By Right of Arms Read Free Page B

to them. There had been deprivation, sorrow, and fear within the halls of De la Noye, for the fighting had been close and Sir Giles had clung to his estate by the weakest rule since his father’s death. The threat from England had worsened, for Edward had a foothold in Guienne and Gascony and sympathy from Flanders. Indeed, much of Flanders wore the English wool on their backs and the English drank good French wine. King Edward had made it clear he wanted complete sovereignty, a right he boasted through his mother. He was attempting to control the Channel and the Bay of Biscay and had many victories to his credit. The de Pourvre army was weak and weary. In a mood of resignation, the servants and soldiers saw the beginning of the great change of command that had been coming for a long time. Some hid their relief at not having to fight behind the sadness and mourning that came with the loss of De la Noye to an Englishman. Aurélie knew that not many would mourn Giles.
    There was a cautious and watchful surprise throughout as the English knight held back his army for the full course of two hours.
    Aurélie unlocked her husband’s bedchamber. In the anteroom he kept his accounts and a box of money. The hearths in the hall and cookrooms burned bright as the Sire de Pourvre’s records, letters, and clothing fed them. The portion of Giles’s belongings that Aurélie most vehemently wished destroyed was the monk’s habits that her husband often wore. She wouldn’t share with this English foe Giles’s peculiar obsession with his faith. The small amount of silver that was stored in Giles’s coffer was distributed in seven different hiding places, none of which were close to the lord and lady’s chambers.
    Madame de Pourvre walked through her own chambers in a numbness that worried her woman, Lady Perrine. The young widow touched each piece of furniture she passed with an affection one would show a child or favored pet. She quietly asked her maids to fill her coffers with her clothing and sentimental items. She would beg the English conqueror to allow her retirement to her father’s demesne in Flanders. She dressed herself in the black she had worn for the mourning of Giles’s father and pulled her hair away from her face to be hidden under a black shawl. All jewelry but the ring bearing the de Pourvre crest was packed away.
    Perrine watched her mistress with pain and doubt. Guillaume was Perrine’s husband, and the two had been close at hand since the marriage of Giles and Aurélie, through the death of the old lord and during the ensuing hard times. They cared for the young couple as though they were their own children. At the news that Giles was slain, Perrine had cried her helpless tears, but Aurélie did not give in. Her stoic mien and slow, agonized movements, with an army camped on her stoop, confused Perrine. She had begun to fear her mistress was losing her sanity.
    There was no conversation between the women. The chores Aurélie ordered were swiftly and silently done while outside the lady’s chamber the fires destroyed Sir Giles’s personal effects. Finally Perrine answered a light tapping at the chamber door and admitted her sadly beaten husband, Guillaume.
    “I fear our time is come, my lady.”
    Aurélie looked at her seneschal with clear blue eyes. She was more than aware of Perrine’s suspicious glances and chose to disregard them. Many, she supposed, considered her mad with grief. Her love for Giles was assumed by all who knew them, for she had served her husband well and faithfully, despite his shortcomings. Madness was not her malady, however. Her head was clear and her intention strong. “Sir Guillaume, you know my purpose is to let the Englishman enter this castle. You are my most valuable vassal. I give you leave to flee, if you will. If you stay, you must obey me until my rule here is over. Guillaume?”
    “I would not leave your side, my lady.”
    “If he does not kill you, he will chain you,”