Author's note – For molog and sealgirl for encouraging me to get on with it, and Fayzalmoonbeam for betaing it, one edited chapter and two new ones. Enjoy:)
Mark Farrier had caught up with the snaking train of wagons and managed a few
whispered words with his Lordship, before the monks had attacked. While Sir William and his men had gone on ahead to reinforce Gisburne, Mark had discreetly slipped away to the back of the train. Mark was not a soldier. He had no yearning to play the hero and he was not about to jepardise his job prospects by drawing attention to himself. After all, his trade in secrets, his business, relied on not being noticed.
His small, dun pony, its white hocks muddied to disguise it, was easily hidden amongst the human flotsam and jetsam that made up the rear of John's mobile court. They were mostly women; the wives, mothers and lovers of the men who followed the King. He heard the whispers and speculation rushing like a wind amongst them about the fighting up ahead. So, he held back and blended in, kept his ears sharp for news and slipped unseen up to de Chambray's hurriedly prepared apartments at Nottingham Castle as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
Now, Sir William placed his leather booted feet upon the table and stretched his hands behind his grizzled head as if he could relax at last. Mark was not deceived. He had known the Duke for many years and carried out missions of the utmost delicacy on his behalf. He doubted if William de Chambray ever truly relaxed his guard. And especially not now, with the King so precariously balanced between his Baron's, the Welsh and the French.
"Now, Mark. Perhaps you will tell me all your news," de Chambray said.
Mark did not sit. He stayed with his back against the hearth, the fire warming the wool of his brown, homespun shirt and began his tale.
"I have been at Huntingdon," he began. "I met a girl whose grandmother once worked for the Earl. The old woman had been a cook at Huntingdon Castle. I courted the granddaughter for several days and then the old woman confided a strange story." He paused and took a step away from the fire as his shirt became uncomfortably hot. "She was adamant that when Edmund of Gisburne was reported dead, his wife, Lady Margaret, was bought to the Castle and she and the Earl were married in secret. It seems David and Margaret were once in love, until her father married her off to Edmund. And David was too young, or too foolish, to speak for the girl's hand."
De Chambray gave a nod of understanding. "And Guy's birth corresponds with this?"
Mark shrugged. "The woman is old; deaf, blind and crippled and her mind not too clear. But on past memories she seemed quite lucid, my Lord."
"It is often the way with the mind of the aged," de Chambraysaid. "They cannot remember what passed that morning, but the events of years before are like yesterday." He steepled his fingers beneath his chin, deep in thought. "So Gisburne may be the Earl's son."
"There is a good possibility," Mark agreed.
"The Earl's legitimate son Robert is ruled out from succession because he has taken up with outlaws."
"So if Gisburne is the Earl's son..." the spy began speculatively.
"He might not inherit all, but he may aquire a good portion of the Earl's estate, if David should so choose. He has the Earl's good will, of that I am certain." The Duke smiled at Mark. It was not his habit to reveal too much of his plans to his underlings. "You have done well, Mark. Payment will reach you in the usual way, although I think you have earned yourself a bonus for this."
Mark gave a low bow, understanding that he had been dismissed, and left the room.
William de Chambray sat for a long while as the sun moved on its arc, lengthening the shadows in the room. He brooded on the information Mark had given him. From the meeting he had witnessed at Newark, his instinct told him that the Earl knew the truth, while Gisburne had no idea of it. Why else would the Earl have paid the fine for a man he'd reputedly always despised. Did that mean the Earl himself only recently knew that Gisburne might be his son? And the Earl was younger brother to the Lion of Scotland. What a powerful alliance that would be!
He gave a small smile as his plans took shape. He had a proposition for Gisburne, one he was sure the young Knight would not refuse. One that could further his own plans for influence considerably.
The King was busy with a young maid he had bought with him from Newark and would not expect de Chambray's company until supper. Now would be the perfect time to speak his mind to his ward. He called for a servant and summoned Annys. She came quicker than he had expected and took the seat farthest from him across the table. He pretended not to notice.
"Well, my dear, are you enjoying life at court?" he said with a pleasant smile.
"It is a refreshing change from the countryside," she said, coldly.
"The King is very taken with you."
Annys showed no surprise at the statement. De Chambray took a moment to study her. Her hair, the colour of a newly ripened chestnut, gleamed in its long braid. Her pale skin was flawless, her lips pink and bowed. She was almost nineteen and a woman had a right to marry, a duty even. It was, he thought, a shame to let such beauty go to waste. Perhaps he should marry her himself. He laughed inwardly. He was twice a widow and had three sons to inherit his wealth. He had no need of a wife to distract him.
Reaching for the jug of wine in the centre of the table, he refilled his own goblet and poured one for her. She ignored it.
"Before the King decides to bed you we must see you safely married."
Annys arched an eyebrow, her gaze cool. "Marriage? Have you run my estates into the ground already, my Lord?"
He ignored the gibe. Her dower was not large, but it was profitable and he'd made sure that it was well run during his wardship. He would miss the revenue it generated. However, putting Annys firmly within the King's grasp and fathering a royal bastard on her was a means to his own ends. And she would play her part.
"You have someone in mind?" Annys said at last.
"Guy of Gisburne," he said promptly. He enjoyed the look on her face. That had shaken her complacency.
"He is poor knight, with nothing to his name." Her tone was scathing.
"There is more to Gisburne than you think. Give the King a bastard. Marry Gisburne to give it a name. Just make sure the child is a boy."
She cast him a contemptuous look. "And if I say no?"
"You will marry as I say or you will enter a convent and your lands will revert directly to me."
A slow smile curved Annys' lips. "In truth, my lands would revert to the convent." She rose and walked across the room to warm her hands by the fire. "I will not deny the King should he ask for me. But can you not find a more fitting husband than Gisburne?"
De Chambray drained his goblet of wine, pulling a face as he did so. De Rainault's cellar was not the finest. "Gisburne may yet surprise you, my dear. He has...potential."
"Potential to be your lapdog?" She turned back to face him. "It seems I must take your word for it. Very well, I will go willingly to the slaughter. Just make sure it is worth my while, or I shall find an interesting tidbit or two to whisper in the King's ear after he has taken his pleasure of me."
De Chambray hid a smile. He had expected nothing less than such a bargain from Annys Lanfranc. There was just one other small matter to deal with.
"What of your virginity?" he said.
A flush coloured her cheeks. "My Lord!"
"Far be it from me to call into question a lady's virtue, but I recall you setting your sights on my eldest son." Fortunately, she had been too young to have sense enough to deny Philip what he'd most craved and de Chambray had caught them at it before she had persuaded the misguided fool of a boy to elope with her. He had a pleasing vision of her up against the tree, her pale legs wrapped around Philip as he rutted her like a stag.
Her blush faded as fast as it had come. "Moss soaked in ewe's blood will do-"
He held up a hand to cut her off. "Spare me your witchery, I have no need of the details. Just make it convincing. And hold John off until just before the wedding."
"I understand, my Lord." She gave a thin-lipped smile and ,for a moment, de Chambray almost pitied Gisburne.
