A Lady Under Siege(66)
33
Mabel was crossing the yard, escorted by a guardsman as usual to collect the supper, when she chanced upon Lord Thomas, who was tutoring three young pages in the martial techniques of the broadsword. He greeted her warmly as she was led by, and she asked if she might have a few moments of his time, to speak to him on a matter of great import. Thomas handed his sword to her startled guardsman, and bade him take charge of the lesson, while he led Mabel to a quiet room in the armoury, where weapons of all sorts were stacked against the walls. “Now my dear, what so heavily weighs upon your mind?” he asked her.
“Master, I must warn you, in confidence,” Mabel told him solemnly, “that despite her warm and gracious behaviour toward you these last days, m’Lady still harbours ill will toward you.”
Thomas smiled upon her. “I thank you for being so forthcoming,” he replied. “But you may spare me the details, for I already know them.”
“How’s that, sire?” she asked, greatly surprised.
“You procured for her a small knife, and the lady has hidden it in some convenient nook at her bedside. She intends to make an offer to me of her body, that I might use her as I wish, and then stab me as I lie with her upon the bed. Is that how the play is written? A bit of theatre requiring her to act two parts, lover and killer, while I play a single role: the willing dupe. The only wrinkle in the plot that remains unknown to me is whether she’ll let me have my way with her first, so as to stab me as I lie defenceless, cloudy-headed and impoverished of strength after the act, or will she strike earlier than that, and thus maintain her honour?”
“You’re a wizard, Sire,” cried Mabel in astonishment.
“If I be a wizard, it’s only for good, I hope. But tell me, why do you abandon loyalty to your Lady, and turn traitor at this hour?”
“I’m no traitor, Sir,” Mabel protested. “It’s for the Lady’s good. Forgive me for speaking so directly, but the way I see it, if you were to succeed in joining with her, and if through this union you were to plant a seed inside her, then she might come to forget her other sorrows, for when the child is born, she’ll be won over to it through maternal love. And as it grows, and takes on some of your own good looks, she’ll likewise be won over to you.”
“So it’s your sincere wish that I join with her, and possess her?”
“It would be for the best, Sire.”
“Your reasoning pretends an altruistic spirit, but wizardry apart, plain old gossip informs me you have ambitions for your own future.”
Mabel blushed, but answered him assertively. “I want my freedom, Sir,” she declared. “My life back home is over, and there is one who desires me here.”
“Gwynn the poultryman, if I’m not mistaken.”
She nodded.
“Good luck to you,” Thomas wished her. “His first wife gave him three boys, and birthing the third is what killed her, so he’s predisposed to gratitude toward womankind for that sacrifice. You’ll benefit from it, and he’ll be patient and tender in his treatment of you, not wanting to lose another. You speak of wanting freedom. Well I do warn you, trading the certitudes of service to your Lady for an independent life as wife of a freeman is no guaranteed improvement, especially when those three untamed young boys of his show every sign of growing up to be even bigger rascals than their old man. However, if you do succeed in domesticating father and sons, you’ll have performed a great service to the community, and in expectation of that outcome I hereby promise that you shall have your freedom soon. Gwynn shall have his wife.”
MABEL RETURNED TO HER Lady’s chambers with the supper and found Sylvanne looking out dreamily from the window.
“Ah, there you are. What kept you?”
“I was waylaid, Ma’am.”
“Hmm. Look how early in the day the moon has chosen to show herself in the sky. Look how full and round she is.”
Mabel came to the window and saw that it was true, the moon hung round and swollen in the east while the autumn sun had yet to set over fields and forest. Below them, a peasant’s fat cow had wandered into the bulrushes of the moat, the wooden bell around its neck making a lovely, earthy chime. To Mabel the serenity of the moment was marred only by the breeze that blew in through the unshuttered window. It was cool, and hinted of winter coming.
“This night feels right,” Sylvanne said. “This is the very night we must strike, Mabel. Have them fetch hot water, for first I must bathe, then be anointed in something fragrant, then adorn myself as finely as that ancient Jewess who slew a general. Tonight I’ll coax Thomas from his daughter’s bedside, and induce him to return here with me.”