CHAPTER FORTY ONE

Eleanor felt a slight apprehension as she approached the French camp. She told herself that it would be generously peopled with Englishmen who had become somewhat disenchanted with Louis’ leadership. Even so she could not afford to take any chances. For that reason to avoid recognition she had dressed as a boy, wearing thick clothing, the heavy cloaked appearance hopefully hiding her voluptuous womanhood. There was a cold wind blowing not unexpectedly for the time of year. Yet if Eleanor had been honest with herself the dismal weather conditions if anything made her feel more English. True she was Brittany born and bred but even that was in the North of the Continent and she was always aware that she was an English King’s grand-daughter. The Pearl laughed to herself. How could she really claim an English heritage? After all her grand-father had been the son of Jeffrey of Anjou. No matter royalty was very much multi-national in its blood-lines. She felt English nonetheless, she had a burning passion for the land and its people which she felt Henry, her pious cousin, never could. Still that was water under the bridge, who should wear the crown.

“Declare yourself boy. What business have you here?”

Eleanor was stirred out of her reverie by the hard grating tones of the sentry on duty who now confronted her.

“I would have discourse with Saire de Quincey” announced the Pearl seeking to make he voice sound suitably deep and gruff.

“Would you, you young rogue?” snapped the guard. Name your purpose and who you represent. My lord is a busy man, he has little time for tittle-tattle, you must convince me that your quest is worth his attention.”

“I am here on behalf of the Earl of Salisbury.”

“Indeed how does that old turncoat? I thought that he was back with the so-called English Royal Party.”

“Longsword is well worth cultivating” remarked Eleanor. “Your master would be well advised to listen to what he has to say. I would not like him to miss a golden opportunity of - shall we say advancement.”

“Wait here lad” commanded the guard “I’ll see what I can do, I wont be a
minute.”

In a short while the official was back followed by a young man, darkly handsome in a somewhat supercilious effete way. The newcomer eyed-up Eleanor in a not unkindly, indeed rather attentive fashion. The Princess was quite used to glances - indeed more than glances - being cast at her voluptuous form. She was, however, puzzled on this occasion given that she was, she felt, well disguised as a boy.

“If you will follow me young man I will ascertain what value there is in your message and then bring in my Lord de Quincey. But beware, your information must merit such a decision.”

“As your excellency wished” bowed Eleanor deeply.

“Indeed, follow me to my tent we will not be disturbed there. Privacy is of the essence given the times in which we live.”

The Pearl walked boldly alongside the man seeking to give an impression of swaggering youthful adolescence. Whistling cheerfully she seemed to convey to the outside World that there was nothing to worry about, life was very much for the living when you were young and free as the wind. Eleanor then stepped adroitly to one side to allow the soldier-courtier, call him what you would, into the tent which was obviously to be their meeting place.

“Well young man my name is William de Freize I am close to Saire de Quincey in most major issues. Tell me your own appellation first before we begin our discourse.”

“My name is Guy of Leicester” responded Eleanor smiling to herself. If she was to be a man Guy was as good a title to take upon herself - a real tribute to her lover de Buissant - “I only hope he appreciates the honour” she almost smiled.

“Guy?” mused de Freize. “A fine bold name for a young lad, slap my cheeks if its not.”

“Indeed” replied Eleanor “Can we get down to the discussion I am sure my Lord de Quincey would not wish to be held-up any further the matter is, as I intimated to the guard, of the utmost urgency.”

“So be it” grinned the courtier. “My word you are a fine young cockerel. Take some food and wine first, allow me to entertain you in some style. Your hose and
outer apparel are besmirched with mud you must have ridden some distance. Faith, a growing lad like you should not exhaust his strength.”

Eleanor gazed somewhat quizzically at de Freize. What a strange customer he was. Those foxy grey eyes of his, enough to put anyone on their guard. His bearing was quite noble, almost soldierly except for a slight mincing gait. If he flew into a passion it would, felt Eleanor, be more a vexed bitchy rage rather than a knightly exhibition of righteous indignation.

