A King's Betrayal (34 page)

             
Beth looked at him and then dropped her gaze, for she felt oddly shy of this man.  She had thought him a brute with no manners but in his own hall he was a different person.  He was wearing a long gown of dark blue velvet richly braided and embroidered at the hem with a high collar that reached to his ears and a chain of gold about his neck, and his soft shoes had long points at the toes. He seemed different from the man she had seen riding on his great horse, more usually garbed in mail or the leather jerkin, short tunic and hose he often wore to ride his own manor.  Perhaps he had to show a harsh manner to the outside world, because there were always those who would deceive or steal from him, but now he spoke softly and smiled in a way that made her want to smile in return.  At their first meeting she had feared him, then she hated him and now…she was beginning to think she might like him well enough.

             
‘You have no news for me?’

             
‘Forgive me, none.  My men are searching further afield now.  I have offered a reward for information concerning a lost child – or a woman who has a child now but had none before.’

             
‘You are doing all you can,’ she said and sighed.  ‘It was not your fault but mine.  I dressed her in silk and myself too and I flaunted myself in the church too soon.  The priest said I broke the law by wearing a silk dress but I did not know it was forbidden.  I wanted Katharine baptised and thought to look my best, but I should have come to you first and asked for your protection.’

             
‘There is a law that says you may only wear the cloth accorded to your status, but most would never be able to buy such a gown and need no warning that it is forbidden.’

             
‘It was gifted to me by Mistress Soames, who had it from the lady she served.’

             
‘She must have been greatly favoured for such a gown would cost several shillings an ell – and I daresay the sight of such rich material aroused envy in the church.’  William looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Would you have come to me if this had not happened?’

             
She hesitated, then, ‘Yes, I believe I might.  I was not sure you would still wish for me to come, but my child needs a home where she will be safe – and I had learned to trust you.’

             
‘If it is possible to find our child I shall,’ he promised.  ‘Now, come and sup with us.  I have arranged a jongleur to entertain us and I think he will make you smile with his tales.’

             
‘I love stories.  Mistress Soames told me stories of the English king and the Welsh rebellion.  I think perhaps that Marthe may have found me in Wales – it may be where I belong.’

             
‘You belong here with me now,’ he said and smiled down at her, but his eyes did not quite meet hers, as though he hid something.  ‘You know I truly care for you, Beth.  I am a plain man and have no fancy words – but the minstrel will supply my lack.  He will sing you songs of love and chivalry, of knights of old and the time when there was still honour in this land.’

             
‘I shall like to hear his singing.  Sometimes I stood outside the church and listened to the people singing, but Marthe would not attend church and she forbade me to go there.  It seems she was right to fear priests.’

             
‘We have been unfortunate, but I shall choose the next priest myself.  We shall have a gentle monk by the name of Peter to say our prayers here in the castle chapel.  He may marry us -  and the villagers may stay in sin for a time.  It will teach them to mind their ways in future – and you will become a devout Christian so that none may name you a witch again.’

             
‘Yes, if you wish it.’  She hesitated, then, ‘I would not have you punish the villagers for my sake, my lord.  They are but simple people and the priest inflamed them to attack me.’

             
‘You are more forgiving than they, but I shall be generous for your sake.  When we are married I shall give a feast and there will be food for all – and they shall be forgiven on the understanding they show the proper respect for my wife.’

             
‘Will your monk accept me and teach me about his God – and his son Jesus, who died for us on the cross?’

             
‘You know that much, where did you learn it?’

             
‘Mistress Soames must have told me - or another.  There have always been things I know without being told, but I do not know where the knowledge comes from.  Marthe taught me my letters but I knew more than her…’ She gazed up at him.  ‘Do you have books here, my lord?’

             
‘A Bible and perhaps a book of hours.  I have never been a man for reading.’

