The Gilded Crown (45 page)

‘Ah, here's the cart now. Let me choose for you.' Gillet's words slowly penetrated Cécile's brain. She yawned again as he walked to the tiny conveyance. It consisted of a network of perches upon which sat rows of hooded birds in various sizes. He returned complete with a second hawking glove and began instructing her on how to hold the marlyon. Carefully, he released its hood and the bird ruffled its feathers with avian indignation.

For the next two hours, the falconers assisted the nobility and Cécile watched as the feathered frenzy were set to flight, the falcons soaring to great heights to descend in a deadly swoop as they spied prey. In contrast, the smaller goshawks and sparrowhawks flew low to the ground but delivered their quarry with no less passion. Her own jack returned and though she accepted the small, furry body with little enthusiasm, she empathised with the birds having to endure their daily fetters in order to revel in precious moments of freedom. Would that she could enjoy such a time soon.

Gillet flew his sacret in the first hour and Cécile marvelled at her husband's lithe movements, his dark hair ruffling in the breeze, looking every inch the lord in his black quilted chausses and silver-grey doublet. His red-headed companion of the previous night was still sulking at Cécile's invasion and, now and again, Cécile intercepted the sour glances thrown her way. But she was not concerned. One long, questioning look into Gillet's eyes and she knew he had remained true in their weeks apart. In the last months as man and wife, she had learned he possessed a conscience that struggled to portray dishonesty – at least in matters of the heart and body. In all else, he executed necessary deception with expertise!

‘Come.' Gillet relinquished the goshawk which had entertained him for the better part of an hour to the apprentice. ‘Let us go for a ride.' The stable boys raced to untie Inferno and Ruby from the roped horses in their care and offered Cécile a mounting block. Once in the saddle, the couple discreetly made their way towards a bridle track.

‘Will we not be missed?' inquired Cécile.

‘Yes, but they will think I am trying to woo you.' Gillet flashed his ‘Albret' smile.

‘Ah, well. There goes
my
reputation,' mumbled Cécile.

Two sets of eyes watched with interest as the pair disappeared into the shrubbery.

‘And so, Albret makes his move,' snorted Humphrey de Bohan, retying a bait to his bird line.

‘Hmm.' Katherine Beauchamp frowned and blew on her hot, spiced posset. ‘I'm not so convinced it's the tryst you think, Humphrey, dear.' She took a sip.

‘Why do you say that, Aunt?'

‘Because I took pains to observe the lady's hand last night and, on close inspection, I saw a white mark on her marriage finger.'

Humphrey scowled. ‘Meaning?'

Lady Katherine held out her hand and, with her thumb, slid her wedding band aside to reveal the soft, pale skin beneath.

Humphrey sucked in his breath. ‘So, you are saying Lady Holland has removed a ring. What of it?' The hammer struck the anvil. ‘A nuptial band! She is
married
. Ho! Albret sets cuckolds horns upon someone.' He let out a guffaw but Katherine shook her head.

‘No, dear. I've observed enough wedded couples to know their behaviour and unless I'm missing my mark – and I do not think I am – I'm saying Albret
is
the husband. He was verily peeved last night when I accompanied them to Lady Holland's room.'

‘Perhaps you ruined his plans for a midnight assignation?'

Lady Katherine tapped her chin. ‘No, their manner was not that of two lovers. 'Twas more an angry husband and a disobedient wife, and believe me, I know the signs. What I cannot understand is the secrecy. An Albret-Holland alliance would be considered an excellent match by any standards.'

Humphrey considered his aunt's theory. ‘And do not forget they were together for weeks in Chilham.'

‘Then we must assume they wedded without permission.'

‘You are assuming, Katherine, they married willingly.'

Katherine smiled. ‘Oh, it was willingly. Don't get me wrong, Humphrey.' Her smile deepened and she blew again upon her cup. ‘Those two are very much in love.'

By the time Gillet halted Inferno, Cécile thought she would burst. They had ridden deep into the forest, far away from prying eyes.

‘At last!' she exclaimed as she kicked her feet loose from the stirrups and accepted his arms to lift her from the saddle.

‘Yes, at last. Now, would you mind telling me what brings you all the way to Bordeaux? How did you escape Gisors? I left you as a “guest” to Duc de Berri in lieu of my mission and he did not seem likely to let you go.'

With the moment upon her, Cécile could not decide which issue to lay at her husband's feet first. ‘Gillet, I know not in what order to tell you. Do I begin with Armand catching the plague,' then seeing the terror on Gillet's face she quickly added, ‘but he survived! By now he should just about be in Scotland.'

‘
Scotland
?'

