The Poisoned Serpent (21 page)

“I am flattered,” Hugh said.

“How did you find that strategy you used?” Cedric asked with undisguised curiosity. “That is how our Saxon thanes used to fight. We formed a shield wall for defense and advanced behind it.”

“I did not know that,” Hugh lied.

“Aye,” Cedric responded, and launched into an animated discussion of Saxon battle tactics.

Hugh listened with real interest to Cedric’s enthusiastic descriptions. As he talked, the young man’s face was animated, his blue eyes bright with ardor.

Hugh realized that Cedric had probably come into town just to watch the camp-ball game, and would
have very much enjoyed being part of it. He wouldn’t dare admit that, however, Hugh thought. The young Saxon was too much under his father’s influence to join in any game run by Normans.

“Hastings was probably the last major battle we will see for a long time,” Hugh said when Cedric finally finished dissecting the battle that had lost England for the Saxons. “The tactics of war have changed tremendously in the last century. Warfare today consists of the defense and besieging of castles. It is the control of castles that defines power in today’s world, not the clash of armies.”

Cedric looked disgusted. “There is little glory in siege warfare.”

“Possibly,” Hugh replied, “but open battle, such as you have been describing, is no longer efficient. For example, there has been constant war in Normandy for the last five years, yet not a single battle has been fought. Battle is risky, and most good commanders avoid it as far as possible.”

“There was a battle against the Scots not long ago,” Cedric pointed out. “Your foster father was killed in it.”

A bleak look came across Hugh’s face. “It was a rout, not a battle. Ralf’s death was an accident.”

“It was an accident that you beat us at Hastings,” Cedric said passionately.

“The English certainly had bad luck,” Hugh agreed. “But winning that battle was only the first step in the Norman conquest of England. We secured England, Cedric, by building castles. William built castles all over the country in order to establish his authority. He built castles to defend against a hostile English population and to give a secure base to Norman troops.”

“I know this,” Cedric said stubbornly. “I even agree that castles are effective. I just do not think it is an honorable way to wage war.”

Hugh lifted an ironic black eyebrow. “Do you really think that any war is honorable, Cedric?”

The young Saxon flushed. “Alfred of Wessex’s fight against the Danes was honorable. He was defending his country against a pagan invader. Harold was defending his country against an invader also when he took an army to Hastings.”

Hugh regarded Cedric’s passionate face in silence. When at last he spoke, his voice was quiet and final. “There can be no doubt that a war in defense of one’s home is morally more palatable than a war of conquest. But we live in an age of conquest, Cedric.”

“I am well aware of that,” Cedric said bitterly. “You Normans talk about the sacredness of your feudal oaths, and then you turn your backs upon honor and pursue your own personal power.”

“Oh, there are still a few of us around who honor our feudal oaths,” Hugh said. “And I daresay that even Alfred of Wessex had power-hungry men to deal with.”

Cedric stared into the fire and didn’t reply.

“Your father is living in the past and that is not a wise thing to do,” Hugh said bluntly. “The Hardings were a power in Lincoln once. If your father used the resources at his command, he could be a power still.”

“My father would never truckle to Normans!” Cedric flared.

“I am not speaking of truckling,” Hugh answered patiently. “I am speaking of accepting the realities of the present power structure and working within it, not against it.”

Cedric scowled at him and did not reply.

Hugh got to his feet. “Think of this, Cedric,” he said.
“It is safer by far to be one of the powerful than it is to be one of the powerless.”

He put his wine cup down on a low stool and walked out of the room.

Alan was huddled on a stool in the corner of the solar of the sheriff’s house when when Hugh came in. Richard was sprawled before the fire, a cup of wine in his hand. He had been drinking for some time, and Alan was worried about him.

“Ah,” said Richard thickly when he saw who had entered. “The hero of the day is here at last.”

“You should join the crowd at the Nettle,” Hugh said. “It’s more fun than drinking alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Richard said, slurring his words. “I have Alan. My squire.” He turned to look at Alan. “Isn’t that right, Alan?” he demanded.

“Aye, my lord,” Alan replied softly.

Richard laughed and took another sip of wine.

Hugh folded his arms and regarded the man critically.

“You cheated,” Richard accused him. His blue eyes were too bright and his fair skin was flushed. “They shouldn’t have allowed you to put men behind my lines. That’s never been allowed before.”

“No one ever tried to do it before,” Hugh corrected coolly. “There’s nothing in the rules that says you can’t spread out your team.”

Richard slammed his cup down on the small table next to him so hard that the wine sloshed out.

“You made me look like a fool,” he said furiously. “You even used my own squire against me.”

Alan winced.

“I gave you plenty of chances to pick Alan,” Hugh returned. “You didn’t.”

