The Lily and the Lion (49 page)

‘Of that there is no doubt,' came the gruff reply. ‘Let us go below quickly. We must get out of sight.'

Armand stepped aside and the larger frame descended the stairs. A woman draped in a black cloak followed. ‘By all the saints of heaven,' hissed Armand as she passed.

Below deck, Cécile felt her breast pounding. The appearance of Simon would surely bring news of her sister and hopefully mean aid for Gillet. There was new hope! Her heart leaped as she laid eyes on the man of whom she had only heard in letters. In reply, his grey ones widened.

‘Mother of God!'

Armand slipped behind the couple and dropped the door into position. His face was white and he could feel the goose-flesh crawling up his spine like a hairy spider. He exchanged looks with Simon, who felt his own pelt rising in a prickle along his arms.

The girl behind him pressed her hand to her nose at the strong odour of horseflesh. Her guardian stepped aside and her gaze fell upon a woman. She felt as though she had gulped icy water too readily and her mind had numbed. Her arm slowly lowered.

For Cécile the feeling was akin to drinking mulled wine too fast and standing aloft. Her head reeled and her stomach rushed to greet it. Her fingers slid up her throat and curled around her medals as she whispered. ‘For the love of God … why did no one ever say?'

It was as though each was a mirror, reflecting the same image.

‘By God's Holy Rood,' breathed Armand in reverence. ‘Identical.'

‘In every aspect,' replied Simon.

Catherine smiled poignantly at her sibling. ‘All this time I have wondered what you looked like.'

Shyly, Cécile returned the gesture. ‘And you had but to seek your reflection to know.'

Catherine, the older sister by mere minutes, spread her arms and the younger fell into them, their tears and laughter mingling.

‘I hate to be the one to break up a family reunion,' announced Simon, ‘but we are not out of the woods yet.' He quickly outlined the situation for Armand, Cécile groaning as Simon spoke of Gillet's injuries. ‘Salisbury could be bluffing but there is no doubt that the Prince will be displeased with Gillet.'

‘He is severely wounded,' warned Catherine, squeezing her twin's hand for reassurance.

Simon looked up and was caught again by the girls' likeness. ‘We ran on ahead to catch you before you drew anchor. Gillet follows at a slower pace but we must set sail as soon the others arrive. A fog is rising and aids our escape. Gillet suggested we take refuge at his family estate in Kent.'

A commotion was heard above and Armand sprang for the steps. He threw back the hatch and assisted Roderick who carried an unconscious Gillet in his arms.

‘Mouse, Guiraud and Gabriel are assisting the crew,' explained Roderick as he gently laid Gillet upon the straw. His shirt was soaked anew with fresh blood. ‘They had overpowered their guards by the time I caught up with them.'

‘And Anais?' questioned Simon.

Roderick smirked. ‘I took the liberty of securing her to the bedpost. A gift for the prince.'

Cécile fell to her knees beside Gillet but Catherine gently drew her back. The boat lurched. ‘Come, let Simon tend his wounds.' Cécile relinquished the limp hand and succumbed to the embrace of her sister. Her sobs tore at Catherine's heart.

‘Hush dear, just a little more courage. Do you know how your strength, your letters, your presence, have sustained me all these months?' whispered Catherine. ‘I never could have foreseen myself outside the convent walls, nor imagined that my life would be so complete, had it not been for you.' She took a deep breath, fighting to keep her own tears at bay. ‘I have prayed for many things but never have I made a pact with our heavenly God. I did so today.' She squeezed her sister's fingers as the dam of pent up emotions broke their banks. ‘I had thought my life meaningless and wasted. It is no longer, for I have you.'

The sisters fell into each other's arms, neither willing to let the other go.

Cécile raised her tear-streaked face. ‘Catherine, can you ever forgive me? When my papa told me of you, I did not want to know. But my world turned upside down and all this time, it was the hope of meeting you that kept me going.' Her voice cracked into a whisper. ‘So much has happened but, Catherine, tonight I learned Gillet was Albret.'

‘I know. Simon told me.'

‘No … no. You don't understand. My reaction was such that … he believes that he has lost me forever, and the nature of the man will know the truth only from my own lips. I also know that I love him.' She glanced across to where Simon bent over the slumped form, threading his needle. ‘But what if I am never to have the chance to tell him?'

‘You will,' replied Catherine, brushing back her sister's curl. ‘Hush now. Together we shall nurse him back to health. We shall see him well again.'

The boat lurched again and Roderick and Armand glanced at one another. ‘Feels like we are in full sail, God be praised!'

At length, Simon stood and placed his hand upon Cécile's shoulder. ‘I have stitched the wound and by God's good grace, he will recover, milady. You may go to him now.'

