Knight's Honor (34 page)

Elizabeth who had become quieter sensed his withdrawal and began to sob again. The vision of Alan faded as Hereford directed all his attention to soothing her, first with wordless caresses and finally, as she lay against him limply, shuddering intermittently, with reflective speech.

"At least this has brought me to some understanding—or rather to some working arrangement with my brother. Understand him, I never will. There is good in him though, which it has lightened my heart to know. Then too, that business with de Caldoet was not all bad." Elizabeth shuddered and Hereford kissed her. "Come now, you were ever a woman who appreciated skill in arms, I flatter myself I did right well, for I was overmatched in weight," Hereford smiled a little ruefully, "and not a little in skill with the lance. Ay, I did right well." He began to laugh outright as a thought completely foreign to his present troubles occurred to him. "It will behoove me to improve my jousting now. Word of this will spread, as I guess, and there will be many who wish to try the man who endured three passes and conquered de Caldoet."

Elizabeth drew a shuddering breath, turned her face into his breast, and put her arms around his neck. For Hereford the memory of that encounter was becoming steadily more pleasant as his fears faded from his memory and his success stimulated his ego. Elizabeth would never see eye to eye with him on that subject. She had only to close her eyes to see him standing there, waiting, while de Caldoet's horse thundered down upon him.

"Go to," Hereford was saying, almost gaily, "you are acting like a cloistered maid. Have you never seen men fight before?"

"Not in such deadly earnest and when one of them was my husband." She tightened her grip and Hereford winced.

"Easy, you will unseat that bone again, and it was not lightly set." He smiled at her and pulled her back as she jumped away. "You need not leave me altogether. Only do not hang upon my neck. It is warmer together, the night has turned cold."

Elizabeth nestled against him very willingly, and not because of the cold, although Hereford did not know that. Nor was she comforted by his embrace, for the kinder Roger was, the more he attempted to soothe her, the more enormous her sin seemed. She was crushed beneath the weight of her guilt and she sought some way to lighten it. "What will you do with me, Roger?"

"Do with you?" He shook his head and smiled with rather twisted lips. He loved her, but she had cost him seventy good men, one as dear as a brother. "I suppose I should lay the buckle end of my belt to you till I could lift my arm no more, but I am scarce in a condition for that. Truly it would hurt me more than you. What would you have me do? I love you. I cannot even be angry with you any longer."

Desperately Elizabeth tried once more. "Roger, please! I have done ill. Let me suffer for it."

You are suffering for it, Hereford thought, gazing at her. Perhaps I am more cruel than kind to let you go scatheless. All he said aloud, however, was, "I cannot bring myself to hurt you, Elizabeth. Not now when we must be parted for so long and so perilously. You go to Hereford tomorrow and I—mayhap to meet the king."

"Tomorrow? Am I not to go south with you, Roger?"

"I cannot risk that." He spoke slowly, seeking briefly for a reason to take her, or to go home himself, but his sense of duty would not permit him to think seriously of such a thing, not even briefly. He was conscious now of Elizabeth's body, warm and soft against his own, for he wore no mail, conscious that the preparatory stages of his rebellion were over and that there would be fighting to come. His ever growing sense of foreboding was increased by his depression over Alan's loss and Walter's unpredictability, and Hereford felt suddenly that he might not live to see Elizabeth again. The knowledge that this might well be the last chance he would ever have to enjoy Elizabeth made her infinitely desirable to him. He began to tremble slightly, and color rose into his pale face, making his eyes intensely blue.

"Elizabeth," he murmured in an entirely different voice, bending his bright head over her dark one, "Elizabeth, you are a fire in my blood. Will you share my bed tonight?"

She was startled. It was the last request she expected of him, but immediately it seemed perfectly logical to her. He said he loved her, yet he could no longer trust or respect her after what she had done. What other use could Roger have for her now? She deserved it; she deserved it. That at least she could give him, however, willingly, with no reservations. Perhaps her complete yielding, free of the initial resistance she customarily displayed would make up in some small measure for the trouble she had caused. Love, Elizabeth knew, was very important to Roger. She lifted her mouth to his.