“I didn’t think I had to pick him!” Richard shouted. “He belongs to me. Of course he would be on my side!”

Alan felt Hugh looking at him, but he refused to meet Hugh’s eyes.

“Do you know what your problem is, Richard?” Hugh said lightly. “You’re a bad loser.”

Don’t taunt him, Hugh
, Alan thought with distress.
It isn’t fair. Don’t make him say things he doesn’t mean. Don’t make him look small
.

“Someday you’re going to lose, Hugh, and then we’ll see how well you take it,” Richard said.

Hugh laughed.

Richard’s face went dark with a rush of blood.

Alan jumped to his feet. “May I get you some more wine, my lord?” he asked, going to stand at Richard’s side. “Your cup is almost empty.”

For a moment, Richard stared at his squire as if he did not know who he was. There was a wild, glittering look in Richard’s blue eyes that frightened Alan. Then the look cleared away and recognition dawned.

“Thank you, Alan. I would like more wine.”

Alan fetched the pitcher from the table where it stood, then paused to stare at Hugh.

“Good night, my lord,” he said steadily. “I hope you have a good rest.”

Hugh gave him a mocking look. “Are you banishing me to bed, Alan?”

Alan didn’t reply, just continued to look at him steadily.

Hugh shot a quick look at Richard that made Alan’s blood run cold. Then, without saying anything more, he turned and went through the door to his bedroom.

Alan went to Richard and poured him some more wine.

T
o Alan’s great relief, Richard appeared to have returned to his normal self as the members of the sheriff’s household gathered the following morning to break their fast.

“I think I owe you an apology,” he said to Hugh with charming diffidence. “I drank too much last night and I remember saying some things that were rather objectionable.”

Hugh took a drink from his ale cup. “Think nothing of it, Richard,” he replied, placing the cup on the table.

Richard went resolutely on. “At any rate, I apologize.” His blue eyes were rueful. “I should never drink more than two cups of wine. Whenever I do, I tend to say things that I don’t mean.”

Alan, who knew how difficult it must be for Richard to apologize to Hugh, was immensely proud of his lord’s grace.

“Really?” Hugh returned, somehow managing to make the single word sound like an insult. “Wine has just the opposite effect on most people.”

Alan grimly restrained an impulse to smash Hugh across one of his elegant cheekbones.

At this moment, Gervase joined them at the table. He lifted his napkin, shook it out, and looked at his son.

“You were drunk last night, Richard.”

His tone was perfectly neutral, but the expression on his face was grave.

“I know, Father. I know.” Richard returned regretfully. “I have just finished apololgizing to Hugh and now I will apologize to you. If I said anything to upset you, I didn’t mean it.”

Alan poured ale into Gervase’s cup.

“Well, you certainly weren’t alone in your inebriated state,” the sheriff remarked as he lifted his cup to take a drink. “We made ten arrests at the Nettle last night.”

As they ate, Gervase related the story of the brawl that had finally closed down the Nettle. Alan listened to the tone of the sheriff’s voice and tried to figure out what else might be wrong. Surely the brawl had not been bad enough to cause the sheriff to sound so grim.

When he had finished eating, Hugh stood up and announced that he was leaving immediately for Linsay Manor.

“Linsay?” Richard said with a frown. “Why are you going to Linsay?”

Hugh looked at Richard, his face expressionless. “Someone has to tell John Rye’s family that he is dead.”

For a long moment, Richard didn’t reply. Then, “Why don’t you take Alan with you?”

Alan had not been expecting any such suggestion. He stared at his lord as if he had gone mad. Last night Richard had been angry that Alan had played the camp-ball game on Hugh’s side, yet this morning here he was, throwing his squire into Hugh’s company.

Alan didn’t understand.

“Why?” Hugh said, the insulting note once more in his voice.

“You will probably have to bring Rye’s wife and children back to Lincoln with you,” Richard replied calmly. “I think you might very well welcome some assistance with that chore.”

To Alan’s surprise, Hugh’s gray eyes glimmered with sudden amusement.

“How thoughtful of you, Richard,” he said gently. “Very well, Alan may come with me.”

He turned to the squire. “I am leaving within the quarter-hour.”

“Aye, my lord,” Alan replied stoically, thinking that he would have to change into boots and spurs and get one of the horses ready in record time.

Minutes later, when Alan arrived at the stable booted and spurred and wearing the warm green woolen mantle that Richard had given to him, he found Richard holding his already saddled horse.

“Alan,” Richard said gravely as the squire came up to him. “I want you to keep a close eye upon Hugh today. Watch who he talks to at Linsay. Will you do that for me?”

Enlightenment struck Alan.
So that is why he wanted me to accompany Hugh
.

