The Gilded Crown (56 page)

Simon removed a bag of coins from his doublet. ‘Perhaps this will help.'

Anaïs snatched the pouch from Simon's hand, her eyes glistening. ‘This is a pittance,' she declared as she estimated the weight of the purse.

‘You always were a greedy, spiteful woman,' Simon replied venomously.

‘It is not about money you stupid, old man,' she ranted. ‘I want vengeance. I want retribution and I want your saintly, young wife to pay. Not like her sister, the whore, who danced with delight as her skin was burned away by the flames of the pyre. Oh no, I am going to make Catherine bleed.'

Cécile stared down at the crossbow. Just knowing one twitch of the boy's hand on the lever could embed an arrow in her chest had the blood coursing through her veins so fast, she felt faint.

‘Whoa, lad. Steady there.' Gabriel slid in front of Cécile and a look of confusion swept over the boy's face. ‘You do not want to do this. Lower the weapon and we shall talk. None of us will move until you say so.'

The lad opened his mouth to speak but he sank to the floor, unconscious. As he fell the crossbow was snatched from his keeping by Griffith, his left hand curling around the stock, his thumb preventing the lever from firing. He twirled his dagger and slipped it back into his belt.

Minette rushed into the chamber. ‘Milady!'

Cécile collapsed into a chair. ‘I'm fine,' she declared to her maid even though her legs were shaking so much she could no longer stand.

Gabriel lifted the boy from the stone tiles and laid him on the bed. Gillet threw the contents of the bedside jug into the lad's face and he sat up, spluttering as everyone gathered around.

He looked one from one angry countenance to another timidly. ‘I would not have loosened the arrow,' he whispered.

‘We'll never know, will we?' retorted Gillet. ‘What's your name, boy?'

‘Henri,' he answered. ‘Henri d'Argentan. Are you going to kill me?'

Cécile flew to the side of the bed and fell to her knees. ‘Henri?' She looked at Gillet in horror. ‘

The brightly burning candles cast a shimmering light over the table as the newly-appointed Bellegarde servants brought out the dishes from the kitchen. Armand ended his story and the resounding laughter which echoed in the room was proof that grieving hearts were slowly healing.

Mouse hailed another salute and tankards cheerfully rose into the air. Minette sat beside Griffith, aglow with the news that Gillet had commissioned a cottage to be built for them within the Bellegarde grounds. Griffith had requested it close to the stable so he could be near his father, but Llewellyn had scoffed at the idea, insisting he was in perfect health – the best he crowed – that he'd ever been. The heat in France from the season just gone had warmed his bones like never before in Chilham and the wonderful breeds of horses had his cup not just brimming, but overflowing. In the new stables, built as promised by the Vicomtesse, Llewellyn reigned over his domain with a contented hand. Trefor, his youngest son, also employed as Cécile's page, sent to Bellegarde in disgrace for taking Cécile's cats to Gisors, had sprouted like a spring vegetable over the summer months. He'd taken an immediate shine to the shy Henri d'Argentan, the boys being of a similar age, and they would oft be spotted sword practicing or racing the barrel.

After the attack on Moncontour, Henri had joined Mouse and taken the trail north. First they called upon Gisors where Henri delivered a letter from Gillet de Bellegarde.

The Vicomtesse read it and with a heavy sigh, nodded. ‘Tell Lord de Bellegarde I am still his friend should he be in need of one.'

Henri then requested leave from the service of the Vicomtesse. He wished to join the Bellegarde company as a page, he bravely informed her. The former Queen Consort, Blanche d'Évreux, agreed and released him into Mouse's custody.

Then they'd made the sad trip to Beaumont-sur-Oise, to deliver the eviscerated body of Gabriel, carefully embalmed and wrapped for the journey by the Moncontour monks. They'd laid him in a cart strewn with flowers but Mouse had personally carried the clay jar encasing the honeyed entrails in his arms.

‘I nursed him all the way home,' he told Gabriel's parents. He held Gabriel's sister, Emily, as she wept. Before he left, Martin de Brie, following his young charge's example, summoned his courage and asked for permission to marry Emily de Beaumont de l'Oise, promising to name their firstborn for Gabriel. The family had warmly accepted his troth.

