The Lily and the Lion by Catherine A. Wilson, Catherine T Wilson Page A

the stairs. He did not appear to be in his right senses, swinging his goblet and singing a bawdy song. Anaïs was vainly trying to quiet him but her constant appeals to shush were ignored.
    â€˜Ah, Sister Mary Catherine,’ he bellowed. ‘A drink, to Cécile and her sister, the golden-haired goddesses of Beltane.’ His attempt at a bow nearly landed him headlong into the table and he would have lost his footing but for my maid. I rushed to help, fearing he was about to injure himself. As I did so he reached for a lock of my newly exposed hair.
    â€˜No, Catherine the goddess,’ he slurred. In the blink of an eye his face changed to a wicked sneer. ‘Cécile the whore,’ he spat.
    I pulled back, surprised by his venom.
    â€˜Go back to bed,’ soothed Anaïs. ‘I can manage Gillet for he is not as drunk as he appears.’
    He straightened slowly. ‘No, I am not,’ he replied. ‘Go away and leave me to my own distractions.’
    Obliging him, I tentatively sought Lord Wexford who was residing in the room next to mine. However, the door was open and the bed empty. I had no idea where he was and with few options available I returned to my own accommodation.
    It was some time later that I realised all was quiet, yet light still continued to creep under my door. Anaïs had forgotten to extinguish the candle so I once again rose and went to snuff it out. I must warn you that what I am to write next will be quite shocking, so much so that it has taken me many hours to decide how, in fact, I should describe to you that which I inadvertently stumbled upon.
    As I bent to blow out the flame, I heard a low moan from the open door of Gillet’s room. Fearing that he may have been unwell, the result of earlier festivities, I crossed the common room and peered inside. I must admit to you that at first I was a little confused and unable to establish exactly what I was witnessing. For I could not see Gillet on the bed, only Anaïs dressed in nothing but her chemise.
    I was about to enter when I noticed the strangeness of her posture. She was kneeling over something, her clothing hitched up to her waist. I froze, whether in fear or shame I cannot tell, but my heart was racing and my legs became weak. She was rocking gently backwards and forwards, whispering endearments in French. She moved to one side and I caught a glimpse of dark hair upon the pillow. Anaïs was crouched over a man! Then her partner groaned, his face visible in the dim light and I realised with deep shock that it was Gillet! And this was fornication! Anaïs lifted his arm and placed his hand to her breast, calling his name, encouraging him, stroking his face. I was appalled for a man such as Gillet to so easily bed my maid.
    Anaïs must have heard me for she turned just before I slipped back behind the doorway. Her expression was unforgettable as Gillet grabbed her hips, manipulating her movements and moaning loudly. She was enjoying her pleasure, she was shameless, but most of all she was triumphant.
    I hurriedly returned to my room and firmly latched the door. I cannot tell you why I was so fearful but all night I paced, praying for the saving of their souls. Lady Mary had instructed me at length on the sinfulness of procreation. Had they been man and wife, I would be able to find some forgiveness but to willingly commit the act whilst unwed was wicked indeed.
    By the time I arose both Gillet and Simon were absent. Anaïs served my meal as though this were no different from yesterday. I cannot believe that she can be unchanged after such an immoral event, unless I am so immature as to assume that this has not happened before. Could it be that Gillet and Anaïs have come together previously or even regularly? There can be no other explanation, for surely one must be different, altered, after committing such a dreadful deed and yet Anaïs could not appear less ordinary.
    â€˜Gillet will soon be