by Dan Davis
And then I discovered that I need not have concerned myself with such thoughts.
“The King sent you?” she said, somehow managing to look down her pretty little nose at me while avoiding eye contact of any kind. “The King sent you and you alone?”
“I have a number of armed men who serve me who will also provide your protection on the road, my lady.”
“Those appalling villeins?” she said, her sweet lips turning sour at the corners. “But where is the Earl of Northampton?”
“He is with the King, my lady.”
“Surely, Warwick has come for me?”
“The Earl of Warwick is with the King in Calais, my lady, and with your permission I shall escort you there forthwith.”
“You most certainly do not have my permission. Summon Lancaster. He may escort me.”
“I am afraid he is otherwise engaged, my lady.”
“How dare you take that tone with me. I shall not stand for it. You must send for Kent, immediately. Even Stafford would do. Come, come, the sooner you set off with my instructions, the sooner a man of the proper rank shall return. I cannot stand to stay in this ghastly place an hour longer than necessary.”
I stepped closer to her and she fell silent, looking warily up at me. Her servants drew nearer, ready to pull her away.
“We are leaving now, my lady,” I said with a pleasant smile on my face. “Please mount your horse and instruct your servants and ladies to do the same, or else I shall instruct my appalling villeins to truss them up and carry you all to Calais like bolts of Flemish cloth.”
She hesitated for a good long moment and I knew I had her.
“The King shall hear about this,” she said, in a far softer voice. “And the Queen, also.”
“I am certain that your woes will be the very essence of their attention once we reach Calais. Shall we begin, Lady Cecilia?”
She tossed her head up and rolled her eyes, not deigning to reply.
By the time we made off, it was already late in the day but we had to get moving if we were to reach the first stopping point. My men were ranging all around the Lady’s company on their coursers or hobbies, other than Walt who lurked as always within striking distance of my back. I urged my horse forward and called out that we were leaving immediately and that anything or anyone not packed up and mounted would be left behind.
“Do not hurry the lady so,” a hulking great servant said to me in a dismissive tone as he tightened a strap across a horse’s flank. He did not even look up from where he stood. His voice was as gruff as his manner and I resisted the urge to lean down and strike him with the back of my hand.
“I do not hurry the lady,” I replied, my tone level. “I hurried her servants. I hurried you, did you hear, little man?”
Prideful men who consider themselves to be large fellows hate nothing more than to be called small. And so it was with this servant, who glared at me with open hostility.
Instead of pushing him further, I laughed and rode away, turning to Walt as he came up with me.
“Watch that man, Walt.”
“I clocked the cove before you ever conversed with him,” Walt replied. “His name’s Eustace. They call him the Steward and so he is but he’s built like a fighter and no mistake. Right bruiser, that one, sir.”
“Yes, thank you for your assessment.”
Now that Walt mentioned it, I noted how this Eustace fellow stayed close to the Lady and watched her always from the corner of one eye. I should have seen it before but he was undoubtedly an experienced soldier, or a bailiff used to bashing skulls in, or perhaps a former ruffian, but it was perfectly ordinary for a noble to have guards and armed servants and arguably it was vital considering the state of the country.
“Well, Sir Richard?” Walt asked, raising an eyebrow and jerking his head back with a sly look on his face.
I knew what the sordid ruffian was getting at but I pretended ignorance. “What is it that you are asking, Walter?”
He grinned. “You doubted what old Gilbert said about the lady, sir, but now you know that he ain’t one to tell a lie and, so help me God, neither be I. That dear lady is a ripe one and no mistake. Wheresoever she goes, the men all about her, common folk and lords alike, must be bending God’s ear with all the praying for forgiveness they be doing once she passes by.”
“Do not speak of your betters in such a manner,” I said, repulsed by his vulgarity. “In fact, do not speak of the Lady Cecilia at all from now on, excepting practical matters.”
“Right you are, sir,” Walt replied, cheerfully. “So, speaking practically, my lord, how about we inveigle the Lady’s wagon into a ditch at a likely spot on the way, so as you can take her into the woods and give her the green gown?”
I do not know what disturbed me more. The fact that Walt’s depraved mind so closely mimicked my own, or that I was desperately tempted to take him up on the offer of assistance.
But my reservations remained. Even if I could somehow seduce the woman into civility, I could not imagine her softening so far as to allow me to lift her skirts and attempting to do so and failing could have dire social consequences for me. As it was, it appeared that she was resolved to be insulted by my every action and indeed by my presence and even the maintenance of the utmost public courtesy would only go so far to lessen the blow.
Besides, she would never be left alone. Not by her ladies, nor by her servants. And certainly not by her bodyguard.
“He’s watching you like a hawk, sir,” Walter said when we stopped at a local manor for the night. “Black beady eyes on him, ain’t they, sir. Like a rabid badger.”
The little manor hall was a dark and smoky place in need of repair but the lord was a loyal Fleming and so was an ally of ours, though he was away with the army. His servants provided dried herring in abundance and plenty of bread, though the wine was two years old and on the turn. The ale was good, though, and that was enough for my men.
