The Silver Falcon (60 page)

Richard always melted William’s tenseness. He smiled, spread his arms wide, and leaned forward to pick up the boy. But the next moment the smile died on his lips, and his arms fell to his sides. He
stared in disbelief at Marguerite, who had just stepped out of the hall, and at the man standing beside her.

Richard, not noticing that his father was distracted, threw his arms around William’s left leg and squeezed it. “Caught you,” Richard cried happily, leaning back and beaming at William as the latter looked down at him.

Robert? What’s Robert doing here? wondered William. He picked up his son and looked at him as if he were the anchor that would save his life. Affectionately, he ruffled his son’s red hair, which reminded him so much of his mother.

“Horsey,” the boy ordered, kicking his sturdy little legs as if spurring on a horse.

“All right, climb on,” William said. He could not bring himself to look back at Marguerite and Robert. Just as he had when he was a child, he wanted to pretend that what shouldn’t be there wouldn’t be—if he simply ignored it. He placed the child on his shoulders, turned away, and ran off.

The boy whooped with pleasure, cheerfully digging his heels into William’s collarbone so he would go faster. “Hup, horsey. Hup,” he cried.

William held Richard’s little feet tightly and crossed the courtyard at a run. Please, let him be gone when I get back, he begged God, and when he met up with the head groom, whose face broke into a grin at the sight of father and son, he headed back toward the manor house.

Marguerite was standing in front of the hall, alone. William breathed again. He must have been mistaken. He had probably taken one of the servants for Robert.

“I told Robert he could stay in the falconry tonight,” she told him as he tried to go past her. She took her son’s hand and kissed it.

“Hup, horsey,” cried Richard again, drumming against William’s chest with his feet. William walked slowly and carefully into the hall, as if walking in quicksand.

“Horsey. More horsey,” Richard shouted angrily.

William whinnied like a horse and pretended to rear up. “Free me of this wild horseman,” he ordered the nursemaid with feigned joviality, then swung the child down from his shoulders. “Take the boy into the kitchen and give him something to eat,” he told her, pouring himself a cup of wine.

As soon as they had left, he turned frostily to Marguerite. “What is he doing here?”

“You have to clear the air with him, my love.”

“Does he think I can forgive him so easily?” William spat.

“No, he doesn’t. But you can’t avoid him forever.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“That’s exactly what he said.” Marguerite smiled. “That, and that you’re the most obstinate person he’s ever known. But also the most lovable,” she added, with a widening of her eyes. “Please, William, you must forgive him.”

“Is that why he came here, so that my wife could grovel on his behalf?” William could hear how uncharitable he sounded, and he was ashamed to speak to Marguerite like this, but he could not help himself. He steadied himself against the table.

“Robert has never flouted an order of yours. It was I who sent news to him by messenger. He thought it was your wish that he should come back. He found out only just now that the messenger came from me, not you.” Marguerite took William’s face in her hands. “I know how much you miss him. Do you think I haven’t noticed you’re still suffering terribly? Some people have to be forced to find happiness. That’s why I wanted him to come.”

“Then send him away. He has nothing to do in my house. He’ll just corrupt my child with his wicked urges.” William drained a whole cup of wine in a single chug.

“What he has done is a sin. There’s no doubt about it. But no one, and I mean no one, is proof against error. And pride, William, the kind of pride you are showing toward him, is also an offense
against our Lord.” Marguerite put her hands on her hips. “Who are you to judge him? You’re not a priest—you’re his friend, and as such you should stand by him. Take your example from Marshal, since you admire him so much.”

“What’s he got to do with it?” retorted William, snorting irritably.

“He always stood by King Richard, even though they often disagreed.” Marguerite took a step toward William and fixed her eyes on his. “No one ever heard William Marshal say a single bad word about Richard’s aberrations. Ever.”

“Well, Richard was the king, wasn’t he,” said William furiously.

“King or no king, friendship means being able to forgive.”

“But Robert won’t repent and refuses to take a wife,” William objected helplessly.

“What difference does that make to you? As long as he leaves you alone?”

“Why is it so important to you that I forgive him? Why, Marguerite?”

“I can no longer just stand by when you’re suffering so much,” she replied softly, stroking his cheek lovingly. “The pain when you eat—did you really think I wouldn’t notice? You’re tormenting yourself for no good reason.”

“But…”

“Oh, my love, you’ve always been able to count on Robert, and we have a lot to thank him for. If he hadn’t intervened, our marriage would have begun with the stupidest misunderstanding, wouldn’t it have? It’s time to forgive him.”

“But I can’t forget what I saw,” William protested again.

“You must stop thinking about it. Robert would never harm you; still less would he corrupt your son. I know you’re as sure of that, deep in your heart, as I am.”

“He will burn in hell!”

“He already is. Having you still angry with him is a kind of hell for him.” She wrung her hands until the skin over her knuckles was
quite white. “I told him to come back tomorrow. Please, William, for your own sake, forgive him. You haven’t been yourself since he left. You’re always downcast, you fly into a rage over nothing, and you’re often unjust. I understand your pain, so I haven’t complained. But it must end now. Robert has made a mistake. He shouldn’t have to pay for it forever.”

“But he’ll do it again,” William railed, his desperation plain to see.

“Then you’ll have to turn a blind eye. It’s his life. He’s the one who will have to pay for his aberrations on the Day of Judgment. All you can do is try to help him. You owe him that, because you’re his friend.”

When they went to bed that night, after a meal taken in silence, Marguerite snuggled up close to William and stroked his naked, almost hairless chest.

“I want to see you as happy as you used to be,” she murmured. “I need your strength. Particularly now, since I’m expecting again.”

