Gisborne: Book of Pawns (8 page)

‘I have no choice, Sister.’

‘Two of our Sisters are going to the market to sell our honey.
You could go with them.’

‘I thank
you then. If they would not mind my company perhaps it might be best.’
I hastened to the gate to meet my companions.

Th
e town still smelled of food, of smoke, of many bodies moving about daily life. Of cats, dogs and horses. Here
and t
here was evidence of Henry’s flame and fire
, but with the resilience of all great places, the market continued and
the townsfolk found evident joy in it, shouting and laughing … a meeting place to ease the angst of days past.

The Sisters accompanied m
e as I went from stall to stall. I doubted I would find any clothes ready made for my purpose as bolt upon bolt of fabric lined the more expensive end of the market but then the Sisters plucked at my sleeve and showed me a fine stall on which lay folded garments.

I pulled out a woolen
bliaut
. Like the chemise I found, none would be as good as those that were tailored to my size but the fabric was of decent quality and a serviceable cloak wrapped around the bundle; a
ll
that was
functi
onal and suited to my journey. The Sisters and I
finished our business and they escorted me to the head of the st
reet in which stood Guy’s inn.
I thought to w
ait for him, surprise him even,
and bid
the Sisters adieu with thanks. I would return to the p
riory anon
, I said
.

The st
reet was crammed
with stone bui
ldings and paved with cobbles that wove and bent away around corners – b
ut not
deftly
enough to hide two men leaning in
toward each other. One was tall,
the
other unremarkable.

One was Guy of Gisborne.

I pulled back against the wall because there was something about the way t
hey spoke that implied secrets. Gisborne
shook his head and the other man gra
bbed his arm and spoke with unguarded intensity.
The midday light caught on a
heavy silvered chain hanging around the man’s neck, a badge of sorts.

I could see that he
had
finally snagged Gisborne
’s attention as he continued
to press whatever was his case. Gisborne showed no reaction, merely listened intently, but
whe
n the other man stopped talking
Guy looked up and saw me.

He frowned and spoke to his companion and then
waved his arm and I had no option but to walk forward.

‘Lady Ysabel.’ He bowed. ‘On your own a
gain?’

‘Good day.’ Some
instinct
ma
de me want to show the other man there was nothing but a servant-mistres
s relationship between myself
and Guy of Gisborne.
‘The Sisters saw me to the top
of the street.
They hel
ped me make market purchases.’

My eyes swung meaningfully to the shorter man who eyed me with interest.

‘Lady Ysab
el,’ Gisborne said. ‘May I present Sir Robert Halsham
.’

‘My lady.’ The silver chain flashed as the
man bent over
my fingers and the hairs on my neck prickled. He reeked of something untoward.

‘I have he
ard of your father, of course,’ he said.

He held onto my hand
moments longer than was decent and I withdr
ew it to grasp the clothes bundle tighter to my chest and looked beyond him.

‘We have business, Gisborne. You may have forgotten.’

I swept past them into the inn and heard
Halsham
mutter.
‘Arrogant, but a beauty.’

Gisborne’s footsteps sounded behind me.
Through the door as I glanced back, I could see
Halsham walking along the street
whistling and the sussurating sound sent a shiver sliding down my spine.

‘So polite, Ysabel.’

‘
I didn’t like him.
’

Guy’s eyebrows rose. ‘A quick assessment, surely.
’

‘He has an air.
’

‘He said the same of you.’

‘What he thi
nks of me matters little.
What were you doing with him?’

He sat and beckoned to th
e serving wench who gave him that eye that all maids did. Honestly, it was like an affliction!

‘I had business with him,
’
he said.

‘He looks remarkably dishonest.
Not at all the kind
with whom
I imagine my father would
do business, I am sure
.’

‘It
wasn’t your father’s business.
It was mine.’

‘Huh, I’ll bet he has dishonest dealings.’

‘Ysabel,’ he hissed, his palm slapping the table in front of me, ca
using heads to turn.
‘He has just returned from J
erusalem via Antioch and Malta.
In
fact he had news of my father.
Now are you happy?’

The maid put a
tankard of ale in front of me with a
wooden platter with a
trencher of bread soa
ked in some fragrant onion and meat juices.
She smirked at my chastened expression.

Vile wench!

‘Your father.
He is well?
’

‘He is dead.’

‘Guy...’

I
reached to touch his hand and he flinched.

‘It is no matter.’

The topic of his father was thrown out lik
e pigswill.
‘Leave it alone’
was
the message. Any vestige of care disappeared from his face, wiped as cleanly as if he had washed it with a cloth. His secrets, all of them, were buried so deep inside his soul that I wondered what it would take, or even who, to reveal such.

