by June Francis
She was amazed at the lack of emotion in his voice. ‘We lived there,’ she cried, her tongue stumbling over the words. ‘Have you forgotten how many of us were driven out of Caen? My father’s house was burnt to the ground during the bombardment from your king’s guns. It was set alight by one of the balls filled with flaming tow that came over the walls.’
‘And your father, was he killed?’ he said quietly.
She shook her head slowly, and her eyelids drooped. For days she had been travelling, cold and hungry. Now warmth and food were working to relax her body, although she sought to keep her wits about her. ‘He died last winter, the privation proving too much for his strength,’ she murmured. ‘We had tried to settle in Vernon but due to the terror your king had caused in the hearts of so many it was filled with refugees. There famine and pestilence broke out so we had to flee.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I wish you would stop asking me questions and tell me where to find the man who took Marguerite.’ Her voice was fretful.
Almost that of a child, thought John. ‘I don’t know where he is.’ The words were barely audible but they caused her eyelids to fly wide.
‘But you must,’ she cried, forcing herself to sit the straighter.
‘I don’t,’ His eyes were clouded as he picked up one of the tankards. ‘But I don’t suppose it’s beyond my capabilities to find out.’ He took a deep draught of the mulled ale. ‘How was it that your search for your sister brought you from Caen to Calais?’
‘I followed the men at a safe distance.’
‘But you lost them?’
She nodded wearily.
He was silent a moment, then he took the other cup and crossed the cabin towards her, only to have her shrink away from him. ‘Don’t be foolish, lad,’ he muttered, seizing one of her hands and pressing her fingers about the handle of the tankard. ‘Drink.’ A moment she hesitated then obediently she did as ordered, and took a mouthful of the mulled ale. He said pensively, ‘I presume that you had no companion on the journey?’ She stared at him and he saw the fear in her face. ‘There is no need for you to be frightened of me.’ His voice was almost a caress.
‘You are English — a rapist and abductor, for all you would deny it,’ she said dully. ‘I have every cause to fear you.’
‘Ay, lad. That would be true if I was as black as you’ve painted every Englishman.’
‘They are devils,’ she whispered. ‘Invincible is how many of my countrymen see them.’
‘I am no devil,’ he replied. His fingers covered hers as he lifted the cup again. ‘Now drink and tell me, afterwards, why you had no friend who would accompany you.’
Her eyes darkened as his gaze held hers above the rim of the pewter vessel. ‘Many of our children have been stolen away to be servants in England. Any that would have come with me thought my task hopeless, and tried to persuade me not to follow after her.’ She added in a whisper, ‘Do you know where Marguerite is to be taken?’
‘We will find her,’ he said soothingly. ‘Drink.’ Louise’s throat moved and when she spoke her voice was husky. ‘Is it that you wish me to drink because you have put a potion in this ale, m’sieur?’
‘Such a lack of faith, boy,’ he murmured, and took a deep draught from her cup.
She moistened her mouth then drank just as deeply as he, before pushing the tankard away. A long breath issued from between her lips. ‘Could we not go and find out about my sister now?’
‘No.’ He moved away from her to sit on the chest. ‘Don’t look like that, child. It is far too late in the day to start a search,’
Her lips trembled. ‘I am not a child! I am almost nineteen years old. I have taken care of myself and my sister since our father died, and I have been on the road for the last two weeks.’
‘All the more reason to rest,’ he said roughly. ‘I presume that you did not walk all the way?’
‘I had a horse.’ She struggled against a feeling of lethargy. ‘I took it from an English soldier I had to kill.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘You killed a man?’
Defiantly she nodded and her eyes suddenly sparkled. ‘Will you have me hanged for it? I do not regret killing him. He was a beast and would have — ’ She stopped abruptly, her heart hammering.
There was a silence and she dared not look at him in case he read the truth in her eyes. She fiddled with one of the buttons on the doublet, half expecting him to punish her for her defiance. So it surprised her when all he said was, ‘And where is this horse?’