             
‘I should like to read and so would Ruth.  If we could read yours we could study together – and if we had silks we might embroider hangings for your hall.  If I am to wed you, I should know things – I should be more accomplished than I am.’

             
‘You have an intelligent mind.  When I first saw you I sensed that you were out of your place.  Marthe took you but if she knew where you belonged, she wronged you, Beth.’

             
‘I am not sure Beth was truly my name.  It was the name she gave me – but ‘twas something like and in time I accepted her and my name.’

             
‘You have accepted that we shall wed?’

             
‘Yes, my lord,’ Beth said and smiled at him.  ‘If you truly wish it I shall be your wife.’

             
‘I wish it,’ he said and reached out to touch her cheek.  ‘You are more to me than all the world.  If you wish to share books  and silks with Ruth you shall have them.  As my wife you may wear silk and jewels, though the latter only in your hair according to the law for you must be the wife of a duke or an earl to wear them sewn to your clothes.  Yet most ladies who can afford them flout their wealth and no one bothers.  Here in my hall you may wear whatever I give you. You shall have silks for your embroidery, a minstrel to amuse you and teach you to dance and perhaps play an instrument.  You have only to say and I shall bring it for you.’

             
‘You will spoil me, William,’ she said and he bent his head to kiss her.  It was a sweet kiss, tender and loving, and she felt herself tremble.  He seemed to truly love her and she thought it would be no hardship to lie with him in their marriage bed.  Perhaps her heart did not race as it had when the Knight of the Raven touched her, but she could be content as William’s wife if he loved her.  ‘You are generous and kind.  I shall try to be a good wife to you.’

             
William led her to the place of honour at his right hand.  Turning her head to look who sat at his left hand she encountered the cold dark eyes of Anne Redfern.  She saw such hatred and malice in the woman’s face that she shuddered.  Why should Ruth’s mother look at her so?

             
The answer came to her almost at once.  Anne wanted Sir William for her daughter.  It did not suit her to be Beth’s serving woman, a girl she believed was not of her class.  She hated Beth and she resented her lowly position here.

             
Beth sensed that Anne Redfern was her enemy.  For the moment she could do nothing because she was dependent on William’s good will.  Yet if the chance came she would destroy the woman who stood in her daughter’s way.

Tomas swore as his horse went lame.  He had hoped to reach Sir William’s castle before nightfall, but there seemed little point in going on now.  It was almost dark and he must rest his horse.  He thought of sending a messenger ahead with news of his coming.  Yet because he had no idea what manner of man Sir William de Burgh was, he hesitated.  The lights of an inn were before him.  He and his men would rest there that night.  After all these years a few hours could mean little.  If Sir William guessed that Beth was important he might take her prisoner and demand a ransom, which, since it seemed that she had lived on his land, taking his game and fish, he had a right to do.

             
‘We shall rest here for the night,’ he told his squire.  ‘See that the landlord has rooms enough for us and somewhere to stable the horses.  If it looks to be a decent place we shall take shelter for the night but some of these landlords are rogues and we must keep our wits about us.’

             
‘There is a monastery not far from here,’ the squire replied.  ‘If you took my horse I could lead yours, my lord.  I believe you will have better fare with the monks than at this inn.’

             
‘Yes, perhaps you are right,’ Tomas said.  ‘Take my horse to the smithy and have the shoe replaced.  I want to start early in the morning.’

             
‘Yes, my lord.  Take the fork here, sir.  The monastery is but a short distance down that lane.  I will go to the inn and discover the nearest forge.’

             
‘Meet me here at eight bells in the morning, Haley.’

             
‘Yes, my lord.’

             
They parted company.  Haley walked slowly, leading the lamed horse towards the lights of the inn some distance further into the woods.  It was barely ten minutes after he had parted company with his lord when he was set upon by a gang of rogues, clubbed to death and stripped of his livery and purse of silver.  They left his body lying on the ground and took the beautiful leather saddle, leaving the lamed horse to stand by the body of the squire they had murdered, then melted back into the trees from whence they had come.