‘Yes, trying to locate Jean Petit. Anaïs kidnapped him but only after she killed Margot and had Gabriel arrested for the crime, but that was after I was almost burned at the stake.' She caught sight of Gillet's horrified expression and took a deep breath. ‘I was released from Gisors on an errand for the Vicomtesse and we were on our way here with a message for you when we became trapped within the plague-ridden village of Vernon. Then, as we tried to escape, Armand discovered a bubo in his armpit and refused to go, so Gabriel took Margot, Minette and Jean Petit to safety in Le Goulet, and I stayed to nurse Armand. But then Raynaud – he's the blacksmith who helped us in Vernon and we left him in Le Goulet – had a friend looking for her brother who turned out to be Anaïs trying to locate Robiérre. They had been following us. She had me accused of heresy, imprisoned and …' Cécile felt a huge surge of emotion. She threw herself into Gillet's arms and burst into tears. ‘It has been terrible these last weeks without you!'

Yet another half hour passed before Gillet felt he had the full story. He and Cécile sat on their cloaks and he made her recite each piece slowly, bit by bit, in order of the events, including her mission. When she finished, he let out a great sigh.

‘Poor Margot. Lord, how do I tell Arnaud?'

Cécile dabbed her lashes and sniffed into her sleeve. ‘You do not. He will hold you responsible and you'll find yourself facing a civil case for dereliction of duty. That's if he doesn't want to kill you first. We must locate the Vicomtesse's agents here at court, deliver her message and get ourselves out of here. You said it yourself, Sir John Felton will send to Edward with news of my arrival.' She turned her husband's face so that he focused on her. ‘Do you suppose if Edward knows we are in Bordeaux he is just going to let us walk away? Gillet, your task is completed. Arnaud-Amanieu refused the Dauphin's offer and he will give his fealty to Edward. I am sorry as you for the death of Margot but we must now do Blanche d'Évreux's bidding and be gone as quickly as possible for our own safety.'

‘Yes, but I promised Arn I would stay for the fealty service tomorrow. We shall leave after that.' Gillet drew his wife into his embrace and kissed the top of her head. ‘Chérie, I can only imagine what you have been through. Forgive me, my sweet, for doubting you. When I saw you last night, all I could think was of the peril in which you had placed yourself but danger has been your constant companion since my departure and I blame myself for not being there.' He extended his arms, his gaze searching her face. ‘What if I had lost you to
la Peste
or … or the flames?' Gillet crushed her hard against him and Cécile gave herself up to his presence with a sigh of contentment.

‘But you did not, my love.'

‘My sweet Cécile.' His lips claimed hers and he pulled at the wimple. ‘Since when did you take to wearing such things?' He removed it only to fall back open-mouthed. ‘
Cécile
.'

Cécile felt the heat flush her cheeks. Self-consciously she dabbed at her shortened hair, now curling just below her ears. ‘They cut it when I was in prison,' she whispered. Her lips trembled and she dropped her gaze. ‘Do you think me ugly?'

Gillet roused himself. ‘No!' He gathered her to his breast and hugged her hard. ‘I think you the bravest woman I have ever known.' He raised her chin and his protective kiss quickly grew to the fiery demands of a husband.

‘What if someone comes?' whispered Cécile as he loosened her laces and slid his hand beneath her gown.

‘Inferno will let us know.' The horse stood close by, its head nodding. ‘He can hear a mouse creep to cheese.' Swiftly, Gillet raised Cécile's skirt and untied the cord of his braies. ‘Besides, my honour demands you return looking dishevelled.'

‘Dishevelled? More like debauched! And what of
my
honour?' scoffed Cécile as she guided her husband home.

Exhausted and breathless, Gillet and Cécile lay on their backs and looked up into the clouds, contentment written on their faces.

‘Good Lord! How do the wives walk after their husbands return from a campaign months long?'

Gillet's grin widened. ‘Usually bow-legged.'

‘Twice in as many minutes and three in thirty!'

Gillet rolled over. ‘Hush.' He sealed her lips with a kiss. ‘You do not tease a man over his boyish eagerness, especially if it is derived from marital abstinence.'

‘Ha! Go tell that to your red-headed harpy. She glowers at me as though I am Satan's mistress in the flesh,' grumbled Cécile.

‘Churl,' said Gillet, laughing. ‘Do you blame the rock for the number of barnacles clinging to it? Come, my crumpled wife, you look suitably ravaged and we should be getting back but first tell me the names of the Vicomtesse's agents.'

Cécile screwed her face in concentration as she counted off her fingers. ‘Phillipe de Bellême, Charles du Perche and Henri d'Argentan. What's wrong?'

Gillet had paled. ‘Come.' He laced up his braies and pulled Cécile to her feet.

‘Why? Gillet, what's wrong?'

‘We are both correct in our assumptions. You, for saying we must be gone from this court as soon as possible, and I, for thinking you are in danger. Phillipe de Bellême died last week, a fall from a runaway horse supposedly, and Charles du Perche was found the week before, his body dredged from the depths of the Gironde. He'd been missing a sennight. Both men made themselves known to me upon my arrival. I can only guess someone knows they were to meet with an agent from the Vicomtesse. Pray that “someone” does not know that person is you. I have no idea who Henri d'Argentan is but we can only hope the man is still alive.'