Timeline - Michael Crichton [88]
To one side, a door stood open. A single guard munched a piece of chicken. The boy said, “We are to the Lady Claire. She wishes this Irisher to do her service.”
“So be it,” the guard grunted, uninterested; they went inside. Chris saw an archway directly ahead, leading to the great hall, where a crowd of men and women stood talking. Everyone seemed richly dressed; their voices echoed off the stone walls.
But the boy did not give him much opportunity to look. He led Chris up a winding, narrow stair to the second floor, then down a stone corridor, and finally into a suite of rooms.
Three maids, all dressed in white, rushed forward to the boy and embraced him. They appeared very relieved. “By the grace of God, my Lady, you are returned!”
Chris said, “My Lady?”
Even as he said it, the black hat was thrown away, and golden hair tumbled down over her shoulders. She gave a little bow that turned into a curtsy. “I am heartfelt sorry, and beg your forgiveness for this deception.”
“Who are you?” Chris said, stunned.
“I am called Claire.”
She rose from her curtsy and looked directly into his eyes. He saw that she was older than he had thought, perhaps twenty-two or -three. And very beautiful.
He gaped and said nothing. He had no idea what to say, or to do. He felt foolish and awkward.
In the silence, one of the maids came forward, curtsied and said, “If it please you, she is the Lady Claire of Eltham, newly widowed of Sir Geoffrey of Eltham, who holds great estates in Guyenne and Middlesex. Sir Geoffrey died of his wounds from Poitiers, and now Sir Oliver—ruler of this castle—serves as my Lady’s guardian. Sir Oliver feels she must be married again, and he has chosen Sir Guy de Malegant, a nobleman well known in these regions. But this match, my Lady refuses.”
Claire turned and shot the girl a warning glance. But the girl, oblivious, chattered on. “My Lady says to all the world that Sir Guy lacks the means to defend her estates in France and England. Yet Sir Oliver will have his fee from this match, and Guy has—”
“Elaine.”
“My Lady,” the girl said, scurrying backward. She rejoined the other maids, who whispered in the corner, apparently chastising her.
“Enough talk,” Claire said. “Here is my savior of this day, Squire Christopher of Hewes. He has delivered me from the predations of Sir Guy, who sought to take by force what he could not win freely at court.”
Chris said, “No, no, that is not what happened at all—”
He broke off, as he realized that everyone was staring at him, their mouths open, their eyes wide.
“Sooth, he speaks queerly,” Claire said, “for he comes from some remote part in the lands of Eire. And he is modest, as befits a gentle. He did save me, so I shall today introduce him to my guardian, once Christopher has proper attire.” She turned to one of the ladies. “Is not our horse master, Squire Brandon, of his same length? Go to and fetch me his indigo doublet, his silver belt, and his best white hose.” She handed the girl a purse. “Pay what he asks, but be quick.”
The girl scurried off. As she left, she passed a gloomy elderly man, standing in the shadows, watching. He wore a rich robe of maroon velvet with silver fleurs-de-lis embroidered on it, and an ermine collar. “How now, my Lady?” he said, coming forward.
She curtsied to him. “Well, Sir Daniel.”
“You are safely returned.”
“I give thanks to God.”
The gloomy man snorted. “As well you should. You strain even His patience. And did your trip yield success equal to its dangers?”
Claire bit her lip. “I fear not.”
“Did you see the Abbot?”
A slight hesitation. “No.”
“Speak me the truth, Claire.”
The girl shook her head. “Sir, I did not. He was abroad, on a hunt.”
“A pity,” Sir Daniel said. “Why did you not await him?”
“I dared not do so, for Lord Oliver’s men broke sanctuary, to take the Magister away by force. I feared discovery, and so fled.”
“Yes, yes, this troublesome Magister,