Conquests: Hearts Rule Kingdoms (22 page)

“Your people?”

“The people of Copmanthorpe. Of Ulleskelf, and my household.”

“Your people?” repeated William. He looked stunned. “You are a Norman! You do not owe anything to these people, these peasants! Are they of Norman blood? They are Saxons, man! They are the ones that owe us. We have saved them from themselves.”

Melville did not reply. The anger that had coursed through William had given him a blotchy complexion, and his hand flexed. But just as quickly as his fury had been roused, he calmed. William saw the internal battle, and saw it won. The King nodded, and picked up the apple once more.

“I take no requests,” he said firmly. “You may join me if you wish, or you may return to your woman. I hear she is of uncommon beauty,” William stuffed his face with apple once more, “though she is but a Saxon.”

It was not anger, but hatred that filled Melville’s body and drowned his mind. He rose to his feet and drew his sword, no thought to consequences. William’s eyes widened, but he made no move to retrieve his own weapon and did not call for his guards to come and kill Melville like a wild animal.

“You dishonour me!” Melville spoke quietly through clenched teeth, but there was feeling in every syllable. “That woman who you so easily discount is one of the bravest people that I have had the privilege to know. She has faced death and she has faced fear and she has overcome. And despite the terrible life that she has lived – that we have inflicted on her! – she is kind, and caring, and delicate, and good.”

Melville panted with the effort of not running through his King.

“I may have been born a bastard, but even if I had the noblest blood in Normandy I would not deserve her!”

He had run out of words to say, and stood, sword aloft, waiting for William’s judgement. He could not believe that he had said such things to his King, and he knew that the consequences would be terrible. Could this be counted as treason? A bead of sweat fell from his forehead, and William sat immobile. He stared at Melville for a very long time. Too long. Melville began to sway on the spot, his fiery emotion not dispelling the exhaustion that he had felt for hours now.

“Sit.” The word that William first spoke to Melville was repeated again, and this time Melville obeyed immediately.

William brought his hands together and swopped the apple from hand to hand, eyes never leaving Melville. He had neglected to sheathe his sword, which was still clutched by his right hand. More minutes passed in silence as the King contemplated his subject.

“You say you are illegitimate.”

This was not at all what Melville had expected William to take from his impassioned speech in defence of his Anglo-Saxon bride, but he nodded.

“I spent my life proving that I was worth something. That is how I have come to be in England, under your orders. Because I know I am better than those who only see my birth expect me to be.”

William froze. He stared now at Melville with wide eyes, apple in his left hand but not moving at all. And then he sighed.

“Apple?”

Melville was startled into rudeness.

“What?”

“Would you like an apple, Melville?” William picked up the bowl, and held it out.

Melville gave a short, uncertain laugh. Nothing could have prepared him for this, and he was still not sure if he was about to be arrested.

“Should I be giving in to such temptation, my lord?”

William returned his laugh, and Melville took an apple. Biting into its sweet flesh, he almost groaned with pleasure. It was good to eat again. It was good to feel alive.

“You know of my parentage.” William stated this, rather than expected Melville to respond, but he nodded. “I was unaware of yours.”

Melville swallowed. The previously welcome apple now stuck in his throat.

William’s eyes wandered from Melville, and stared at the ceiling.

“I, too, have spent my life proving myself to be strong and bold. I too bear what some consider a disgrace, but I consider a badge of honour.”

Melville’s heart began to thump loudly again.

William stood up, and walked towards Melville, who dropped to his knees in front of his King. William reached down, and pulled him up. The two men faced each other.

“Go,” said William gruffly. “Return to your woman. Hold her close, and tell her from the King that she is safe. I shall not harm your land, or your people.”

Melville’s jaw dropped wide, and pieces of apple dropped out. He clamped his mouth shut in embarrassment. He tried to kneel again but William prevented him.

“There is no need for such dramatics.” William smiled. “Take your men and depart.”

Melville put away his sword, and walked towards the door like a man returning to earth after being given a chance to escape hell. But before he exited the room, he swivelled to once more gaze at his King.

“Melville?”

“My lord,” Melville began awkwardly. “I cannot go without asking you…without asking you the question that many of your people are already asking.”

William smiled, but his smile had no warmth.

“Ask.”

Melville hesitated. Was this wise? He asked himself. Is this only going to get you into more trouble? But he could not in all honour leave the room without discovering the truth.

“Why? Why destroy the North? There are many innocents there, and people who will not know what they have done to deserve such punishment.”

William stared at his vassal, this Melville who had travelled miles upon miles to secure the safety of a few peasants and a woman of low birth. And his smile wavered, and then disappeared.

“It is well for you,” he said gruffly. “That it is I that is King, and not you.”

“My lord?”

“It is by difficult decisions such as I have made that makes one a King,” William spoke in a tired voice that Melville had not heard before. “It is for Kings, and Kings alone that such decisions must be made. It is not for the likes of you, and it is the burden that I bear. And I bear it for my people, so that they do not have to bear such things. For it is a heavy burden, and I ask no one to carry it for me. Now take your men, and go.”

Melville looked at his King, and he understood. He bowed to William, who inclined his head and gestured to the door. But Melville had not reached it before he heard his name once more.

“Melville.”

William’s voice halted his path, and he turned to look at his King again.

“Take
all
of your men.”

Melville nodded, but he did not understand. All he wanted to do was be away. William smiled, and gestured that he could leave.

The same servant was waiting outside the door, and stared at Melville with a newfound fear and respect.

“Well,” he said in shock. “It appears that my lord approves of you greatly.”

The man must have been listening at the door, but even this act of rudeness could not dim the smile in Melville’s face.

“Take me to my men,” he replied easily. “And be quiet.”

