Читать книгу Lord Gawain's Forbidden Mistress - Carol Townend, Carol Townend - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Elise sat on her pallet inside the pavilion with her chin on her hand and stared through the entrance towards the ale tent opposite. Gawain was out there. His hair gleamed like gold in the sunset—he’d been impossible to miss. He had his squire with him. No doubt they thought to leap on André the moment he appeared.

The crimson streaks slowly faded from the western sky and the bats took flight—dark flecks flitting silently overhead.

Every now and then Elise slipped out to feed the fire. She tried not to look too obviously towards the ale tent, but she knew Gawain and Aubin hadn’t moved. Each time she returned to her pallet in the pavilion, it was harder keeping her gaze from straying their way. On one foray outside she lit a lamp and brought it back inside with her.

As she shifted on the pallet, another patrol clopped by. There was no André. Above the background murmur of the camp a man laughed. It was a deep, full-throated sound that in Elise’s nervous state sounded impossibly happy. Impossibly carefree. Where was André? With every breath she took, her tension increased. Where was he? Why hadn’t he returned?

Something thudded against the back wall of the tent. She stiffened and went cold.

There was a ripping sound. A silver crescent—a knife—was slicing its way through the canvas. Light from the lamp reflected on the blade. Holding her breath, Elise watched as another slash was made. The silver crescent vanished. A hand appeared. A foot.

Heart sinking, she froze. It might not be André. Unfortunately, she feared it was. She felt oddly detached. It was as though she was an observer and she was watching her own reactions. It must be because she wasn’t truly afraid.

‘André?’ she whispered. ‘Is that you?’ She heard scuffling. A grunt.

André’s head poked through the opening. ‘You’re alone?’

Nodding, Elise reached behind her to close the tent flap. The shadows edged in on them. ‘What are you doing? André, where have you been?’

André pushed into the tent. He wasn’t carrying his lute and his breath smelt of wine.

‘Where’s Vivienne?’

‘She’s safe. Staying in the town.’

‘What?’ Swearing under his breath, André turned to where Vivienne’s coffer had been and drew up sharply. ‘Where is it?’

Elise watched him cast about for the sword, a cold lump in her belly. ‘The sword—if that’s what you’re looking for—is in the castle garrison.’

‘Hell, what happened? What have you done?’

‘That’s the question I should be asking of you. What have you done?’

‘Why has the sword gone?’

Elise stared at him, mind working. It was impossible to forget that Gawain and Aubin were sitting on those canvas stools outside the ale tent. They were bound to have seen her and Gawain could take it in his head to come over and check on her at any time. She was pulled two ways. She hated the idea of doing something that might alienate Pearl’s father. On the other hand, what would happen to André if he was taken into custody?

Whatever André had done, at heart he was a good person. Elise would never forget the countless evenings André had sat with her, patiently giving her the confidence to use her full voice; patiently playing for her, over and over until it was impossible for her to hit the wrong note. Blanchefleur le Fay owed her existence to André. Gawain didn’t know him as she did. Gawain didn’t realise that to put someone like André under lock and key...

It would destroy him. She couldn’t let that happen. André had become a father and Elise could see that he found his new responsibilities daunting. To be arrested would be the last straw, and it certainly wouldn’t help Vivienne and Bruno, who depended on him.

André’s eyes glittered. ‘I’ve not hurt anyone.’

‘No? What were you going to do with that sword? And why cut open the side of our pavilion? So underhand.’ André must have a guilty conscience; why else would he damage their tent?

André looked at her. ‘I was tipped off that the Guardian Knights had been showing an interest in the pavilion. I thought I’d better be careful.’

‘You were going to sell that sword for more than it is worth.’

‘I’m not selling it. Someone else is going to do that.’

‘Saints, André, it makes little difference who actually does the selling. If you are involved and that sword is passed off as—’

‘Elise, how do you think we’ve been living all these months? How do you suppose we are going to live in the winter when pickings are slim?’

Wine fumes hung about him. He was swaying slightly.

‘You’re drunk.’

‘How clever of you to notice.’ Wearily, he scrubbed his face. The shadows made his face grey. He looked twice his age. ‘Lord, Elise, I’ve had all I can take. I’ve made mistakes, I admit it. I didn’t want to get involved. But last winter when you left, I worried. I worried about Vivienne. About what might happen if you never returned.’ His mouth twisted. ‘My earnings have always been better when Blanchefleur le Fay is with me. And then you came back.’

‘I told you I would.’

‘Aye, but you were sick all the time, you couldn’t perform. And then you got large, you couldn’t perform.’ Again he scrubbed his face. ‘I worried. I still do.’

A clunk outside had his head turning sharply. ‘You say Vivienne is in town?’

‘In the Rue du Cloître.’

His brow creased. ‘Why?’