A nervous laugh tickled her throat. ‘He was stolen from me, so that I had to walk.’
‘That is why you do not know which ship your sister is on? And when you saw me you believed you had come to the right place?’ She nodded. ‘You say that you saw me last in Caen?’ Again she nodded. ‘Your tale is most informative,’ he said with a certain amount of grimness about his mouth. ‘I believe that it is God who has brought us together.’
She lifted her head and stared at him doubtfully. ‘You make a jest of what I say.’
‘I make no jest, lad.’ He returned her gaze squarely. ‘Do you know aught of this man you followed?’
‘I presumed he was a wool merchant. Calais is the staple port for the English wool trade and it was obvious that the group he was with was heading for this city.’ Her manner was suddenly impatient. ‘Why do you ask me? You must have known what he was. I don’t doubt that it’s possible that my sister is already on her way to England.’
He nodded. ‘What were you planning if you did not find her in Calais? Did you plan to smuggle yourself aboard a ship for England?’
‘If it was necessary,’ she said shortly, folding her arms across her chest.
‘And if you were discovered on board ship? What then?’
‘I would have worked my passage,’ she said confidently. ‘I am stronger than I look.’
‘Surely.’ He smiled, although he wondered how long she thought that she would continue to get away with pretending to be a lad. ‘And when you arrived in England, where would you have started your search?’
She hesitated. ‘I had not reached that far in my thoughts.’
‘No doubt. Do you speak English?’
‘A little,’ she said reluctantly.
He closed his eyes briefly, expressively. ‘You have courage. But England would have proved more dangerous than you realise,’ he said softly. ‘I see that I am forced to help you.’
Louise’s voice contained a note of incredulity. ‘But why?’
John returned her stare. ‘Let us say that my conscience bothers me — and that I believe God has put you in my way for my reforming,’ he said smoothly.
Her look was one of cynicism. ‘I wish that I could believe that, m’sieur.’
His blue eyes gleamed. ‘I will amaze you, lad, by the change in my character. Now finish your drink. It’ll help you to sleep.’
‘Sleep!’ A pulse beat rapidly in her throat as she gazed into his face, and she wondered just how much he saw with eyes of such clarity. ‘I cannot sleep here.’
‘It’s your choice, lad,’ he said firmly, draining his drinking vessel. ‘How badly do you wish to find your sister?’ He put his tankard on the tray. ‘I still have business to attend to in Calais, so you might as well take the upper bunk as I’m likely to be out for some time.’ Her eyes were uncertain, questioning. ‘I won’t disturb you when I come in if you are on the top. Be assured, lad, that you are safer in here with me than anywhere else on the ship.’
She spoke without thinking in a low angry voice. ‘I don’t understand. I had not expected such consideration from an enemy.’
‘You should have more faith, lad.’ His blue eyes met her hazel ones and his fingers touched the curve of her cheek lightly. Then he had gone.
Louise’s hand wandered to her cheek. It seemed such a long time since she had felt such a gentle caress. Pierre had been rather rough when he had discovered that she was not a youth. She shook herself. What should she do? It seemed foolish to trust
him. Yet he was the only link to her sister’s whereabouts, and he had behaved in a way that hinted at the change in character he had spoken of. Men did repent of their wickedness — sometimes. Still, she would have to be on her guard. She wished that her dagger had not been taken from her. What was she to do?
Her shoulders drooped with weariness and she knew that the chances of finding her sister without help were remote. She drank the rest of the ale, and came to a decision. Placing the tankard on the tray, she climbed on to the top bunk and lay down, pulling the cloak tightly about her. Within minutes she was asleep.
*
The sound of the door opening woke Louise, and for a moment she lay, instantly alert, wondering where she was. Then the movement of the ship and the sound of waves slapping against the side of the hull caused her eyelids to fly wide.
‘God grant you a good morn,’ said John, his eyes on a level with hers. For a brief moment their gazes held and she inspected his features carefully, before her defences were erected, and found them attractive. He quirked a dark brow. ‘I pray that you have slept well?’
