Hellion (6 page)

“Be warned, hellion, I have never lost a battle,” Hugh said.

“Nor have I,
Saxon
,” she responded fiercely, and then without another word Belle stamped up to the high board and sat down.

The servants were quick to serve her, ladling oat stirabout into her trencher of warm, newly baked bread. They poured cider into her cup. Belle ate hungrily, spooning the cereal into her mouth, swallowing her cider greedily.

“In future, ma Belle,” Hugh said quietly so that only she might hear him, “I would have you wait until Father Bernard has said the blessing.”

“As you will, Saxon,” she answered him, knowing he was right, but reluctant to admit it. Leaning across him, she reached for the cheese.

Grasping her wrist, he forced her hand back. “Allow me,
ma Belle douce
,” he said, taking his knife and slicing her a piece of the hard, yellow cheese.

“Must you call me
that
?” she growled at him, taking a bite of the cheese. “I am
not
your sweet Belle, Saxon.”

“But I believe that once I get through the briar hedge you have placed around yourself, I shall find a sweet Belle,” Hugh answered.

Belle burst out laughing. “Blessed Mother!” she said mockingly.

He grinned at her engagingly. “Ahhh, I have made you laugh, ma Belle. You are very pretty when you laugh,” he complimented her.

“I laugh because you are such a fool, Saxon,” she told him. “Do ladies at court fall swooning into your eager arms when you prattle such nonsense to them? I certainly shall not!”

He chuckled, and turned his attention to his breakfast. She did not realize it, but he had already begun to breach her defenses.

When the meal had been completed, the servants brought them basins of warm water in which to wash their hands, and linen towels to dry them. Then Hugh, Belle, and Rolf moved outside into the bailey, where the horses were awaiting them. One of the female servants hurried after Belle, wrapping a cloak about the girl. A young stableboy knelt, and not even looking at him, Belle stepped upon the boy’s back and mounted her palfrey. It was a dappled gray mare, and she leaned forward to pat the creature gently.

“Will you lead the way, ma Belle?” Hugh said.

She threw him an impatient look. “Since you do not know your way about yet, Saxon, of course I shall lead the way!” Then she urged her mount into a walk, moving off through the keep’s barbican gate.

Below the keep’s motte the small village of Langston was clustered. In times of emergency its inhabitants could easily flee into the safety of the keep’s stout stone walls. There was a
single street along which the villagers’ houses were located. Most of Langston’s citizenry were craftsmen, although some of the more important servants also had cottages for their families. The buildings were of timber, and plaster washed pale blue, ochre, or white. Beyond lay the fields and farms belonging to the manor.

“How is it,” Hugh asked Belle, “that the keep and its walls are of stone? There is no stone quarried in Suffolk, Essex, or Norfolk.”

“My father had the stones dragged on sledges across the fens from Northamptonshire,” she told him. “The keep is only twenty-five years old. He began it the year my brother William was born. Until it was built, the old Saxon hall stood on the site. It took five years to complete. But the lady Sibylle, my father’s first wife, did not choose to live in England. My father came twice a year to Langston then. His time was spent serving the king, and then the king’s son. When he married my mother in Normandy, he immediately brought her to England because he wanted to make it their home. I was born here.”

“I was conceived here,” he told her.

“
What
?” Her tone was startled.

“My mother’s family,” he said, “come from near Worcester. She was married to my father in the June before Hastings. Her family, of course, supported Duke William, soon to become England’s king. My father’s family supported Harold Godwinson, but my mother loved my father and, I am told, held her peace. When word of the battle and King Harold’s defeat was brought to her, she packed all the valuables and returned to her father’s house. She was enceinte with me at the time. She died shortly after my birth. My grandmother Emma says she could not bear being separated from my father, who was killed at Hastings. She lived just long enough to birth his son and give me my father’s name.”

Isabelle said nothing. She might be willful and hot-tempered, but she had a soft heart, although she rarely showed it. His story was touching, even if he was a Saxon dog. Now they rode
down the village street, and she pointed out the houses of the cooper, the tanner, the carpenter, the shoemaker, the smithy, the tinker, the potter, and the miller.

“You are remarkably well-supplied with craftsmen,” Hugh noted.

