A King's Betrayal (39 page)

Fifty Two

‘This was my father’s home,’ Raoul said as they came in sight of the castle.  ‘I had thought that I should not come here again, but it must be faced if I am to be free of the memory.’

             
Clouds chased across the sky as thunder rolled and the storm gathered.  Looking towards the castle, she shivered for there was something menacing about its stone towers.  His arms tightened about her as if to protect her, as if he too sensed something menacing.

             
Beth turned in the saddle to look at him.  The light was fast fading from the sky for night was almost upon them, but she could see the little pulse beating at his temple and sensed the tension in him.

             
‘What happened here that distressed you so, my lord?’

             
‘My father died a painful and bitter death.  He was poisoned – murdered by his wife and a priest.’

             
Beth gasped in horror.  ‘How wicked! You must have felt such terrible grief?’

             
‘I avenged his death,’ Raoul said, but his voice was hoarse.  ‘My uncle hath been steward here but I think I shall give him the title to the castle and lands.  I prefer to live at my home in Normandy.’

             
Beth was silent as he rode over the drawbridge, the horse’s hooves clattering on the wooden planks.  At first she thought that the courtyard was deserted for it was silent, the darkness that surrounded them eerie and strange.  Surely there should be men guarding the castle gates?  She had heard no one challenge them as they approached nor had she seen any sign of any man woman or child.

             
‘Where is everyone?’

             
‘I sent no word for it was a whim to come here – but I thought my uncle would keep a sharper eye on the gates than this.’  He frowned as he dismounted and helped her down.  ‘Ho there!  Sir Raoul D’Avignon demands entrance here.’

             
For a moment there was no reply, then a figure clothed in dark grey robes came towards them out of the gloom.  He was not dressed as a steward but in the plain short tunic of a peasant.

             
‘Forgive me, my lord,’ he said and stood uncertainly, as if stunned to see his master.  ‘No word came of your arrival and there are only a few men on duty.’

             
‘Where are the guards?  Where is my uncle?’

             
‘Have you not heard, my lord?’  The servant’s voice quailed.  ‘Master Steward sent word to London.  We had the fever here not three months back.  Your uncle was struck down by it, and half the men also took it.  They died like flies and we could do nothing to save them.  Those that survived were weak and when Master Steward died there was none to tell them what they should do.’
             

             
‘Are any sick with the fever now?  And how doth my cousin fare?  What of Mary?’

             
‘Your cousin is lodged with the nuns near Winchester, lord.  Her father sent her there more than a year since.  There has been no fever for three weeks, but the men were weary and with no one to guide them they neglect their work.’

             
‘Then it is as well that I returned,’ Raoul said.  ‘Ring the bell to signal the alarm.  I want men on the walls and the drawbridge down before ‘tis dark.’

             
‘Yes, lord.’  The servant turned away to do his bidding.

             
‘Stay a moment.  What are you called?’

             
‘I am Jon, the master mason here.  I have continued to do my work here – as have my wife and son Arnold.’

             
‘Then you can reckon, read and write?’

             
‘Aye, I have these skills as part of my trade.’

             
‘You will be my steward, Master Mason.  I will employ another in time but for the moment you are in charge here.  Take Master Steward’s seal and keys and assert your authority.  Now call the men out and tell them their lord is here.’

             
As the newly appointed steward went off to ring the bell to summon the guard, Beth looked at Raoul.  ‘You did not know of this?’

             
‘I have been in France fighting with the King for some months.  Word of their sickness had not reached me before this.  I am sorry to hear of my uncle’s death.  He was a good man.’  He made the sign of the cross over his breast, his expression grave, eyes dark and unfathomable.  ‘I do not know what has happened here.  I must discover more of this fever.  One of the women will take you to my chamber.  Make yourself comfortable there until I come.’

             
Men had begun to pour out of the keep in response to the bell.  At first there was shouting and confusion for they thought they were being attacked, but then some of them recognised their lord and fell silent as he held up his hand, looking at each other with apprehension.

             
‘I am sorry I sent no word of my coming.  There has been neglect here, but I am to blame as much as those of you that desert their duty.  I have returned now and shall set things to rights.  First my lady must be housed in my chamber.  Come forward any woman that hath experience of caring for a lady.’

             
‘I am Master Mason’s wife,’ a woman volunteered stepping forward.  ‘There are but three women left here, Sir Raoul.  The others would not stay for they thought the castle haunted and there hath been so much ill luck these past months…’

             
‘Haunted?’  Raoul’s gaze narrowed but he looked uneasily towards the east tower.  ‘What mean you, woman?’

             
‘It is nonsense, lord,’ one of the men said.  ‘Your uncle forbade such talk.  He said it was merely ravens in the tower – but none go there since you locked it and forbade it.’

             
Raoul hastily made the sign of the cross over his breast.  ‘What is your name, sirrah?’

             
‘I am Roger of Hawtry, my lord - one of your guards.  Our captain died last month of the fever and we have not known what we should do now that both the steward and your uncle are dead.’

             
‘You are now captain, Roger of Hawtry, and will receive pay according to your rank.  Muster the guards and man the walls, then send men to bring up the drawbridge.’

             
‘We have but fifteen men left to man the walls, my lord.’