But
his father’s death was
surely only a fraction
of what
Halsham
had imparted
. Patently I could not ask anymore out of respect for the grievous news so I wondered if I could inveigle more detail on the ill-made news bearer.

‘
Halsham is a knight?
’

‘Indeed
, as the introduction indicated
.
’ Sarcasm fell to the table amongst the breadcrumbs.

‘H
e has fought in the Holy Land?’

‘I thought you didn’t like him and yet you show inordinate interest in the man. To answer you, he has fought in many places.
He is a Free Lancer.’

‘Really.’
My attention was piqued as I
chewed on the bread. ‘A mercenary.
’

‘Yes.’

In an instant I recalled what I thought abou
t chessboards and Guy’s future.

‘Guy, you don’t perchance think to become a Free Lancer yourself?’

He coughed
on his food
and his eyes opened just a fraction wider and if I knew anythi
ng, I would say he dissembled.

‘I am your father’s steward
, Lady Ysabe
l.
That is all you need concern yourself with at this point.’

‘Hmm.’
I t
apped the table with my finger, my eyes meeting his deep blue ones. ‘Remember this, Sir Gisborne.
Secrets are dangerous.’

We wandered through the town and watched p
eople go about their business.
The sun shone and we checked at the livery that our horses were fit and shod ready for an
early departure on the morrow and I fed Khazia a crust of my bread.
We left
Halsham
far behind in our perambulations a
nd we talked again of ballads and such
which
seemed to be Guy’s great love.
We stopped at a tavern that had trestles in the sun and as I sat back under the pergola over which grapevine threaded, I asked Guy to tell
me one of the stories he knew.

‘O
ne of the Welsh or Irish ones.
You seem to know so many.’

He seemed so relaxed as he sat back,
no evidence of the kind of grief that lurked in my heart waiting to jump forth. If I were a cynic, I would have said the news of his father’s death released something in him but knew it was pointless to ask. He stretched his long legs out,
hand
s clasped over his middle.

‘I s
hall tell you the one of Finn. Some call him Fionn.
It’s a good tale.’

I leaned forward and watched him closely as he began to talk.

‘I shall
tell you how he met his love. Women like that.’
Hi
s eyes glinted and he grinned, the angular planes of his face shadowed under the dappled light of the pergola.

‘Fionn met his glorious and most beautiful wife,
Sadhbh,
when he was ou
t hunting in the wild forests.
The eldritch
Fear Doirich
had turned her into a
deer
as punishment after she had turned down his proposal of marriage and she was doomed to wander the forests alone forever, as she never thought to find the love of her life, for who would want a deer to love
?’

He looked at me and I smiled back, urging him to continue.

‘As a graceful doe, she was grazing one day when Fionn's
hounds
, Bran
and Sceolan, tracked her down.
Almost ready to pounce on her and drag her down by the neck, they froze. The two huge hounds had once been human themselves and recognised
the magic that surrounded her.
Fionn paused with his spear raised and she looked at him with her dark eyes and something great passed b
etween them and he spared her.
He set forth back to his lands
and was charmed to see that
she followed in his footsteps
. T
he minute she placed a hoof on Fionn’s estates, she transformed ba
ck into a woman and she cried out.
Fionn could barely keep his eyes from her, s
o struck was he by her beauty.
He and she fell deeply in love and
they married and she was soon with child
.’

I guessed he had shortened the tale significantly for the sun was sliding and dusk began to tiptoe close behind and being conscious of his duty
, I was sure he would
want to escort me back to the priory before dark.

‘But the Fear Doirich came to Fionn’s home,’ he continued, ‘and filled with fury that she had not only transformed back to a woman by finding her way to Fionn’s lands but also that she had fallen in love and married the king, the evil wig
ht turned her back into a deer.
He chased her away into the forests and
she quite literally vanished.
Fionn, aghast, left his estates and spent seven years searc
hing for her. But to no avail.
He was brokenhearted and the only thing that saved his mind was that at the end of the seven years, he found a child, not quite seven, naked, on the enc
hanted hill called Ben Bulbin.
The child had Sadhbh’s eyes and he was sure he had foun
d his son whom he named Oisin.
Father and son hugged and cried but of the child’s mother there was not a sign and Fionn knew then that his grea
t love was lost to him forever.
And so he inves
ted his attention in the boy.’

He looked down at his hands at this point and I dare say he thought of his own
father and what he had lacked.

‘This child
grew to become one of the nobl
est of the Fianna and one of the greatest Irish storytellers.’

He lifted his goblet and
drank a mouthful of the ale
he had ordered for us both.

‘That was wonderful.
Where did you learn such marvelous stories?’

‘Ah, that
would be telling,’ he grinned as he stood and stretched.
‘Some secrets are meant to be kept!’

I stood as well, knocking his arm not so playfully.