So Great A Love (6 page)

“Margaret?” Gertrude called after her
sister-in-law, her voice little more than a frightened whisper.
“Where are you going? Lord Adhemar will be disappointed when he
sees you have left him. You ought not to anger your lord and
master.”

“If Lord Adhemar drinks much more wine, he
won't know which castle he is in,” Margaret snapped at her, “let
alone who is sitting beside him.”

She saw at once what a mistake her sharp
words were. Gertrude's pale, watery blue eyes filled with tears and
her chin began to tremble. She was going to cry and the
weak-spirited creature would almost certainly run to Eustace, to
try to curry favor with her unfeeling husband by telling him that
Margaret and Catherine were up to something.

Gertrude turned, chewing on her quivering
lower lip, and took a hesitant step back in the direction of the
great hall. Margaret's hand reached out to catch Gertrude's sleeve,
holding her in place. Several possible methods for dealing with
Gertrude tumbled through Margaret's frantic mind.

She could tell Gertrude what she was bent
upon doing and hope Gertrude would sympathize enough to keep
silent. Margaret quickly discarded that idea. Gertrude was so
afraid of her husband that at Eustace's first question as to where
she had been she would almost certainly reveal everything she knew
of Margaret's plans. Margaret felt a deep pity for Gertrude, but
she knew she dared not trust her.

She and Catherine could push Gertrude into a
storeroom and lock her in there, but that would be unkind to
someone who lived in constant fear and, besides, Gertrude might be
discovered before Margaret and Catherine and their company were
safely away from Sutton.

There was only one thing to do. They would
have to trick Gertrude. Margaret shot a quick look at Catherine and
saw her friend waiting to follow her lead.

“Gertrude, we are playing a prank,” Margaret
said, trying to sound merry and lighthearted. “Catherine and I want
to make the men laugh.”

“Yes,” Catherine said, joining in the
trickery. “It's a Twelfth Night game. Gertrude, you won't spoil the
fun, will you? Just go back to the table and don't say a word to
anyone, and I promise, in a little while there will be a surprise
and everyone will laugh.”

“You mustn't trick your father and Eustace,”
Gertrude said to Margaret with great seriousness, “and certainly
not Lord Adhemar. It isn't nice to fool one's husband.”

“He isn't my husband yet,” Margaret pointed
out, speaking in impatient irritation. When she saw Gertrude's face
begin to crumple in the prelude to tears, Margaret exclaimed,
“Eustace will laugh so hard and be in such a good mood!”

“Eustace, in a good mood?” Gertrude repeated,
looking as if she could not quite believe such a thing could ever
happen. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, just wait and see,” Catherine said with
a bright smile.

“Gertrude,” Margaret said, “the timing for
this game must be just right and you are keeping us from putting
the final touches on our prank. Now, go back to the hall and act as
if you know nothing. Be patient, wait for the joke to occur, and in
the meantime, tell no one you have seen us.”

“If you are sure Eustace will be
entertained,” Gertrude said, sounding as if she were not at all
certain of it.

“I am absolutely sure,” Margaret told her,
barely resisting the urge to give Gertrude a strong shove in the
direction of the hall.

“But, Margaret, I am still concerned about
what Eustace will do,” Gertrude said. She took a single step toward
the hall and then another backward to Margaret and Catherine, as if
she could not make up her mind. “Won't Eustace be annoyed if he
discovers I knew and didn't tell him?”

“Gertrude,” Catherine said with remarkable
patience, “the point of arranging a surprise lies in not telling
anyone about it beforehand. All you have to do is keep quiet and
tell no one you have seen us. Can you do that? Please?”

“I think so,” Gertrude said after a moment of
perplexed thought.

“Then, go along,” Margaret said, trying her
best to conceal her impatience though she was near to screaming at
the foolish woman. It was the same kind of fearful uncertainty that
had led Gertrude to repeat Eustace's drunken, disloyal words about
the king to Margaret – words Margaret shivered to recall.

“Yes, do please go,” Catherine said in a
cajoling tone. “Thank you for your help. Now, remember, not a word
to anyone.” She paused, smiling, while Gertrude looked from her to
Margaret.

