The Order of the Lily (30 page)

Cécile sat patiently as Minette dropped the hairbrush for the third time. Her maid appeared nervous and her pallor was pasty. There were dark rings beneath her eyes too, suggesting she had slept badly.

‘Are you not well, Minette?'

‘Milady, I am …'

‘Ouch!' Cécile rubbed her head where the veil had just been pinned to her scalp instead of the blue cap.

‘Forgive me, milady!' Thoroughly distraught, Minette fell to her knees. ‘This last month in your service has been the happiest I have ever known, and I … I …' She buried her face into her hands and burst into tears.

‘Minette! Whatever is the matter?' Cécile encouraged the girl to stand and placed an arm around her shoulders. ‘I have made no complaints about your service.'

‘Griffith said … he said … Oh, milady, Griffith would never have aided his sister with that fire. I just know he would not!'

Even more astounded, Cécile raised her brows. ‘You speak with Griffith?'

Minette's eyes dropped to the floor. ‘I was under orders from Milord d'Albret. I was to report daily, your health, your wellbeing, everything and anything that concerned you.'

‘Really?' Cécile drew breath with mixed feelings. ‘How long has this been in progress?'

Minette swallowed uneasily. ‘The entire time milord was absent from your chamber, milady.'

‘And you think, for this, I will dismiss you?'

Minette shook her head. ‘No, milady but Griffith said we have failed in our duties. I am in charge of your wardrobe and I neglected to observe some garments were missing. He and his father will be called forth after Mass to go before milord. I am afraid we will all be dismissed!'

‘Well, you need not fear for yourself, Minette. I shall not lose you over a pair of garters.' Cécile paused for thought. ‘As for Griffith, I cannot say. It will be up to milord. Do all the servants feel threatened?'

Minette nodded. ‘They have never seen milord this way before.'

Cécile was to discover the truth of this at the chapel. Where there was usually shuffling, coughing and general restless-ness, the chaplain found, to his delight, a very attentive congregation. From beneath her veil, Cécile observed Minette's glances towards Griffith, who, together with his father, Llewellyn, looked almost green. Gwynedd, she noted, was nowhere in sight.

With the closing of the service, Gillet escorted Cécile back to the solar, as had been their habit a month ago. After breaking their fast, Gillet pushed away the dishes and poured two goblets of wine, his manner foreboding.

‘I must conduct a hearing. Stay if you wish but say nothing.'

Cécile moved to the window seat as Gillet placed his chair before the hearth and laid his sword at his feet. As though on cue, a knock sounded at the door.

‘Enter,' commanded Gillet, and Symond let in Griffith and Llewellyn. Heads bent respectfully as they each sank to one knee. The door closed behind them. Llewellyn nervously twisted his hat in his hands.

‘Sire,' croaked Griffith, ‘you wished us to present ourselves.' It was too much for Llewellyn. He fell onto both knees, clearly terrified and sobbing as his head touched the floor. Griffith watched helplessly, his already pale complexion turning a bleached white. ‘Da, please,' he whispered.

Llewellyn lifted his head, rocking back onto his heels. ‘Ruined us, she 'as, boy. What am I to do? Where are we to go?'

‘That,' interrupted Gillet, ‘is precisely what we are here to discuss.' He indicated the two squat cross-chairs in front of him. ‘Griffith, assist your father to be seated.'

Griffith gripped his father's arm and aided him to the chairs. The poor man was beside himself.

‘Llewellyn, your service to this family has been a long and loyal one. You are an excellent horse master and there has never been reason for complaint.' His eyes slid to Griffith and the young man swallowed apprehensively. ‘Griffith, you have recently been elevated to the rank of squire and I have never doubted my decision. I would have you both know the importance of these two positions, for each of you are charged with the responsibility of caring for a lord's most precious possessions – his horses, his armour, and his woman. I believe I have always shown myself to be a fair and reasonable man.' This statement brought a surfeit of nodding from the father, and the son blinked for the first time. ‘Unfortunately, your daughter, Gwynedd, has committed a grievous offence.' Both the men swallowed in unison. ‘It is true,' continued Gillet, ‘that I showed her friendship but you have my word as a knight, I never encouraged otherwise. I stated on several occasions that the Lady d'Armagnac had claimed my heart. So it is with great distress that I will share facts which have just come to light with regard to the fire in the stables.'

Llewellyn placed his head into his hands, and Griffith turned from white to grey as Gillet recounted Gwynedd's part in the fire, which he had extracted from Cécile in every detail. ‘Add to this also, one count of theft.'

Griffith's head fell to his chest and Llewellyn began to sob, his old, hunched shoulders shaking with misery.

‘Llewellyn, where is Gwynedd now?'

‘Sire, upon receivin' yer message this mornin' I locked 'er beneath our trapdoor.'

Gillet nodded. The workers' huts all contained a cellar under the floorboards or rushes. Dug into the earth, it was where many stored food supplies or brewed ale during summer.

From her window seat Cécile could see the expression on their faces. Llewellyn and Griffith held little hope of remaining within Gillet's employ.

‘Your daughter is overripe for marriage and needs a strong husband to keep her well occupied. To wit, I suggest Rhys ap Rhyl.'

