In his own youth, Gawain remembered doing things he later regretted. Who didn’t? But that didn’t mean he would ask Raphael to stop his enquiries. The counterfeiters must be caught.
* * *
As Baderon shouldered his lute, Elise went to the door and reached for the latch.
‘Thank you for coming here to play for me,’ she said, smiling. ‘It’s a bit of a walk from Strangers’ City.’
‘It’s no trouble. I like walking. And if truth be told, it’s an honour to be playing for Blanchefleur le Fay.’
Elise shook her head. ‘You are too modest. It’s a greater honour for me. You are famed throughout Christendom.’
‘My thanks.’ With a grin, Baderon patted his purse. ‘Did I mention that Lord Gawain made it worth my while to come and rehearse with you?’
Elise felt her smile fade. She almost choked. ‘Lord Gawain paid you to come here?’
Baderon’s grin widened. ‘He slipped me a little pourboire.’
‘When? I didn’t notice.’
‘Elise, it was just a tip to help you practise.’ His grin turned sheepish. ‘I would have come without it. It is a pleasure to play for someone with your voice. It is a gift we must all treasure.’
‘You’re too kind.’
As Elise closed the door behind Baderon her gaze rested briefly on the sharp eyes of Gawain’s sergeant across the street. She’d learned his name was Gaston. She gave him a brief smile and closed the door with a snap.
Upstairs, one of the babies let out a piercing shriek. It was Pearl. Elise could tell from the tone. Pearl might be tiny, but she was bored. And when her daughter was bored, the world soon knew about it.
Since their arrival at La Rue du Cloître, both babies had been unsettled. Elise thought she knew why—Vivienne was miserable and tense and the babies sensed it.
Picking up her skirts, she went upstairs. Vivienne was bent over Pearl’s crib, crooning softly.
‘She won’t settle?’ Elise asked.
‘No. Her linens are dry and I’ve fed her. She shouldn’t need feeding again for at least a couple of hours.’ Vivienne rubbed her brow. ‘She should be tired.’
‘It’s possible she’s fed up with staring at these four walls. I’ll take her for a walk.’ Elise reached for her shawl, tying it around her in such a way that she could carry Pearl sling-wise at her breast. Pearl liked being carried about in this way and usually gave her no trouble. She glanced meaningfully at Bruno’s cot. ‘Since Bruno’s asleep, it will give you a chance to rest.’
‘Bless you.’
Heat gusted into Elise’s face the moment she stepped over the threshold. It was like walking out into an oven. She could hear the swifts screaming as they shot back and forth high over the castle. Nodding at Sergeant Gaston, she walked swiftly down the street.
Pearl stopped crying. The movement soothed her. As did being outside. Elise smiled. Perhaps Pearl shared her love of freedom. Wondering if Gawain’s men had been ordered to shadow her again, Elise tried not to glance over her shoulder. It was up to them. Surely she could take her daughter out for a walk?
The weight of Pearl’s body was comforting. A little warm in the heat perhaps, but definitely comforting. The streets were crowded. Most people were streaming in one direction, heading for the fair. Elise recognised where she was. She’d come this way with Lady Isobel on her last visit to Troyes.
She put her hand on Pearl’s head. ‘That was before I met your father,’ she murmured.
Ahead of them, the street opened out into a small square. There was a tavern there, the Black Boar. Elise had been there too, again with Lady Isobel. Given the tavern’s low reputation, Lady Isobel’s insistence on going there had shocked her, but Lady Isobel had had questions and she’d known that she’d find answers at the Black Boar.
Nothing dreadful had happened to them then. I wonder...
Elise allowed herself to be swept along with the townsfolk and before she knew it, she found herself staring at the tavern, an idea taking shape in her mind.
The Black Boar was—putting it bluntly—more of a bawdy house than an inn. Elise wasn’t surprised to see two pretty girls sitting, elegant in their dishevelment, on a bench by the door. Gaudy lacings were loosened. Generous expanses of flesh were on display. To one side, half a dozen horses—belonging doubtless to wealthy patrons—were sheltering in the shade of a makeshift awning. On account of the heat, the inn’s shutters were wide. Smoke drifted into the square. There was so little wind a blue haze hung over the place.