“Not a word,” Gertrude repeated with some
reluctance.

To Margaret's great relief, Gertrude finally
left them. As soon as her sister-in-law was out of sight, Margaret
opened the door to the little garderobe and she and Catherine
slipped inside. Dim, late afternoon light entered the room by a
narrow slit window. Catherine bolted the door and they leaned
against each other in silence until their heartbeats had
quieted.

“For a few moments there, I feared we were
caught,” Catherine said, her voice a bit shaky.

“I am sorry for Gertrude,” Margaret said,
“but she has all the wits of a terrified goose and she tends to
tell everything she knows. Let us hope she will control herself
just this once and remain silent about seeing us until after we are
gone.”

“My men-at-arms are ready and waiting for
us,” Catherine reported. “If we should become separated, you have
only to make your way to the outer bailey. At the gatehouse ask for
Matthew. He is the leader of my men and he will see you safely out
of Sutton. Now, let us play maidservants to each other.”

While she talked Catherine was helping
Margaret to remove the detested red dress, until Margaret was clad
only in her shift, stockings, and shoes. Then, holding Margaret's
dress above the damp floor to keep from soiling it, Catherine
lifted her arms so Margaret could unfasten the lacings at either
side of her own, bright blue gown. Margaret at first fumbled with
fingers shaking from nervousness, then bit her lip and tried again
and it was done. Catherine stood like Margaret, clad in shift and
shoes.

No sooner was Catherine undressed than a soft
knock sounded at the garderobe door.

“Let us hope it’s Aldis,” Catherine said, her
voice betraying her own nervousness. She stifled a sneeze. “If it's
Gertrude again, or a servant, we will be questioned as to what we
are doing in here with our clothes off.”

“Not so,” Margaret said. She expelled a
breathy little laugh and suddenly she was no longer nervous. It was
as if she had shed all of her fears along with the red dress. She
had taken the first steps toward escape, toward controlling her own
life, and nothing was going to make her turn back. “All we have to
do is tell the truth, that we are exchanging gowns as a Twelfth
Night prank. Even Gertrude will have to see that we are not
lying.”

When Margaret unlatched and opened the door,
Aldis was standing so close to the entrance that she almost fell
into the garderobe. The three women burst into nervous giggles,
then hastily smothered their laughter.

“Here.” Aldis thrust a bundle of clothing
into Margaret's arms before turning to Catherine. “I have packed
all of your belongings and have given them to one of the
men-at-arms. I concealed some of Margaret's clothes in the baskets
and bundles, too.

“Do hurry,” Aldis urged them. “We are much
later than we intended and Matthew will be worrying about us.
Margaret, bend your head down so I can remove that gold net without
unfastening your hair. Won't Ermengarde be furious when she
discovers it being worn by a servant?” Aldis stifled another giggle
behind one hand.

Having retrieved the gold mesh hairnet, Aldis
left to deliver the red and the blue silk gowns, the hairnet, and
the pair of face masks to the servants who were to wear them for
the remainder of the festivities. With luck, and if Gertrude kept
quiet, in all the confusion in the great hall the servants would be
taken for Margaret and Catherine for at least an hour or two. When
the servants were unmasked at midnight along with everyone else who
was in disguise, the deception would be at first considered a great
joke, which ought to further delay questions about the whereabouts
of Margaret and Catherine.

A few minutes later the two friends emerged
from the garderobe wearing plain, dark woolen gowns, with their
hair covered with linen wimples, of which Margaret owned a large
supply. They had decided while working out the details of the plan
on the previous night that Catherine's distinctive red-gold hair
would give her away, so until she was out of Sutton Castle she was
to assume the disguise offered by the head-covering of a married
woman.

Leaving the garderobe, they hurried along a
short corridor leading to a flight of stairs down to the
storerooms, and thence to a door in the lower level of the keep
that opened onto the inner bailey. Though it was only
mid-afternoon, the winter sun was setting and the shadows were
lengthening across the bailey which, as Margaret had expected, was
almost empty of people.

“My father cannot think there is any danger
of attack during this holy season,” Margaret said, “and so most of
his people will be inside, enjoying themselves.” She was proven
correct. There were only a few guards about and they did not
question two women dressed like servants and bent upon a hasty
errand.

