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Lions and Lilies - Book One
The following prologue is included here for your enjoyment.
Prologue
1342
Salisbury Castle,
England.
“It will be done!” The Earl smashed his fist to the table and an apple toppled from the bowl, to hide amongst the intricate pattern upon the rug. Playing quietly by the fire, two little girls looked up, blinking in fright; too young to understand the argument, but old enough to recognise an explosion of anger. Placing a forbidden thumb into her mouth, one crept closer to the other and laid her head within the comfort of her sister’s lap, unaware that this would be the last time she would ever do so.
Lord Montagu, Earl of Salisbury, wiped the spittle from his mouth and glared coldly at his wife. Her thin frame, topped with a mop of lacklustre hair, drawn sharply back from an emaciated face, no longer held appeal. His eyes swept to the girls, now huddled together, and he took a deep breath to control his discontent. For too long they had littered his floor. Like unsightly crumbs, it was time he swept them under a rug.
He turned to the only other occupant in the solar, his son of fourteen years. “Where is their mother, your wife, boy?” he asked raggedly.
William shrugged nonchalantly, unconcerned at his father’s temper, and continued to set out his playing pieces, shuffling them around the chequered board. “Upstairs in her chamber,gushing tears like a plaguey waterfall.”
Montagu rolled his eyes to the ceiling, his thoughts in the room above, to where his ward had fled. That daughter of Eve would learn what it was to cross him; cosseted under his roof for years and this was his reward.
“I don’t think she likes you,” quipped the youth, snuffling his nose along his costly velvet sleeve. “But I think you are doing the right thing.”
“Hush, William!” snapped his mother.
The boy shot a glance of resentment at the fireplace where the infants had resumed play. “Well I never wanted them in the first place!”
“We were left with little choice, dear.”
“Silence!” bellowed the Earl.
The Countess trod towards her husband, her fingers writhing nervously. “M’lord, if we are discovered, it could go very ill for us.”
“God’s sake, woman! Do you think I don’t know that? A ward was royally placed in our care. To admit she had been seduced under our very noses would have been the ruin of us all! As it was, the King snarled for far too long over William’s impromptu marriage, but now he has offered our son a position in the Prince’s retinue. It has taken two years but we have been forgiven. Our deception must remain concealed.” He glanced at the girls with disgust. “It is time to bury these bones lest we are bitten, and the boy can teach his wife to hold her tongue.”
William sat back, proudly admiring his new chess set; opposing armies, ready for war. He retrieved a pair of knights, and a pitched battle began in mid-air accompanied by an assortment of noises imitating the clashing of swords. The tiny warriors drew breath as William paused to consider. “What will you do with them, father?” One knight delivered a winning blow, and the other crashed to the board. “Ha! Give one to God and send the other to hell!”
The Earl smiled wryly and clapped his hand on William’s shoulder. “Near enough, son! But England and France will suffice.”
“And how do we decide which child goes where?” whined the Countess.
Montagu bit down his frustration. He owed his wife a little patience, and only her gender would think such an insignificant detail important. There were times when it was prudent to humour the weaker sex, and he could afford her a little indulgence. “Let them choose. William, hand me one of your pieces – a pawn is appropriate, would you not say?”
The Earl squatted in front of the girls and two sets of eyes peered warily at this recent intruder into their world. Holding out the knobbly figure in his flat palm, Montagu extended his arm. “Which one of you is curious enough to reach for far horizons?”
William leaned forward, intrigued in spite of himself, and the Countess frowned at the suckled thumb, but it was slowly extracted and the slavered hand stretched out.
“There, it is done! On the morrow, this child goes to France.”
The Earl of Salisbury threw himself into a chair, clasping a large goblet, and cast his gaze about him. If one were to measure the successes of his life they would do better not to look into his home. He closed his eyes, expelling a long, full breath, feeling the armourer’s anvil lifted from his chest at last, and momentarily considered whether one could dispose of wives just as easily. Peering at the elven figures fouling his hearth, he swallowed a generous amount of wine, savouring the taste as it danced across his tongue. “As far as I am concerned, this will be the end of it. From this time forth, those two urchins no longer exist.”