Llewellyn lifted his head. Gillet had just named one of the best bowmen in Wales, honourable and well respected. He was also a man who loved Wales too much to ever consider leaving her shores.

‘You told me yourself, Llewellyn, that he had offered for her. I shall provide passage for Gwynedd to my sister's house in London, whereupon Rhys may collect her, but understand that both Gwynedd and the letter informing Rhys ap Rhyl leave here today.'

‘And what of us, Sire?' asked Griffith.

Suddenly remorseful, Gillet sighed. ‘You may choose to accompany Gwynedd, or,' a heartbeat passed, ‘you may retain your own positions, but I ask you to consider this carefully, for 'tis not my intention to remain in England. I will be returning to France, and require both a good squire and a horse master who will honour the trust I place in them. There will be much work to be done and this will leave little time for trips to Wales.' Both Llewellyn and Griffith stared with stupefaction, but they visibly relaxed for the first time.

‘I approve any discipline that you wish to administer to your daughter,' continued Gillet, ‘except let it not mark her body permanently, and her face not at all, for she is to be kept acceptable for Rhys ap Rhyl. It is with great sadness I tell you that it was her intention to see the Lady d'Armagnac scarred in a most horrific fashion.' He lifted his head and stared down at the men. ‘For that, I never wish to lay eyes upon the girl again. She must quit this house today. The Lady and I will be leaving shortly and, when we return late this afternoon, Gwynedd must be gone. If you accompany her, then so be it. Indeed, I shall dearly miss your services. If, on the other hand, you remain, then know that you shall be required to swear oaths of fealty.'

Griffith immediately slid from his chair to a bent knee. ‘Sire, I will never be so remiss in my duties again, and will take my oath right now, should it please you.'

Gillet unsheathed his sword and held the weapon out flat. His squire solemnly placed his hand upon the blade.

‘By your sword, do I swear to serve and protect you and that which belongs to you, to honour your word and deed 'til either you, or death, releases me from my pledge. Upon your sword, I do swear it, knowing to fail will bring this blade to my neck.' Gillet lowered his weapon with a nod and Griffith returned to his seat. Llewellyn gazed at his son with pride, but also anguish, for his decision now was one any parent would abhor, to live his life with his son, or his daughter, but never both.

Gillet's voice carried softly. ‘Llewellyn, if you need time to decide, I will grant it, but only this day. I would have my answer by the time I return. Think upon it, for I know it is no easy decision.'

Llewellyn fell to his knees, his gnarled hands clutching his hat to his breast. ‘I thank ye for yer mercies, Sire, to me, my son, an' that daughter o' mine. Well knowin,' I am, o' the punishments ye could o' rightly administered. Ne'er been so 'appy as I 'ave in yer employ, for always ye show me kindness. I see no prospects in Wales, ‘cept to live on 'andouts from my future son by marriage. Within yer fold is where I crave to remain, Sire. 'Tis an honour to serve ye.' He looked expectantly to the sword in his master's hand and, obligingly, Gillet held it out.

‘Look to this day, Llewellyn, and see it done, then know you have a place for a lifetime in my family.' He clapped the old man on the shoulder. ‘I am truly sorry, my friend, for the way of it.'

Cécile stood in her room a short time later and distractedly straightened the folds of a deep green gown of musterdevillers as Minette tussled with the laces.

‘He is staying.'

‘Milady?' Her maid held out the dark, wine coloured surcotte and Cécile wriggled into it, settling the lozenge pattern symmetrically over her stomach.

‘Griffith has chosen to stay on as milord's squire.'

Minette brushed a non-existent speck from the expensive Normandy wool, her cheeks colouring to a rosy glow.

Cécile reached out and cradled Minette's chin in her palm. ‘He will be in need of a friend,' she added softly.

Minette's eyelashes fluttered and she lowered her gaze. ‘Yes, milady.'

‘And since you deign to speak with him, there are times when I would have you honour me the same way.'

Her face lit with a shy smile. ‘Yes, milady.'

Cécile found Gillet leaning against the fence of the horse yard, his boot resting upon the bottom rail. He cut a fine figure in black quilted chausses and a murrey coloured doublet. His cloak was tossed haughtily over one shoulder and the breeze blew his hair about his neck. He was watching Inferno, the great beast cantering the yard, snorting, and rear-ing as a passive, disinterested Ruby munched her fill in the next enclosure. Gillet greeted Cécile with a dimpled grin that would soon be lost to a beard.

‘He still has not managed to win her affection.'

‘I am sure he will eventually,' she replied, reaching his side. ‘How can she resist such a handsome fellow?'

‘Come.' Gillet held out his hand as a blue roan Boulonnais was brought from the stable by Trefor.

Cécile eyed the heavy beast suspiciously. ‘You don't expect me to ride that, do you?'

‘You prefer to break poor Ruby's back?'

Gillet hoisted her up to sit sideways across its broad neck and mounted behind. He headed for the narrow path, crossing the paddock to ford a small stream and scale the far side of the shallow bank. Both Ruby and Inferno watched, whinnying in chorus as their master and mistress disappeared into the woods.