‘Lord Gawain. He–’

‘Lord Gawain’s in Troyes and you brought him here?’ André looked appalled. ‘So it’s your fault the Guardians have the sword. Why bring him here? In heaven’s name, why?’

‘I had no idea he was in town. He’s shortly to be married and he returned to meet his betrothed. André, we ran into each other by accident. He insisted on bringing me back here.’

André looked at her, shaking his head. ‘It was he who took the sword?’

‘Yes. André, I’m sorry it happened, truly.’

‘What the hell am I going to do? I’m supposed to pass it on.’

Elise hesitated. She had no clear idea what André was mixed up in, but she was wondering whether to suggest he made a clean breast of it with Gawain. Gawain might be able to help him. The Count of Meaux would have influence. However, André was still swaying slightly and she wasn’t sure he could be reasoned with until he had sobered up. ‘Gawain might speak for you.’

Impatiently, he shook his head. ‘Not likely. Vivienne is in the Rue du Cloître, you say? Where, exactly?’

‘Look for the stone-built house. You can’t miss it. There’s only one. I’m told that Count Henry uses it as a storeroom.’

‘The babies are with her?’

Elise nodded.

‘Tell her...tell her I love her. And that I’ll be back.’ André’s expression was tortured. ‘I’ve done wrong, Elise, and I’m sorry that you and Vivienne have been dragged into it. I shall put things right and then I’ll be back.’

He reached for the slash in the canvas and looked at her, eyes luminous in the lamplight. His mouth tightened. ‘By the way, this could mean that Blanchefleur le Fay will have to find another lute-player to accompany her when she sings at the palace.’ Glancing at the entrance, he grimaced. ‘Someone’s coming.’

With that, André slipped through the rip in the canvas and was gone.

Elise stared frantically at the pavilion entrance, pulse racing. Was Gawain out there? With luck, André would be out of Gawain’s line of sight, running down the back of the tents. She wasn’t confident that the Guardian Knights—or Gawain for that matter—would give him the benefit of the doubt.

A distraction was needed. Noise, plenty of noise. Well, that was no problem for Blanchefleur. Elise took a deep breath and began to scream. She really put her heart in it.

* * *

The scream turned Gawain’s blood to ice.

‘Aubin, with me.’ Snatching out his sword, he sprinted to the pavilion. Lord, what a voice, it cut like a knife.

Elise was holding on to the central tent post, staring at a gaping hole in the back of the canvas. The instant Gawain stepped inside, the screaming stopped. Dark eyes looked at him.

‘You’re hurt?’ Puzzled, Gawain ran his gaze over her. He couldn’t read her, but she didn’t look hurt. The lantern gave enough light for him to see that her hair was neatly braided. Her clothing hadn’t been disordered in any way. She looked fine. Slightly flushed, perhaps, but it was a warm night. Otherwise, she looked fine. ‘Elise, what happened?’

She opened her mouth as Aubin raced in, panting.

‘Aubin, take a look outside. Round the back.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

When Elise touched Gawain’s arm, the temptation to cover her hand with his was strong. When she bit her lip, the temptation to kiss her on the mouth was stronger still.

‘Gaw—my lord, you will think me such a fool.’

Gawain looked speculatively at her. ‘What happened?’

‘A knife.’ She gestured at the tear in the canvas. ‘I was waiting for André. I...I didn’t expect to see a knife cut through the back of the pavilion.’

‘Did you see who it was?’

Her hesitation was brief, but Gawain marked it. ‘It could have been whoever forged that sword,’ he said, slowly. ‘But I don’t think it was. It was your lute-player, wasn’t it?’

She lowered her gaze, seeming to speak to the ground. ‘I...I am sorry, my lord. I think my scream scared him away.’

‘Don’t lie to me. You warned him,’ Gawain said in a cold voice. Sliding his sword back into its scabbard, he took her by the wrist. ‘Your lute-player must have noticed the extra patrols and thought he’d be clever. And you, Elise, you warned him. You weren’t the least bit afraid, were you?’

She swallowed and kept her gaze on the ground.

‘Elise?’

She looked up, eyes fierce. ‘Yes, I warned him. You would have had him arrested!’

‘Not necessarily. I merely want to question him.’

Grip firm on her wrist, Gawain pulled her closer, close enough for him to catch the faint scent of ambergris. ‘Did he stay long enough for you to speak to him?’ Her lips tightened. ‘Well?’

‘I... Yes!’

‘And...?’ Her mouth worked. She was frowning at her wrist. Gawain eased his grip. ‘Elise?’

‘Mon seigneur, André knows he has done wrong and he is sorry. He says he will try to put things right. He will come back when he has done so.’

Gawain clenched his teeth. He hated the way she had addressed him as mon seigneur. ‘You expect me to leave it at that? Elise, the lute-player—’

‘His name is André.’

