Gisborne: Book of Pawns (13 page)

‘Halsham,’ Gisborne growled, more gutteral and filled with anger than I had yet heard.
‘You are a marked man.’

Halsham laughed.
He had
courage; I would give him that
as th
e blade pressed his skin – c
ourage
or
blind
stupidity.

‘You think, Gisborne? Think again.
If you hurt me, who
do you think shall be the cur?
Myself, who marches with Richard’s men to Lond
on or you, a lowly steward
?’

‘Enough,’ Guy snarled at
Halsham
and more blood appeared.

‘Oh, Gisborne, why trouble yourself for this penniless little has-been? Don’t you know?
Moncri
eff is no longer her father’s. Not at all.
If you thought to buy yourself some sort of sinecure with the family for services rendered, you’re wasting your time.’

I could barely l
isten to the man and yet…

‘What do you mean?’
My
voice cracked as I dragged the gag away
.

‘Holy Father, she speaks!’ Halsham
grinned at me and I was reminded of an image of Beezelbub in an illuminated manus
cript I had seen in Aquitaine.
‘I mean, Lady Ysabel
,’ he continued
, ‘that all yo
u have left now is your title.
Your father has ceded
the entire domain of
Moncrieff to Baron
De Courcey in payment of gaming debts.’

H
e yelped as Gisborne dug the knife
ever deeper so that a stream of blood ran down the
knight’s neck to his chemise. ‘Let me go
and I shall forget this little
event
.’

‘No! Don’t even think of letting him go!’
I wanted
Halsham’s head on a pike
.

‘B
e silent, Ysabel,’ Gisborne muttered and then his hand dropped, Halsham’s coming
up to staunch the flow of blood.

‘Wise move, sir.
Your future is not with her and I can ma
ke or break you, never forget.
I shall make you pay for this
one day
,’ he indicated t
he bloody incision at his neck. ‘Have no doubt. But in the meantime you are a man to be
use
d
and I can raise you to
heights quite beyond a steward.
Think on i
t, dear chap.’ He sauntered past me.
‘You know, Lady Ysabel, I
actually
think he just saved me f
rom making a terrible mistake.
When I tup I like to get my money’s worth and you, dear lady, have no money.’

He laughed as he left the coppice and
I spa
t after him, whipping round to Gisborne.

‘You double dealing bastard! I
trusted
you…’
I
bundled my hair, yanking the hood over it and
went to leave, to sadd
le Monty and head out on my own
but his
hand grabbed my arm and he tugg
ed me back.

‘Now you know, Ysabel.’ He spoke through gritted teeth. ‘Isn’t it what you wondered?
You go
back to nothing.
Nothing beyond an arranged marriage with a noble or with the Church.’

‘Better that
than with someone like you.’

I wanted to scratch his face I was so filled with ire.

‘I will see you to your father
,’ he continued. ‘If he is no longer master of
Monc
rieff, I am no longer his steward but I will honour Lady Cecilia’s orders
.’

‘How long have
you
known about Moncrieff?’ T
ears thre
atened and I hated my weakness.

‘Tonight.’

‘Ha!’ I mocked, the expletive bouncing around the glade.

‘Why would I waste my time escorting you back to Moncrieff if I thought there was nothing for me to go back to?’

But I was not listening, not really, wishing to
rant as a release for my hurts.

‘You thought you would
get money from Cecilia at the very least.
And n
otoriety. You are like Halsham, Gisborne.
A user.’

Two hands grab
bed my shoulders and shook me.

Tell me I’m wrong then
.
I want to be wrong.

I could barely see his face and then the moon moved away from the branches and lit his eyes and his reply chilled me and thrilled me at once.

‘I
thought I could use you, yes.
But then other things got in the way.’

‘What things, Gisborne?
My father’s bankruptcy?’

His eyes burned with a terrifying coldn
ess that I shall never forget. He
bent his head and pressed his lips hard against my own and then dragged me back to the camp, stepping amongst snoring bodies and pushing me down onto my bedding.

I lay for hours, long after I heard
his breathing become regular.
I hated mys
elf for being a woman who relied on men.
I hated my father for being so damnably weak. I hated my mother for dying.
I hated
the world and God and Mary
Mother.

But more than anything, I think this night I actually hated Guy of Gisborne.

He
reached over my shoulder the next day and hoisted my saddle onto Monty’s back and I pulled the girth unde
r the belly and cinched it up.
The long hours lying awake through the night had done nothing to
ameliorate my feeling for him.
T
he truth was that
I
doubted
h
im, doubting my own thinking in the process. How could I trust someone who would allow a man who would rape to go free, for that is what Halsham planned – the rape of a woman. The idea that I could ever place myself in
any
man’s hands for protection was galling.