He answered Richard in a steady voice. “Aye, my lord. I will keep careful watch on him.”

Alan’s spirits soared in the radiance of Richard’s approving smile.

“I have one quick stop to make before we leave Lincoln,” Hugh said as they walked their horses out onto the Strait.

Alan nodded, certain Hugh would be going to see Lady Cristen. He was surprised, therefore, when they
stopped only a short way up the Strait and Hugh dismounted, gave Alan his reins to hold, and went up to an old wooden house with yellow shutters. He knocked on the door.

After a long wait, the door was opened by an elderly woman. Hugh said something to her, then he disappeared inside. When he came out again several minutes later, his face was grave but unrevealing. He took Rufus’s reins back from Alan, mounted, and turned once more up the street.

The ride to Linsay was silent. Alan knew his place well enough not to initiate conversation, and Hugh appeared to be sunk in his own thoughts. It wasn’t until the high wooden fence of Linsay appeared in the distance that he surfaced.

The stockade door was closed. Hugh shouted out his name and asked for entrance, but no one answered.

The cloudy gray sky looked down on a Linsay that was apparently deserted.

Hugh muttered a curse under his breath and dismounted. He led Rufus to the door and tried to open it.

It was locked.

“It seems that Lady Rye and her children are not here, my lord,” Alan ventured timidly.

Hugh didn’t reply. He just opened his saddlebag and took out a long coil of rope. He told Rufus to stand and then, under Alan’s fascinated eyes, he looped the rope around one of the points of the stockade fence. He then proceeded to climb up the wall. Alan watched with interest as he disappeared over the top.

A minute later, the door to the manor was unlocked from the inside and Hugh reappeared. He pushed the door open wide, reclaimed Rufus, and rode into the deserted courtyard of Linsay. Alan followed close behind.

Alan looked at the empty yard, at the apparently uninhabited servants’ huts, at the forsaken stables, and felt a shiver run up and down his spine.

Suddenly the sound of a dog barking cut through the eerie silence. It seemed to come from the stable at the far end of the yard.

Hugh rode Rufus to the stable, dismounted, and opened the door. An enormous light brown mastiff rushed out at him, ears pinned back, barking ferociously. Alan quickly unsheathed his dagger, reached to go to Hugh’s assistance, but Hugh didn’t even flinch.

“Benjamin,” Hugh said conversationally. “No need to be so noisy, fellow. I’m a friend.”

Alan was enormously surprised to see the dog stop short and prick his ears forward at the sound of Hugh’s voice. The barking stopped.

Hugh reached out his hand and the dog sniffed it. Hugh patted the dog’s massive head. Benjamin rubbed against his hand.

“Good fellow,” Hugh said. “What is happening here, eh? Where are Nicholas and Iseult?”

He walked into the stable, followed by Benjamin, then reappeared almost immediately. “The dog has a full dish of water,” he reported. “Someone must be looking after him.”

“There is someone now,” Alan said, his eyes caught by movement near the manor house.

It was a moment before he realized that it was two dark-haired children he was seeing. They were walking hand in hand, stiff-backed and wary, toward the stable. They must have heard the dog barking, he thought.

Hugh stepped forward from the shadow of the stable doorway into the light.

“
Hugh!
” A high, piercing child’s shriek split the air. “
Nicholas, it’s Hugh!
”

At that, both children ran full-tilt across the courtyard. Under Alan’s amazed eyes, they hurled themselves against Hugh, who somehow managed not to stagger under the combined assault.

“I knew you would come,” the little girl said over and over. “I knew it. I knew it.” She clasped her arms around Hugh’s legs, pressed her face into his stomach. The boy, a sturdy youngster of about eight, did not cling to Hugh, Alan noted, but stood very close.

“Of course I came,” Hugh replied in a brisk, no-nonsense voice. “Now, tell me,” he went on. “What is going on here?” He looked at the boy. “Nicholas?”

“Mama is dead,” the child said starkly.

Hugh’s face went perfectly still. “What happened? I thought she was getting better.”

Nicholas swallowed. “She was, but then the fever came back and she died.”

Hugh reached an arm around the child’s shoulders and drew him closer. “I am so sorry, Nicholas.”

Mutely the boy nodded. He turned his face into Hugh’s chest.

Hugh looked around the empty courtyard. “The servants did not come back?”

Nicholas’s head moved in a negative gesture.

“Is Edith still here?” Hugh asked.

Nicholas stepped away from Hugh. He rubbed his hands against his eyes then shook his head. “Her brother came two days ago and took her away. She said she would send someone, but no one came.”

Benjamin nudged Nicholas, asking for attention.

“Do you mean that you and Iseult are alone here?” Hugh asked incredulously.

