Read Online Mathilde 01 - The Cup of Ghosts by Paul Doherty - Free Book Online

more I look at you, Mathilde,’ she gossiped on, ‘the more I like you.’ She smiled. ‘You’re wondering why I am telling you all these secrets? Quite simple!’ She clapped her hands. ‘If you told other people they wouldn’t believe you, whilst if my father or brothers realised you now know, they’d certainly kill you! Oh, Mathilde,’ she breathed, ‘it is so good to talk to flesh and blood!’
    She got up to confront me squarely, staring at my face as if seeing me for the first time. ‘I wonder who you really are,’ she repeated. She screwed her eyes up, no longer a young lady, more a mere chit of a child, yet there was something highly dangerous about her. Isabella was quick-witted, her moods ever changing; she had yet to learn how to school her expressions, she was still young and innocent enough to let her mask slip. She was weighing me carefully in the balance. She touched my face. ‘Olive skin and smooth,’ she murmured. ‘Thick eyebrows over green eyes, black hair, like Marie’s, cut into a bob. They say you’re trained as a leech, an apothecary.’ She laughed. ‘You’re a woman and too young to be an expert, a peritus, but you can stare and watch. I believe you’ll be the sharpest arrow in my quiver. Stretch out your hands.’
    I did so. She gently eased back the sleeves of my gown and scrutinised my wrists and hands. ‘Soft but used.’ She held up the callused finger of my right hand. ‘And a quill? Do you play hazard, Mathilde?’
    ‘At times, my lady.’
    ‘Good, I like to play. I have my own dice. They are made out of ivory. What my brothers don’t know is that they are cogged; I always win.’ She laughed behind her fingers. ‘Now, Mathilde,’ she rapped me again on the ankles, this time more gently, ‘you will hold office in my household. You will be my dame de la chambre : where I go, you follow. If I ride, you will either accompany me on horse or run beside me. You are my messenger and my taster. Oh yes, I want you to make sure that if wine and food are brought to my chamber, they remain pure and untainted.’ Again the low laugh behind splayed fingers; all the time those keen blue eyes scrutinised me carefully.
    ‘Above all I need someone to confide in. I am getting bored with Marie. I am not too sure if I should take her to England. Now listen.’ She grasped my hand, and pulled me to my feet as if I was her dearest friend, linking her arm through mine. We walked to the casement window and stared down at the fountain; the water in its bowl was frozen hard, the carved stonework, representing a sea monster, had a gaping mouth and staring eyes. ‘If we do go to England, we have to cross the Narrow Seas,’ she murmured. ‘That’s dangerous. Now, Mathilde, give me your promise.’ She nipped my arm. ‘One day, when we trust each other, you will tell me who you really are. Until then,’ she patted my hand, ‘I’ll keep you safe.’
    We left her quarters to walk through the palace. For a while Isabella simply strolled around the galleries and hallways. She showed me the archives, the scriptorium, the library with its precious manuscripts, bound in leather and edged with gold, chained to their stands. All the time she chattered like a squirrel on a branch. I still could not decide whether she was artless or very cunning, a court lady or a girl whose wits had turned. We entered the grand hall. For a while we watched actors, tumblers, conjurors and animal trainers rehearse their tricks whilst being inspected by a chamberlain who was to decide on which revelry to choose for some feast. A bell tolled, so we went to the buttery, where Isabella sat like any serving wench, tapping the table, gossiping with the maids, whilst demanding that we be given freshly baked bread with honey and jugs of light ale. Afterwards we returned to Isabella’s chamber. Once there she ordered more food, this time a tray of spiced meats and a flagon of the richest Bordeaux. I was surprised, bearing in