The Fatal Crown (65 page)

Maud wheeled her mare around and trotted out of the courtyard. In the town itself, against a background of wooden houses with tightly closed doors and fettered shutters, the King of Scotland had mustered his Highlanders. Animal skins were thrown over their shoulders; painted blue dragons rippled on muscular arms ringed with metal. Steely eyes confronted her from inscrutable bronzed faces. Even knowing they were her allies, Maud could not control a shiver of apprehension.

“Godspeed, Niece,” David said, trotting his horse out from the ranks. He grabbed her mare’s bridle. “If we do na see each other again on middle earth, I want ye to know that ye be a true credit to ye Norman kinsmen and ye Saxon forebears.”

Fighting a lump in her throat, tears pricking behind her eyes, Maud impulsively reached up, pulled her uncle’s head down, and kissed him on his hairy cheek. When you looked at him closely, one saw the face of an old man, she realized, but one still full of determination and spirit. She was so choked with emotion and gratitude that she did not trust herself to speak. David turned his horse and, followed by his Highlanders, trotted down the street toward the west gate. In a moment all she could see was a ray of fading sunlight glancing off his helmet as he became lost to view amid his men.

Guards pressing on either side of her, Maud followed the Highlanders. Her heart beat furiously; the dry taste of fear clogged her throat. Ahead the rusted gates swung slowly open on creaking hinges. From the other side a swarm of men brandishing maces and wooden staves attempted to rush through; they attacked with such violence it seemed her uncle’s Scots would be plowed under. But the staunch body of Highlanders, swinging their iron swords and wooden clubs, held firm. Suddenly, as miraculous to Maud as the Red Sea parting, a narrow passage appeared amid the melee of men and horses.

“Ride, Niece, ride fer ye life!” Although she could not see him, David’s voice rang out clearly.

Suddenly panicked, Maud found herself unable to move. She had never been so frightened in all her life. Twisting in the saddle, she could see Robert far behind her, his men closely following. There was no sign of either Miles or Brian.

“Go!” Robert’s shout echoed faintly above the noise of clashing steel. “For the love of God, go now!”

Spurring her horse forward, Maud plunged into the narrow passage created by her uncle. Hemmed in on either side by the press of the battle, she was aware of the overpowering stench of men’s bodies, animal flesh, and rank fear. A shield struck her shoulder, a spur grazed her leg, and she swayed precariously in the saddle. A man’s voice cursed, inches from her ear, his foul breath almost choking her. A horse whinnied, thrusting its long head into her lap. Then she was through the gate and outside the city.

Maud galloped a few paces up a small rise before she realized that she had become separated from her guard. She took a last desperate look behind her, searching frantically for some sign of Robert, or her uncle, or Miles, or Brian. She caught a brief glimpse of a gold-and-scarlet plume bobbing on a helmet: Robert’s colors.

Then she became aware of knights fleeing in every direction, discarding shields and coats of mail, even helmets, in their flight. Horses galloped riderless, snorting in terror. A group of ragged-looking men ran toward her on foot. Dark, threatening faces surged around her mare. A wooden stave was thrust into her face. Fury drove out fear. With a strength she did not know she possessed, Maud let go the reins, wrenched the stave from a strong grasp, and lifting it with both arms, savagely cracked the wooden club down on a flaxen head. There was a startled grunt; blood dripped from the stave.

The mare snorted in fear and reared up on her forelegs. Maud clenched the reins in one hand and, still holding the stave in the other, tried to soothe the terrified horse. Forcing her way through the angry mob trying to bar her path, she hit out blindly at hands that reached to restrain her. Finally she broke free.

The mare cantered wildly over a ground now scattered with abandoned swords, lances, and spears. Knights and squires, whether friend or foe she could not tell, passed her in headlong flight, some on foot, others on horseback. Maud called out to them but, in their panic to escape, they ignored her. The orderly retreat had disintegrated into total rout. Chaos reigned.

After galloping for what seemed like hours, the mare slowed her breakneck pace, and came to a shuddering stop on the top of a wooded hill, her heaving flanks covered with foamy sweat. The cries of battle could no longer be heard, nor the sound of fleeing men and horses. Maud looked around, her heart hammering against her ribs, the breath sobbing in her throat. It was now almost dark. There was nothing to be seen but open country. She was alone.

