Rose of Hope (6 page)

“’Tis certain then, Renouf killed the babe?”

“Oh, aye. The lady would never have taken the man’s own sword to his sorry hide had he not.”

“How old was the babe?”

“Barely come into her third month of life.”

Fallard cursed. “How was it done, this murder?”

Domnall shrugged, but the movement ill disguised his anger. “Lord Renouf was sotted. ’Twas naught unusual. He was a brute, but the drink made him worse and then ’twould be but a wee thing to set him to use his fists against my lady.

“That night, we heard him scream at her to stop the babe’s weeping, but she could not, for the babe was ill. I slipped up the stairs to be close should I be needed. I had interrupted before to keep the blackguard from killing her. He never remembered when he woke afterwards.

“My lady begged the lord to let her take Angelet away, so her fretfulness would not disturb him. But the lord refused, and my lady knew better than to disobey.” Domnall shook his head. “’Tis still unclear exactly what happened. We think the lord grabbed the babe from her mother’s arms and threw her against the wall so hard it broke her poor wee skull.”

Domnall stopped his report at a growled imprecation from Fallard, who had turned away from him.

“My lord?”

Fallard faced the first marshal. Domnall stepped back, his look abruptly wary.

Fallard spoke through gritted teeth. “So the lout murdered his own babe, and brutally used a vulnerable woman.”

He understood discipline and the use of force. Founded upon violence, his profession was one of savage and bloody action. But he despised cowards, and ’twas his belief a man who used his greater strength to brutalize the helpless and innocent was the worst of all that ilk. ’Twas not his way to raise his hand against such, nor would he allow it of his men, though ’twas not uncommon behavior among warriors. But for the sake of the Lady Ysane, the rage that swept through him at Domnall’s words sent a red haze spiraling through his vision, making him long for an enemy to fight, nay, many enemies at once. He wanted to kill someone. Specifically, he wanted to kill Renouf of Sebfeld, slowly, with his own hands.

But Ysane, lady of Wulfsinraed and by all accounts a most gentle soul, had already done the deed, avenging her babe’s death. He felt not a moment’s need to punish her for the act. A fierce desire—mystifying in its intensity, for he had never experienced its like—to protect her from further violence consumed him.

He mastered his rage. “Tell me the rest.”

Domnall relaxed. “Well now, the lady began to scream like as if she faced all the demons of hell. Two of my men came, for her cries were worse than ever before, and then they ceased. We feared for her life. We broke through the door, but Sir Ruald appeared and shouldered his way past. We found the lady standing over her lord, who lay on his face. His sword was plunged fair deep in his back, my lady’s fair hands still enwrapped about the hilt. Methinks rage and grief must have gifted her with strength beyond her norm, for ’twas known she could bare lift Lord Renouf’s blade. Of course, the lord was so thoroughly sotted he could protect not himself.”

Fallard humphed.

Domnall’s last comment was thick with satisfaction. His sympathies lie entirely with the Lady Ysane. Good. His instincts are correct. Does he prove trustworthy, he will make a fine addition to my command.

“What happened then?”

“My lady stood as silent as death. Her gown was ripped, and red marks ringed her neck. Methinks when he killed the babe she attacked him, and he tried to strangle her. In their struggle, he fell. ’Tis my thought that is when she stabbed him.

“Sir Ruald grabbed her. He cursed her and screamed she had murdered his brother. He hit her. I was too far away to stop him. She fell like a stone dropped from a tower. She never spoke another word, not from that night to this morn, at least none that I heard, but I had little chance to hear much of aught, after that.

“Sir Ruald ordered the ‘mess’ by the wall cleaned up, as if the poor, broken babe was no more than a bowl of spilt stew. He ordered the lady taken to the pits to await the trial he would hold the following morn. I tried to convince him to lock her in the gatehouse, where ’twas at least dry and warm. He refused. I fear those of us still loyal to the Lady Ysane got into a wee bit of a scrap with Sir Ruald and the lord’s men. ’Tis unfortunate there were more of them than of us, but we gave a good accounting of ourselves, that we did. Still, it ended with the lot of us locked up, and awaiting Sir Ruald’s
trial.”

