Chapter Five
It was very late by the time Gisella was packed and ready to leave Bella Court.
The moon hung low over the Thames, a fat, yellow thing glistening off the water, as Gisella moved about in the well-appointed chamber she shared with four other young women, all wards of Lady Gloucester.
Two of those young women were with Lady Gloucester at this moment, attempting to calm her, while the third young lady helped Gisella pack.
The mood of the chamber was somber as the women moved about, packing two large cases and one smaller capcase.
“She did not mean what she said, Gigi,” Lady Sparrow Summerlin spoke softly as she carefully packed two bars of white, lumpy soap that smelled of lemons.
“She was drunk. You know she will not remember what she said and by morning will be wondering where you are. You are her favorite. You know that. Are you sure you must leave?”
Gisella nodded faintly, glancing at her petite, very lovely friend with the glorious blond hair.
“Aye,” she replied. “She ordered me away and then Gloucester brought in his priest to perform the marriage sacrament. You know that priest, the one who beats the acolytes and no one does anything about it. He is a very nasty man and I dislike him intensely.”
Sparrow nodded as she finished tucking the soap into the smaller capcase. “Father Joseph of Orange,” she said. “I know him. He really performed the marriage sacrament?”
Gisella thought back to the very odd, very swift marriage ceremony conducted in Gloucester’s solar with those pounded silver suns on the ceiling smiling down at them.
Smelling of horse dung and dressed in a torn costume, she was forced to stand next to de Russe, who smelled unwashed himself, as the priest with the stained robes and big, bulbous nose performed the marriage mass.
It had been a quick, almost callous mass, nothing like the weddings she had attended in the past and certainly not like a wedding she had hoped for herself.
There had been no meaning to it, no emotion.
Nothing about it had been personal or spiritual and when it was over, she was what she never wanted to be. She was Lady de Russe.
All she could manage to feel at that moment was empty.
No joy, no pleasure. Somehow, something had been stripped away from her and she had become something, and someone, she did not want.
She was the wife of a great warlord, something she had resisted until the bitter end.
Gloucester had congratulated her before leaving the solar with his priest, leaving her standing there in awkward silence with her new husband and his two knights, one of which was her brother.
De Russe had barely spoken a word to her before turning her over to her brother as he fled with his other knight, leaving the two siblings standing alone in that cold silver room with the cold silver suns.
That which they had both feared had come to pass but there was no use talking about it. It was done.
Therefore, Gannon had been kind but businesslike, escorting his sister to her shared chamber and instructing her to bathe and pack.
He gave her a couple of hours and told her he would be back for her by midnight.
Now, that hour was swiftly approaching and Gisella was struggling to pack even with Sparrow’s considerable help.
When this should have been the most exciting night of her life, all she could feel was dread.
“Gigi?” Sparrow asked softly. “Did you hear me? Did the priest really perform the marriage mass?”
Gisella realized she hadn’t answered her friend the first time, lost in her recollections of the evening as she was. After a moment, she nodded.
“He did,” she said, sounding depressed. “I am now Lady de Russe.”
Sparrow regarded her friend. She, too, had been part of the performance in the great hall and had seen the fiasco caused by the nervous horse.
When the horse had fled and the diners began wandering away, Sparrow had spied a pale-appearing Gisella being escorted by a tall, handsome knight who turned out to be her brother.
When she ran to Gisella to see what the matter was, Gisella’s brother gave a brief summary of the evening’s events because Gisella seemed too upset to speak.
After that, Sparrow had accompanied them back to their shared bedchamber and once Gisella’s brother had departed, she had received even more of an explanation from Gisella once the woman had sufficiently calmed. It had been a shocking and somber tale.
So she had helped Gisella bathe and clean the horse dung from her hair, and then she had helped the woman dress in a dark blue woolen traveling dress that was both warm and practical.
It had a snug bodice with a corded belt looped around her tiny waist, layered sleeves that could be buttoned back or left long depending on the weather, and a built-in hood that could be tightened for protection against the elements.