William sat up and looked at her in astonishment. “You’re with child?”

Marguerite nodded with a diffident smile, and a marvelous sensation of warmth and security flowed through William.

“That’s wonderful! Are you feeling well?” he asked anxiously, stroking her belly tenderly. He thought of Richard and all the happiness his easy laughter brought him. Yes, he wanted many more children with Marguerite! Many sons and daughters.

“Yes, my love. I feel fine.” Marguerite laughed and kissed him on the mouth, then looked deeply into his eyes. After a long time, she said quietly, “Let Robert work for you again, even if you can’t quite bring yourself to trust him yet. Please, William.” Her hand glided down from his chest to his stomach. “I love you,” she
whispered, still stroking him. Her hand moved into his lap, and he surrendered helplessly to the pleasure of her tender caresses.

Thus Marguerite finally won her victory, and Robert was allowed to stay. At least for a while, as William emphasized.

Robert threw himself into his work at the falconry as if he had never been away. Even the new assistants respected him immediately, obeying him without demurral. Only William still behaved somewhat clumsily.

“The peregrine needs to be readied. I’m going hunting with her today,” he said one day. He still could not manage to sound as friendly as he used to, though he could see how Robert suffered at this rejection. “Humfrid is coming,” he added. He would never have admitted it, but deep down William was afraid to be alone with Robert, so he preferred to arrange things in such a way that one of the assistants was always present. And yet Robert and he had once been able to be completely relaxed with each other. Like on the day they tussled in the grass and then watched the Saracen and the girl.

William frowned. Robert had not seemed any less aroused than he. So he must have liked the look of the girl. Or had he been attracted to the Saracen’s body instead?

“Stop staring at me like that,” William roared when he saw Robert looking at him sadly. He knew all too well that he was being unjust.

Robert lowered his eyes guiltily. He never rebuked William, no matter how harshly he behaved toward him.

T
he first hoarfrosts of winter had coated the grass and trees in icy crystals for some days. A thick mist hung close to the ground, and the sun was doing its best to hold off the first big freeze when a messenger arrived at Roford. King John and his queen had returned from the mainland and wanted to spend Christmas at Canterbury. William and Marguerite were expected at court, along with the royal falcons.

“At last we can give him Blanchpenny,” said William joyfully, lifting Marguerite in the air and whirling her around, despite her rather plump body.

When he put her down, she laughed, panting breathlessly, her cheeks shining like apples. “Christmas at court will be wonderful, I’m sure. I’ve been wanting to introduce our son to John and Isabelle for so long.”

Marguerite immediately started planning their journey. Two young knights in their service, three foot soldiers, and four hunt assistants would accompany them, along with Robert, a falconry boy, two dog handlers, the nursemaid, a handmaid, two servants, and little Richard, who had turned two that autumn.

William found this large retinue excessive, but Marguerite insisted on it.

“When you appear at court, you must show who you are and what you have. You’re a baron now, and you must behave like one. They all look at each other, judging clothes, horses, falcons, retinues. So if you want to have status among them, and it’s definitely
advisable, you must give the impression of being prosperous and munificent,” Marguerite explained confidently. “I’ll have a new surcoat made for you quickly.”

William shrugged. “As you wish, dearest.” He knew he could depend on her experience. Not for nothing had she lived near John for so long; she knew exactly what was customary at court.

For the first time since Robert’s return, the thought that Robert would be with him made him feel confident. None of the barons who would be there knew what had disturbed their friendship. Nobody would feel obliged to ask about his absence and bring a guilty blush to William’s face. As far as the care of the falcons was concerned, they were an experienced enough partnership not to worry about the difficulties of such a journey. And yet William found himself fearful of all the unfamiliar customs he would encounter during the days at court. Much as he longed to bring Blanchpenny to the king, proximity to royalty made him feel uneasy rather than excited.

After a solid week of hectic preparations, at last they were ready to depart. Since they were accompanied by men on foot, they did not make particularly swift progress. Moreover, William and Marguerite wanted to protect Richard, so they paused to rest more often than usual.

It took them five days to reach Canterbury.

During the day, the sky was clear and sunny, and the air was very mild for the season, but as soon as the sun went down it became bitingly cold, so they sought out inns and monasteries where they could spend the night in warmth and safety.

While most travelers to Canterbury were headed for the marketplace and entered through Westgate, William and his retinue entered through the ancient Roman Worthgate, at the southern end of the town, because the royal castle was situated right inside.

The magnificent accommodation tower was almost as large and imposing as the Tower of London. The bailey, which was surrounded by a formidable stone wall, was crowded with people and animals. Laughter and curses filled their ears, along with loud greetings and the baying of hounds. Strong servants with calloused hands walked by bearing water, hay, and oats for the innumerable guests’ horses; shoveled dung; rubbed overheated horses dry; and generally tended the valuable beasts as well as they could. Now and then, as they crisscrossed the bailey, they would slip on the hard, icy ground, and if they didn’t catch themselves in time, they would struggle to their feet again, cursing and red faced.

Since there was not sufficient room in the stables for all the horses, some wooden bays had been erected where the animals could be tied up in rows.

William slipped down off his horse, gave Blanchpenny to Robert, and lifted Richard down from his seat in front of Marguerite. He waited patiently for one of his knights to hurry over and help her down from her horse.

Marguerite, who was accustomed to stays at court, had made sure there was a beautiful, brightly colored tent in their baggage. Before they left, she had explained to William that the only people to get accommodation in the hall or in one of the bedchambers would be the ones who were particularly dear and precious to John. Normally, when the king held court at Christmas, there was simply not enough room in the castle for the many visiting knights, soldiers, and servants, and they would have to sleep in tents they brought with them.