Maud had no idea how far she had come, how long she had been riding, or even where she was. West, she decided, she must have been riding west for she had been headed into the setting sun rather than away from it. She patted the neck of her dripping horse, wondering whether to wait and see if any of her party would catch up with her, or ride on toward what she hoped would be the direction of Bristol.

A noise caught her attention. The mare whinnied softly. Another horse? Yes, she could hear it now, the sound of hooves pounding the ground, heading toward her. Through the gathering darkness she could see a rider—no, a group of riders, galloping in her direction. One of the riders broke out from the rest and rode up the hill. As he came abreast, she raised the stave threateningly.

“Do not dare to come closer,” she screamed.

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Maud? Is that you?”

It was Brian FitzCount’s voice. “Brian! Oh, Brian.”

In a moment Brian had pulled his horse to a stop and leapt from the saddle. He ran over to her, swept Maud off the mare’s back and into his arms. She sobbed with relief.

“God be thanked, you’re safe, you’re safe,” he murmured against her cloaked head. “We were so worried about you.” He rocked her back and forth in his arms like a child.

Gratefully, she rested against him, laying her head on his muscled chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart through the mantle and mailed shirt. Brian was here and she was safe. Finally she drew back her head.

“Are Robert and Miles with you? My uncle? What of Lord d’Oilli and the others?”

“Miles was with me when we fought our way through the enemy outside the gate. Then we became separated and I lost him. D’Oilli is with me now and some of the others.” He paused and Maud felt her heart freeze. “Your uncle and his Scots fought their way through the enemy ranks like lions,” he continued. “Never have I seen the like. With God’s grace, they should be well on the road to Scotland by now.”

“Without them I would never have managed to get through the gate. But Robert? Where is Robert?”

Brian gripped her arms. “You must be brave. We believe Robert has been taken.”

“Taken?” Maud repeated, disbelieving. “Taken prisoner?”

“Yes. He fought with great courage, staying in the rear to hold up the enemy until the very last moment. He managed to get out of Winchester, but the enemy caught up with him while he tried to cross the river at Stockbridge.”

“Holy Mother, who has taken him?” she whispered.

“Flemish mercenaries. And all his men with him. I was well ahead of him, and had already crossed the river—I saw it happen—he was surrounded—” The anguish in Brian’s voice was unbearable. “I was powerless to help him, to save him. We were so few and they so many.”

Maud felt as if a violent force had knocked the very life out of her body. Her head reeled. Robert taken! Merciful God, how could she carry on without him? What was she to do now?

A
QUARTER OF AN
hour after Brian had found her, Maud sat huddled before a fire while the Lord of Wallingford explained the details of Robert’s capture. He broke off as the faint sound of hoofbeats was heard in the distance. Instantly alert, Maud and Brian jumped to their feet.

“My lord, the enemy is sure to be in pursuit,” said a knight. “We can do naught for Earl Robert now and in order to save ourselves we should ride at once for Bristol.”

“That’s exactly what the enemy will expect us to do,” said Robert d’Oilli. “May I suggest that we make for Gloucester instead? It will put our foes off the scent and confuse them when they find no trace of us on the road to Bristol.”

“A good thought,” said Brian. “Are you up to the rigors of a harsh journey, Maud? To evade our pursuers we should travel the back roads and avoid the major towns.”

“Of course,” she said, praying that she would prove as good as her word. Already exhausted, the news about Robert had so badly shaken her that she could not even think coherently.

Brian, Maud, Lord d’Oilli, and the five knights accompanying them mounted their horses and began the journey to Gloucester. As the night wore on Maud grew more and more tired; her body became chilled, then so hot she felt she was on fire. By sheer effort of will she forced herself to remain upright in the saddle, her eyes fixed on the figure of Brian who rode just in front of her. She was determined not to allow any physical weakness to endanger all their lives.

As a pale gray dawn broke over the west country, they emerged from a thinly wooded forest into open pasture. Here Brian called a halt by the side of a running brook. Lord d’Oilli lifted Maud from the saddle and set her on her feet. No sooner had she touched the ground than she collapsed upon the grass.

“Fetch some water,” Brian said to one of the men, as he knelt beside her.

