Free The Order of the Lily by Catherine A. Wilson Page B

as we speak.’
    â€˜Gillet?’
    â€˜Hmm?’
    â€˜Why did you never tell me Catherine and I were identical?’
    Gillet’s eyes were closing in euphoric slumber. ‘The less anyone knew, the safer for you both. Besides you could not be more different in my eyes.’
    â€˜Gillet?’ Cécile drew her hair over her shoulder and inspected the clever workmanship. ‘What you said before? Am I really your mistress?’
    His eyes flickered open and he grinned. ‘For some reason the whole village of Chilham seems to think so.’
    â€˜Yes, but what say you?’
    He tilted her chin to meet his lips. ‘I say, why disappoint them?’

Overpriced prostitutes bargained with drunken sailors on the muddied streets of Calais as the population trebled overnight. French made way for English as enemies rubbed shoulders, each pensively awaiting the ratification of the Treaty of Brétigny. Mercenaries gathered in dark corners to discuss their future, fearing that their skills were now obsolete. Simon Marshall mingled with them, seeking both anonymity and intimate knowledge of the inner precinct of Calais Castle.
    He squeezed his way into a game of dice and deliberately lost his remaining coins, all the while fostering the friendship of the younger man beside him. Several hours later, the inebriated youth had told him everything he needed to know.
    Simon made his way to a smaller establishment closer to the waterfront, The Oar and Anchor . The innkeeper nodded as he passed through the alcove and made his way to the rooms above. The servants had cleaned the bloodstains from the floor and removed the soiled bedding. Nothing remained of the fight that had taken place within the same walls only days earlier.
    Simon tossed his cloak onto the stool, then pushed open the shutter that overlooked the dock. Calais Castle dominated the skyline, as impenetrable as a virgin in a chastity belt. Catherine’s image appeared, but he chased it away. He had to remain focused, for if he thought long enough on her fate he was sure he would run mad.
    A tavern maid appeared at the door bearing a full jug and tray. ‘You ordered victuals, M’lord?’
    â€˜Yes, leave them on the table but bring more goblets. I am expecting guests.’ The maid nodded and left. He poured himself a generous serve of ale and gulped it down.
    It was not long before the men arrived. They had been gathering news from the castle.
    â€˜The Prince released Gillet at noon.’ Mouse slumped onto the bed, goblet in one hand and a large chicken leg in the other. ‘We waited to see both he and Roderick safely away. They should arrive in England close to nightfall tomorrow.’
    â€˜So, what is your plan?’ asked Gabriel as he, too, tucked in to the food platter.
    â€˜Gentlemen, how are your juggling skills?’ asked Simon. ‘The Count of Flanders arrives this afternoon with a large party of entertainers, so large that they won’t notice four more.’
    Guiraud smirked.
    â€˜That sounds easy,’ Mouse observed, whilst filling his mouth.
    â€˜I never thought it was going to be difficult to get in. It’s the getting out that worries me,’ Guiraud declared.
    â€˜We will have to create a diversion.’
    â€˜Such as?’ asked Mouse.
    â€˜I am still considering the options,’ replied Simon.
    â€˜Then perhaps we should defer?’
    â€˜No. No … Catherine cannot wait another night.’
    Neither could he. Finding sleep had been difficult as his imagination took hold, and he woke, more often than not, lathered in sweat. God only knew what would happen to her when the Prince learned the truth. What on Earth had she been thinking? Sooner or later it would become obvious that she was neither with child, nor a French demoiselle. In fact, he had to assume that her true identity had already been revealed.
    His stomach knotted painfully. The mere thought of another