The Lily and the Lion Read Online Free

waiting for confirmation.’
    â€˜Confirmation of what?’ asked Anaïs, her arm remaining protectively about my back.
    He took a goodly sip of ale before answering. ‘Their location.’
    â€˜Will you reply to Cécile’s letter?’ asked Anaïs as she wiped ale from her mouth with the back of her hand. She is a little older than I and born in Gascony. She once intimated that she had known Gillet when they were children and therefore was able to form a firm friendship with Lady Mary’s steward. Gillet is the centre of my dear friend’s world. She discusses him endlessly and exalts his reliability at every opportunity. I suspect she is more than a little in love with him.
    â€˜Of course I shall reply to my sister! I intend to ask permission to seek refuge with her.’
    â€˜No!’ retorted Gillet. ‘For we have much to consider, as it seems that Salisbury wants you both. If you go you will be playing right into his hands. Separately, you are much harder to locate.’
    â€˜But now we have found each other we must be together and learn more of our mother and father.’
    â€˜Mary Catherine, you do not understand. To go now would be to place Demoiselle d’Armagnac in extreme danger. I will deliver your letter to France and seek explanations. ’Tis imperative that you remain hidden within these walls until I return. Adam will see you safe.’
    Rising to her feet, Anaïs appeared somewhat disgruntled. ‘Why must it be you who goes?’
    â€˜Because only I can.’
    So, my sister, I write this now, for on the morrow Gillet is away to you. I am most desperately sorry for any hurt I have caused. You were to wed a duke. I was to marry into the church. We have both lost a great deal. Yet there is so much to be gained. That you bear a great love for your cousin and brother is obvious. Can you not find a corner in your heart for me?
    I cannot imagine what your life has been like and understand my existence will not be to your taste. Until three days ago I had not travelled more than two miles from Denny, nor frequented an inn, let alone feasted on such delicacies as capons and dried figs. My purse is meagre and my knowledge minute. Yet, though I have been thrust out into a place so frightening, so dark, there is hope, for we have each other. Dearest sister, your friendship would mean more than you could ever know. Will you not grant it?
    Dedicating my prayers to your safety and good health.
    By your grace, Sister Mary Catherine.
    Written from the King’s Arms in the village of Aylesbury, Feast of Saint Paul Aurelian, 12 March 34 Edward III.

    Gillet de Bellegarde reined in his horse. Shielding his eyes from the afternoon glare, he stared at the walled city of Paris. What foolishness had come over him? Madame Fate was playing the whore, opening her legs to entice him. If he succumbed and slid his hand up her thigh, he knew she would snap her knees shut. She always did. But what choice did he have? The girl was Armagnac.
    He swallowed heavily and ran a finger around the collar of his doublet, feeling an invisible noose tightening. Two years ago he escaped the real thing, saved by the intervention of one man – Jean d’Armagnac. But had it saved him or just prolonged his misery? The price had been high. To serve his former master, the Prince of Wales. Were he discovered now, he would die a traitor’s death, but this time he would deserve it.
    It was opportune that King Edward had chosen him to carry the ransom for a favoured courtier. It was convenient that the destination was the Dauphin’s palace where the Armagnac girl resided. To the north King Edward moved on Burgundy. To the south, in Chartres, his son, the Prince of Wales, waited. And straight ahead was the daughter of Armagnac. Gillet blinked in the harsh sunlight. Oh, yes, Fate was playing the whore but perhaps if he moved his hand skilfully enough, he could settle his accounts with