“I don’t know what came over me,” Maud said in a faint voice. “In a moment I’ll be quite recovered.”

“Make a litter of branches, place her on the litter, and we’ll carry her the rest of the way,” Brian instructed the knights.

Mortified at the suggestion of a litter, Maud tried to protest that it was unnecessary, but she did not even have the strength to voice her objection. In a daze she felt herself lifted from the ground and placed on a thick cloak that covered a bed of branches tied together at both ends. Another cloak was gently placed over her, the litter was fixed between two horses, and she felt her body suddenly swing back and forth as the horses started to move. It was a little like being on the deck of a ship in a rolling sea, she thought, then knew no more.

Slowly Maud opened her eyes. Her gaze took in the stone walls of the chamber with their dark blue hangings, the blue canopy above her, and the fur-lined coverlet pulled up to her chin. Was she at Gloucester? Cautiously stretching her arms and legs, she was filled with an overwhelming sense of relief that she had survived the journey with nothing worse than a few sore muscles.

“Thank you, Holy Mother,” she murmured aloud. Remembering her captured brother she added: “Please protect Robert from harm.”

There was a soft knock on the chamber door.

“Enter,” she called weakly.

Robert’s wife, Mabel, bustled in, followed by one of her women carrying a wooden tray. “How fare you this morning, Sister-in-law?” she asked, walking over to the bed to peer down at Maud with red-rimmed eyes in a pale face.

“Almost recovered,” Maud murmured. She must be at Bristol, she decided, noting that Mabel’s thin, brittle body was clothed all in black, as if mourning the dead. “How long have I been at Bristol?”

“This is Gloucester and you’ve been here two days. I arrived from Bristol yesterday morning, as soon as I heard the news … about Robert.” Her voice broke as she laid a hand on Maud’s forehead. “The fever is gone. To have survived such an ordeal you must have Our Lord’s blessing, Madam.”

“I only wish Robert were here as well,” Maud said in a low voice, steeling herself for an outburst of anguish as a spasm of pain crossed Mabel’s face. “I deeply regret Robert’s capture and fully share in your loss.” Impulsively, she reached out and gently touched Mabel’s fingers.

As if a snake had bitten her, the Countess quickly withdrew her hand. She turned to the woman behind her and took a steaming goblet off the tray. “Here is a hot posset I’ve made with my own hands. Drink this and your strength shall be restored.”

Mabel took a wool shawl she had been holding, wrapped it around Maud’s shoulders and chest, then helped her prop herself up against the pillows. Gratefully Maud took the goblet in both hands and raised it to her lips. The hot liquid spread through her body, returning warmth and vitality to her sore limbs. She had hoped their mutual loss would create a bond between them, but her sister-in-law remained as prickly as ever.

Much refreshed and alert, Maud drained the posset and handed the goblet back to Mabel. “Thank you. How are Brian and the others?” She paused and dropped her eyes. “Stephen, I trust, is also well?”

Mabel gave her an odd look. “Brian and the others are fully recovered. Stephen is well enough. Oh, Miles arrived last night. Half-naked he was, and like you, raging with fever, his body scratched and bleeding.”

“What happened?”

“Apparently Flemish mercenaries pursued him and he had no choice but to throw down his arms and flee for his life.” Mabel’s lips twitched in resentment. “Perhaps if Robert had behaved in like manner he would be with us today.”

Maud made no retort. The Countess is stricken with grief, she reminded herself, do not judge her.

“Speaking of prisoners, Madam,” Mabel continued in the same breath, “an envoy has arrived from the Countess of Boulogne not an hour since. Robert is well, unhurt, and being held in honorable confinement at Rochester Castle.” The Countess looked away and would not meet Maud’s eyes.

“But that is wonderful news! God be thanked he’s safe.”

“I’ve sent word to William that Stephen is to be moved from his cell into a comfortable chamber and be treated with all the amenities. The envoy said if this were not done Robert would be chained in a cell as well.”

“Of course. We must ensure the best treatment for my half-brother.” Maud wondered why Mabel seemed so evasive, why she had not told her this news immediately. Quite suddenly she understood. “Sweet Marie, Matilda sends to offer terms, doesn’t she? She will free Robert in exchange for Stephen?”