‘Oui, m’sieur.’ Louise’s colour was heightened as she sat up, only to bang her head on the beam above. Her head was already aching and her throat sore. She rubbed the spot as realisation hit her and her face paled. ‘This ship is moving!’
‘Ay. We sailed with the morning tide.’
‘Sailed!’ She pushed back the cloak, swinging her legs over the bunk, and she would have slid unaided to the floor, but he took hold of her waist between both his hands and helped her down. She pulled away from him, wary of being so close, only to be flung against him as the floor shifted beneath her feet.
‘It’ll take you a short time to get your sea legs.’ Again his arms went round her.
‘I have never been to sea before.’ Swiftly she wormed herself an arm’s length from him.
His hands dropped. ‘Not everybody likes it.’ He moved away from her. ‘Come up on deck and take a look at the sea. It’s a fine day, if cold. Don’t forget your cloak.’
Louise made no reply, needing to cling to the wooden chest as she stepped unsteadily after him. She was certain that she was not going to like it. As she followed in his wake, the door was torn from her hand by a fresh wind.
A gasp escaped her as she came out on deck to stare up at the billowing yellow sail with the red cross at its centre. Then her gaze moved to reach out over the expanse of sea, restlessly moving as far as the eye could see. Her stomach turned over and she felt the colour drain from her face. ‘I’m … not … going … to … like … it,’ she said in a faint voice, lurching over to the side, where she was sick. After she had finished retching, the face she presented was so sickly-looking that without saying another word he took her back to his cabin.
His brow was furrowed and his voice concerned when he spoke. ‘You’re best lying down.’ Louise groaned. She felt too ill to argue with him. It seemed unfair to have escaped so many terrors only to die at sea.
The next few days passed in a haze. She was hot and cold by turns, and was barely aware that he kept her well covered. She was conscious of his bringing her drinks, but she ate little. A couple of times she managed to rouse herself and to attempt the passage to the deck, but no sooner was she upright than she wished that she was lying down again. She only prayed that soon they would reach England.
Then one morning Louise woke, feeling better; there was no sound of rushing wind and the ship moved gently as if on calm waters. She looked up at the wooden ceiling, and then carefully sat up. There was no sound of movement from the lower bunk, so she slid awkwardly to the floor.
With slow steps she went towards the door, then, gaining confidence, she hurried to open it, and stepped outside. There was much bustle on deck and she could see a harbour. There were two towers and walls that bore signs of repair. The white cliffs she had thought to see were nowhere in sight. She caught a glimpse of John and moved towards him. ‘Is this England?’ she asked, her voice sharp with sudden apprehension.
‘No,’ he said soberly. ‘It is Harfleur, and I warn you not to be troublesome.’
Louise, her fear spiralling into fury, flew at him, raining blows on his chest. ‘You tricked me! You lied to me,’ she cried. ‘You said that you would help me find Marguerite!’
‘Quiet, you fool. Keep still!’ John caught her wrists and swung her up over his shoulder. Then he carried her, cursing him and still struggling, on to English-occupied French territory.
CHAPTER TWO
LOUISE paced the bedchamber floor of the Peacock Inn in Harfleur for the umpteenth time, only pausing when she came to the casement window that overlooked the stable yard below. Tense with angry frustration, she gazed down at John, who was speaking to an ostler. With a great deal of satisfaction she noted the scratches made by her nails on the Englishman’s neck. Then she fingered her bruises, and honesty compelled her to admit that she had got off lightly in the circumstances. But it was not over yet. Why had he left her for hours on end, kicking her heels in this room? Where had he been? Why had they come to Harfleur? What was he planning to do with her — this Englishman? Her spirits plummeted and she gazed apprehensively at the large bed that took up most of the chamber. Had he guessed her secret?
Swiftly Louise walked over to the door and tried the latch again but the door did not yield. Her shoulders drooped and she went and sat on the bed, infuriated that her search for her sister should have been brought to such an abrupt halt.