As Margaret and Catherine emerged from the
inner gatehouse to the outer bailey where the stables were located,
they were met by the six men-at-arms who had come to Sutton with
Catherine to protect her along the way. Aldis was already mounted
and the men held a pair of saddled horses ready for the other
women. One of the men quickly threw a dark, hooded cloak over
Margaret, swathing her from wimple to toes. Another man covered
Catherine in the same way with a second cloak.

“You don't really need to disguise
yourselves, but it's always best to be cautious,” Matthew, the man
who was leader of the men-at-arms, said to them. “So many other
parties have been coming and going today that the guards are
letting folk move freely in and out of the castle until
nightfall.

“Also, I took it upon myself to see to it
that the guards have been able to celebrate the coming nuptials
with wine that was generously, though unknowingly, supplied by Lord
Phelan. I do not think they will concern themselves overmuch with a
small group of people who are leaving, and we have been careful not
to mention any of your names in connection with this group. But I
don't think we ought to delay much longer, for the gates will be
closed and locked when darkness comes.”

Matthew had judged the guards accurately. No
one questioned them. A few moments after the women were mounted
their party rode unchallenged through the main gate of Sutton
Castle and into the gathering twilight, into cold, windy
freedom.

With a full moon rising early to light their
way the little band led by Matthew rode through the late afternoon
and into the night, until the moon had set and humans and horses
were weary. As the moon sank into the western sky Matthew called a
halt by a stream edged with ice. While the men-at-arms tended to
the horses, Margaret, Catherine, and Aldis tried to walk some
warmth into their chilled bodies.

“How I hate the cold,” Aldis said, rubbing
her gloved hands together. “I'll be glad when we are indoors again,
in front of a bright fire.”

“My ladies, I know our stop has been a short
one, but I think we should be on our way again,” Matthew told them.
“The moon has set into a bank of clouds, and this cold, damp air
makes me think of snow.”

“How can we travel now that it has grown so
dark?” Margaret asked, looking around at the shapes of trees barely
visible in the darkness. She could hear the winter-slow sound of
the nearby brook, but she could no longer see it. Except for the
faint murmur of the brook and the sounds made by their own little
group, the night was quiet. No animal stirred in the cold. Even the
wind was still. Margaret had assumed they would make camp where
they stopped, build fires for warmth, and wait until daylight
before continuing.

“We will keep to the old road,” Matthew
answered her. “It runs straight, so it's fairly easy to tell the
way even in the dark. By the time the sun is fully risen we should
be near the River Severn. Let us hope the folk at Sutton Castle
will not bestir themselves until late morning after last night's
feasting and drinking, and that no early riser has noticed our
absence. And that when they do notice we are gone, Lord Phelan will
be sober enough to think of the convent and ride there first,
before searching elsewhere. That will give us a little more time
before they spread out along every road and track from here to
Shrewsbury, and on to Chester.”

“Let us also hope that Lady Gertrude has kept
quiet about what she has seen and heard,” Catherine added.

They remounted and started off again through
the dark which, unfortunately, did not lighten much at sunrise.
Thick, gray clouds overspread the sky. The air grew ever colder and
damper, and Matthew's concern about snow seemed to be
justified.

They crossed the bridge over the Severn at
Wroxeter before noon and stopped there briefly to eat and rest both
travelers and horses. Then they continued northward, staying well
away from Shrewsbury for fear that Phelan would send a search party
in that direction.

Margaret spent the ride in a state of
constant fear, not for herself, but for those who traveled with
her. Her original intention, to separate from her companions as
soon as possible after leaving Sutton so they would not be
endangered because of her, had been discarded after Catherine's
persuasive arguments. Margaret harbored no illusions about what
would happen to the rest of her party if her father or worse,
Eustace, should catch up with them. While Phelan might have some
qualms about drawing weapons upon men belonging to the baron of
Wortham, Margaret did not think Eustace would trouble himself to
make a careful distinction between abductors and men-at-arms who
were acting as escort for three noblewomen. Eustace would very
likely charge forward, his sword at the ready, eager to spill
blood.