"Yes, with all my heart, but—"

He smiled faintly although his face was already rigid with passion and his trembling had increased. "Do not worry," he said through rather stiff lips, reading her mind, "I will show you a way that will not hurt me. I know many ways, Elizabeth."

They kissed good-by very tenderly in the morning, but the eyes of both were shadowed. Hereford's burdens weighed heavily upon him after the sweet oblivion of that night, increasing with the light, and Elizabeth, recalling every word and act of his tenderness, could scarcely breathe under the weight of guilt she carried. Her state was far worse than his. The pressure of Hereford's duties and military anxieties would soon blot out everything but a distant uneasiness. Elizabeth, on the other hand, would return to a peaceful household which ran itself smoothly needing no attention, to a mother-by-law who disliked her and from whom her pride and honesty would forbid her to conceal her misdeeds. She faced days, weeks, perhaps months of idleness in which she would have nothing to do but consider what her bad temper and lack of consideration had wrought.

Walter of Hereford shouted orders at his men and opened his mouth to give directions about the disposition of men, the pace to be held, and the path to take. With a sudden expression of distaste he closed it again and went to find his brother. He had pledged himself to service, he reminded himself, for such matters he needed Hereford's approval. He found Roger remarkably easy to please, though not in terms of the indifference he had exhibited the day before. The elder brother listened attentively to everything Walter said, but he displayed none of the inclination to make unnecessary changes in the plans that was typical of the petty tyrant. Walter breathed a sigh of relief and thought that things might not work out so badly after all.

"The only thing I cannot plan on is how far we may go. I do not know how much traveling you can bear, Roger. You do not carry yourself much easier that I can see."

Hereford laughed. "No, and I feel, if anything, worse. Still I doubt not to go as far as is necessary. We need make haste only into the borders of Gloucestershire, however. Once there, except for certain keeps, we are safe. It might be well worth while to plan only as far as Cheltenham this day. I admit that I have a mind to spend one night in a comfortable bed, and I can command one there. It will make an easy ride to Devizes tomorrow, and what has been lost by my delay will not be changed, I suppose, by one day more."

They accomplished their intentions without any hindrance at all but were met at Devizes by Patric, Earl of Salisbury, with the bad news that Downton had fallen. Hereford expressed himself fluently and at great length when he had this piece of news, repressing with difficulty an impulse to write to Elizabeth so that she might have another score to credit against her willfulness. In honesty, however, he could not do it. He had known that Downton was under siege for some time, but had not considered their plight to be serious. The failure to go to their relief was all his own, and he confessed as much to Salisbury, striding up and down the hall in a rage at his own stupidity and seeking a way to revenge his frustration on Stephen. The king was well out of his grasp, however.

Stephen had never arrived in spite of their expectations, and no further word had come from Gloucester. Hereford selected a whole new set of epithets and said what he thought of both Stephen and Gloucester so that Walter laughed heartily at his brother's masterful use of obscenity.

Walter did not laugh long, however, for when Hereford recovered his temper he saw an entirely new aspect of the earl. Five clerks wrote at once as Hereford dictated, summoning his allies, his vassals, and the mercenary captains who had not yet arrived. He wrote also to those men whom he had ordered to disperse to the safety of various keeps a week earlier. Interspersed with this activity, he consulted a large piece of parchment he had unrolled, on which was marked the disposition of the various forces and keeps, those in the king's power in black, those avowedly favorable to his cause in red, and the neutrals in blue or green depending upon which side they leaned. Walter watched in astonishment.

By and large wars were conducted in a hit-or-miss fashion consisting of a series of individual encounters, which were not specifically related to any over-all plan. Ordinarily this was logical enough, since the end in sight was merely to reduce the enemy to a state of exhaustion in which he would yield or be incapable of fighting any more.