“See that the bowmen are on watch all around and come back for some ale, Walter,” I said.
When he was gone I smoothed myself down as well as I could and made my way to the table where Lady Cecilia was eating. She did not look pleased to see me.
“My Lady, I hope that everything is to your satisfaction.” I continued before she could voice her displeasure. “We shall rise before first light and look to make the rest of the journey before nightfall tomorrow. I pray you sleep well.” I bowed and turned to leave.
“Sir,” she said, her voice softer than before. I turned back. “I know that your only concern is for my personal safety and I wish to say that I am grateful for your efforts.”
Surprised, I was about to make a gracious reply but she continued speaking.
“And that is why I know you shall grant my request that you and your men shall sleep outside the manor house tonight.”
“Come again?”
“I think you heard me perfectly well. I could not possibly sleep for a moment all night long, knowing that such men sleep under the same roof.”
I rubbed the corner of my eye. “My men will behave themselves, my lady. Some shall be outside through the night to watch all approaches at all hours. Those not on watch shall sleep within the hall. You shall have the master bedchamber on the floor above. Have no fear, for I shall stand guard myself at your door all night long.”
Her face flushed and she gaped at me. Behind her, the steward Eustace stomped forward.
“I shall be the man standing guard over the lady,” he said, his voice a growl.
Making a show of it, I raised my eyebrows dramatically. “Oh, it is like that, is it? Well, in that case, do not allow me to stop you.”
Her ladies gasped and the Lady Cecilia jumped to her feet, slamming her hands upon the table in a most unladylike fashion, causing the cups to wobble mightily. “It is most certainly not like anything, you unchivalrous oaf. Oh, I cannot eat another morsel, you have upset me so. I must retire to my chamber lest I strike you for your impudence.”
I bowed. “I would greatly savour any blow to my person that you could strike, my lady.”
She screwed up her mouth and I was certain she was about to toss her wine in my face but her ladies bustled her away from the table toward the stairs at the rear.
I bowed again, grinning as I stood up. The stocky steward glared at me with red murder in his black eyes.
“Eustace, is it?” I said, brightly. “I thought you were to stand guard at the lady’s door? Well, hop to it, man. Hop to it, I say. We would not wish harm to come to such a delightful creature, would we? Come, come, good steward, be about your business.”
Gritting his teeth, he backed away while fixing me with that dark look.
“You will let me know if you need me to stand watch in your stead, will you not? I hear many a man of advanced years struggles to remain wakeful in the darkest hours.”
He hesitated, his face growing a vivid purple, but then he turned and strode off up the stairs.
When I turned to head back outside, I caught Thomas’ eye. He shook his head in disapproval. After so long, I could read his mind in just that one look.
Making enemies at every turn, Richard, he would have said.
I shrugged, indicating that I cared nothing if some slab-brained steward thought himself an enemy.
Thomas was unimpressed.
Through the night, as I lay on my back on two old mattresses at the top of the hall, I considered climbing the stairs to check on Lady Cecilia. I would have had to bully old Eustace away but I knew he could be overpowered with ease and perhaps even without much fuss. Once he was removed, I would politely ask if there was anything she needed.
I imagined that she might ask one of her ladies to open the door to me, where I might be admitted into the dimly lit room. I pictured a single candle burning beside the bed and the Lady, sitting up with her hair uncovered, to ask if I might not sit upon the bed to converse with her. It seemed to me that if I could get so far then it would be a simple enough matter to be invited to disrobe entirely and to join her in the bed and beneath the sheets. I thought it likely that her servants would vacate the bed but that was not always the case and if the red-haired girl were there with us then I would certainly allow her to remain. The older ladies were welcome to feign sleep upon the truckle bed. The lady herself had no children, so perhaps her marriage had been a loveless one. It might be that I could awaken a desire in her that was hitherto unknown to herself and so I would proceed slowly and lovingly, caressing her. Stroking her blonde hair and the perfect pale skin of her cheeks as they flushed with desire. Her chest, too, would be flushed when she removed her underclothes and bared herself to me.
Black Walter kicked my feet again.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but it’s almost sunrise.”
“Damn your tongue, Walter,” I cursed. “Damn your eyes, too.”
“Yes, sir,” he said. “Glad you slept well, sir.”
It was an overcast day and we set off under a low sky with very few words spoken. Lady Cecilia appeared just in time, wrapped tightly in a heavy cloak with her hood up. Eustace heaved her into the saddle and we were away. I set a smart pace so that we would make it safely back to our territory before dark.
“A rather bad track for rain,” Thomas said, looking at the gathering black clouds.
It was much travelled and the surface was deeply pitted and the soil loose. It would certainly turn into a morass if heavy rain were to fall.
“It may hold off yet,” I said.
