Gisborne: Book of Pawns Read Free

drift over me. And the n Gisborne turned and our eyes met. His gaze held mine and I could not help my lips curving slightly before I lowered my head and fl icked grass seeds from my hem.
    But I knew as sure as the moon would rise that night th at a thread existed between us. It mig ht be fine and breakable but I still had six weeks left to encourage its strengthening, despite the fact that I mourned a mother. I thought on her and wished I could talk with her about men, about what I might expect and what they might desire. But it was too late and how I regretted it, because that spark as Gisborne and I parried our comment back and forth was a pleasure that had fast become a craving.
     
    The next day I noticed Gisborne had change d the formation of our troupe. He placed two men at arms in the front, two on e ither side of Marais and myself and he and two others brought up the rear. I looked back at him but he avoided my glance as he gave the order to move out.
    What had I done wrong the night before? Perhaps I really did need my mother’s aid and experience. I recalled smiling at him as it grew dark but I didn’t recollect that I was unlady like or fal se. And yet now he avoided me as if I were plague-ridden. And I couldn’t even see him as he rode behind. I knew he would be watching me, how could he not when our horses were practically nose to rum p, but I did not behave in an unseemly fashion. I remained quiet and only s poke intermittently to Marais.
     
    I could barely manage the next two days w hich proved long and tiresome; I was sick of my own company let alone that of Marais who w hinged about her homesickness. How tantalising had be en the brief foray into more refined conversation with my escort. Now I just had the whining of my maidservant in my ear like the drone of a mosquito in the m iddle of a hot summer’s night.
    Our travelling pace was geared to Marais’ equestr ian skills which were limited. She rode a wide-girthed and very seasoned mare but I chafed to make speed and Marais’ unhappy progress annoyed me. Without her, I would have encouraged the men to make haste and we would have been in Le Havre or Calais in half the time, ready to find a ship and some good weather.
    I knew instantly tha t I must rid myself of her before we reached the co ast. She belonged at Cazenay because she would moulder and w ither in the dampness of the fens and the s hade of the Moncrieff forests. As soon as was politic, I would ask Gisborne to arrange safe return for her and I w ould continue on un-chaperoned .
     
    Occasionally what could have been dreary isolation was leavened by the travellers we encountered – merchants, nobility, men a t arms, mercenaries and pilgrims. Travellers were always willing to pass the time and thus we heard that King Henry and Queen Eleanor were in marital dispute again. Henry’s amorous adventures with half the beauties of Christendom were assuming the scope of legend and it was the only time I heard Marais’ voice lighten as she seized on the libidinous facts.
    In truth though, Henry was rumoured to be severely unwell and I privately questioned tha t he would live to a ripe age. His sons continued to battle around him, with each other and with him, and over it all hung the shadow of dark John and golden Richard. I remembered John as a child in Aquitaine and liked him not o ne bit. He reminded me of the kind of fiend that would pull the wings off flies. Richard on the other hand had Eleanor’s heart and the appearance of a hero. I had no doubt where some of the legend would lie after we were dead and gone.
    I posed the ques tion to Gisborne.
    ‘Pr ince John or Prince Richard ? Who would you have as your liege lord?’
    He started at my voice, as if he had been sure the new troupe formation should keep me quiet and away from his ears. I twisted around to look back at him and for a bare second he gazed at me and then away as if I s melled of something abhorrent. Lord knows why he should