‘André appears to have dealings with people suspected of trading counterfeit arms. Fraudsters. Criminals. He must be questioned.’ Gawain huffed out a breath. ‘You do yourself no service by preventing that from happening.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I had hoped to discover that you were not involved. But you have just admitted that you warned the man away.’ He frowned. ‘Elise, what am I to think but that you too are involved?’

‘Do you really think that?’

‘I would be failing in my duty if I did not consider it.’ Tightening his hold, he brought her close. ‘Elise, what have you done?’

‘Nothing, I’ve done nothing! All I want is for you to leave us alone.’

He shook his head. ‘I wish I could, but I can’t. Elise, what happened between us last year—’

‘Was a mistake.’

Gawain felt a muscle flicker in his jaw. ‘I hadn’t thought so. What I was going to say was that it had consequences. Pearl. Her very existence binds me to you.’

At her sides, Elise’s fists clenched. ‘I don’t see why, I’m not asking for help. You can forget all about us.’ She gave him a strange look. ‘Gawain, you can marry Lady Rowena with a clear conscience. If you are concerned that one day Pearl and I shall turn up at your gate begging for alms, don’t be. I wouldn’t embarrass you like that.’

A cold fist formed in Gawain’s belly. She dismissed their loving as though it had been of no account. It hadn’t been of no account, not to him. And she dismissed him as a father too, which was worse. However, he had to be honest, with his forthcoming marriage he wasn’t in a position to offer her much. He felt his frown deepen. She was distracting him, making him forget what he was trying to say.

‘Elise, this is no longer personal, it’s no longer just about Pearl. The discovery of that sword has turned it into something else entirely. It’s about the trafficking in counterfeit regalia. It’s about trickery and deceit. It’s about honest people being gulled into buying dross.’

‘Gawain—’

‘Elise, when I saw you by the market I thought simply to return you to your pavilion. You must see that has changed. I find myself embroiled in—in what, exactly? Are you and your little troupe part of a larger ring of counterfeiters? Is this how you really make your living? I need you to answer me honestly. What is the exact nature of your involvement with the counterfeiters?’

Her jaw fell open. ‘None. I have no involvement with counterfeiters whatsoever. How can you think it?’

He leaned in, caught the scent of ambergris and straightened quickly. ‘I don’t know you. I thought I did, but I don’t. You might be involved in anything.’

‘Well, I’m not.’

‘So I believed, so I hoped. But you must see that letting André get away does not put you in a good light.’

‘He’s gone to make amends! I told you.’

‘You believe that?’

She nodded vigorously. ‘André has a good heart. I’ve known him for years and he has a sweet, loving nature. I think that learning he was to be a father pushed him off course for a while, but I believe him when he says he will sort things out. He will. You’ll see.’

‘Mon Dieu, I almost wish I’d not seen you at the market,’ Gawain muttered. He didn’t mean it. Despite all that had happened—Pearl; the finding of the sword—it had been a relief to see Elise looking so well. As to her involvement with the fakers—he didn’t know what to think. She had always struck him as fundamentally honest.

Yet he knew she was capable of evasion. When he’d met her last year, she’d not mentioned her sister, Morwenna—he’d only learned of the connection between Elise and the late Countess d’Aveyron after Elise had fled Champagne. Elise had kept him in the dark about her need to gain entry to Ravenshold, just as she had kept Lady Isobel in the dark. It was hard to look into her eyes, now turned so earnestly to his, and think her capable of serious deceit. Would she lie for her friend André? It was possible.

‘If I could, I would wash my hands of you,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think you would like it if I did.’

‘How so?’

‘When I approached Sir Raphael about the sword, he made it clear that because we are old friends he is staying his hand. You wouldn’t like it if I withdrew. You and Vivienne are likely to end up in the castle lock-up while your lute-player does whatever he deems necessary to make amends. And as you yourself say, the castle prison is no place for babies.’

Elise felt the fight drain out of her. Gawain was right, Sir Raphael would want to make sure of them. As Captain of the Guardian Knights he would be bound to hold Vivienne as a surety of André’s return. And in the meantime, Bruno and Pearl would be incarcerated alongside her. And since Elise would not desert them, so would she.

Quick footsteps heralded Aubin’s return. He ducked into the tent. ‘I found nothing, my lord. I went as far as the Madeleine Gate and asked everyone I saw. No one will admit to seeing anything unusual.’

‘My thanks, Aubin. If you wouldn’t mind waiting by the fire?’

‘Mon seigneur.’ Bowing, Aubin went back outside.

Gawain looked down at her, blond hair shining in the lamplight. ‘I shall give you the benefit of the doubt,’ he said. ‘For the moment, I think it best if you remain my responsibility, don’t you agree?’