“What fine arms you have boy. Good for grasping a sword against the enemies of England.”

Eleanor started back in some consternation as William de Freize commenced to stroke her shoulders with some animation. Disguised as a boy she had not expected this, God in Heaven even going incognito a woman was not totally safe. She had heard about men like William, the second son of the victor of Hastings was allegedly so inclined. Still that might have been something of a slander against Rufus the Red King. He was, after all a sound administrator, brave and bluff, good-hearted to his friends and an efficient soldier. Of course, she thought, her own Uncle Richard the Lionheart, for all his warlike qualities, he too had been noted for his predilection for members of his own sex. This de Freize was closer at hand though and Eleanor felt a sickly feeling in her stomach.

“My Lord” resumed Eleanor assuming a gruff-sounding voice. “Can we dispense with the pleasantries? I am a soldier, hard-ridden some distance as you suggest. After this business I could do with receiving some comfort from a willing lass. What are the wenches like in these parts?”

“I would not know” sneered de Freize blanching slightly.

“What a waste” he muttered releasing Eleanor almost with contempt.

“Whether or not it would be a waste is irrelevant” responded the Pearl. “I promise you that your master will become one of the foremost leaders in this land if he but .....”

“If I but what?” enquired a voice almost from nowhere.

Eleanor and William glanced to the side to see the stalwart figure of Saire de Quincey enter the tent. The Princess almost felt like sighing in relief, at least de
Quincey was a real man. Misguided in his loyalties may be but someone you could relate to, a good person to have on your side when the pressure was on.

“I was interrogating our visitor here before I decided whether it was worthwhile bringing him before your Lordship.”

“The Devil you were!” half roared - half laughed de Quincey “I’ll be the judge of who I see, my lad. Who have we here then?”

“Guy of Leicester” announced de Freize. “Well considered by his peers doubtless. He is an envoy of the Prince Henry.”

“So he is, is he?” replied de Quincey emphasising the he with some amusement. “In that case young man follow me to my quarters. As for you, de Freize we will not need your stalwart presence with us. Get some arms drill, or some other form of martial practice, we need not be disturbed, the young lad and I.”

Eleanor followed after the fast-striding de Quincey glad to be rid of the too sweetly-smelling William de Freize. Once inside the tent of the nobleman the latter burst into almost explosive laughter. With one majestic sweep of his arm he pulled back the cloak covering the riding clothes of the Princess.

“God’s Face as I suspected the Pearl herself!”

“How did your Lordship remember me or rather how did you recognise me so astutely disguised?”

“You may have fooled that poncing prat de Freize, but you should know lass that to any real man your loveliness and sheer womanhood can never be hid.”

“Well William certainly took a shine to me” smiled Eleanor “but not as a girl I fear.”

“Hell what is this army coming to?” snorted Saire de Quincey. “With poltroons such as him what chance have we against anyone?”

“Precisely my feelings, Saire” responded the Princess “Prince Louis must be little better than a fool if he shows so little appreciation of soldiers such as yourself. The English have been scurvily treated by the Dauphin. Instead he has simpering favourites, French laggards leading where yourself and de Ros should logically be in charge.”

“You echo much of what I think, my Lady.”

“In that case need I say more are you with us? We could do with such as you in our ranks?”

“There is much wisdom in what you say but may I make a small suggestion? King Henry is in need of intelligence. As soon as I withdraw my support from Louis then that knowledge is lost. Trust me, but allow me to stay with the Dauphin’s forces a little longer. I will pass information to you through whatever means is appropriate.”

“Fair enough but do not hesitate too long” suggested Eleanor “we need your strong arm and the forces you can command. With respect they are more valuable than cat and mouse espionage.”

“Point taken, lass” grunted Saire. “In the meantime would it be impudent of me to offer the Pearl of Brittany refreshment in my tent?”