Suddenly she heard footsteps outside and hurriedly she rose from the bed as a key grated in the lock and the door was pushed open.
John entered, smiling. ‘Well, we are in luck. I have purchased us a fine horse — although he is not as noble as my Connemara stallion at home in England. Tomorrow we go to Caen.’
‘Caen?’ She stared at him incredulously. ‘But why? I do not wish to go to Caen.’ Folding her arms across her breasts, she scowled at him.
His smile faded. ‘At the moment your wishes don’t count. We go there because it is my will. If that does not please you, then … ’ He shrugged.
‘But what of my sister?’ she demanded.
‘I have not forgotten her.’ A muscle in his cheek tensed and he lowered his gaze so that it did not meet hers. ‘I assure you that this journey is absolutely necessary if we are to find your sister.’
‘No doubt,’ she said tartly, moving away in the direction of the window. She did not believe him. There was something he was not telling her. Perhaps it would be wiser to leave his company. If opportunity came her way then she would climb out of the window. Surely the ground was not as far away as it seemed from up here? There were ships going to England in Harfleur. If he left her alone again then she would take a blanket from the bed and knot it to another blanket, tie that to the bedpost and then climb down. That way the distance to fall would not be so great and she would escape with only a few bruises to add to the ones that he had inflicted.
She was so caught up with the idea that she did not realise that John was behind her until he spoke against her ear. ‘If you are considering what I think you are, then I would reconsider.’
‘I would not jump out,’ she said quickly. Too quickly, she realised as he raised an eyebrow.
‘A blanket rope, then?’ His voice held an amused note. ‘Believe me, there is no need for such ploys. If you wish to quit my company then you are free to do so.’
Louise turned quickly. ‘Then why did you push me into this chamber and lock the door?’
‘I was angry.’ He grimaced as he touched the scratches on his neck. ‘There was really no need for such violence.’
A sharp laugh escaped her. ‘You — hurt me.’
John shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t attacked me in the way you did. You really must learn to control your temper.’
‘I need to control myself.’ She flushed with annoyance. ‘How can you speak so after the manner in which you handled me? I could barely believe my eyes when I came out on
deck to find the ship here at Harfleur,’ she said with some dignity. ‘You tricked me and I still don’t understand’
His expression was impatient. ‘I would have told you where we were going if you had been in a condition to take it in. But you were ill after your time in the water and were hardly conscious of your surroundings, never mind our destination. But if you do not trust me then you can leave any time you wish. Although I doubt you’ll find your sister without my help,’ he said silkily. There was a cool glint in his eyes as they ran over her trim figure. ‘Now what shall we do to pass the time until the morning?’
The look on his face was such that it caused Louise’s heart to beat the swifter, remembering how they had struggled against each other on the ship. Did he have any suspicions at all? ‘What do you suggest?’ she murmured, slightly breathless.
He smiled unexpectedly. ‘Perhaps to promenade would be best.’
‘Yes,’ she responded quickly as her gaze fluttered quickly over the bed and then about the small chamber. ‘Are — are we to spend the night here — in this room?’
He ran a hand through his dark hair, raising it into a crest, and his blue eyes were bland as he murmured, ‘I thought you would not object to a comfortable bed, lad, after the bunk.’
‘Of course not, but … ’ She searched for words and found none that would help her out of her predicament.
‘There’s no need to thank me.’ His eyes gleamed with unexpected amusement. ‘Maybe later.’ He got up and went to the door.
Her thoughts were in turmoil, but after several seconds she hurried after him.
*
The port of Harfleur was enclosed in polygonal walls, two and a half miles in circumference. It had three gates and the town could only be entered by drawbridges crossing a moat. To the north of the town was the flooded valley of the river Lezarde; to the south and east were marshland. Four years ago, in 1415, the town had surrendered to Henry V and his army. The siege had cost, English and French alike, many lives, but most had died not from feats of arms but from disease and starvation.