             
‘Then we shall recruit more from the villages and farms tomorrow,’ Raoul said.  ‘In the morning Master Steward will send for men and women to come here and work as house carls.  I shall pay two shillings to each volunteer for my guards and one for each servant in addition to their rightful pay.  All those who did not desert their post will receive sixty silver pennies as a reward for their loyalty.’

             
There was a murmur of approval amongst the men for five shillings was a lot of money and more than most could earn in a year.  Immediately they began to shout and call to one another as they fetched armour and took their places on the battlements.  With but fifteen men to guard the castle they were seriously undermanned but now that the lord of the manor was back the deserters would return and bring their relatives and friends with them.

             
‘Will you come with me, lady?’ a soft voice said at Beth’s side.  ‘I am Aline and wife to the mason, whom Sir Raoul hath made his steward.  I will find you food and bring water so that you may wash the dirt of travelling from your person.’

             
‘Thank you, Aline,’ Beth said and smiled as she led the way into the castle.  ‘I am called Beth and I am sorry for your troubles here.  The fever must have been virulent to kill so many.’

             
‘Even strong men sickened and died within hours,’ Aline said, glancing back at her.  She crossed herself swiftly.  ‘The men feared it and many of them thought we were cursed.  Some stayed at their post and died, others ran away because they thought the castle haunted, especially the women.’

             
Overhead a roll of thunder made the women jump and a flash of lightening was visible through a slit in the thick stone walls, lighting the dark sky for an instant.  Beth was the first to speak again.

             
‘Why do the woman say the castle is haunted?’

             
They were walking up the curved stair of the west tower and it was not until they reached the top that Aline stopped and turned to look Beth in the face.

             
‘Sometimes we hear screaming in the east tower.  ‘Tis a terrible sound.  Some think it a woman, others say it is a demon.  My lord’s uncle decided it was either the wind or ravens, but it was forbidden for anyone to investigate.  The door has been locked for many months – since the old lord died and his wife ran away.’

             
‘His wife ran away after his death?’  Beth frowned.  ‘I have heard she murdered her lord?’

             
Aline looked frightened and crossed herself once more.  ‘I do not know what happened, mistress.  We were told that she and a priest murdered the old lord by poisoning him but we know nothing more. One day she was here and the next she was gone.  We thought she must have run away.’

             
‘Who told you that the old lord was poisoned?’

             
‘It was Sir James, my lord’s uncle.  He was a good pious man.  He would not allow anyone to say the tower was haunted but…’  Aline ceased speaking and shook her head.  ‘I can tell you no more for in truth I know little.’

             
‘You know something more.  Tell me, I beg you.  It shall go no further.’

             
The woman hesitated, clearly nervous,  ‘I saw Sir James leaving the tower one morning.  His face was white and he looked ill, as if he had seen something that terrified him.’

             
Beth was chilled.  ‘You believe that he saw the spectre that haunts the tower?’

             
‘I do not know, lady.  I only know that the next day he took the priest to the tower and it was blessed, the stones sprinkled with Holy water.  After that the door was nailed up to make sure that no one ever entered it again.’

             
‘If the priest blessed the stones of the tower surely the poor demented soul that haunts it must be at peace?’

             
‘The men whispered that the blessing had made the demon angry and that was when the curse began.  First the crops failed and the villagers went hungry, though Sir James sent to the markets and bought food for the castle and its people – but many of the men had family who were starving and ill.  Master Steward said that the sickness started elsewhere and was brought here from the villages, but others believed it was the curse.’

             
‘It is dangerous to talk of curses and ill wishing,’ Beth said feeling cold.  ‘People sicken and die every year, and sometimes, when the weather is bad the crops fail.  It may be the will of God or merely the wilfulness of nature, but I do not think you are cursed because the priest sprinkled Holy water on the tower.’

             
‘This is your lord’s chamber,’ Aline said, opening the door.  ‘Sir James had it kept clean while he lived in case Sir Raoul returned, but I do not think it has been cleaned since he died.’

             
Beth walked into the chamber and looked about her.  There were rich tapestries on one wall and another on the floor, which was luxury indeed.  Sir William’s floors were swept with sweet herbs and sometimes strewn with rushes but this floor was wooden and the carpet covered at least a third of it.  There was a bed with a half tester above it, rich silk curtains tied back at either side, and a heavy quilt of matching silk covered the linen, piles of soft pillows at its head.  At the foot of the bed stood a long stool of carved oak. Elsewhere she saw two oak coffers, an iron torchere for holding rush lights and a stand of carved wood upon which stood an open book and a silver chamber stick.  A chair with wooden arms and an embroidered cushion at its back was placed close to the reading stand, and on one of the coffers stood a board with figures of ivory and some dark stone that Beth had not seen before.  It was clearly a game and she thought that she might have seen something similar before but did not know where, for there was nothing of its like at Sir William’s castle.

             
‘This is indeed a comfortable room,’ she said, glancing about her before going to the slitted window to look out at the night.  The night was growing dark and as yet there was no moon.  ‘Was Sir James very rich?’

             
‘I think he was not as wealthy as your lord.’

             
‘My lord?’  Beth turned, a tingle running through her.  Did this woman think she was wed to Sir Raoul?  He had called her his lady, but in truth she was his whore – or would be when he had time to make her his once more.