Hellion (54 page)

At that moment the subject of their thoughts was hurling oaths from the new tower at Langston down upon the head of her stepson and his unpleasant henchman, Luc de Sai. “Villain! Cowardly devil’s spawn!” Alette de Briard shouted. Then she hurled the contents of the night jar down upon their heads.

Richard de Manneville leapt aside none too soon, avoiding the noxious dousing, but his companion was not so fortunate and was splashed. De Manneville snickered, but then he shouted back at his stepmother, “Lady, you are being foolish. I will eventually gain entry to your refuge, and you will regret having denied me access. Langston is mine now. I hold it for England’s rightful king, Robert of Normandy.”

“King Henry is England’s rightful king, you stinking oaf,” Alette returned. “When my husband, Hugh Fauconier, and your sister return, you will wish that you had never been born, Richard de Manneville!”

“Hugh Fauconier will not return,” Richard said with certainty, “and as for my sister, should she come back to Langston, she will find me in charge not only of this keep, but of her person as well.”

“My grandson is master of this keep should his father not return,” Alette said smugly. “King Henry will uphold little Hugh’s claim, and kick your skinny rump straight across the Channel back to that damp pile of stones called Manneville.” She then disappeared within her tower, slamming the shutters closed behind her.

“Give the little bitch to me,” Luc de Sai said darkly. “I’ll teach her better manners.” He shook his wet sleeve, but he knew the stink would remain until the garment was washed.

“When I secure the place,” Richard said, “you can do what you want with my dear stepmother, but if Isabelle returns, you
must wed her in order to secure my claim to Langston. Hugh Fauconier will never escape the d’ Bretagnes alive. If he isn’t already dead, he might as well be.” He laughed nastily. “Alette for a mistress, and Isabelle for a wife. You will be most comfortable, Luc. If Duke Robert cannot take England from his brother, then I will swear my fealty to Henry Beauclerc for these lands, and you will continue to hold them for me. I cannot lose, my dear Luc. I cannot lose.”

In her tower Alette fumed aloud. “I cannot believe that Richard was able to simply walk into Langston and take possession of it. Ohhh, if only my Rolf had been here, he would not have dared!”

“That is most true, lady,” Father Bernard agreed. Rolf de Briard had gone to answer the king’s call to arms and was in Normandy with all Langston’s experienced, well-trained men-at-arms, leaving only a group of unseasoned, callow youngsters to guard Langston Keep. They did not know Richard de Manneville, nor did it seem likely to the inexperienced defenders that two knights accompanied by four men-at-arms were a danger to Langston. Even Rolf would not have expected such boldness. “Sieur de Manneville must have watched for Lord Rolf to leave,” the priest said, “knowing that the king would call him, leaving Langston defenseless to him.”

“Praise God and His Blessed Mother,” Alette said, “that I was able to escape to my tower with the children. If Richard knew which of the boys was little Hugh, he would kill him without so much as a thought. Then if Hugh did not return, there would be no male heir to Langston.” She shuddered. “I thank God we have our own well within this tower, and that the servants are able to smuggle food in to us, but good father, how long can I hold out? I am not fearful for myself, you understand, but for the children. Richard is as cruel as his father was. The children must be protected at all costs.”

“Your tower is secure, good lady,” the priest assured her. “The sieur is not clever enough to learn how we obtain our stores. He will not be here for long, I promise you. I know the
king, and I know Duke Robert. Henry Beauclerc will prevail. He will retain England, and he will have Normandy before another year has passed, I promise you. The king would
never
give Langston to Richard de Manneville. We will be able to hold out until Lord Rolf returns, I am certain.”

In the hall, Richard de Manneville sat at the high board with Luc de Sai. For all his bravado, he was uncomfortable, and just a little afraid, for he was in truth a coward. The servants were extremely polite, and gave him no cause for complaint, obeying his every order. He and Luc had even been supplied with pleasant and enthusiastic bed partners from among a group of pretty serf girls. Yet Richard de Manneville knew he was trespassing in his sister’s house. His stepmother was barricaded in her tower with her children, and with the true heir to Langston. The priest came and went, although Richard had not yet been able to discover how.