The man snorted at Melville’s sudden bravery, but sullenly led Melville back to the entrance hall that he recognised. The majority of his men were standing around the fire, their clothes steaming, but Robert was pacing up and down. He had just thrown himself into a chair when Melville turned the corner and strode into the entrance hall.

“We return home,” Melville called out to them.

“What, immediately?” asked Robert, hauling himself out of a chair and looking disappointed at having his rest interrupted.

“This very moment.”

“My lord,” begged another man, “we are exhausted.”

“And so is every single person that we left behind,” returned Melville in a strong loud voice. King William’s servants paused to listen to him. “Exhausted of not knowing whether they are to live or die. We must ride to give them the news.”

Melville’s men exchanged glances with one another, unsure what the news was.

“News?” ventured Robert.

Melville smiled. Smiled at his brave men, who had undertaken so much with so little hope of success.

“The King will not be taking Ulleskelf. We are saved.”

There were no hurrahs or shouts of joy from his retinue. Just sweet relief.

“Then home,” smiled Robert. “The sooner the better.”

Footsteps behind Melville sounded, and his men saw a figure approaching behind him. With gasps, they threw themselves to the ground. Melville spun around to see King William once more, looking angry.

“Did I not tell you to take
all
your men?” He asked furiously.

“I…” Melville could not think what to say, but then cried out, “
Jean
!”

A shape had appeared from behind the King, and Jean rushed towards Melville. After they had embraced, Melville remembered William’s words, and turned to him.

“My King – you told me that you had Jean killed.”

William smiled.

“I told you that I could not allow such a man to remain amongst my retinue. I told you that I had disposed of him. Consider him at your disposal.”

He swept his robes around him as he turned, and as he left the room shouted, “
All
of your men, Melville.”

Chapter Twenty Nine

The look-outs that Avis had stationed along the roof of the manor had not given a sound since she had put them there, and for that she was prayerfully thankful. Another day had gone past without a sign of Melville, and Avis had finally accepted that he had truly gone. Under no circumstances could he have been delayed for so long in York. He must have reached London by now, she thought dully as she pummelled some dough in the kitchen. Soon he shall be back where he always wanted to be. In Normandy.

The days had passed in slow monotony, and Avis began to hope that the King had decided not to destroy the North. Perhaps any moment now, she thought as she ate in the Great Hall alongside a pack of children and a sweaty Norman, a messenger shall reach the gates with news that the King has changed his mind. Her imagination ran wild, including Melville riding towards her on a large horse, ready to sweep her off her feet and console her with news that everyone was safe…

Henri ran into the room, and made straight for Avis. No one noticed him at first, but his panicked expression caught the attention of many, and by the time that he reached her, silence had fallen as they waited to hear what news he brought.

“Men,” he panted, crawling into Avis’ lap. “On horses.”

Melville’s eyes filled with tears. He had not cried for years – could not remember the last time that he had cried – but he had never seen such a sorry sight in all of his days. On their way back to Ulleskelf, he and his men had reached the village by the hill with the stone cross. Avis had played with the children there, while he had been warned by Jean of the terrible plague of death that William was bringing to this land. And it had reached this village.

They had seen the smoke for miles, despite the twilight. Now that they were closer, they could smell the awful odour of burnt and rotting flesh. Most of the buildings were torn down, and there was no one living to be seen.

“Hello?” called out Melville hopelessly, without any expectation of a reply. He forced his horse into the centre of the village. The carnage that he saw repulsed him, but he could not bear to leave without checking whether anyone had survived.

Robert wandered from home to home, shouting out in Anglo-Saxon. Jean had dismounted, and walked towards Melville with despair in his eyes.

“How?” he whispered in his deep voice. “How could William do such a thing?”

Melville had no answer. He just looked at Jean, whose eyes were brimming with tears. He was not a man to hide his emotions, and he spoke again.

“I do not understand.”

“Neither do I,” Melville replied slowly. “But if there are any survivors here, they are not likely to reveal themselves to us.”

“Why?”

“We are Norman. Like the men who have just destroyed their lives.”

Melville’s simple pronouncement had a huge effect on Jean. He spat on the ground, and almost shouted at Melville.

“Not like William! It is disgrace to our name, what he has done here!”

“It is indeed,” agreed Melville, sadly. “The title of Norman shall no longer be the same again.”

Robert joined them, shaking his head.

“I find none alive.”

Melville sighed.

“Then onwards. We have no time to lose. William’s men have obviously been here, which in my mind is too close to our home for comforting thoughts. We must be quick.”

The nods of his men displayed that their fears were just as his own. What would they find when they reached Ulleskelf?

With a final push of their horses, which were just as exhausted as they were, they circled the forest and knew that within moments their destination would be appearing on the horizon.

Melville and his men had ridden hard, and they had ridden far to protect the village by their manor and to make sure that none of the household would be harmed. But now they had reached the outskirts of the village of Ulleskelf, a terrible sight filled their vision, and Melville cried out in horror.

The village was empty.

As he reached the church, he dismounted. His men watched him, unable to speak.

“Avis,” Melville called out. He had not eaten a full meal for almost a week now, and he was growing confused. “Where is Avis?”

Robert carefully got down from his horse, and walked towards his lord.

“She is not here.”

“Why?” Melville’s tears did not shock his men, but instead warmed them to him. It took a brave man to cry in front of his retinue. It took a strong man to admit defeat.

“This is the village,” Robert reminded him. “Avis does not live here.”

Melville made no reply as tears streaked down his dirty face, leaving a line of glittering salt.

“Jean,” Robert turned to the newest member of their party. “Take care of our lord.”

Jean helped Melville to stand as Robert went from dwelling to dwelling, calling out in Anglo-Saxon for anyone who was hiding themselves to come out, just as he had done at the previous village. But no one did.