Domnall sighed and leaned against the parapet, his eyes focused inward. “The next morn the oaf held court as if he were king. He sat in the lord’s chair, and declared since he was his brother’s only kin, Renouf’s death made him the new lord. I was brought in as oath-keeper for my lady, but was allowed no word in her defense. I was forced to listen while his brother’s hearth companions lied, saying as how the lady had killed her babe by dropping the lass on her head. They testified she was so afeard she would be blamed she picked up her husband’s sword and murdered him while he was too sotted to defend himself, to make it look like he had done the deed. Then Ruald
explained
how I led my men to rebel against their new lord, meaning himself, and argued that since both murder and rebellion were offences deserving of death, we were to be executed by drowning in three days.

“Through it all, my lady never moved nor spoke. Not that he gave her chance, nor did we ever hear her weep. She sat staring into naught. You know the rest. Oh, one last thing. None knows where the babe was buried.”

Astonished, Fallard stared at him. “Ruald denied the babe a Christian burial and interred not her body in the crypts? A pox on the man!”

“He ordered a hearth companion to bury her in the forest where none would ever find the grave. He commanded it that way, as you may know, to bring further hurt to the Lady Ysane. I have not heard that the companion ever told where he laid the lass ere he was killed in the fight for the burh.”

Fallard cursed again. If she survived, Ysane would not even be able to mourn her babe at the child’s grave.

“By this eve, I want you, and anyone else who can testify regarding what happened to relate to Tenney all you know so he may transcribe it. The document will go to King William when Sir Ruald and his men are taken to London, and this time, the trial that is held will be official. I will request that William himself officiate.”

“I would be pleased to see to that small chore.”

The telling of the tale had brought them around to the western guard tower. Domnall stopped and pointed into the distance.

“Follow the road that direction and two leagues beyond lies the Crossroads of Fallewydde. The river runs through it. There is a bridge and further down, in summer, a ferry.”

Fallard nodded. “I know the place, but we skirted it as we came. ’Twas necessary to stay clear of the roads so as to travel unmarked until we arrived here, though at this time of year we noted few travelers.”

“’Twas my thought you must have done so, for no whisper of your presence came to us. Still, the force you brought is large. ’Tis difficult to understand how you came so far with none the wiser.”

Fallard allowed his expression to speak for him.

The slight frown on Domnall’s face cleared. “Ah. I understand. Those who came upon you lived not to tell of it. Well, that is the way of things in war.”

“We took care to insure there were not so many. Those unlucky few we did encounter were outlaws, and unwisely chose to fight.”

Domnall nodded and inclined his head in the direction of Fallewydde.

“In summer, the site becomes a merry place where merchants stop for a time to set up booths to sell their wares. Many needful things—and many things of strange nature—may be had from the market at Fallewydde that cannot be found elsewhere. By grant of the king, faires are held every summer, and many sorts of travelers from nigh and far come to enjoy themselves with food and drink, and with dance and song.” Wistfulness flickered briefly in Domnall’s eyes. “In my younger days, the king himself would come, and then the merry-making would be especially boisterous, and the lasses, ah, but they were fine! Did he find a willing lass to occupy his time with lively pursuits, a man might spend a seven-day at the faire and leave having seen little of it.” A shade of regret crept into his voice. “The faires have been not the same since the coming of King William. Too many have been lost in the fighting, and the roads are not so safe for travel as they once were.”

Fallard glanced at him. “William works to improve that situation.”

“Aye, I know it. My words were meant not as criticism, only a statement of fact.”

Fallard pointed with his chin to an edifice abutting the wall below them. Beyond it, filling most of the space in the western side of the island, were the orchards. “What building is that? It looks like a chapel.”

“’Tis, but ’tis rarely used since Lord Renouf came.” Domnall eyed him. “My lord, there is a door in the back of the nave that leads into the crypts.”

The crypts were another half-buried structure that stretched along the southwest wall. They were similar to the holding pits, but more extensive.

“There is an underground corridor, then, between the chapel and the crypts?”

“Aye, a short one. ’Tis a secret of which but a handful know. Both entrances are concealed. You must ask Father Gregory to show you the door on the chapel side. Lord Renouf was not a religious man. He forced Father Gregory to give up his post, when the man had been priest for nigh onto twenty twelvemonths and thought to live out his life here. For Lord’s Day services once a month, and weddings and such, the priest over at Ashbyrn Hall presided. He was not a good father, being a man who would do aught he was asked—for a price.”