The priest now warned him that his soul was in mortal danger. “Duke Robert will not prevail,
mon seigneur
. Go home to Manneville, and give up this foolish quest to have Langston as well.”

“Langston was my father’s keep, and as his surviving son, it should be mine by right,” Richard replied.

“I know that your father, may God assoil his soul, made over Langston to your sister, the lady Isabelle,” the priest answered him. “Both King William Rufus and King Henry recognize her rights over yours. Now she is wife to the Saxon heir of these lands. You have no claim. You have done no damage,
mon seigneur
, although the lady Alette fears for the children. Return to Normandy now while you have the opportunity.”

“
Never!
” Richard de Manneville blustered.

Father Bernard sighed. “Then may God have mercy on you,
mon seigneur
, for neither Rolf de Briard nor Hugh Fauconier will when they find you in residence at Langston.”

“Hugh Fauconier will not return to Langston,” Richard said with certainty. “My nephew is yet a babe, and children are always subject to sudden complaints, many of which prove
fatal. I am the only logical lord for Langston. If Duke Robert does not take England, then I will plead my case to King Henry. The de Mannevilles have always been loyal followers and liegemen of his family.”

Father Bernard reported this conversation back to Alette de Briard.

“Why is he so certain that Hugh will not return?” she wondered. “And where is that daughter of mine? Gone over a year, and not a word! I shall certainly have something to say to Isabelle when she comes home. The very idea of her running off like that, and leaving Hughie; but then, was she not always willful?”

“So you have said, lady,” the priest responded dryly. While Alette de Briard was indeed a model wife and mother, he sometimes found her a bit annoying. He had to admit he had missed the lady Isabelle. Father Bernard had prayed for her every day she had been away. He had prayed for Hugh, too, and looked forward to their return to Langston. They would both come home. He somehow knew it. In the meantime he must keep the lady Alette and the children safe, and pray harder for their deliverance from Richard de Manneville.

Chapter 19

D
eliverance was at hand. Hugh Fauconier, his wife, and their party landed safely in England after three days at sea. They disembarked on a rocky beach bordering upon Weymouth Bay. The Breton fishermen were paid the remaining silver that had been agreed upon, and immediately set back to sea for Bretagne-sur-Mer. Before they departed, Hugh told them of the d’ Bretagnes’ demise.

“You are free, my friends,” he said to the astounded men. “You need fear the d’ Bretagnes no more. Their magic has died with them.”

Jean-Paul shook his head. “Perhaps, Sir Knight,” he said.

Isabelle didn’t know who was more relieved to be back on dry land, herself or the horses. She actually had no cause for complaint, the voyage having gone swiftly and without incident. Still, the crunch of sand beneath the stones upon the beach was music to her ears. They found water for the horses and set off for Winchester, where Hugh hoped to have news of the king. Isabelle was not pleased that they might see the king again, but Hugh reassured her.

“His attempted seduction of you was a quiet effort. You did not publicly embarrass him when you left court, but he is aware of the set-down you gave him. He will not try to breach your defenses again, especially as I am now with you, ma Belle.”

“He should not have attempted to breach them in the first place,” Isabelle said tartly.

“He is the king,” Hugh answered her with a shrug.

“That is no excuse for his bad behavior,” Belle replied firmly.

Hugh did not bother to answer his wife, for how could Isabelle understand a man as complex as Henry Beauclerc? While he was certainly none too pleased to have his wife accosted by the king, kings were in fact different than the rest of the populace. It would never have happened, he knew, had he been with Isabelle. If she had listened to Rolf and remained at Langston, the incident would not have occurred. Of course, had he said that aloud, Isabelle would have reminded him once again that had she not come to court, and then gone to Brittany, he would still be without his memory, and possibly yet the captive of the d’ Bretagnes. Hugh Fauconier smiled to himself. It was better in this instance to remain silent, and not receive a stern lecture from his wife regarding the deplorable state of King Henry’s morals.

