The Agincourt Bride by Joanna Hickson

Author:Joanna Hickson [Hickson, Joanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2013-01-02T13:00:00+00:00

20

I was released from my confinement before dawn by a bemused-looking soldier, who shoved me down the stairs and out of the grand master’s office without ceremony or explanation.

‘Why am I being released?’ I asked, almost tripping on my skirts in my haste to quit the gatehouse.

‘Do not ask questions,’ he growled. ‘Just thank God you are free, for by all accounts you are lucky your neck is not to be stretched.’

Back at the tower I found Alys curled up in a corner of the entrance lobby, hugging her knees. She sprang up to greet me with exclamations and tears of relief. ‘I thought you were dead, Ma!’ she sobbed. ‘Some soldiers took me to the guardroom and would not let me leave. They said you were a thief and would be hanged and I was to be thrown out of the castle as soon as the gates opened. Then, suddenly, they let me go. What in heaven’s name is happening? Have they accused you of stealing?’

‘Yes, but I do not know why I have been released,’ I said. ‘Have you seen Luc?’

Alys shook her head. ‘No. Why, is he here?’

‘The hunt arrived last night,’ I told her. ‘But I am glad he has not been here. That means they do not know he is in Pontoise. Can you run to the kennel and see if you can speak to him without anyone seeing? Tell him not to come here. I will meet him later. I must go the princess immediately. Come back as soon as you can.’

It was too early for any of the ladies-in-waiting to have come from the constable’s house, so I found Catherine quite alone, huddled not in her own bed but on my mattress, wrapped tightly in one of her linen sheets so that she almost looked like a corpse. When she heard my voice she hurled herself into my arms and hugged me so tight I could barely breathe.

‘Oh, Mette, Mette, thank God you are here – and free! He said he would not harm you if I did as he ordered but I was terrified he would go back on his word!’ Catherine’s face was swollen from crying. I stroked her tangled hair and uttered all the soothing words I could think of. I did not ask what had happened because she would tell me in her own good time – and anyway, in my heart I already knew.

When she grew calmer I sat her down in a chair, still stroking her hair and said gently, ‘Stay here, Mademoiselle. I will tell everyone you are unwell and have a bath set up in the salon. You will feel better when you have washed him away.’

She stared at me for a long time, her sapphire eyes dull and red-rimmed. At length she asked hoarsely, ‘You know, Mette? You know what he did to me? He told me to tell no one. I am so frightened for you if he thinks you know.’

I put my finger to my lips and shook my head.

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