I wiped her tears with my free hand and then licked my fingers.
‘That’s not funny!’ she said. ‘You are mocking me.’
‘Perhaps,’ I admitted. ‘You are afraid.’
‘So? I’m a weak woman. Women are afraid of everything. So I’m told.’ She was pulling away.
‘I was afraid today,’ I said. She relaxed.
‘You’d have been some sort of a monster if you hadn’t been, I think,’ she said.
‘So I can be afraid, and you cannot?’ I asked.
She began to relax against me. ‘If I just lie here,’ she said, ‘will you — not entice me to do as I would rather do?’
‘Depends,’ I said.
‘On what?’ she asked.
‘On whether you lie on my right knee or not,’ I said.
Much later, she said, ‘You were an apprentice goldsmith?’
‘Why so shocked? I can kill your enemies and repair your jewels.’ She laughed and then burst into tears. ‘You are very much not what I expected an English knight to be.’
I had enough experience of women to know not to explore every comment.
She had a bad dream and gave a low scream.
I woke her up.
‘They’re going to kill us all,’ she said.
‘Not unless they get better armour and some siege machines,’ I said. Will, the bold, bluff English squire, that was me.
Suddenly she was kissing me.
I’d been the most honorable of men for long, dark, pain-filled hours, and suddenly, in heartbeats, her kirtle was gone and we were. . far beyond what might have been agreed, if such a thing could be discussed.
She hoisted my shirt.
‘Sweet Emile,’ I said.
‘Psst,’ she said. ‘I will be dead in two days.’
I pulled her shift over her head. ‘You will not, on my honour.’
She laughed, the way I have learned women laugh when you utterly fail to understand them.
And there was no sleep after that.
She dressed, kissed me and went out just as the stars dimmed. The blonde girl in the blue wool dress came in directly and looked at me with a fiercely disapproving glare.
My knee hurt like fire. I was in a castle out of food, under siege by a sea of enemies who intended our destruction.
I couldn’t have been happier.
My disapproving blonde friend sat primly, as far across the solar as she could manage.
I chivalrously went to sleep.
The older knights returned at first light, and I was awakened by the clatter of their hooves on the bridge.
In the second hour after matins, Jean de Grailly came. He praised me, I praised his squire Tom, and he explained that they’d brought in very little food.
‘We think we’ll mount every man-at-arms in the castle and sortie,’ he said. ‘Perhaps cut our way through the canaille. The Count of Foix believes we can lift the siege. The Dauphin is just two days north of us, and the King of Navarre is a day’s march away.’ He paused. ‘The Dauphine says she would rather die than be rescued by the King of Navarre.’
‘My lord, I can understand that sentiment,’ I said.
De Grailly laughed. ‘And I, too! Can you ride?’
I tested the leg. ‘If I was helped onto my horse,’ I suggested.
‘Excellent. You are a man after my own heart. I might even mistake monsieur for a Gascon.’ He grinned. ‘I will send your squire to arm you in the second hour after midday.’
‘In that case, my lord, I’ll eat,’ I said.
‘I trust you slept well,’ he asked me, and I swear his eyes sparkled.
‘As much as I needed,’ I agreed.
He grinned. ‘Very like a Gascon.’
Perkin was my next visitor. ‘How was my lord’s night?’ he asked.
‘Are you mocking me, you rogue?’ I asked.
‘Mmm. On balance, yes, my lord, I think I am mocking you.’ He put a wet towel and a bowl of steaming water on a stool. ‘I believe you can wash yourself, messire? And may I mention that messire has a certain perfumed smell to him that, unless messire has been visited by angels, might have come from a certain lady?’
‘Perkin, did you give me cloves for my breath?’ I asked.
‘By our sweet saviour, m’lord, someone had to. You might have killed her, else.’ He didn’t smile. ‘I think that m’lord’s left leg harness is badly damaged and doesn’t fit worth spit anyway.’
I had to admit he was right. I’d worn it all over France, but not in a fight — and it didn’t fit. It was two inches too short — the greaves caught on the sabatons and I had bruises on both insteps. Fine for riding — hopeless for fighting on foot.
‘First, I think I prefer Master Gold to M’lord.’ I met his eye.
He frowned. ‘I’ll consider it. Do you have the ready silver to purchase leg armour?’
I shook my head. ‘You have our purse, Perkin. What’s in it?’
He took it off his belt and opened it. ‘A little more than forty livre tournois. Not enough to buy anything but food on the road.’
‘Can the armourer fix the strap on the cuisse?’ I asked.
‘Already fixed,’ he said. He really was the best squire and servant any knight ever had. He unrolled the bandage on my knee, sniffed the wound and then began to re-bandage it. It hurt like all the sins of all the sinners in hell, and I groaned. I might even have squeaked.
‘She’s married,’ he said.
I was too busy being in pain. This cut took several heartbeats to register.
‘Her husband had his arm broken in the fighting. Rumour has it they detest each other, but I thought you needed to know.’ He leaned close. ‘He knows where she spent the night. She made a point of making sure he knows.’
Par dieu, messieurs. This was my introduction to the lives of the rich and titled. It didn’t matter. I’d already given her my heart. That brave, yet terrified girl.
Why didn’t you tell me? I thought. I was in a state of mortal sin. I was about to fight, and possibly die, in a state of mortal sin.
Just for a moment I thought of her, and her kirtle going over her head, and I thought. . Oh well. An eternity in hell.
I smiled. Friends, I still do. Do you really think God sends you to hell for the disport of two willing friends? I think the priests clip us too close, and I am reckoned a pious man for a man-at-arms. But I was younger then, and the whole thing preyed on my mind.
About midday, Tom came and, with Perkin, he began to arm me. And when I had my cursed leg harnesses on — the bases of the greaves already cutting into yesterday’s bruises — Emile slipped in the door. She looked angry. Her chin was high, she was slightly flushed.
‘Monsieur,’ she said, and put a cup on the table with a click.
‘Madame,’ I said with a slight emphasis. But I smiled at her. I confess to you, gentlemen, as I have confessed to a hundred priests, that the sight of a woman like that is usually far more to me on the edge of death than all the promises of all the Popes in history.
Her eyes dropped. At the door, she flicked her eyes up at me. I was there, as she hoped. She paused in the door while a man might count three. She smiled and licked her fingers. And was gone.
Lying on the table under the cup was a triangle of pinky-red linen.
I picked it up and put it in my doublet next to my heart. Please note that I did not wear it outside my armour. There’s fools and fools.
I did wear the Dauphine’s favour from the day before, however. I had Perkin attach it to the peak of my basinet.
Tom had to help me down the stairs. My knee had stiffened and I couldn’t make it do its duty, so it was tiring quickly. Tom got me out to the courtyard, where Perkin had Goldie and a pair of stools. They got me up on the tallest stool, and then, with some pushing, they got my bad knee over the saddle, so I was on.
I was the first knight mounted, but the Captal came out, approached, took my hand and then looked carefully at my knee.
‘You really might be a Gascon. How are you?’ he asked.
‘Fine,’ I said.
He laughed, and Tom started to arm him at the stable door. By now the captain of the castle and all the older men were arming, and a number of the younger knights. When the Captal was mounted, Tom went to help the Count of Foix, who had two squires of his own and a dozen knights in his train. His equipment was the most magnificent I’d yet seen, and he appeared to be going to a tournament, not a mortal fight. He had a panache in his helmet of peacock and ostrich; he wore a silk coat over his magnificent brigantine which was studded with golden nails.