Elise kept her gaze studiously on the inn door rather than the girls. For obvious reasons the place was popular with men from the castle garrison. But it wasn’t only soldiers who came here. Merchants came here for lodgings. And hadn’t André mentioned that his friends met here from time to time? It was something of a meeting place for men from all walks of life.
A cold shiver ran through her.
André. Where was he? What was he doing? Someone inside might have heard something, and she owed it to Vivienne to try to find out.
Countess Isobel hadn’t been afraid to do a little digging here, and neither would she. It was worth a try. Gawain would probably disapprove, but surely no one would harm her, not a mother carrying a baby.
Stiffening her spine, Elise held Pearl’s head to her breast and marched to the door.
Chapter Six
In the tavern, in the gloom behind a roof beam, the Captain of the Guardian Knights, Sir Raphael of Reims, curled his hand round his wine cup. Gawain Steward, Count of Meaux, sat with him.
No one was near their table. None the less, Sir Raphael spoke quietly. ‘In sum, you’ve heard absolutely nothing more about these fraudsters.’
Gawain grimaced and replied equally softly, ‘Nothing you could take to Count Henry. I suspect a troupe of players are involved, though so far I have no proof. What about you? It seems likely the counterfeiters have a base somewhere in Champagne.’
It was Raphael’s turn to grimace. ‘Agreed. But I’m afraid I’m no further forward either. If you’ve no objections I’d like you to keep your eyes open for the next week or so. I take it your mistress is safely under watch in La Rue du Cloître?’
A pang of something that felt suspiciously like longing ripped through Gawain. ‘She’s not my mistress.’ More’s the pity. The question had wrong-footed him. It had planted images in his mind that had no right being there. Images he’d been trying to shift from his brain for weeks, no, months. Images of Elise lying soft and warm against him. Images of her... Lord, this must stop. He would soon be married. Gawain opened his mouth to tell Raphael that any help he gave him would have to be limited—he would shortly be leaving Troyes—but Raphael was speaking again.
‘No? Then why are you so keen to protect her? Face it, Gawain, she must be involved. Damn it all, man, she’s been sharing a tent with that lute-player for years. There can be no secrets between them. Both women must be involved. I don’t want them making a run for it.’
‘They won’t do that.’ Gawain felt himself frown. ‘Those women are as innocent as the babes.’
‘They must know something. By your own admission, their friend the lute-player went missing the moment we began our enquiries. The women must be involved.’
A knot formed in Gawain’s stomach. Raphael could be as stubborn as a terrier. ‘They hadn’t seen that sword before. They are not involved. I’d stake my life on it.’
Raphael’s lips curled into a cynical smile. ‘That girl has you bewitched. She bewitched you last year and in my view the spell lingers. You’re besotted.’
The knot twisted. ‘That’s not true. We were lovers for a time, that’s all.’ Even as the words slipped past Gawain’s lips it occurred to him that he had no need to justify himself to Raphael. Worse, he was doing Elise a disservice. Thoughts—longings—f
lew through his brain. The phrase ‘we were lovers’ hardly did justice to the way Elise had felt in his arms, to the way she had felt beneath him. Nor, he thought wryly, was the glib phrase enough to explain the pain he’d felt after she left. And as for the way, even now, he lay awake at nights thinking about her. Wanting. Needing. No, not needing, definitely not needing. He couldn’t explain it, save to say that Elise was the mother of his child. He couldn’t stand the thought of her being taken to the castle for interrogation.
‘Raphael, I’m glad I found you today. I will shortly be leaving Troyes and I’m asking you—whatever you find—to deal kindly with both women.’
Raphael’s lips twitched. ‘You’ve got it badly.’
Another knot formed in Gawain’s belly. ‘No. But I don’t want to discover that the minute I leave town you’ve taken them to the castle. I swear they’ll be safe enough in the Rue du Cloître.’
Raphael’s eyebrow lifted and he leaned closer. ‘They’re involved.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘I can’t turn a blind eye because one of them has you besotted.’
‘They’re innocent, I tell you.’