‘Thank you, my lord.’

Gawain gave her a tight smile and took her hand. He hooked her arm around his. It was a familiar gesture, a possessive gesture. Elise was irritated to discover that it was also a comforting gesture.

‘I shall escort you back to La Rue du Cloître,’ he said. His smile twisted. ‘It’s a pleasant evening for a walk.’

‘Walking, my lord, again? Where’s The Beast?’

‘Back at the barracks. Elise, I give you fair warning, my men will be watching the house at all times. I’d hoped to spare you that, but after tonight you must see that I cannot shirk my responsibilities.’ He sighed. ‘It has to be better than the castle dungeon.’

Elise stared at him and saw in her mind the bars on those windows. It would seem they were to be prisoners after all. Still, she had to agree it was better to be hemmed in by Gawain in La Rue du Cloître than to be tossed in the castle dungeon. ‘I understand, my lord,’ she heard herself say. Even though, in her heart, she wished it was otherwise.

* * *

The shutter was open. It had been an airless, tiresome night. Elise had hoped a breath of wind would find its way into their bedchamber, but she had hoped in vain. Ever since dusk, Bruno and Pearl had taken it in turns to be fretful. No sooner had Elise shut her eyes than it seemed Pearl was crying again—and Pearl’s crying was surely loud enough to be heard in Paris. Sighing, Elise heaved herself up on an elbow.

Vivienne was sitting in a shaft of dawn light, feeding Bruno. Shoving her hair out of her eyes, Elise yawned. ‘I’ll bring Pearl over.’

Nodding, Vivienne bent over Bruno, but not before Elise saw the glitter of tears. ‘Vivienne?’

Vivienne sniffed. A tear splashed on to Bruno’s cheek. Vivienne’s face was pale, her eyes shadowed.

‘You’re thinking about André.’

Vivienne’s throat worked. ‘It’s been three days.’ Her voice was thick with emotion. ‘Three days since we last saw him and there hasn’t been a word. Where is he, Elise? Where?’ Another tear landed on Bruno’s cheek.

‘We must have faith in him. He’s not stupid. He told me—’

‘That he would put matters right. I remember what you said.’ Vivienne swiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘But how is he going to manage it? If he has truly been dealing with counterfeiters, do you think they’ll take kindly to him confessing that he’s lost that sword?’

Picking Pearl up, Elise came to the window and searched Vivienne’s face. ‘You know more than you have told me.’

‘No, I don’t. Truly. But I’ve been thinking. Elise, these past three days I’ve done nothing but think and if André’s friends—the players he told us about—if the players are the counterfeiters, what will they do when they learn the sword has fallen into the hands of the Guardians? They might hurt him.’

‘I don’t think they will.’ Elise spoke firmly, even though the thought had occurred to her too. When she had seen André in the pavilion she hadn’t imagined that three days would pass without a word. Three days. No message, nothing. Just a silence as ominous and oppressive as the August heat.

‘It’s possible he tried to get a message to us,’ Elise murmured. Pearl squirmed in her arms. ‘But with Lord Gawain’s men posted in the street to watch our every move, he might have been afraid to come near.’

Vivienne looked at her, eyes watery. ‘They’re still out there?’

Elise peered into the grey morning light. ‘Two men are leaning against the house opposite. And though I can’t see from here, I’m guessing that two more will be stationed either side of the door as they were yesterday. I think there will be four of them.’

She sighed, Gawain was nothing if not thorough and Elise didn’t like it. She really did feel as though she had been imprisoned. It didn’t help that every hour she had to listen to the tolling of the cathedral bells—every horrible note brought back the convent. Trapped. Trapped. Trapped. The bells, the rigid routine... She thought she’d escaped all that.

‘I suppose we should be grateful we’re not locked in,’ Vivienne said. ‘What shall we do?’

Pearl let out a wail. Elise handed her to Vivienne and waited until she had settled before she spoke again. ‘I’m going back to Strangers’ City.’

Vivienne jerked her head meaningfully in the direction of the guards in the street. ‘Will they permit it?’

Outside, Gawain’s men stood as still and solid as carved wooden pillars. Their expressions didn’t betray the slightest hint of fatigue even though they’d been there all night.

Elise pursed her lips. ‘Lord Gawain didn’t actually forbid me to return.’

‘No, but two of his men accompanied you when you went to buy bread yesterday.’

‘That’s true.’ Elise squared her shoulders. She wished things were easier between her and Gawain. If only she could trust him. No, that wasn’t right, she could trust him. Gawain would do the right thing. He always did the right thing. And that was exactly the problem. Elise wasn’t sure what André had done and she wanted him to have a chance to make things better. But the instinct to ask for Gawain’s help was strong. ‘It must be resisted,’ she murmured.