Free Gisborne: Book of Pawns by Prue Batten

poured acid on an already suppurating wound.
    The bells of the Benedictine Abbaye Saint Ouen chimed the hour for Vigils and I shivered as I have ever held the belief that the midni ght hour is the witching hour. ‘ Mary Mother, protect me.. .’ I began and crossed myself again, wondering how I could expect God to right my wrongs. Briefly I thought that if Father had gamed Moncrieff away then I had a choice beyond the road. I could become a religieuse. Many noble women d id for any number of reasons. They might be unmarried, unloved b y their family, of ill-health. They may even have a calling.
    Ah, b ut w hat they had and it appeared I did no t, was a dowry for the Church. Besides, if I were to be honest, the thought of being incarcerated in a H ouse of God was not at all my calling. I could n ever become a Bride of Christ. As this idea left the way it had entered, a soft tap could be heard on my door.
    I jumped up and ran to it, my heart pounding. Inns were all well and good but at least one felt safe in the dorter of a House of God.
    ‘ Ysabel,’ Guy’s voice whispered. ‘It is I… ’
    I flung the door open and dragged him in.
    ‘Are you mad? Everyone shall hear you and I will be seen to be a harlot!’
    ‘Then it is g ood that we leave in an hour.’ He bent and stirred the fire in the brazier and the room warmed in the firelight.
    My eyebrows rose. ‘An hour? But it is dark.’
    ‘A military troupe leaves for the north an d we can travel in their wake with a group of merchants. It will be safe. They go to meet Richard at Calais.’
    ‘But what about Khazia?’
    ‘There is a Comte de Lascalles with whom I have spoken and he was attracted by Khazia’s breeding. We agreed a price,’ he placed a bag of coin in my hands, ‘and he has also traded me a good campaign horse as part of the bargain.’
    ‘ Khazia?’ I could have wept.
    ‘Will be taken to the Comte’s estates as soon as she is able .’
    ‘No! I must see her. I must say farewell.’ I thre w the bag and it hit his chest. ‘How dare you do this without my approval!’
    He glared at me, his eyes as cold as iron.
    ‘As I recall, we decided to leave forthwith for Moncrieff. Khazia, like Marais, was a liability.’
    ‘Goodness Guy,’ I snarled. ‘Shall I become a liability of which you must rid yourself as well?’
    ‘You are fr equently a liability, Ysabel.’ His voice stroked the hairs on my neck in a frightening mann er. ‘Here… ’ He threw a bundle at my feet. ‘Whilst I do think you ar e winsome in your shift…’
    I grabbed the blanket of f the bed to wrap myself.
    ‘Too late, I am afraid.’ He swung his gaze over every inch of my now covered body and there was not hing I liked in that expression. ‘And a pretty view it was too. You will be riding a campaign horse and as we are with soldiers, m y advice is to dress as a youth. I have leggings and an undershirt and surcoat in the par cel along with boots and a hood. Your dark cloak is unr emarkable and as much a man’s. It will serve. For what it is worth , Ysabel, it may pay to be dressed thus until we reach Moncrieff and find out what awaits us.’
    I hugged the blanket tight, humiliated, wishing I had ne ver thought I could marry him.
    ‘Why? What does it matter if a noblewoman rides to the coast with an escort ?’
    ‘I don’t know. My gut crawls a little, that is all, and it is better to be cautious. Dress and be downstairs in an hour. I shall have the horses.’
    I watched him turn, his back straight, stride long. I would swear he had put me back to where he had me safely positioned b efore we had sent Marais home … a ll tenderness gone in the blink of an eye. Thoughts of my lit tle mare must now be pushed aside and I had no option but to trust this man and hope he guarded me with genuine care.
     
    I stared up at the campaign horse – a gia nt creature of the Apocalypse. Shadows jumped and flickered and thoughts of Moncrieff receded unhappily to the back of my mind