It had the desired effect. The quill stopped scratching; a loud silence followed. Raymond felt decidedly uncomfortable. He would have sworn the attendants had thrown the windows open to the cold northerly wind. Strongbow placed the quill on the table. Slowly lifting his head, he set his sharp gaze on him and held it. Raymond thought he’d prefer a small cut from a shortsword than this, but eventually Strongbow responded.
‘That girl, as you refer to her, Sir Raymond, is a princess. The Princess of Leinster.’ He paused. ‘You will do well to remind yourself of her status.’ A longer pause.
There was a quiet fury in him.
‘Pay heed, and the proper respect, for, as you say, she will occupy a position of considerable importance in my household should my plans come to pass.’
Raymond felt the chill. But needs must. He knew that should they reach Ireland, Strongbow would secure his position as the King of Leinster’s heir by wedding his daughter, Aoife. More importantly, he had just been forcefully, and rather uncomfortably, reminded of this fact when he had encountered Aoife and her retinue crossing the blustery courtyard of the castle on his way to the Great Tower.
Raymond had enjoyed a filling lunch, which he took these days in the warmth of the kitchens, with their ever-glowing fires. Strongbow demanded discipline from the men, but his kitchens at Chepstow Castle turned out the best victuals and ale in copious quantities. You could demand a lot from men who had full bellies and the promise of more. And it was this excessive time in the kitchens which had earned Raymond the nickname ‘Le Gros’, the Fat.
Bracing himself against the wind, he wrapped his heavy cloak tightly to preserve the warmth from the fires. He was surprised to see MacMurrough’s daughter, Aoife, in his path, and he smiled benignly at the girl as she approached. He had had no cause to have any dealings with her as he had negotiated the wedding with her father. As yet, she was unaware, and they would leave it that way for a while; she had no need to know. From what he knew of her, she was of fine figure and considerable beauty. She would serve her purpose well enough, which was to provide Strongbow with the heirs he needed to carry the de Clare family name and bloodline forward.
‘Sir Raymond,’ she addressed him formally. ‘Good day to you, sir.’
Surprised but ever gracious, Raymond responded, ‘Good day, m’lady,’ and he and his clerk stepped aside to let the ladies pass before going about their business.
Just as the men were about to continue on their way, her voice came from behind, rooting him to the spot: ‘Le Gros.’
Very few men addressed him in that manner and tone—those who wanted to remain living, anyway—and certainly no women. Turning, he was surprised to see the girl moving closer. As she did so, she pulled back the hood of her cloak. Her long golden hair was quickly taken by the gusting wind, obscuring her face. A big man, he was more than a head taller. Uncomfortably close, she stopped, and using her hands to tame and part her whipping hair, she revealed her striking pale blue eyes and clear skin. Unusually, her beauty was amplified by its proximity. She stared at him expectantly, unnervingly.
‘Apologies, m’lady, if I did something to offend. I…I…’ He gathered himself, regretting that second tankard of ale, which had muffled his thoughts slightly. He lacked the sharpness of mind to handle this kind of ambush.
‘No apologies necessary. I understand you are acting as the Earl of Pembroke’s secretary at present.’ She beamed now.
‘You are correct, m’lady,’ he said with an authority he didn’t quite feel just then.
‘Excellent. Could you inform His Lordship that I would be pleased to visit him presently—this afternoon—to discuss matters of mutual interest.’ She continued in a most pleasant manner.
A bit of spirit indeed, Raymond thought, somewhat recovering himself and smiling. He was responsible for Strongbow’s diary of meetings, and as was expected of him, it was planned meticulously and rarely changed. ‘Forgive me, m’lady, but His Lordship is busy attending to serious matters at present.’ Confidence restored now, he charged on: ‘However, I’m sure you have important lady’s matters to attend which will well occupy you. I will raise the matter with His Lordship in the coming weeks, and we’ll see what we can do. Now, if you’ll excuse me…’ He made to resume his walk to the Great Tower.
Standing back, Aoife faced the wind and let it take her hair. A quiet disappointment gathered from her full lips to her sculpted jawline and long neck. A hint of snow-white flesh cresting her bosom was exposed by the lifting wind. An allure, almost bewitching—it was not a sight that a man with blood in his veins could easily ignore.
