into a gentle walk, reluctantly acknowledging her private relief at their escort. She sincerely doubted that her courage would have pushed her to enter such a castle on her own.
Once through the town, the small party started to ride up the steep ramp to the castle entrance, until their horses’ shod hooves began to slip on the greasy cobbles.
‘Let’s dismount,’ Talvas suggested, his cloak flowing out as he swung his leg over the horse’s rump. ‘The going will be easier.’ Emmeline nodded, aware of the precipitous drop on either side of the slope; there was a distinct possibility of plunging into the undergrowth far below. Before them, two sentries stood guard at the outer gatehouse, the metallic skin of their full armour shining against the bright red of their surcoats emblazoned with the royal arms of King Henry. The two gold lions stood out against the background of red, one lion representing England, one representing Normandy. Both guards stood immediately to attention when they recognised Lord Talvas, remaining still until he and Emmeline had passed under the heavy portcullis before raising a hand in greeting to Guillame.
‘Talvas, my Lord Talvas!’ A gaunt, elegantly dressed noble strode forward across the bustling inner courtyard as eager servants ran to take their horses.
‘Earl Robert!’ Talvas’s face set with an immediate wariness as he swept the hat from his head and ran a hand through his ebony locks. ‘I had no idea that you would be at Torigny.’ Hishair gleamed in the flickering light thrown by a rush torch held by Earl Robert’s servant.
‘Wherever you find the Empress, you will normally find me,’ Earl Robert replied.
‘Then your loyalty as a brother is to be admired,’ said Talvas, formally.
‘And about to be sorely tested.’ Earl Robert frowned, his interested gaze skimming Emmeline’s neat figure, the sweet pale face almost hidden in the voluminous folds of her hood. ‘I know the knight—’ Earl Robert indicated Guillame ‘—but does the maid belong to you? She’s a beauty.’
Emmeline flushed hotly in the darkness, immediately annoyed by her extreme reaction. Talvas scanned her face and body slowly, deliberately. ‘Nay, my lord, we met on the journey from Barfleur. Mam’selle de Lonnieres seeks an audience with the Empress on a particular business matter.’
Earl Robert scowled, the withered lines of his face stern and forbidding. ‘’Twill be difficult,’ he muttered, almost to himself. Suddenly he grabbed Talvas’s arm. ‘I need to speak to you…alone.’ The two men huddled into a corner of the courtyard, deep in the shadows. The torch bearer was ordered to stay by Emmeline, throwing a circle of light over her trim figure as she shifted uncertainly on the spot, conscious of servants rushing about her, intent on some chore or another. Guillame had already left, helping the servants with their horses.
Emmeline stared grimly down at the hem of her bliaut, the fabric spattered and stiff with mud from the journey. Saturated with rainwater, her cloak hung heavily from her slim shoulders, as if weighted down with boulders. In her haste to reach Torigny, she had given no thought to her impending appearance before the Empress, or to how she would look, or to what words she would choose. Bubbles of doubt peppered the surface of her consciousness. What in the name of Mary hadshe been thinking? She was in no fit state to meet the daughter of the King! But then, if she possessed the one thing the Empress needed, would it matter how she appeared?
Her eyes traced the shadowed breadth of Talvas as he emerged through the gloom, his mouth set in a forbidding line.
‘It is not convenient for you to see the Empress,’ he announced brusquely, ‘but you can stay the night here, and return to Barfleur on the morrow.’
‘Not convenient?’ she squawked, her eyes wide with incredulity. Her body sagged a little with exhaustion. ‘But surely if she knew I was offering
Once through the town, the small party started to ride up the steep ramp to the castle entrance, until their horses’ shod hooves began to slip on the greasy cobbles.
‘Let’s dismount,’ Talvas suggested, his cloak flowing out as he swung his leg over the horse’s rump. ‘The going will be easier.’ Emmeline nodded, aware of the precipitous drop on either side of the slope; there was a distinct possibility of plunging into the undergrowth far below. Before them, two sentries stood guard at the outer gatehouse, the metallic skin of their full armour shining against the bright red of their surcoats emblazoned with the royal arms of King Henry. The two gold lions stood out against the background of red, one lion representing England, one representing Normandy. Both guards stood immediately to attention when they recognised Lord Talvas, remaining still until he and Emmeline had passed under the heavy portcullis before raising a hand in greeting to Guillame.
‘Talvas, my Lord Talvas!’ A gaunt, elegantly dressed noble strode forward across the bustling inner courtyard as eager servants ran to take their horses.
‘Earl Robert!’ Talvas’s face set with an immediate wariness as he swept the hat from his head and ran a hand through his ebony locks. ‘I had no idea that you would be at Torigny.’ Hishair gleamed in the flickering light thrown by a rush torch held by Earl Robert’s servant.
‘Wherever you find the Empress, you will normally find me,’ Earl Robert replied.
‘Then your loyalty as a brother is to be admired,’ said Talvas, formally.
‘And about to be sorely tested.’ Earl Robert frowned, his interested gaze skimming Emmeline’s neat figure, the sweet pale face almost hidden in the voluminous folds of her hood. ‘I know the knight—’ Earl Robert indicated Guillame ‘—but does the maid belong to you? She’s a beauty.’
Emmeline flushed hotly in the darkness, immediately annoyed by her extreme reaction. Talvas scanned her face and body slowly, deliberately. ‘Nay, my lord, we met on the journey from Barfleur. Mam’selle de Lonnieres seeks an audience with the Empress on a particular business matter.’
Earl Robert scowled, the withered lines of his face stern and forbidding. ‘’Twill be difficult,’ he muttered, almost to himself. Suddenly he grabbed Talvas’s arm. ‘I need to speak to you…alone.’ The two men huddled into a corner of the courtyard, deep in the shadows. The torch bearer was ordered to stay by Emmeline, throwing a circle of light over her trim figure as she shifted uncertainly on the spot, conscious of servants rushing about her, intent on some chore or another. Guillame had already left, helping the servants with their horses.
Emmeline stared grimly down at the hem of her bliaut, the fabric spattered and stiff with mud from the journey. Saturated with rainwater, her cloak hung heavily from her slim shoulders, as if weighted down with boulders. In her haste to reach Torigny, she had given no thought to her impending appearance before the Empress, or to how she would look, or to what words she would choose. Bubbles of doubt peppered the surface of her consciousness. What in the name of Mary hadshe been thinking? She was in no fit state to meet the daughter of the King! But then, if she possessed the one thing the Empress needed, would it matter how she appeared?
Her eyes traced the shadowed breadth of Talvas as he emerged through the gloom, his mouth set in a forbidding line.
‘It is not convenient for you to see the Empress,’ he announced brusquely, ‘but you can stay the night here, and return to Barfleur on the morrow.’
‘Not convenient?’ she squawked, her eyes wide with incredulity. Her body sagged a little with exhaustion. ‘But surely if she knew I was offering
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