Free The Exiled by Posie Graeme-evans Page A

Mathew’s choice to co-invest, if that’s what he wants to do. Henry will give him my letter as soon as he lands.’
    Anne saw Maxim’s surprise and some instinct made her say the one right thing that would bring him around to see the vision behind the risk.
    ‘Ah, Maxim, you are my guardian’s steward, but I think of you as my friend. I trust you. I ask for your help now. And your support.’
    Deborah, still stunned to hear of the Lady Margaret’s marriage to the Duke of Burgundy — and what that would mean to Anne — said nothing, but she was warmed when she saw Maxim’s wary correctness turn to something very like a smile.
    ‘I want the cargoes here to Brugge before the feast of Saint Michael and Saint George.’ Little more than two and a half months, a ridiculously short time. Could it be done?
    ‘And yes, before you ask, it can be done, but
you
must be there to do it. I want you, personally, to carry my letters of commission — and the requests for credit to Venice and Florence. And I want you to leave as soon as the
Lady Margaret
can be turned around — naturally, only if Sir Mathew agrees; you must help him to understand. Once you are in the city states, you must assess which will be the quickest way back to Brugge with the goods I’m ordering for the wedding. And bring them back yourself — under a guard that you arrange. And, Maxim, there’s five per cent of gross after the crews are paid as a bonus for you when all the landed goods are sold.’
    What could Maxim say? That he thought this girl was foolish? And over-generous? She was not the first, though she
was
the last, but that was good — generosity commanded loyalty, though she already had his. He liked her, yes, he liked her.
    A certain restless urgency warmed his blood. It was a gamble but, yes, he would go!
    ‘Mistress, allow me to consider the best route for your goods as you write your letters of commission. I accept the terms you have offered — and will be honoured to do you this service provided my master agrees.’
    He bowed himself out of the parlour. Both women could hear the soft slither of his house slippers as he hurried away, back to the counting floor, to consult Meinheer Boter about this mad undertaking ...
    ‘That was gracefully done, Anne.’ It was Deborah’s turn now. She only rarely called Anne by her name — most often at moments of great importance, when they were alone.
    Restlessly Anne got up and strode over to the windows. The snow was falling again and the expensive leaded glass was very cold as she leaned her head against it. She smiled ruefully. No horn-lights for Mathew Cuttifer — everything of the best! To be successful one must look successful: a good lesson to absorb. But if she lost, if this gamble failed, the promise of real independence — her own home, her own future, success on her own terms, making her own money — would disappear like mist in the morning.
    There was silence for a moment between the two women. Finally Deborah spoke.
    ‘Lady Margaret, our princess. Did William Caxton say when the wedding would be?’
    ‘Summer. Some time near to Lammas day, he understands. When the vernal gales are long gone.’ She couldn’t help herself — Anne grimaced at the word ‘gales’. God knew, she was committing them all to great risk.
    ‘And the king? Will he come here, to Brugge?’
    Anne responded — her voice far away, as were her eyes. ‘Nothing is certain.’
    ‘I’ll pray that your venture is a safe one.’ Poor Deborah — the anguish in her voice was plain.
    Safe? Anne shivered. Was anything ever really safe in this world?
    Perhaps if her cargoes were safely landed, and if the king did come to Brugge, she might meet Edward again — on her own terms?
    Perhaps. Only perhaps — on both counts.

Chapter Eight
    T here was discussion about the Lady Margaret’s wedding in London too, after a morning’s hunting, for Edward was now deep in the planning to transport members of the Court of