Eventually she spoke, more slowly now and with a tinge of sadness: ‘You seem to misunderstand me, Sir Raymond. I am not making a request of you.’ She paused, then looked at him.
Raymond was feeling very uncomfortable. His clerk stared dumbfounded at the girl and dropped a sheaf of parchments. She glanced pitifully at the handsome young man as he scrambled to collect the documents in the blustering wind. Then she seemed to sigh, stilled her hair, and returned her gaze to Raymond. ‘I am making the assumption, at this stage, that you are competent.’ She spoke deliberately. ‘Please don’t regard this in any way as a test, but I do so truly hope that I can rely on you as a trusted member of our nobility in Ireland.’
It took Raymond a while to absorb and recover from the shock of the implied threat. How much did this girl know? However, he was quick on the uptake, and if you had to get a tongue-lashing from someone, he couldn’t think of a more beautiful face to deliver the blow.
‘Of course, m’lady. I fully understand. I will of course see to it immediately. Please let me apologise. I was somewhat preoccupied.’ He stumbled on.
‘Oh, no need whatsoever.’ She smiled. ‘Shall we say three o’clock, then?’ The girl’s face lit up like an angel’s.
‘As you wish, Princess Aoife.’
‘Please, please. No need for formalities. We shall be seeing so much of each other. Slán.’
And one man’s blessing is another man’s curse, he thought, as the girl replaced her hood and curtseyed. Smiling at them both, she flashed her cloak, summoned her retinue, and went on her way.
Raymond now regretted that first tankard of ale. Moments ago, his world had looked good. The plans were going well; he had a full belly and a packed afternoon of audiences arranged for Strongbow. They would stick rigidly to the schedule, no exceptions. And now this.
Staring after her, the two men stood transfixed. ‘If this is what their women are like, maybe we should rethink the whole damn thing.’ Raymond grinned with a friendly nudge to his companion, regaining some of his natural good humour.
‘Well, she certainly is a beauty,’ said Myler, his young cousin who was acting as his clerk. He stood open-mouthed, watching her withdraw with an intensity Raymond suspected went beyond surprise.
He paused and turned to Myler. ‘Now, you listen to me, m’boy. I know what’s going through your stupid head right now.’ He wagged a finger in his face. ‘You keep that little sword of yours in its scabbard, if you gather my meaning, or an even smaller, shrivelled version of it—if that’s possible—will be found hanging above Strongbow’s mantel. You know well whose bed she’ll be warming.’ He prodded Myler’s chest for effect, gently scolding this likeable but impulsive young man.
‘Prudent advice, Cousin Raymond.’ Myler smiled. ‘I always take my example from you.’ And he even managed to keep a straight face before they both laughed loudly, knowing full well Raymond’s reputation and form with the ladies.
However, Raymond’s good humour was short-lived as he approached the Great Tower. How to explain to Strongbow that he had arranged an unscheduled audience with MacMurrough’s daughter?
No turning back now. Onwards into the breach.
Having suitably chastised Raymond for his crass language concerning the princess, Strongbow resumed his study. Scribbling notes, he quickly consumed the mass of logistical information for the campaign spread before him on the large oak table.
‘What’s next on the list?’ he asked. ‘Have we finalised the horse transport arrangements?’
‘M’lord, if I could just suggest a short interview. There is a small gap in your plans this afternoon…’ Raymond persisted; time was against him now.
‘Gap! Gap in my plans, Raymond?’ Strongbow, exasperated now, dropped the formalities with his old friend. ‘There is not, and never has been, a gap in my plans, to the best of my knowledge.’ He sat back and rested the quill carefully aside. He wasn’t a big man. He had a weather-worn, chiselled face and a sharp, penetrating gaze that carried an easy intelligence like a spotlight. It settled on Raymond.
‘As you said yourself, m’lord, she is of royal birth, and it might be appropriate to afford her the respect, of which you have just spoken; after all, as I said, you will be… you know… I’d strongly advise… just a few moments…’ Raymond was panicking now. He could hear the rustling of skirts and footsteps mounting the wooden staircase which led to the hall.
‘Raymond, you look a bit flustered. What’s going on?’