             
A night owl hooted as the moon hid herself behind the clouds for shame.

Forty Six

Raoul opened his eyes and looked into the face of the man bending over him.  He could feel the pain in his shoulder, but the fact that he still lived and had no fever told him that his wound had been slight.  Stefan had dragged him clear of the pounding hooves that would have spattered his brains into the churned up mud of the battlefield.  Raoul had no memory of it but he knew that his friend must have carried him here on his shoulder; he had bound him and nursed him, and kept him alive.

             
‘I think I must thank you,’ he said, an odd smile on his mouth.  ‘You saved my life, Stefan.’

             
‘As you have saved mine at least thrice.’  The Gascon frowned.  ‘You were reckless, Raoul.  I have never seen you fight so carelessly.’

             
Raoul did not answer at once.  He knew that his friend would not understand the mood that had taken him after the French prisoners were slain so brutally.  Together they fought as mercenaries and took life without thought, but the slaughter of the prisoners had no honour.  To fight a man of equal strength and skill and win was something fine and proud – a feeling that only a few understood.  To kill without mercy was a sin and without honour.

             
Raoul felt the cold shiver at his nape.  He had killed the priest without mercy.  In his rage he had taken life in revenge, as he had killed Angeline, and the sin weighed heavy on him.  He had believed that to fight with honour for glory and God might free him of his sin, but when Henry ordered the slaughter of the prisoners it had sickened him.  For a time he had wanted to meet his death in battle.  Stefan had brought him back to life.

             
‘You were right,’ he said, reaching out for his friend’s hand as he helped him to his feet.  ‘We have had enough fighting to last us the rest of our lives.  I shall go to England and then I may return to my estates in Normandy.’

             
‘You do not intend to fight again for this King?’  Stefan looked at him through narrowed thoughtful eyes.  ‘You said it would be a glorious battle that men would talk of forever and you were right, Raoul.  Henry’s army faced tremendous odds.  They outnumbered us by more than five to one.  He should not have won.  The day belonged to the French but they were fools and wasted their advantage.’

             
‘I know the French nobility and their pride,’ Raoul said.  ‘I have met Bourbon and Orleans, Berry and others who took the lead that day.  They were proud foolish men who thought it would be easy to crush Henry’s ragged army – and it should have been.  We were at the edge of exhaustion, hungry, sick and dispirited.  Had one of them thought more and held their men to a disciplined line they could have crushed us.  Henry rallied his men and gave them courage.  For that I honour him.’

             
‘You know that Henry had no choice but to kill the prisoners?  Had they rearmed and come at us from behind we should have seen victory snatched from our grasp.  No general could risk that happening.’

             
‘Yes, I know,’ Raoul said.  ‘Henry is the King and he did what he had to do to win the day.  The French were fools to make us fight.  Had we slipped away to Calais this campaign would have achieved little.  We should have taken one small town and gone home.  They made us fight and we gained a truly remarkable victory.  Henry’s name will be lauded to the skies.  We shall not speak of the prisoners who died like lambs, unarmed and helpless.  We shall sing of victory and glory and indeed the battle was glorious – but I tell you, Stefan, victory tastes like dust in my mouth.’

             
‘You are weary.  When your shoulder has healed you will think differently.’

             
‘No.  I intend to live quietly, either in England or Normandy, on the estates my father left me.’

             
‘What would you have me do?’

             
‘You have served me more faithfully than any man could ask.  I have a small estate in England close by my manor of Avignon.   I would give you the house and lands for your own.  Take it with my blessing and raise a family there to care for you in your old age.’

             
‘Is that what you intend?’

             
‘Perhaps.’  Raoul smiled.  ‘I have dreams but all too often dreams fade when morning comes.  Yet I shall find a new way to live, and I believe it is what you should do too.  Come to England with me, Stefan.  I leave on the tide.’