At Winchester they found the king in official residence, but gone hunting for a fortnight. Hugh Fauconier sought the king’s personal chaplain and left word with him that he had returned to England and was now going home to Langston. As he departed the chaplain’s quarters, he saw Rolf de Briard in the hallway and called out to him.

Hearing his friend’s voice, Rolf turned, a look of delighted surprise and relief upon his handsome face. The two men embraced, and then Rolf said, “Where the hell have you been, Hugh? And is the lady Isabelle with you? We can’t go home to Alette without Isabelle.”

“Aye, Belle is with me,” Hugh replied. “Thanks to my dear brother-in-law, both Belle and I ended up imprisoned by friends of Richard de Manneville’s. We have been in Brittany, which is why we couldn’t be found, although Belle managed to track me. With the help of the Langston men, and our falconers, we were able to escape only recently and get back to England. I will say that ma Belle and I whiled away the hours
of our captivity most pleasantly. We will have another child in the spring.”

This was the tale he and Isabelle had concocted to explain their absence. The falconers and the Langston men had agreed that it was a good explanation and sworn they would support it. They knew little of what had actually gone on in the castle, but what little they had seen frightened them. Like the fishermen of Bretagne-sur-Mer, they were not entirely certain that the sorcery of the d’ Bretagnes was ended. The less said about their sojourn in Brittany, the better.

Isabelle was delighted to learn the king was off hunting, and doubly delighted to see her stepfather. “Do not scold me now, Father Rolf,” she told him. “Hugh would not have gotten home without my help.”

“He probably would have gotten home sooner without the burden of a wife to worry about,” Rolf answered her, still irritated that she had tricked him so neatly in making her journey to Brittany.

“Nay,” Hugh defended his wife, adding just a trifle more to their tale. “I had suffered a blow to the head, and until Belle aided me in regaining my memory, I could not recall who I was. Belle was the key to my recovery.”

They began their journey home the following day. The city of London seemed even noisier and dirtier than Isabelle had remembered it. She was glad to be quickly quit of it and on the well-traveled highway to Colchester.
Home!
They were so close now. Even the air was beginning to have a familiar smell to it, she thought, wrinkling her nose with delight.

They reached the river Blyth on a rainy, misty afternoon. As they waited for the ferry to come and carry them across to the other side, Isabelle noted that Langston Keep now had two stone towers. Finally their transport arrived, and the ferryman gaped at Hugh and Isabelle with surprise and relief.

“My lord! My lady! We thought you was dead,” he exclaimed.

“Who told you such a thing?” Isabelle demanded, a touch of her old imperiousness in her voice.

“Ancient Albert said we should ne’er see you again. He sorrowed over it mightily before he finally died,” the ferryman said, and then he looked to Hugh. “I cannot take you across now, my lord. I am to tell all visitors that entry is barred to Langston Keep, which is held in Duke Robert’s name currently.” The ferryman shuffled his feet nervously and dug his pole deeper into the mud of the riverbank to steady his vessel.

“Who holds Langston?” Hugh asked quietly.

“The lord Richard de Manneville, son of him who once held it for King William, my lord Hugh,” the ferryman answered him.

“What of the lady Alette?” Rolf asked.

“She has locked herself with the children in New Tower, my lord. They say she hurls curses daily upon the head of him who’s taken the keep when he comes to demand her surrender,” the ferryman explained.

“How many men has Lord Richard got with him?” Hugh asked.

“There is another knight, and four men-at-arms.”

“How the hell did he take the keep with only four men-at-arms and a single knight?” Hugh exploded. “Surely the lady did not let him in?”