Gisborne by Prue Batten

Author:Prue Batten
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Medieval Fiction, biographical fiction, historical sagas
Publisher: Darlington Press
Published: 2015-05-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The mood was one of desperate impatience. We washed, the men standing outside whilst we discarded torn and dirty men’s wear in favour of clean but no less old tunics and hose. Our boots and cloaks must suffice, and I folded my ancient grey garment and laid it at the door. We then took our turn outside whilst the men divested themselves of old smells for new. At any other time I might have laughed at a wife turning her head from her husband’s nakedness but levity was a thing left behind and like never to be experienced again.

Ariella and I retired to the one large bed, Gisborne and Guillaume standing at the shutters, watching the alley outside. The similarity between the two men was quite marked as beards manifested and hair lay untidy. They talked quietly with their backs to us and again I wondered what it was about Guillaume that so induced a level of trust from Gisborne. Perhaps it was that we were in extremis and Guillaume knew the soldierly way to behave. But I was too tired to think on it any more. I had room only for William’s dilemma and it exhausted me, eyes shuttering down as the light at the window turned from pale grey to blood-infused woad and then unsullied black, the bells chiming the hours and voices drifting from the drinkers beneath our chamber.

My dearest son...

‘Ysabel, wake you. ‘Tis the men...’

Ariella shook my shoulder and I growled as I vaguely noticed dawn lighting the edges of the shutters.

‘Do I care?’ I mumbled, a grey fog slowing my response.

‘A message has come with Toby,’ she continued. ‘Ysabel, wake up!’

But the word “message” had pierced the fug and it was as if iced water had been poured over me.

‘What?’ I jumped off the bed. ‘What does it say?’

‘Be still, Ysabel and I shall see.’ Gisborne flicked the leather thong away and the small note unrolled. ‘It’s in Fra Angelo’s hand...’

Fra Angelo?

‘A priest who helps us when he can. Besides, Walter cannot read nor write.’ Gisborne scanned the note. ‘It seems our quarry are at a hospice near the church of Saint Sebastien and are preparing to meet a ship. Toby, we know that hospice – do you remember? Take Adam and watch. When you can, get word to me. Guillaume, you and I will investigate any ships at the dock likely to leave in the next day. There will be precious few, it being winter. And then we will wait...’

‘And Ariella and myself, Gisborne? We too shall be at the docks, shall we not?’

‘I could hardly stop you,’ he uttered as he threw on his cloak and walked to the door.

I grabbed my own, swathing it round, rushing after Gisborne, all of us hurrying down the stair.

‘This is the moment,’ Toby puffed beside me. ‘William is close, madame. You must be happy now.’

‘Happy, Toby? Not yet. When my son is in my arms. That will be happiness.’

We parted at the corner of the

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