The Silver Falcon (53 page)

Once he had satisfied his lust, he stood up, relieved himself into the fireplace, and returned to the floor. When the girl tried to snuggle up to him, he shouted at her to find somewhere else to sleep. Then he rolled up in his blanket.

“You won’t be beaming with happiness for long, you two,” he murmured and soon fell asleep.

When William awoke, the first light of day was piercing the wooden shutters. Naked beside him, Marguerite was still asleep. William looked at her, his heart beating hard. She bore no resemblance to Enid, neither in her appearance nor in her character.

A pained smile flitted across his face. Enid. He felt that his time with her belonged to a different life. He had said farewell to
her long ago, but she had not really left him until last night. Now only Marguerite mattered.

William’s gaze moved longingly over her breasts, which were concealed by the linen sheet. She began to stretch among the bedclothes, and he became pleasurably aroused again. He leaned over his sleeping wife.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, closing his eyes and savoring the scent of her nudity. He ran his fingers through her sleep-tousled hair.

Marguerite turned over, pursed her lips, and threw her arms around his neck. “Just in case I didn’t get a son by you last night, I think we should try again,” she said and began nibbling his ear.

As they lay together, the house began to stir. Steps and voices could be heard in front of their room, but they did not allow themselves to be distracted. They clung tightly to each other for quite some time. It was not until the king himself banged on their door with his fist and told them to come downstairs that they sprang up, giggling like naughty children, and got dressed.

William pulled Marguerite toward him once more. “I’m so glad Robert cleared up our stupid misunderstanding.”

“That’s enough. The king’s waiting for us,” Marguerite rebuked him severely, kissing him passionately on the mouth one last time. She looked into his eyes breathlessly. “I can never thank John enough for giving me to you as a wife. So now come,” she ordered. She unlocked the door, took William by the hand, and pulled him out of the room and down the stairs.

The king was deep in conversation with several knights. William and Marguerite joined Robert, who was standing by the fireplace with some other men.

“Look at that girl over there, the one making eyes at Odon,” Robert remarked quietly, pointing at a tired-looking woman hovering around Odon. She had matted hair and what teeth she still possessed were rotten. “He seems to have found a new love. Poor
Maud!” He sneered, earning a disapproving shake of the head from William. “All right. I’ll be quiet.” Robert looked down and sighed softly.

Odon kept looking over at them, but whenever his glance met William’s, he turned away. It was not until midday, when they happened to find themselves standing next to each other, that Odon murmured spitefully, “I suggest you never leave Robert alone with her.” Odon’s mouth was right against William’s ear. His breath smelled of ale. “It’s always your best friend with whom your wife betrays you. That’s why I don’t have any best friends.” He nodded at Marguerite and grinned lewdly. “Just look how absorbed in his conversation she is, how intimate they look.”

Marguerite and Robert did indeed have their heads close together, and they were whispering and laughing.

“What are you talking about? Do you really think I don’t trust them?”

Rather than answering, Odon merely shrugged and turned away.

William shook his head. Where does he get the idea I might believe such nonsense? he thought, trying to ignore the unpleasant sensation creeping up his neck.

A
fter spending Christmas with the king and queen, William, Marguerite, and Robert returned to Roford Manor. William still had to get accustomed to being a landowner. The fear of not fulfilling his responsibilities weighed heavily on him. There were so many people over whom he now held sway. He knew too little about what was expected of him and feared plunging himself and those he loved into misfortune because the tasks and duties of a landowner were so unfamiliar.

Fortunately, Marguerite proved to be a thoroughly capable collaborator. She could read and write, and she was very good with figures. Unlike William, she had been well prepared for her position and knew exactly what was expected.

First she had the steward go through the books with her, asking him to report on revenues and outgoings, crop yields, and livestock husbandry. William just stood by, marveling, listening, and paying careful attention. Marguerite explained that it was part of the steward’s duties to supervise income and expenditure, and, with the priest, to enter them in the books every evening.

Still, she checked the sums now and then so that the steward did not feel he could do as he wished. A steward had important responsibilities, and there was no harm in him knowing that his masters had a perfect understanding of what he did. He had to plan the menus and food stores with the cook, ensure there were enough provisions in the cellars to last through the winter, and check they were not consumed too quickly.

Marguerite grasped the advantages of the estate as quickly as she understood the difficulties they had experienced in previous years. The fields and cattle brought in decent profits, but the forest was underused. William knew the falconry would bring in extra income, not least because the king would pay generously for the care of his birds.

William was delighted that he could leave the supervision of the household to Marguerite and of the lands to the steward, for a great deal of work still awaited him and Robert.

To begin with, he had to rebuild the derelict falconry, which was close to the manor house. While the house itself had been constantly improved and even extended, the falconry had been neglected for years. The roof needed repair, and the high rail and the perches were no longer usable and had to be replaced. Even the walls of the mews required mending; a few rotten planks that let the wind whistle through needed to be replaced, along with the door fittings and some dangling shutters.