The boy’s lip quivered, and he nodded.

Alan was appalled.
Dear God
, he thought.
What a horrendous situation
.

Very gently, Hugh asked, “Did anyone bury your mother, Nicholas?”

Another shake of the untidy black head. “She is still in her bed,” Nicholas said.

Alan felt sick.

“When did she die?” Hugh asked in that same surprisingly gentle voice.

“The day after my father left.”

Alan counted in his mind. Rye had come to Lincoln the day before the fair, Monday. That must mean his wife had died on Tuesday. It was now Thursday.

Jesu. The woman had been dead for two days and these children had been left alone with her
.

“She smells,” the little girl said tearfully.

Alan felt even sicker.

“Do you know where my father is, Hugh?” Nicholas asked. “He was supposed to come home after the fair.”

Hugh avoided the question. “This is what we are going to do,” he said briskly. “I am going to take the two of you back to Lincoln with me, where you will stay at my house. Then I will have some men come out to Linsay with a coffin and bring your mother’s body back to Lincoln as well, so we can bury her with proper respect in holy ground.”

The children were silent.

Hugh smoothed the loose hair off of Iseult’s forehead. The little girl still had her arms around him.

“How does that sound?” he asked Nicholas.

“Is my father in Lincoln?” Nicholas asked.

Alan clenched his fists. He felt like crying himself.

Hugh responded gravely, “I am sorry to have to tell you this, Nicholas and Iseult, but your father is dead.”

Silence.

Iseult dropped her arms from around Hugh and looked up at him, her eyes dazed. “Papa is dead?”

“I am afraid that he is, little one.”

The little girl looked at her brother. “W-what is going to happen to us, Nicholas?” she whispered.

The boy’s face was white with shock. He shook his head, unable to reply.

Hugh said, “You will both live with me until we can find one of your aunts or uncles to take care of you.”

“We don’t have any aunts or uncles,” Nicholas said stoically.

It was the stoicism that broke Alan’s heart. If the boy had whined or cried it would have been bad enough, but to hear such a tone from so young a child was devastating.

Hugh said, “Well, if no family members can be found to care for you, you will just have to keep on living with me.”

The boy’s blue eyes searched Hugh’s face. He bit his lip. “Do you mean that, Hugh?”

“Of course I do,” Hugh replied.

With amazement, Alan realized that the children believed him.

They left Linsay an hour later. Hugh had the children pack some of their clothes, and while they were doing this, he went into Lady Rye’s bedroom. He would not allow Alan to come with him.

When he came out, his face was perfectly expressionless. “I hope the children have not gone in there recently,” was his only comment to Alan.

Iseult clung to Hugh, so he took her up on Rufus with him and told Nicholas to ride with Alan. Benjamin trotted along at their heels.

Alan had thought that surely Hugh would leave the
mastiff behind for the sheriff’s men to deal with, but he had included the dog in their party as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Alan supposed that for the moment Benjamin was going to live at Hugh’s house as well.

Alan and Nicholas rode mostly in silence. After offering his regrets, Alan could think of nothing else to say to a boy whose life had been so devastated, so he decided it would be best to say nothing.

Halfway across Lincoln Fields, they met up with two riders entering the main road from a side path. With surprise, Alan recognized Richard and Elizabeth de Beauté.

Every time Alan saw Elizabeth, he was astonished anew by her beauty. Today her skin was delicately flushed and there was a shine in her eyes that made her look even more breathtaking than usual.

Each party pulled up and regarded the other under the lowering gray sky.

Hugh spoke first. “Did you enjoy your ride, Lady Elizabeth?”

There was a note in his voice that Alan did not understand, but Elizabeth’s rosy flush deepened.

“Aye, my lord,” she returned a little defiantly. Her green eyes flashed from Iseult to Nicholas. “Who are these children?”

Iseult was asleep in Hugh’s arms, but in front of Alan, Nicholas was awake and alert.

Benjamin had been off investigating a scent, and now he trotted up and immediately began to bark at the two new riders.

“Benjamin, stop,” Nicholas ordered.

The dog barked twice more, sharply, then went to stand protectively between Nicholas and the strangers.

“These are John Rye’s children, my lady,” Hugh said.

“But where is Lady Rye?” Richard asked in a puzzled voice.

“Lady Rye is dead,” Hugh returned.

“God Almighty.” Richard looked with compassion upon the sleeping child in Hugh’s arms. “The poor mites. Where are you taking them, Hugh? To the convent in Wigford?”

“They are coming home with me,” Hugh returned. “Bernard is well enough now to allow Lady Cristen to return to my town house. I am sure she will look after them until we can settle their future.”

Richard bestowed a look of warm approval on Hugh. “That is kind of you.”