Gillet and Cécile, Griffith, Minette and Odette departed Moncontour soon after Mouse and Henri, bound for the much shorter route that would take them to Bellegarde. The fifty-four leagues was still a long and difficult journey, made harder by the heavy hearts. At Blois they delivered a message from Jean to his father and, when the Comte heard of their tribulations, he persuaded them to stay and rest for a couple of days. Then they tracked to Orléans and finally, Bellegarde, arriving mid-afternoon towards the second week in August.

Cécile reined in beside Gillet as they emerged from the Loire forest. Over the flatter landscape, they could see the pink stone of the turrets on the keep and the tiles on the new stables twinkled in the sunlight.

‘I gave no leave for any construction,' muttered Gillet, staring out in disbelief at the handsome set of buildings. The Vicomtesse had included a dovecote.

‘Welcome home, husband.' Cécile grinned up at him. ‘It is my gift to you, to us, to our life together, so you can breed the finest horses fit for kings.'

‘But how?' spluttered Gillet, nudging Inferno into a walk again.

‘Aah,' purred Cécile, prodding Ruby. ‘You know the saying. Never look a gift horse in the mouth.'

Veronique suffered the blow of Marguerite's loss bravely and attached herself firmly to Odette who was immediately at home in the keep's large kitchen. It was a happy time for Cécile when she was reunited with her horse, Starlight, and her cats, Gillet's gifts to her in Chilham. Cinnamon purred around her legs, weaving in and out and even Nutmeg consented to allow Gillet to pat him without retaliation. Trefor put his finger to his lips and squeaked open the larder door. A burst of plaintive mewing was heard and Cinnamon raced to the basket.

‘Kittens!' squealed Cécile, picking up a tiny ball of fur. It fit into the palm of her hand.

‘That's the second litter, Milady,' informed Trefor. ‘She also gave birth just after we arrived here. Most have been given homes but a couple still reside outside.'

‘Hmm,' murmured Gillet, picking up a set of kitchen shears. ‘At that rate, I shall have to consider Nutmeg's options.'

‘Gillet!' scolded Cécile, covering Nutmeg's ears.

By the end of August another summer storm brought driving rain and cracks of thunder so loud, they threatened to topple the keep. Everyone who could not attend their duties because of the weather had gathered in the hall to help whitewash the walls. The women were busy taking stock of the new linen. From her position mounted halfway up a ladder, Cécile was handing down a bundle of sheets to Minette when she looked out the oil-skinned window. Even through the distortion, she could make out a figure struggling against the elements.

‘Oh, the poor, old man,' she told her maid-companion. ‘He can barely stand and his wife on the horse fares no better.' She began to dismount when she slipped on the staves, her attention riveted by the figure.

‘Milady,' inquired Minette. ‘Did you hurt yourself?'

Next Cécile was sliding down the ladder at full pelt and with a cry she flung open the door and dived headlong into the pouring rain. ‘Armand!' she screamed, her voice not totally lost against the clash of the storm.

‘Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph,' railed Gillet, dropping the paintbrush. He flung Mouse a horrified look. ‘What if he does
not
have the child? I should have greeted him first!' Both of them ran outside as fast as they could and arrived just as Armand, despite the rain, pushed back his hood.

‘Canna a man no get inside foist?' he jested in his worst Scottish brogue, but produced from beneath his cloak the bundle for which Cécile craved.

She swept the rugged-up child into her arms and covered the baby's face with kisses.

Rudely roused from his sleep, pelted by cold rain and smothered in affection, Jean Petit opened up his mouth and wailed with all his might.

‘Now there's a sound I missed.' Gillet laughed, his arm guiding his soaked, besotted wife back indoors. It was then they noticed the woman on the horse. Armand helped her dismount and she curtseyed, a noble feat in the blustery wind.

‘I'd like to introduce you to Tiphanie de Carmaux,' said Armand. ‘My betrothed.'

Life at Bellegarde was beginning to take shape. When Gillet's name day arrived on the eighth day of September, Cécile could not believe it had been a twelvemonth since the auction in Kent where she had purchased his horse, Goblin. And yet, in another sense, she felt as though she had just lived two lifetimes! The couple spent the day on a pique-nique together, down by the river. The change of season was imminent, the weather at last cooling.