“You may credit your family and not mine for it,” Isabelle allowed grudgingly. “They were all here when my father arrived. Beyond this village, my lord, are two other small villages. We shall get to them today. Those who till our lands live in them.”

The villagers had spilled out into the street as the party rode past. They pointed and whispered. Finally, when the riders came abreast of the smithy, Isabelle spoke again.

“We must pay our respects to Ancient Albert. He is the village headman, and will be offended if we do not stop.”

They drew their mounts to a halt, and there beneath the canopy of the smithy an enormous white-haired old man sat sprawled in a chair. By his side was a slightly younger version, and then four even younger men. The elderly man peered at Hugh, and then commanded him to move his horse closer. Gazing up at the new lord of Langston, he finally said in a surprisingly strong voice, “He is of Strongarm’s line, the exact spit of him.”

“This,” said Isabelle, “is Ancient Albert, the smithy.”

“In truth, lord,” Ancient Albert said, “I do not smith any longer. My son Elbert and his sons do the work, and good work it is, I promise you, for I have trained them all.”

“You knew my grandfather?” Hugh said.

“Aye, and your father, and uncles, too. I am the oldest man in these parts, lord. I have lived eighty winters. Your grandfather was a fair man. Your father, who was called Hugh the Younger, took after him. I remember your young uncles, Harold and Edward. Such mischievous laddies, always after the girls in the village, and them happy to be caught.” He chortled, then shook his head. “Too young to die, they was, but your mother did the right thing fleeing back to her family after
the battle. Oh, there was some who criticized, but she saved the line of Strongarm; and made it possible for me to see the day it was restored to Langston. Is it true what Eldon has told us? Is it true you have come home, Hugh Strongarm?”

“Aye,” Hugh said, greatly moved by the old man. “I have been restored as Langston’s lord by our good king, Henry, God save him and grant him long life! But, Ancient Albert, I am not known by my father’s name. I am called Hugh Fauconier, Hugh the Falconer, after the prize birds I raise. Soon they shall fly over Langston.”

“
And the lady
?” Ancient Albert asked, looking up at Isabelle. “She is to be sent away?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you old reprobate?” Belle snapped.

“The lady is, by order of the king, to become my wife,” Hugh told the assembled villagers. “As you respect me, I will demand that you respect my lady Isabelle as well. She has stewarded these lands honestly the past three years, caring for you all and seeing you came to no harm.”

“And squeezing every groat of rent from us,” a voice in the crowd called out.

“It was her duty to collect the rent, and yours to pay it. You have not suffered that I can see,” Hugh replied. “I see no signs of starvation or illness among you. As serfs and freedmen, you owe that rent to Langston. You have been too long without a master, I fear. Now you have one again. The knight who rides with me is Rolf de Briard. He is to be Langston’s new steward. He is a fair man and will not mistreat you, but neither will he allow you to fall into slothful ways. There is also a priest, Father Bernard, with me. We will build a church together. Until then mass will be held in the Great Hall each daybreak. For those who need marriages and baptisms celebrated, he will tend to your needs if you will but go to him.”

“God save your lordship!” Ancient Albert said approvingly.

“And God bless all here,” Hugh Fauconier replied.

Then the three riders moved on, passing through the village,
out into the countryside beyond. There the fields lay fallow in the weak winter sunlight. Beyond them the river ran into the sea.

“I saw boats on the riverbank,” Hugh noted.

“Three or four families earn their keep by fishing,” Belle said. “What we do not use they are allowed to sell.”

“And what crops are grown in the fields?”

“Wheat and rye. Oats, barley, some hops for the beer. Beans, peas, and vetches. The kitchen gardens also grow lettuces, carrots, onions, and leeks. My mother has an herb garden for both cooking and medicinal purposes as well. The kitchen is on the lower level of the keep. Our gardens lie behind it. There is a good-sized apple orchard, and trees growing peaches, plums, and pears. We have wild and bird cherry, too,” Belle told him.

He could see both cattle and sheep grazing in the winter meadows. There would certainly be domestic fowl. The marshes were full of water fowl. The woodlands bordering the estate would be home to deer, rabbit, and other forms of wildlife. It was a good estate, with everything needed for survival.