“Hmmm. I believe that situation is one I will rectify. When Father Gregory left, where did he go?”

“Not far. He has a cottage in the forest behind the mill.”

“If he wishes to return, see he is restored to his service at once. Where is Ashbyrn Hall?”

“Ashbyrn is one of Wulfsinraed’s fiefs. It lies but seven leagues to the northwest.”

“What about the other fiefs, how far are they from Wulfsinraed?”

“All lie within a seven-day’s travel, my laird, even Blackbridge burh which sits on the outskirts of London. Most of Wulfsinraed’s revenues for wool production come from Blackbridge. Those revenues are profitable.”

“I am aware. That is all for now. I thank you, Sir Domnall. Return to your duties.”

CHAPTER SIX

Fallard left the wall through the west guard tower. He hurried back toward the hall along the cobbled stone of an old road that wound through the trees of the orchard. He needed to see Ysane again, to hear from Luilda some hope she might live. He crossed the courtyard with swinging strides, nodding to those he passed and sending a brown hen that got in his way squawking in panic. As he reached the steps to the hall, there came a trumpet blast and shout from the main guard tower announcing the arrival of friendly travelers.

“Thegn D’Auvrecher!”

He tamped down frustration at the delay and acknowledged the guard, one of Domnall’s men. “Who comes?”

“A small party from the west, my thegn. The pennons proclaim Thegn Randel from Randel Hall.”

Trifine was suddenly at Fallard’s elbow. “’Tis likely he knows naught of the changes made here this day, Fallard.”

Fallard, his eyes searching for Domnall, found the first marshal already hurrying toward him.

“Sir Domnall, what will be the likely response of this party to today’s events?”

The three men moved as one up the steps. Fallard wanted to meet the incoming party with the advantage of high ground. He swept the wall and courtyard with a rapid glance. His men were already in place.

Domnall took note. “You stand ready for battle, my lord. You are aware Randel Hall is one of your fiefs?”

Fallard nodded. “Tell me, quickly, of Thegn Randel.”

“He is a fair man. He will hear you out and most likely, approve of you despite the unfortunate fact you are Norman.”

Fallard threw him a glance and he chuckled. “Lord Randel and Lord Kenrick were friends, though their beliefs differed greatly on English response to Norman rule. He believes naught can reverse the past and counsels acceptance of William’s rule. He held no liking and less respect for Lord Renouf and Sir Ruald, though he dared not show it, but I knew. Methinks you need worry not for swordplay.”

“My thegn,” the guard called again. “Thegn Randel has his lady with him. He requests entrance.”

“Admit them.”

Fallard hid his relief at the lady’s presence. He wanted no more trouble and ’twas less likely the man would start any with his wife by his side.

He waited, expression impassive, as the group crossed the bridge into the tunnel. But ere the first of the horses entered the courtyard, their leader—Thegn Randel, Fallard assumed—lifted his hand and the entire party came to an abrupt halt. Randel had seen Fallard and Trifine in their Norman armor flanking Domnall. Randel’s hand gripped his sword hilt, though he drew it not. His men urged their horses into a protective stance around the lady, who looked more startled than frightened.

The rain had started up again. Droplets slid down Fallard’s forehead into his eyes. He blinked them away. Water dripping into a barrel beside the steps breached the tense silence as Fallard waited for Randel’s next move.

The man facing him was nigh his own age, tall and lean, his coloring fair. Garbed only in light mail, he still looked every inch the capable warrior. His beard was shaved close to his skin and his hair was shoulder length. Fallard saw naught of the hatred in Randel’s eyes he had too oft encountered. Instead, those eyes rapidly assessed the situation. Fallard recognized the exact moment Randel realized his small troupe was in a dangerous pass, one from which he would be unable to fight his way clear.

Fallard took the initiative. His voice rang out. “Well come, Thegn Randel, to Wulfsinraed. I am Fallard D’Auvrecher, the new lord. Please hasten to bring your fair lady out of this unpleasant weather and into the warm comfort of the hall.”