Hereford had not associated with the most astute soldiers in France to no purpose, however, and he had picked up from Henry a very unusual length of vision. He knew that Stephen's forces and his own were very far from equal and that the advantage of time also lay on Stephen's side. Hereford's allies might easily become restless if he showed no signs of success, while Stephen's had nothing to lose as long as the king held his own.

The salvation of Hereford's cause lay in planning his action in such a way that his successes, even if minor, would be apparent and his losses could be concealed, a thing Stephen either could not or would not do. The two major objectives Hereford had to accomplish were to appear successful and to draw Stephen and Eustace away from London, where they were virtually invulnerable, and from the southeast, where Henry would arrive.

Roger interrupted his general activity to dictate a long letter to Hugh Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, and Walter seized the opportunity to study his brother's chart. A glow came into his eyes as he slowly made out its meaning and the purpose of the counters Hereford had placed upon it. For the first time in his life a spark of enthusiasm for a cause other than his own personal gain struck a light.

It was not that Walter cared who was king. As a matter of fact, if he had a personal preference it would have been to retain Stephen, for what he heard of Henry indicated that such a king would put a major crimp in his favorite sport, raiding. It was merely that he could not resist being part of a game as fascinating and dangerous as that which Hereford had outlined.

"Roger—"

"Yes?" Hereford replied short but without discourtesy, "what is it?"

"I see the keeps you have marked, but why have you overlooked places like Faringdon and Henley? Both are thorns in your side and certainly important to the king."

Hereford had no time to give his brother a course in strategy just then, but he was pleased by Walter's interest and certainly did not wish to discourage him. He knew also that it was not wise to have admitted Walter so deep into his councils, but having been forced to do so by circumstance it would be madness to antagonize him. Walter would not sell him for gain; Hereford acknowledged that he had misjudged his brother when he assumed he would, but he was still not sure that Walter would not betray him in a fit of temper.

"I have not time just now to explain fully for so many things must be considered, but I can show you this. The keeps I have marked are those that I plan to attack—or have attacked by others—immediately. You see that each of them is thrust into territory friendly to our cause or surrounded by keeps held by our men. Yet, each is also on the borders of the lands of Stephen's adherents. Furthermore, all of them are not really strong points and are not strongly held because they are of little account."

"Then where is your gain in wasting time and men on them?"

Sighing because he hated to have to find words to explain what he instinctively felt was right. Hereford continued. "My gain is in the appearance of strength that so many quick successes will give me with those who do not know the complete tale. That will win me allies—admittedly of a questionable nature, but at least they will be afraid to fight against me—and satisfy those allies I have that I am busy. Also, Stephen's men, seeing us attack so near their lands, will cry to him for help. If he brings them help, we have drawn him out of London and perhaps have a chance to take him. If he does not bring them help, a doubt will be raised in their hearts of his good faith. We can raid their lands too for provender, thus saving our own people from the burden of supplying us and further injuring our enemies."

"So much I guessed myself. But Faringdon and Henley although strong also match this plan, and their value to our purpose should surely cancel the trouble their strength will give. Why—"

"Walter, think," Hereford interrupted a little sharply for he was tired and in pain and felt the pressure of much that needed to be done in a very short time. "Faringdon and Henley are not only strong keeps but were originally ours. Therefore the garrisons are specially strong and alert. I wish to attack only where I can win with little loss of time and men and where I am sure of succeeding." He rubbed his face and forehead. "Let me put off this talk until we eat, I pray you. I am so pressed for time just now. The week Elizabeth cost me I could ill afford."

Hereford began to walk away, but Walter caught his arm. "You had better give me something to do, Roger. You know that the devil breeds work for idle hands."

The telltale hand stole up to pull the ear lobe. Hereford could have used his brother's help, because the task that Lord Radnor had been engaged in was hanging half finished. Walter was well suited too for the checking of supplies and garrisons and would doubtless make a good impression on the men, but Hereford was still torn with doubt as to his brother's steadiness. He could not afford to hesitate, however. For one thing, he had no time for hesitation, and for another, his hesitation would offend Walter. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sick with indecision.