Once he was thoroughly familiar with the condition of the mews, he told Marguerite of his displeasure at its neglect, and she explained why no one had set foot there for so long.

“My father was a falconer, body and soul, like all the de Hauvilles,” she said.

“I saw Richard hunt once, at Thorne, when I was still a boy—and didn’t know anything about you yet.” He smiled at his beloved. “Since a passion for falcons is already in the de Hauville family’s blood, all we need now is a pack of sons who feel the same,” he said as he drew her to him.

Somewhat reluctantly, she pulled away from him. “My father fell into disfavor with King Henry. I don’t know exactly what happened. I was too small, but even I noticed that he changed suddenly. The king had his falcons taken away, and the other falconers left with them. My father withdrew into himself. He fell silent and
hardly ever laughed. Not long afterward, he fell off his horse while out on an ordinary ride. He died the same night.”

Marguerite’s eyes, normally so bright, darkened. “My mother sort of froze. A rich neighbor who’d been eyeing her for some time began to visit her regularly, almost immediately after my father was buried. He helped her and quickly took over the administration of the estate. Soon he asked for her hand in marriage. The steward hated him, and my mother was still in mourning. She put off his advances, but he didn’t give up. One day, he pressed his suit one more time and she asked him to leave and not to return. His pride was hurt, and in revenge—perhaps also out of greed—from that day on he had our villages attacked and our fields and barns burned. Within a very short time—despite the steward’s best efforts—Roford Manor was close to ruin. My mother wasn’t strong enough for this man. She was afraid of further attacks and didn’t know how she would help her people survive the winter without her husband. She believed she was to blame for the people’s misfortune. Shortly before Christmas she threw herself off the roof of the falconry.”

Marguerite’s voice had grown quieter and quieter as she told the story. Tears ran down her face. “It took her nearly two days to die,” she went on as William stroked her hand comfortingly. “She was in great pain and knew she was going to die. So she called for the priest and sent a message to Prince John, asking him to accept me as his ward. My uncle came as quickly as he could, but she was dead and buried by the time he arrived. He punished the neighbor himself, single-handed. Oh William, if she had only asked for his help sooner, she wouldn’t have had to commit the sin of throwing her life away. The steward took good care of Roford, but the falconry has been dormant ever since. My greatest wish is that you will rebuild it. Roford should be a home our children can be proud of.” Her eyes were misted with tears.

“It will be,” William replied, taking her in his arms. He dried her tears and kissed her. “I promise we will have a wonderful life,
with many children and the finest falcons. It won’t be long before Roford’s falcons will be famous throughout England.”

William averted his eyes, carefully examining the low perch he had installed in the hall. Until the falconry was ready, the king’s birds would perch here. He stood up and kissed Marguerite on the forehead. “We need timber for the work on the mews.”

“You can take what you need from the forest. We don’t use enough as it is. There’s enough good wood there.” She wiped her eyes dry and tried to smile.

“I still don’t know enough about Roford to be a good lord and master. I should ask the steward to ride out with me tomorrow and explain it all. Perhaps you would come with me?”

Marguerite nodded bravely. “Then let’s look in on Tonley, too, shall we? I would love you to meet my milk-sister. I haven’t been able to visit Godith since we’ve been back. Tonley belongs to Roford and is only a few miles away. I often went to the village as a child, because my wet nurse was from there.” Marguerite suddenly looked less sad. “I’ve heard Godith is the most beautiful girl in the village. I hope she doesn’t turn your head.”

“How can you think I have eyes for anyone but you?” William protested indignantly.

They were up with the lark the next morning and set off immediately. They rode along the border of the estate, first to the east, then north. The steward told William everything he knew about the land. He spoke of crop rotation and the characteristics of the soil, and about the people who tilled the fields, how they organized their work, and when they had more to do than usual. Then he explained what sort of yields could be expected from arable farming, what measures could be taken to increase revenues from the forest, and where higher profits could be earned.

William listened carefully, asking questions from time to time, and soon realized that the estate was bigger than he had thought. They discussed the work that was needed at the falconry, and William found out that John had left a bag of silver for this purpose. They rode alongside each other at a leisurely pace. The steward was giving him a detailed explanation of the administration of the fief when Marguerite began shifting about uneasily in her saddle.

“It’s scarcely half a mile from here to Tonley,” she reminded him impatiently after William asked yet another question. “You’re not going to see all of Roford today anyway, so why don’t you discuss all this later while we’re eating?”

“Why don’t you go on ahead? We’ll follow soon,” William suggested, laughing.

“Very well, but do hurry up,” she urged them both, then rode off in haste, much relieved.

William watched her go, shaking his head with a laugh. “I think we’d better postpone our conversation and not keep her waiting long. Women as delightful as she quickly grow impatient.”

“As you wish, my lord. I am always at your disposal.”

“My lord” was the right form of address, but it was still strange to William.