But some
weakly female
part of me wondered
if Gisborne might
t
ruly feel some sadness for me.
That
he worried the
news about Moncrieff and my father’s inexorable weaknesses on top of the death of my mother
could tip my emotional state. Perhaps that was why he had fed the known facts to me drip by drip like a mother feeding milk through linen to a sickly child.

But
then, I reasoned,
if he fel
t so kindly toward me, why
did he let
Halsham go?
I watched the way his mind worked as he hel
d the knife to Halsham’s throat; the way it said yes, then no.
I saw his hand fall a
nd Halsham walk away.
That was not the move of a man who cared for
my
emotional state.
It was the action of a man who weighed consequence
and erred on the side of …
what was it agai
n? Ah yes, status and power, t
wo conditions apparently lacking in my own life.

The thoughts chased themselves around in my head and Monty took it upon himself to turn toward the merchants’ group and join in as we rec
eived the command to move off. Gisborne
trotted up beside me but I
avoided him with contempt.

And yet I had to be hon
est with myself
.

My heart was breaking.

On so many counts.

My mother, m
y icon, was dead.
I had lost what little love an
d respect I had for my father.
I had
lost my home, my fortune … my future.
And the final straw had been realizing how I had misjudged Guy of Gisborne.

God, but I was naïve.
I had thought there was a heart t
here, valour.
But bring him to a pecuniary choice over a moral choic
e and his true colours showed. It
reminded me of another man
of whom I knew
, o
ne my mother had talked about. The fellow
may have been a man
she loved once, I do not know.
But he did something shameful
, untrustworthy and
dishonest, placing his friends, his compatrio
ts and my mother under threat.
He had ended by taking his own life, jumping f
rom the battlements of Cazenay.
No wonder she had opted for my weakling father.

But to return to Gisborne.

He chose
Halsham
over me and I would never forget.

I barely
noticed the countryside changing.
Monty carr
ied me completely in his care. The reins hung loose and I rode
in amo
ngst the tangle of my thoughts.
My main concern was w
hat I would find at Moncrieff.
Who was this Baron
De Courcey?
I wondered if my father had somehow managed to maintain a share in
anything that would
give
me a roof over my head.

There was a village, Hayrood
, a
few leagues away from the castle but part of the estate.
I recalled an unassuming manorhous
e that could suit the purpose; two levels of stone and daub and with a thatched roof and a modest component of chambers. But I could not see De Courcey being so beneficent.

I thought of my mother’s things; her jewelry, her Book of Hours, her basket o
f embroidery threads, her
fra
me and lute. Surely those were my inheritance. I wanted everything. Everything she had owned. Not for its monetary
value but because everything was redolen
t of her spirit, her mind … her heart. Had my father no thought for what these things might mean to Alaïs’ daughter? This is what cut into my soul. His apparent disregard for me. This was my father and I hated him more with each step that Monty took.

Every thought built on the previous one and my hands twisted
on the pommel of the saddle as tightly as
bands of muscle be
gan to tighten around my head.
We rode steadily until midday
and I noticed not at all.
Unaware that Monty had dark sweat stains on his shoulder or that Guy still rode
stirrup to stirrup next to me.
I would have continued on as all around me halted if Guy’s hand
had not reached for my reins.

Mary Mother, how many times has he done that in the last few weeks?

I
turned to him, I couldn’t help it, but I could read nothing there; a statement perha
ps of things as they now were.
As a penniless dependant, I was at be
st a tolerated responsibility, at worst
a despised nuisance.

‘You are frequently a liability, Ysabel.’
I could hear his words so coolly delivered.

N
o situation sat well with me and I preferred not to imagin
e in detail what it was to him. My state
was repugnant and my headache strengthened accordingly.

Dismounting for our midday break, bread and cheese again, I noticed we had reached the coastline and were tracking north
along a coast road.
The land fell over cliffs and below,
waves crashed
with rhythmic ferocity against the rocks.

A wh
isper sounded close to my ear.
‘Don’t step too close, Lady.’

I shivered.
‘Would that be a threat,
Halsham
?

‘Take it any
way you like,’ Halsham replied.
‘I should hate to have to rep
ort your death to your father.
Where would that leave Gisborne?’

I looked about to see if anyone observed me speaking when I was supposed to be
dumb.
Reassured, I
stared into those calculating eyes.

‘What happens to Gisbor
ne is of little concern to me. More to you I would imagine.
You and he seem to have tied yourselves to each other
like a betrothed couple
.
As to my father … I doubt that he cares overmuch for me at all. You may do your worst.
’