Chapter 6

Yolande took her hand away. “This is so sudden,” she said. She didn’t want to sound too keen; that would arouse suspicion. But she had to keep him interested. “Perhaps you would allow me a day to consider the implications of your proposal,” she said. “It does me great honour,” she added, inwardly amused by how easy it was to string him along.

“Of course,” he replied. She suspected he had feared an outright refusal. She didn’t like to think about what might have been the consequences of that. She knew how he had treated poor Isobel and Yseult; doubtless there were countless others. She loathed this creature, but to secure her escape she must dissemble. The next day she gave him her answer. She said that she would consent to marry him on one condition, that she would have equal status in the joint realms. “We shall rule together,” she said.

She didn’t really know why she had said such a thing, since she had not the slightest intention of going through with what he had proposed. It was a purely instinctive response. For a moment she thought he would demur, but after thinking for a while he said that this was acceptable. Yolande thought he did not have the slightest intention of honouring his word. But then, neither did she.

The hood and the manacles were taken away, and Yolande continued to wear a dress. Prince Igor regretted that he was no longer able to enjoy the sight of her naked body, but in view of the prize to come that was a small price to pay. It was decided that the marriage would take place in a week’s time. It could not be sooner, Yolande said; she needed a wedding dress and other items which brides required. Igor promised to take care of it. In truth, she needed time to make preparations of her own. Igor sent up Isobel and Yseult to take her measurements; each was an accomplished seamstress, it appeared. Yolande was preoccupied, giving monosyllabic responses to their eager questions about the style and material of her dress. But in the evening she got the chance to firm up her plan. A boy brought up her dinner. On the tray was a white linen napkin, wrapped around a knife and spoon. She told the boy to fetch another chair; the one at the table was unsteady, she said. While the boy’s attention was focussed elsewhere, she secreted the knife in her sleeve. When the boy brought the chair, she complained that there was no knife inside the napkin. He protested that she was mistaken, that a knife had certainly been provided.

Yolande slapped the boy hard on the cheek, a stinging blow. “Do you know who I am, wretch?” she snapped. “How dare you say I lie!”

The boy put his hand to his face, shocked, then bowed his head. “I am sorry, my lady,” he said. “I shall fetch a knife.”

By the time he returned Yolande had hidden the first knife in a crack in the wall. The boy apologised again.

“Count yourself lucky I do not report you to your master,” she said. “I do not doubt he would have you whipped. Or worse.” Yolande felt some pity for the boy, but she wanted to make sure he did not mention the incident to Igor. Over the next two days Yolande spent much of her ample free time grinding the knife against stones in the wall. Gradually she honed the edges till they were razor-sharp, and filed the tip to a lethally sharp point.

Even if she did not intend Igor to survive the marriage, she would prefer that it did not take place at all. Her plan was now settled. She began to flirt with him, giving him to believe that she felt increasing desire for him. Several times she said it was hard having to wait so long for them to be “joined in the flesh”, as she put it. She saw the lust glinting in Igor’s eye. One evening she grasped the nettle.

“Prince Igor,” she said, “I know it is common for the affianced to wait until marriage before consummating their union. But we are not common people. We are the highest in the realm. Surely we may choose for ourselves and not have to follow the vulgar herd. I long for the moment when you will take me in your arms. But I have often thought that the wedding night is not the best time for consummation. The ceremony will be long and arduous, then there is the feasting and drinking, and I know that men sometimes find their desire flags after all this.”

“Not mine,” Igor said boastfully. “I’m always ready for it.”

Yolande shuddered inwardly. “So you do not desire me enough to wish to anticipate the wedding?” She smiled, doing her best to play the coquette, though it was not a role which came naturally to her. Igor drew nearer, too near for Yolande’s comfort. But it was difficult to keep him at arm’s length while encouraging his hopes of having sex with her. Suddenly Igor made a lunge. She tried to avoid him but he managed to grab her and attempt a clumsy kiss. At the last moment she turned her head and it landed on her cheek. She forced him away.

“Sir,” she said, “you are too importunate. But let us make a tryst. In two days’ time, in the evening, will you not come to my cell and lie with me? I shall be ready then.’

“Why not now?” said Igor in a sulky voice. He didn’t like being denied.

Yolande made what she hoped was a look of modesty and embarrassment. “Prince, I hesitate to speak of women’s matters. But there are certain times of the month…”

“Oh,” said Igor. He had a horror of such things. “But you will be well in two days?”

“I am certain of it,” said Yolande. Igor soon made an exit. He imagined that he could smell her condition, unaware that he was the one giving off odours.

Yolande set about perfecting the last parts of her plan of escape. At first, when captured by the brigands, she had hoped either to get away through her own efforts, or to be rescued. But no easy opportunity for escape presented itself, and no rescue had been forthcoming. Instead, Yolande had formulated, over the weeks and months, a strategy which had come progressively into focus. Now, on each of the following two days, she saved a little of the food which was brought to her; she would need sustenance for her journey. She spent a lot of time looking out of the window, estimating how far down it was, and which way was east, towards the Deep, Dark Wood. Screwing up her eyes, she thought that in the distance she could see a field in which horses grazed, but she could not be sure.