‘Prove it. Bring me the counterfeiters. Help me smoke out the entire gang and then I’ll believe you.’
Gawain heard himself sigh. ‘I would if I could. Unfortunately, I’m leaving for Provins any day now.’
‘Provins?’ Raphael’s eyes sharpened. ‘You’re going to discuss marriage settlements with Faramus de Sainte-Colombe.’
‘Something of that nature.’
Raphael drummed his fingers on the table. ‘Gawain, I can’t swear not to interrogate those women. If nothing comes to light soon, I shall have no choice.’
Gawain hesitated. He should have no wish to prolong his association with Elise. It simply wasn’t fitting that a man should be paying court to one woman while longing for another. And as far as he could see, the only way to forget Elise was to ensure that he never set eyes on her again. The feelings he had for her—the pangs of desire that kept sleep at bay—they would surely pass after he’d met Lady Rowena. Lord, now he came to think of it, he hadn’t had a woman since Elise. He was no monk and denial seemed to be addling his wits. But all would be well, he was sure. Once he’d met Lady Rowena and married her, these longings for Elise would soon fade.
However, that didn’t mean he wanted Raphael to put pressure on her. And there was Pearl to consider. The thought of his daughter, an innocent infant, being taken to the castle lock-up while her mother was being interrogated was not to be borne.
‘Hell burn you, Raphael, I’d thought to proceed to Meaux once I’ve spoken to Lord Sainte-Colombe.’
‘There is much there that needs your attention, I’m sure.’
‘If you undertake not to act against Elise and Vivienne for...let’s say a week, I’ll return to Troyes after concluding my business with Lord Sainte-Colombe.’
Raphael’s eyes lit up. ‘You and your men will help me nail the fraudsters?’
‘Provided you stay your hand with Elise.’
‘My thanks, Gawain, I knew I could rely on you.’
Gawain gave his friend a jaundiced look. ‘You drive a hard bargain.’
‘I have to. What with the fair, the joust and the banquet, my men are stretched to the limit.’ Raphael’s gaze drifted towards a table by the serving hatch. One of the girls—Gawain seemed to recall she was Raphael’s favourite—was flirting with a merchant. ‘I knew I’d be able to twist your arm,’ Raphael muttered, frowning. ‘It’s just a matter of knowing a man’s weakness.’
Raphael’s favourite planted a kiss on the merchant’s cheek and a muscle twitched in Raphael’s jaw. Gawain bit back a smile. It was just a matter of knowing a man’s weakness, was it? ‘That girl is uncommonly pretty for a whore,’ he said, casually.
Raphael sent him a dark glance. ‘Her name is Gabrielle, and she’s not a whore.’
‘No?’
Gawain was framing a teasing reply when the door opened and sunlight streamed across the floor. Elise walked in, swathed in a shawl. Elise? In the Black Boar?
Raphael stiffened and dug him in the ribs. ‘Go on, ask her. Ask her if she’s heard whether her lute-player’s returned.’
Gawain hardly heard him. ‘Quiet.’ Elise’s appearance in the Black Boar had caught him off guard. What the devil was she doing? Before Christmas, Count Lucien had mentioned Elise accompanying Lady Isobel to the Black Boar. At the time he’d not given it much thought, but he’d always wondered how it was that Lady Isobel, who had only then arrived in town, should have heard that the Black Boar was a good place to sniff things out. Of course, Lady Isobel could have just chanced on the place. Or...Elise might have friends here.
Elise walked to the serving hatch and gestured for Gabrielle.
‘I told you Elise Chantier was involved.’ Raphael’s voice was knowing. He pushed back his bench and made to rise.
Gawain made a chopping motion with his hand. Sitting as they were in the shadows behind the roof post, Elise had yet to see them. ‘Hold. You’re too hasty, my friend. Watch. Wait.’
Raphael subsided. Both he and Gawain watched as Gabrielle responded to whatever it was that Elise had said by approaching the serving hatch. The cook’s red face and red hair appeared in the opening. More words were exchanged and Gabrielle turned back to Elise, shaking her head. A coin changed hands. Gabrielle smiled her thanks.