Gisella’s wet hair had been tightly braided in a thick, single braid that trailed down her back and ended at her thighs.
Gisella was, therefore, physically ready to travel but her mental state had been something altogether different.
She moved slowly, methodically, packing her capcases with hardly a word of chatter, which was very unusual for her.
Gisella was usually quite talkative and interesting, but not tonight.
Sparrow’s heart ached for her friend and the life she was surely now facing.
The more she thought about it, the more distressed she became.
“Gigi,” she said thoughtfully as she closed the lid to the smaller capcase. “Do you know what I think?”
Gisella shook her head as she began to pull on her soft, lamb’s skin gloves. “Nay.”
Sparrow slid the lock on the case into position, securing it.
“I do not think I want to remain here at Bella Court after you depart,” she said frankly.
“I would be left alone with Silly Lily and Giddy Bridget, and all the rest of the women in the duchess’ entourage.
You were the only one who made it bearable. With you gone, I shall surely go mad.”
Gisella smiled weakly. “I am sorry, darling,” she said, fussing with the gloves. “If I could bring you with me, I would.”
“Why can’t you?”
Gisella looked up at her. “Because this is my burden to bear,” she said. “It is not your business to go with de Russe. It is mine.”
Sparrow cocked her head thoughtfully. “But you are now the wife of a great warlord,” she said.
“You should have ladies, you know. It is your due. Besides, he is going to leave you and return to fight the wars in France, anyway. Do you want to be left all alone at his dreadful castle? I am sure it is a terrible place with great snake pits and packs of rabid dogs. You will need someone with you.”
Gisella’s smile grew at Sparrow’s description of de Russe’s residence. “Would that I could take you with me, my love,” she said softly. “I would do it for certain.”
Sparrow turned away from her and went to the carved oak wardrobe that held her belongings. Yanking open the door, she pulled out a sturdy capcase of her own and proceeded to yank out some garments hung upon pegs. It was evident she had something in mind as she moved with a purpose.
“I am going with you,” Sparrow said firmly. “You need me. I cannot let you go alone.”
Gisella’s smile faded. “You cannot go with me.”
“Why not?”
“Because you are part of the duchess’ entourage. What will she think to find you missing?”
Sparrow shrugged. “I do not care what she thinks,” she said.
“I have learned all I can learn from the woman. I have learned what wines to serve, what languages to speak, how to manage a large banquet, and how to impress a suitor. I am going with you now and we will have great adventures together, you and I.”
Gisella wasn’t sure what more to say. She very much wanted Sparrow to come with her, a familiar face amidst the strangers she would be living with.
She had no idea where she was going this night or even what the next few days held for her.
Everything was so frightening and uncertain, so the lure of a friend to accompany her was great.
“I am not sure that is wise,” she said, one last attempt to discourage Sparrow. “I am facing the unknown. I do not know where we are going and, furthermore, I do not even know if de Russe will allow you to come.”
Sparrow began shoving her possession into the capcase. “He will allow it if you tell him I am your attendant,” she said. “You must be firm with him, Gigi. He is your husband. He must allow you a few things of your own considering that he is uprooting you and spiriting you off into oblivion.”
Gisella thought on that, thinking that perhaps Sparrow was right.
De Russe could not deny her a lady, an attendant to assist her.
All fine married women had them. Married women.
It made her stomach lurch to realize she was married.
She wondered if she’d ever become accustomed to the idea.
Unfortunately, she would have to. And Sparrow was coming with her.
She would fight de Russe to the death on it.
She needed that comfort, that link to all things kind and gentle.
She needed that connection to her happy memories.
Making her way over to where Sparrow was shoving garments into her case, she pushed the woman aside and began packing for her.
“Get your traveling clothing on,” she said, rolling up a shift to pack it. “Gannon will return any moment for me and we must be ready.”
Sparrow didn’t argue. Thrilled that she had convinced Gisella to take her along, she began untying her gown and, at the same time, digging in her wardrobe for a heavy woolen traveling dress that had been folded up at the bottom of the cabinet.
As her party dress came off, the traveling dress went on.