They visited the other villages, making themselves known to the serfs and freedmen living there. Their welcome was warm, but no one appeared surprised by their arrival, the gossip having traveled well ahead of them. Belle spoke little except to answer Hugh’s questions. They returned to the keep in mid-afternoon to find that Alette had a fine, hot dinner waiting for them. And when they had eaten, she surprised them yet again.

“You have not bathed in several days, I am certain,” she said. “If you will come to the bathing room, I will see to your needs.”

“You have a bathing room?” Hugh was pleased.

“The keep is small as castles go,” Alette replied, “but we do not lack amenities. The two latrines are directed into a single
sluice that flows underground into the river,” she told him proudly.

The bathing chamber was another marvel. It had a large stone tub that was oblong in shape, into which cold water could be pumped. There was a small fireplace where water could be heated just beyond the tub. The large kettle that hung over the coals had only to be tipped down the slanted incline of the tub to bring the temperature of the bathwater to a more comfortable degree. A larger fireplace on the opposite wall from the tub warmed the room. There was a table with towels, and other accoutrements for bathing. When the bath’s drain was uncovered, Alette told them, it emptied into a sluice that ran into the latrine’s sluice, thus keeping it clean.

Father Bernard said he would bathe when the others were done.

Alette brought Hugh and Rolf to the bathing chamber, asking, “Which of you will go first?”

“I will defer to my guest,” Hugh said, bowing to Rolf.

“Nay, my lord, no longer a guest, but Langston’s steward,” came the polite reply. “I must defer to my lord.” Then he, too, bowed.

Hugh laughed. “I’ll argue no further with you, Rolf. I long for that bath.” He began to strip off his garments, handing the individual articles of clothing to the pleasant-faced older woman who attended the lady Alette.

“This is Ida, my serving woman,” the keep’s mistress told him. “Get in now, my lord, while the water is hot.”

“Does not Isabelle help with the bathing of guests, lady?” Hugh asked.

“I thought her too young for such duties,” Alette answered.

“She must learn,” Hugh said. “Have Ida fetch the girl so she may help you. I will send her away when Rolf bathes.” He climbed into the water and sat down upon the bathing stool.

“Fetch my daughter,” Alette told her serving woman quietly.

On her return, Ida reported, “She says she will not come.”

Hugh looked to Rolf. “Bring my lady,” was all he said.

They heard the screech of outrage even before the door to the bathing chamber was kicked open to allow the steward entry with his captive. Isabelle was thrown carelessly over Rolf’s shoulder, and she was kicking wildly, beating upon his back with clenched fists. When he set her upon her feet, she furiously hit him as hard as she could.

“
How dare you lay hands on me, you oaf!
” she screamed. Grinning, he blocked her second blow.

“I asked him to bring you,
ma Belle douce
,” Hugh said. “As my wife, you will be expected to bathe honored guests. Your mother tells me you have no experience in this art. It is time that you learned. There is a sea sponge on the table. Take it up, and after you have dipped it in the liquid soap, scrub my shoulders.”

“
I will not!
” she spat.

“Your touch must be gentle, but firm, ma Belle,” he told her calmly, ignoring her open defiance.

Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest, staring mutinously at the back of his head. “Have you no ears to hear, Saxon?
I will not bathe you
. It is a ridiculous custom, and besides, as long as she lives, my mother is the lady of this keep, not I.”

“Madame, you will wash me,” he said, his tone hardening.

“You cannot make me,” she returned smugly.

“Belle,” her mother besought her, “the lady of the keep is the lord’s wife. Once you have wed Hugh Fauconier, I must retire to the background, my daughter, and you must take up these duties, not I.”

“When I am my lord’s wife I shall,” Isabelle said, “but not a moment before then, madame. Of course, such a union is yet in doubt.”

“
Ma Belle douce
is shy,” Hugh said with false sweetness. “It pleases me that she be so demure and retiring. It but adds to her charm. You will watch your mother, ma Belle, and learn from her. I shall not require you to bathe me until we are man and wife.”

“Go to the devil!” Isabelle snapped at him. “I will not remain here to see you pampered like some overweening infant.” She whirled about, but Rolf blocked her way, smiling blandly.