoroughly experienced men to defend Brinkhurst. You do not need to be worried for his safety while we are away.”
“Thank you,” she breathed softly. “Do our men of the escort know anything of what we intend?”
He frowned, his dark, level brows rising imperiously. “My men-at-arms learn not to question my orders. As for Sigurd, he is thankful enough to be free of the guardhouse again.” He smiled a trifle grimly. “I need him with his mother to guard you carefully while I might have need of my two trained men. I trust only those two who have known you from childhood to have your total welfare at heart.”
Her answering smile was a trifle wan. “I do not think I could manage without Aldith. In all events, I do not believe she would allow me to go without her—not without considerable protest, which would not be advisable—and Sigurd is more capable of defending himself than you think, though he is no experienced fighting man.”
He inclined his chin, well satisfied.
When off the main roads they travelled fast, or as fast as the terrain and the double burden of pillioned passengers would allow, but on the main highways they had to appear the humble merchant, wife and servants they purported to be.
Lord Alain headed for Leicester Town, then struck westwards towards Warwick and the old Roman Fosse Way, which would eventually lead through the Cotswold Hills towards Chipping Norton, Cirencester, Chippenham and finally their destination of Devizes.
“We will have to make a detour around the King’s siege camp at Wallingford,” Lord Alain informed Gisela, “and, possibly, we shall have to avoid opposing armies on the march. There will be men moving to try to raise the sieges of both Wallingford and Malmesbury, so it will not be easy.”
The weather was bad, but not so appalling as they might have expected. Gisela was amazed to find so many travellers on the road, expecting that most people would have kept to their hearth fires this frosty January, but many, it seemed, had business to occupy them and they saw soldiers, merchants like themselves and even monks and clerics on the road.
It was icy cold but not too wet, neither was there snow to delay them, but the hard-rutted roads were treacherous with ice and the going, in places, was slow and laborious.
They stayed wherever Lord Alain felt it safe to do so and where he deemed they would be unlikely to be questioned too closely about their business. In the abbeys which offered hospitality Gisela slept with Aldith, and in the one or two flea-ridden inns where sometimes they were forced to stay she was able to sleep again with her husband, and on those occasions she was able to reveal her passionate need for his love making. She controlled, fiercely, her own growing fears for his safety and showed herself only as the loyal, strong-minded companion he so needed her to be.
However bad things were—and often she was so bone-wearied when they reached their night stop she was ready to cry with exhaustion—she gritted her teeth, determined to make no complaint. Aldith, grimly, did the same, and following her gaze towards Sigurd, Gisela knew the woman was uttering silent thanks to the Virgin that the lad had not been left hanging from a rope’s end at Allestone.
At Cirencester, Lord Alain heard the news he had been eagerly awaiting. The landlord of the inn proved a vociferous gossip and informed him that the young son of the Empress Matilda had landed in England on January the twenty-sixth at Wareham.
“It’s being said he had thirty-six ships and over a hundred knights as well as some thousands of foot soldiers.” The landlord, who had joined Lord Alain in a pot of ale, wiped his mouth and went on.
“There’ll be some as’ll welcome him, doubtless, the way things have been round here for these last years. The King has tried to keep order, right enough, God bless him, but he’s never managed it. Some of us never know if’n we’ll rise from our beds in the morning, can’t sleep well of nights, even ’ere so far West. This young sprig of Anjou might be able to sort out the mess. At least that’s what folks ’ave been saying.
“Funny,” he mused, “I ’eard from some chapman who passed through, it’s being told in Wareham that when Henry landed and went to church to offer thanks to God for safe passage, the choir was singing, “‘Behold he comes, the Lord our Governor, and in his hand is right royal power and might.’ Kind of a prophecy, don’t you think? This chapman quoted it word for word and it stuck in me memory.”
Lord Alain nodded absently, but inwardly his thoughts were seething with various conjectures. The man had not said how many of Stephen’s commanders and barons had defected to meet Henry FitzEmpress. That he would have to discover when he reached Devizes.
Gisela noted that, once on the way south from Cirencester, they saw many more armed bands of soldiers. Lord Alain took great pains to avoid them whenever possible, but when they were stopped on the road by a mailed and helmeted sergeant leading a band of twenty men west towards Malmesbury, he agreed to open up his panniers on the sumpter to show his wares so they might proceed without further challenge.
Gisela, whose palfrey had been edged by Edwin very close to her husband’s mount, saw that Lord Alain’s lips were pressed tight together and she guessed his lordly nature was infuriated by this need to bow to the small authority of this boorish and bullying sergeant. She expected an explosion of fury, but the Baron kept his temper well in check and she was able to breathe more freely once they were out of sight of the laughing, jeering band.
Devizes, she saw at once, was packed with armed men, all apparently under the firm control of their lords. This surprised her; she had seen anarchy very close amongst the men she had glimpsed on the road. The situation at Devizes was very different and she realised that here there was a gathering of some of the kingdom’s most prominent and powerful barons.
Lord Alain’s eyes were everywhere and, once again, both his men closed in on the
ir mistress, guarding her from the possibility of insult or attack. Since the men here were more disciplined, Gisela thought that unlikely. She had been more afraid of the small roving bands than she was of these larger, controlled companies, but she was alarmed for Lord Alain’s safety.
Here, apparently, was the evidence of trained bands in revolt against their King, as she was informed by the talk around them that the young Angevin Duke Henry was installed within the castle and with him many of King Stephen’s trusted barons.
They managed to obtain accommodation at an inn on the outskirts of the market town by luck, since a knight with his small escort had only hours before moved out, and Lord Alain took occupation of a fetid and small room at the rear of the property to house Gisela and Aldith. He and the men were to fend for themselves in the inn’s even more insalubrious outbuildings.
Aldith hastened out to try to find water for her mistress’s toilet and Lord Alain faced Gisela warily across the dingy little chamber.
He looked round distastefully. “I am loath to leave you here but you will have Algar and Sigurd to attend you and Aldith while I go about my business. I shall give explicit orders that one or the other must stay outside your door both day and night.”
Gisela was weary but even more disturbed by this news. “You intend to be away possibly tonight? I don’t understand. Surely you can discover what is needful without risking yourself during the hours of darkness? A merchant wandering about at night will arouse suspicion.
“This town is full of the Empress Matilda’s supporters, and many who appear to have defected from their loyalty to the King. Now you have seen the devices of those men who are here to support Count Henry, you have enough information to stay one night and allow us to depart for home very soon.”
He turned from her and she could not see his features well in the poor light that filtered into the chamber from the one dirty oxhorn window the chamber boasted.
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