The rainstorm hit us before midday, driving us all to the shelter of a nearby copse. Mud pooled and spattered everywhere in mere moments and there was no chance of making headway through it. Beyond the copse I could make out the reed-thatched roof of a low cottage and I raised a finger to point at it, about to suggest to the Lady Cecilia that she seek shelter within, when a fox burst from a bush beneath the lady’s horse. As much as the surprising streak of red at its hooves, the sudden shouts of warning from the men all around caused the horse to bolt away. Lady Cecilia held on while the animal thundered across a field, flinging mud and crops behind it as it went. I was after her right away, my courser gaining on the palfrey and all would have been well but for the idiot bloody fox veering back across the path of the already frightened horse.
It reared and then bucked, throwing the poor girl over its neck, causing her to fall very heavily.
Flinging myself from the saddle, I stooped to the mud and lifted the woman into my arms. She was dazed and caked in dark mud but she was awake and mumbling something. I wiped the muck from her eyes and started back to the cottage I had seen, crying out orders for water to be heated and for clean cloth to be readied.
“I shall take her,” Eustace said, scowling as he lumbered up to us.
“You shall not,” I replied. “I will place her within, where her ladies can care for her.”
The cottage was cold and dark and clearly had been abandoned. But only recently, for it was clean and had no smell of mould. There were plenty enough such emptied homes in those parts where armies tramped back and forth looking to take everything a man had and those who could live with distant family readily did so.
“Make a bed of your cloaks by the hearth,” I commanded. “Build the fire hot, for she is soaked through.”
I laid her down and saw with relief that her eyes were open.
“I am well,” she said, faintly. Her eyes closed.
“Glad as it makes me to hear that, my lady, you took a bad fall and must rest. Your ladies will see to you now and you and they shall send to me if you need anything it is in my power to provide.”
She reached up and placed a hand on my cheek, leaving a wet smear of mud.
Eustace lurked in the background like an old storm-struck tree trunk. “My lady shivers. You must leave.”
“As must you,” I said and dragged him from the cottage and pushed him away while I closed the door. “Thomas, Walt, Rob. I believe we will be forced to shelter hereabouts for the night. Even if the rain lets up, I doubt the lady will be ready to travel before day’s end.”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Rob said, snatching off his hat. “Is the lady much harmed?”
I pondered it, for I had seen how she had landed on her head and neck and such falls had ended the strength of many a man in my sight. “No, no. She will be well by morning, I am sure of it.”
All my men sighed with relief and many grinned. “God be praised,” Rob said and many of them took up the prayer.
It is my experience, earned through many centuries of observation, that most men would do almost anything for any woman. A beautiful young woman of the nobility may have men of all ages and all classes gladly laying down their lives for her, should she wish it. This is the proper way of things, for women carry our civilisation within their wombs, and each and every one of us knows this to be true.
Eustace glared at me and I turned on him.
“Where were you, Steward Eustace?” I said softly, advancing slowly. “Why was your hand not wrapped about her bridle? You will damned well do your duty the next time or I’ll see you punished myself.”
He did not retreat but stood his ground and simply glowered in response.
A group of sodden archers hurried over, their arms full of twigs, branches, and broken dead wood. “Firewood, Sir Richard!”
“Well done, lads,” I said. “Leave it by the door for the ladies, will you and fetch more. We shall need to strip that little wood clean, as the Lady must be warm through the night.”
“Right you are, sir!” the men cried, happy beyond measure.
It was a sodden afternoon, with nothing to do but huddle against a tree or a wall. Some of the men took turns within the empty pigsty, empty wood store and the outbuildings but I resigned myself to being wet through to the bone and staying that way. Just as night fell, the rain began easing off but a steady wind came up with it and chilled us mightily. I kept moving around between the groups of my men to check at least one of
them was alert to danger but mostly it was to keep myself warm and my thoughts away from the memory of holding Lady Cecilia in my arms as she stared up at me with those big blue eyes.
“Begging your pardon, Sir Richard.” It was Reginald, one of Rob’s bowmen, approaching with one of the Lady’s servants huddled under a thick cloak. “The lady here has a message for you directly, sir, from her Ladyship herself, sir.”
“My Lady would speak with you, Sir Richard,” the woman said. “As soon as your duties allow.”
“I shall return with you immediately, good woman.”
I ducked in through the doorway and stood for a moment as the warmth from the fire and the silence from the cessation of the wind enveloped me. It was like stepping into an altogether different world from the one outside.
Lady Cecilia reclined where I had last seen her, bundled up by the roaring fire. One servant attended her, while the others were nowhere to be seen.
“Where is Eustace, good woman?” I said to the young red-head who was tucking the blankets up higher over the injured woman.
“I sent him away to see to the other servants,” Cecilia said, her voice clear. “I could not stand his ceaseless lurking. And besides, I now know that I am perfectly safe in your care.” She glanced at her servant who finished fussing and moved away. “Come closer, Sir Richard. Down here, where I can see you.”
I did as I was bid and knelt close beside her on one knee. The firelight shone upon her face like gold on marble and her eyes glittered.
Swallowing, I spoke softly. “How may I be of service, my lady?”
She reached out from her bundled coverings and placed a lovely hand upon the back of mine. Those eyes of hers snared mine in their gaze and I could not look away. “I simply wished to thank you for what you did for me and also to beg your pardon for my rude manner.”