Cécile went to sit at Gillet's side and Armand joined her.

‘So we head for Kent?' confirmed Roderick.

‘What about the Prince, when he learns of our escape?' asked Armand.

Cécile swallowed and looked up at Simon. ‘You
do
know that Edward will not let us go this easily? He will come for me.'

Simon nodded. ‘Yes, but
I
know that man lying there. Were he to be assured of your love, nothing would make him give you up. Put aside your fears, Cécile. We shall be safe enough in Kent.'

Catherine gazed at each loyal face, one by one, Simon, Roderick, Armand, her sister and Gillet, and her heart began to fill. Simon arrived at her side and he raised her hand to his lips. Gently he kissed it. ‘Catherine, look around. I believe you have your wish. You have found your family.'

Continued in
Lions and Lilies
– ‘The Order of the Lily'.

Lions and Lilies – ‘The Order of the Lily'

Cécile d'Armagnac closed her eyes and waited for death to take her.

She lunged at the wooden bucket and buried her head in its depths. Every muscle in her body ached and in between retching, her stomach undulated without mercy to the rise and fall of the boat. She hoped God would forgive her blasphemy but never, in all her life, had she felt so ill.

Catherine held back her sister's hair and waited, damp cloth at the ready. ‘She is turning green, Simon. Can you not do something?'

Simon Marshall was poring over his medicinal box. ‘She did not want to take the mandrake but I fear we have no choice. The strain put upon her body is becoming dangerous and these conditions,' he paused to survey the hull, ‘are hardly suited to a birthing chamber.'

‘It is far too early for the baby to come! Do it, Simon,' ordered the older twin with newfound authority. ‘She only wishes to remain awake for Gillet's sake.'

Simon glanced over at his other patient, Gillet de Bellegarde, still unconscious from battle wounds, and his own stomach rolled. It was not from the motion of the cog upon the Channel waters, but the recent news from above deck, where Gillet's cousin, Armand, kept watch. A royal vessel had been sighted but Simon had not told the girls. Cécile had been correct when she said the Prince of Wales would waste no time in finding them. It would seem their escape from France was in vain. His immediate concern, though, was for his patients and resolutely he took up the little bottle of mandrake. Far better the Prince find her lifeless than one life less.

On deck Armand and his younger brother, Guiraud, struggled to secure the rigging on the square sail as Gabriel, with the agility of youth, scaled the ropes to the crow's nest.

‘What do you see?' yelled Mouse, his feet planted squarely on the deck.

‘Water!' Gabriel shouted back. ‘Lots of water!' He pointed to the horizon. ‘And the royal cog gains upon us.' They all turned to watch the growing speck, the Prince's vessel. The fore and stern castles could now be identified.

‘It will overtake us long before we reach England's coast,' noted Armand with dismay. Gabriel shimmied down the single mast. ‘Do we fight? We've only a handful of men plus the crew but one of them has a bow.'

‘It will take more than one archer and a smattering of swords to stop them boarding,' replied Armand. ‘We shall be ready but do not draw first blood.'

Catherine pulled a cloak over her sister, who was now in a drug-induced sleep. Cécile had managed to keep down the mandrake and though her face was still alabaster white, at least the green tinges had faded. Catherine lay beside her, their straw bed hidden from view behind barrels of Gascon wine. She did not know what to do, so she resorted to the only thing she knew, the one constant in her life – she prayed to God. Even though they returned to England, she knew she would not resume her life as a novice, nor take her final vows. She gazed upon her twin and her heart filled with joy. She had a new path now. She closed her eyes and prayed for God to understand as she vowed to protect her sister, at any cost. After all, was that not why God sent her?

She was startled awake by Simon's voice. He sounded agitated.

‘Catherine, listen to me. Whatever you hear, stay put and remain out of sight. We are to have company.' The boat suddenly jerked sideways, followed by the metallic clank of grappling hooks. ‘God damn,' cursed Simon as he raced for the hatch.

A voice rang out from above.
‘This vessel has been commandeered. By order of the Prince of Wales.'Excerpt

In 1360, Edward of Woodstock would have been thought of as the next king, Edward IV, but since he did not outlive his father, Edward III (and history later saw an Edward IV take the crown), he became known as ‘the Black Prince' – a title we loved and chose to use anachronistically.

There seems to be a difference of opinion between well-known academics as to whether or not women could read and write in the middle to late Middle Ages. Also whether the availability of parchment for letters was plentiful or could be afforded. It is best summed up by another researcher who declared, ‘It may be taken as axiomatic that any statement of fact about the Middle Ages may (and probably will) be met by a statement of the opposite or a different version.' Certainly this has been our experience.