I—”
Francine eyed her curiously. “What?”
“ Rien .”
It would be dangerous now to speak of her love for Geoffrey. She supposed Francine suspected, but probably thought it a passing fancy. All young ladies-in-waiting were in love with Geoffrey. Only she knew of his love for her.
Francine swirled away. “Imagine. One day you’ll be a Comtesse . What did you do to deserve such a catch?”
Peri’s head ached. Who was this man Francine prattled about? “I remember mention of Ellesmere?”
Francine clutched a pillow to her breast. “Ellesmere, in the Welsh Marches.”
Dieu ! They were packing her off to Wales.
She must have looked stricken because Francine took her hand. “Ellesmere is a prosperous earldom, the English seat of the Montbryce family.”
Peri gasped. “Montbryce?”
The name was well-known to Angevins, uttered with fear and loathing. Montbryces were Norman heroes, famous for their military exploits on behalf of their homeland. Her belly churned. “I’m going to be sick.”
Francine patted her hand, obviously misunderstanding. “Worry not about packing your belongings. It’s taken care of.”
Peri followed the sweep of Francine’s arm. Her trunks were lined up along the wall. She looked back at her smiling friend.
Francine pointed to the parchment. “Read it.”
Peri blinked. She had forgotten the document in her hand. Dazed, she unfurled it and stared at the symbols on the page. Three words danced before her eyes. Gallien de Montbryce .
Francine sighed. “All is in readiness. You depart on the morrow. I wish I could come with you.”
Peri wished Francine was going in her stead.
~~~
The four day journey to Ellesmere was uneventful. King Henry provided an armed escort, and to Peri’s surprise, Comte Fulk of Anjou commanded his emissary in Westminster to accompany her. He conveyed greetings from her parents, ecstatic at the good fortune of their daughter. Their joy only served to compound her misery.
The wagon in which she rode was far more comfortable than the one that had conveyed her from Pontrouge to the coast. It had a wooden roof for shelter from the elements, rather than a canvas thrown over a frame, and the wheels were of better construction, which made the ride smoother. A small brazier warmed her feet.
To her relief, Alys was allowed to travel with her. She had not seen her maidservant since their arrival in Westminster, and the woman regaled her with tales of the misery she had suffered. “Praise be to the saints I am delivered from the kitchens of Westminster. Imagine—a scullery maid at my age. My poor knees will never recover.”
Peri raged inwardly. Ermintrude had treated Alys harshly, no doubt because she was an Angevin.
After listening to the complaints for four days, Peri was tempted to retort that at least Alys had not been obliged to carry excrement. But, better to keep silent. No one would learn of her humiliation at Ermintrude’s hands. At least Alys was a female companion amid this group of armed men.
The only other person who spoke to her was the emissary from Anjou. It was he who pointed out Ellesmere Castle when the impressive stone edifice came into view on the horizon.
Peri ached for a comfortable bed, tired of the rigors of the road. Despite the brazier, she was cold, the English damp seeping into her bones. She wanted to eat good food, and longed to bathe, to feel clean again.
Ellesmere definitely looked like a prosperous castle that held the promise of those comforts, yet she was consumed with an urge to jump out of the wagon and demand she be taken back to Westminster. As if sensing her turmoil, Alys took her hand. “All shall be well, ma petite .”
Her unease grew as labourers in the fields paused to watch them pass by.
“Looks fertile, that land,” Alys observed. “Even at this time of year they can work it.”
As they made their way through the busy sprawling town outside the castle walls, Peri noted the people looked well fed,
Francine eyed her curiously. “What?”
“ Rien .”
It would be dangerous now to speak of her love for Geoffrey. She supposed Francine suspected, but probably thought it a passing fancy. All young ladies-in-waiting were in love with Geoffrey. Only she knew of his love for her.
Francine swirled away. “Imagine. One day you’ll be a Comtesse . What did you do to deserve such a catch?”
Peri’s head ached. Who was this man Francine prattled about? “I remember mention of Ellesmere?”
Francine clutched a pillow to her breast. “Ellesmere, in the Welsh Marches.”
Dieu ! They were packing her off to Wales.
She must have looked stricken because Francine took her hand. “Ellesmere is a prosperous earldom, the English seat of the Montbryce family.”
Peri gasped. “Montbryce?”
The name was well-known to Angevins, uttered with fear and loathing. Montbryces were Norman heroes, famous for their military exploits on behalf of their homeland. Her belly churned. “I’m going to be sick.”
Francine patted her hand, obviously misunderstanding. “Worry not about packing your belongings. It’s taken care of.”
Peri followed the sweep of Francine’s arm. Her trunks were lined up along the wall. She looked back at her smiling friend.
Francine pointed to the parchment. “Read it.”
Peri blinked. She had forgotten the document in her hand. Dazed, she unfurled it and stared at the symbols on the page. Three words danced before her eyes. Gallien de Montbryce .
Francine sighed. “All is in readiness. You depart on the morrow. I wish I could come with you.”
Peri wished Francine was going in her stead.
~~~
The four day journey to Ellesmere was uneventful. King Henry provided an armed escort, and to Peri’s surprise, Comte Fulk of Anjou commanded his emissary in Westminster to accompany her. He conveyed greetings from her parents, ecstatic at the good fortune of their daughter. Their joy only served to compound her misery.
The wagon in which she rode was far more comfortable than the one that had conveyed her from Pontrouge to the coast. It had a wooden roof for shelter from the elements, rather than a canvas thrown over a frame, and the wheels were of better construction, which made the ride smoother. A small brazier warmed her feet.
To her relief, Alys was allowed to travel with her. She had not seen her maidservant since their arrival in Westminster, and the woman regaled her with tales of the misery she had suffered. “Praise be to the saints I am delivered from the kitchens of Westminster. Imagine—a scullery maid at my age. My poor knees will never recover.”
Peri raged inwardly. Ermintrude had treated Alys harshly, no doubt because she was an Angevin.
After listening to the complaints for four days, Peri was tempted to retort that at least Alys had not been obliged to carry excrement. But, better to keep silent. No one would learn of her humiliation at Ermintrude’s hands. At least Alys was a female companion amid this group of armed men.
The only other person who spoke to her was the emissary from Anjou. It was he who pointed out Ellesmere Castle when the impressive stone edifice came into view on the horizon.
Peri ached for a comfortable bed, tired of the rigors of the road. Despite the brazier, she was cold, the English damp seeping into her bones. She wanted to eat good food, and longed to bathe, to feel clean again.
Ellesmere definitely looked like a prosperous castle that held the promise of those comforts, yet she was consumed with an urge to jump out of the wagon and demand she be taken back to Westminster. As if sensing her turmoil, Alys took her hand. “All shall be well, ma petite .”
Her unease grew as labourers in the fields paused to watch them pass by.
“Looks fertile, that land,” Alys observed. “Even at this time of year they can work it.”
As they made their way through the busy sprawling town outside the castle walls, Peri noted the people looked well fed,
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