Eleanor threw back her head and burst into gales of laughter. With deft movements here and there she flung away the coverings and trappings that had hitherto disguised her femininity. Soon she stood before de Quincey wholly and indisputably a woman, much more indeed for surely one of the fairest in the whole of Europe and beyond.

“Well my Lord you were not always so tentative. Show me that the King will be getting a warrior firm set of purpose, a Titan among men.”

Saire responded by quickly dispensing of his noble accoutrements, the cloak and outward marks of his status in society. Soon he stood before her a man, like any other man but even more so.

“Take your Princess now” urged Eleanor “and show me that you have real commitment to our cause.”

The baron needed little further encouragement as he swept his arms round the Pearl’s nubile body and gently but firmly wrestled her to the ground. The ardours of fighting a wearying campaign had numbed his mind, made him feel dispirited to a degree. The opportunity now to relax his muscles, feel the pressure passing from his body was like an infusion of the Elixir of Life into his soul. The Princess moved energetically yet with controlled sophistication drawing-out each tension in his muscular frame. Their legs and arms intertwined as if they were part of the same energy force. It was as if they were both being reborn again yet with a glorious child-
like freedom taking control, one of total pleasure devoid of the pains of earthlychild-birth.”.

“My Princess” moaned Saire gasping loudly.

Eleanor laughed out loud and ran her fingers through de Quincey’s relatively short earlier Norman-style hair. She felt the vibrant urgency of the man as his passions gained momentum and their bodies started to ride together borne away on a journey to Paradise. There was a spiritual mingling, an interpolation of mind, body and soul. A throbbing, pulsating sensation took over their joint consciousness and the outside World seemed but a figement of their imagination. Onwards and upwards they went as a thousand stars clashed together as they fell floating beyond the oceans of mankind. A consummation devoutly to be wished had been attained and exceeded.

Saire de Quincey was the first to speak lying beside the Princess he gently stroked her arm.

“Is this truly Heaven or merely my humble quarters in the French Prince’s establishment?”

“Make of it what you will” smiled Eleanor. “Joy is here for all of us, we must take our opportunity when we may.”

Saire de Quincey was the first to make a move, bursting with frenetic urgency he quickly replaced his clothing his relaxed mood now being subsumed within his soldierly facade. The Princess gave him a wry smile and moving more slowly she elegantly began to attire herself again in the guise of a young boy.

“My lady is free to stay for a while and refresh yourself with wine and bread. However, it would be advisable not to stay too long, I would not like to see your disguise penetrated.”

“Quite so my good lord” mused Eleanor “I will leave now, after all I am here primarily on business, and I need to report back to my masters the good news.”

“Indeed you do, follow me quickly and we will see you on your road.”

The two conspirators walked steadily along the track outside de Quincey’s tent and were soon on the edge of the camp. A sharply given command made de Quincey and the Princess turn round to note a troop of soldiers marching determinedly forward.

. “Pay no heed a group of de Ros’ men. I’ll seek to persuade him of the better course of action” added de Quincey tapping the side of his nose in a confidential manner.

Eleanor was paying only partial attention to the nobleman. Could her eyes be deceiving her, or was that Guy de Buissant marching in the middle of this group of soldiers. Wearing the equipment of a plain man-at-arms and looking slightly worse for wear. There was a patch over his left eye and his hair looked as if it had been subject to the attention of inebriate barber. Yet for all that it was her one-time squire, no doubting. God, did he recognise her? She almost started to look away but just caught a glance from Guy. Ever so cautiously he half-winked in her direction and puckered his lips slightly. The Princess blushed inspite of herself but then the soldiers had marched on. Well at least Guy had escaped from his confinement, but exactly what was he doing here? Was he now a committed opponent of King Henry allied to Prince Louis and the rebellious English lords? Or indeed was he playing a game of espionage? Or perhaps another alternative was he playing fast and loose seeking to ally himself with whatever party showed greatest inclination to support him? It was all very mysterious!

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