As Elise turned to leave, an unexpected sound reached the men in the shadows. The cry of a baby. Gawain stiffened. Pearl! Elise had Pearl hidden in her shawl.
Raphael snorted. ‘It’s not often you find a baby in the Black Boar.’
Gawain looked at Raphael and the words seemed to jam in his throat. That is my daughter. It was his innocent daughter and already she was being brought into a low tavern. Elise was a singer. He knew that, but he hadn’t thought it through, not properly. What kind of life would Pearl lead in Elise’s care? He would have to speak to her. He stood up abruptly.
Raphael moved to block his path. ‘I’ll do it,’ he said.
Gawain looked blankly at him. ‘Eh?’
‘I’ll speak to Gabrielle. She’ll tell me what Elise had to say. If you don’t mind.’
Gawain sank back, scrubbing his palm over his face while Raphael wove between the tables. Sight of Elise in the tavern had Gawain’s thoughts in disarray. He should cut loose from her, he really should. For the sake of Lady Rowena and his marriage. For the future of his county. But how could he? He must face this squarely. It was very likely that Pearl would become familiar with places that were far more disreputable than the Black Boar.
No. No. He couldn’t accept it. He pushed to his feet.
He was halfway to the door when Raphael intercepted him. ‘Thus far, it seems you are right in your judgement of Elise Chantier,’ he said. ‘Thus far.’
‘Hmm?’ Gawain bent to peer through a shutter. Elise was walking towards the Grain Market. If he hurried he could catch her.
‘She was asking about the lute-player,’ Raphael said. ‘She really doesn’t know where he is.’
‘I told you—she and Vivienne are innocent.’ Gawain gripped Raphael’s arm. ‘Look, I understand you must continue the hunt while I am away. I simply want you to swear you’ll not distress the women in the Rue du Cloître.’
‘You have my word.’
Gawain released Raphael. ‘Did Gabrielle tell her anything?’
‘Gabrielle knows nothing. Enquiries will be made, however, on Elise’s behalf.’
Gawain lifted an eyebrow. ‘Gabrielle will tell you what she discovers?’
Raphael’s grin was confident. ‘If Gabrielle hears as much as a whisper, you may be sure that I shall be the first to know.’
* * *
‘Elise?’
Elise broke step, briefly closing her eyes. Gawain. Slow
ly, she turned. He was stalking towards her, a crease in his brow. She waited, foot tapping. She could no longer see his guard dogs. They’d trailed her to the tavern. She’d glimpsed them when she’d entered. Had he dismissed them?
When Gawain reached her, his dark eyes were glowering.
‘There’s no need to scowl,’ she said. ‘Your men know exactly where I have been. I don’t know where they’ve gone, but they followed me across town.’
He reached out and twitched the shawl from Pearl’s face. He stared down at her, shaking his head, and a lock of blond hair fell across his forehead. Elise looked quickly away. She could remember the texture of his hair, its softness, its warmth. She could remember the way the scent of bay from his soap lingered in those bright strands.
‘I expect the men were distracted by the girls when they saw you going into the Black Boar,’ he said.
‘Gawain?’ Elise bit her lip. His eyes were narrowed, but he was close enough for her to see the grey flecks in his eyes. She knew that look. He was angry. A large finger stroked Pearl’s cheek and something cramped inside her. He was gentle even in his anger. In Elise’s experience that was a rare quality in a man.
His dark gaze met hers and he made a sound of exasperation. ‘What were you thinking, taking Pearl to the Black Boar?’
He was so tall, she resisted the urge to take a step backwards. ‘It’s just an inn.’
He shook his head. ‘The Black Boar is more than just an inn, as I’m sure you know.’
She stared at him. ‘It can’t be that bad, my lord. Countess Isobel went there last winter. I know because I accompanied her there.’
‘That’s no excuse.’ He shoved his hand through his hair and another lock fell out of place. ‘To take our daughter into such a place...’
She searched his eyes. ‘Gawain, Pearl’s innocence protects her.’ She shrugged. ‘In any case, I was only there for a moment and she was wrapped up in the shawl the whole time.’
‘It was more than a moment.’
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