The Whispering Night

The Whispering Night

By Kathryn Le Veque

CHAPTER
ONE

The month of January

June, 1197 A.D.

Chepstow Castle was a
bastion that sat along the edges of the Severn River, protecting the English
borders like a great lion.  It was a foreboding place, with dungeons and
soldiers and a feel about it that reeked of power.

On this night, the moon
hung low in the sky and there was ice in the air. Sentries walked the wall,
watching the surrounding countryside for hints of danger.  There was a light in
the keep, a single glow emitting from a lancet window near the top of the
structure. It was the only warmth in the silence of the dead, cold night.

This was William
Marshall's fortress. He was the chancellor of England, appointed by Richard the
Second, the Lionheart. From this place, William issued commands and directives
that controlled most of the kingdom. He was the law while the king was away
battling the infidels in the Holy Land. Until Richard returned, there was no
man more powerful in England, save the king's brother.  And therein lay the
danger.

In the solar of the great
keep, smoke curled up from the hearth in ribbons of gray and white.  The
Marshall sat near the heat, in a chair that was designed for a much larger
body; his weight tended to rise and fall with the seasons. He was an old man
and his health suffered at times. But in his youth, there had been non stronger
in the land.  Those were the days of old, when men were larger than legends,
fighting for the new country and living to tell the tales.

Now, this man of legend
had eyes that were yellowed with years. He still counseled men, great men in
the current day. He sat in the chair, gazing across the room at a familiar
figure lurking in the shadows; it was a man who had the potential to be one of
the greatest of his time. A protégé of the Marshall, groomed with the greatest
of care. Bright silver glints of mail reflected off the figure in the corner;
every time there was movement, the Marshall could hear the grate of the armor. 
It was a tense, uneasy sound.

"So you have no
comment on my suggestion?" William finally broke the silence. "It
would be a tremendous opportunity and a tremendous honor for you. Have you
nothing to say?"

The profile in the
shadows waited a nominal amount of time before emerging into the light. A
massive knight materialized, moving with the stealth of a panther, stalking the
older man huddled before the fire. He didn't speak, but the expression on his
handsome face said enough. He was displeased.

The Marshall fought off
a grin at the sight of him. "So you do not like the idea of
marriage."

"That is not
true."

"Then you like
it?"

"Under the proper
circumstances."

"And you do not
consider these the proper circumstances?"

The warrior pursed his
lips. "When I entered the knighthood, I was prepared to die for my liege.
When I came into your service, I was prepared to die for my king. I am not,
however, prepared to marry for him."

"So you consider
that a fate worse than death?"

"It could be,"
the man shot back softly.  In truth, he was off-guard by the Marshall's
suggestion and fading fast. When he had been summoned this night, a marriage,
especially his own, had been the last thought on his mind. "You are
speaking of something far beyond the call of duty, my lord."

"How?"

The knight was
frustrated to realize that he could not adequately debate the subject.
"Simply that. To fight, to kill, and to die for one's king is honorable
and expected. But to marry for the king... I am, after all, only a knight, the
son of baron, and...."

"The baronetcy of
Anglecynn is older than England herself and you will inherit it when your
father dies. You are descended from Saxon kings. Your forefathers conquered
England with William the Bastard and married Saxon princesses." The
Marshall's voice tightened. "You are Sir Garren Beaupre le Mon of
Anglecynn and Ceri, heir to an ancient and rich kingdom had we not been united
by the Normans. You're more than suitable for this task."

The Marshall made it
sound as if he was someone of importance. But Garren knew differently.
"Then if you place such significance on my heritage, let me point out that
the woman you suggest is no one of any particular consequence."

William jabbed a wisened
finger at him. "She is the daughter of one of John Lackland's most
powerful supporters. Her father serves the Earl of Norfolk. To position you
within the House of de Rosa as her husband puts you in direct communication
with her father."

"And the prince's
plots."

"That is the
hope."

Garren fixed the
Marshall with an icy stare.  He was a big man, will over six feet in height,
with shoulders so broad that he sometimes had to turn sideways to enter a
door.  He was accustomed to using his size as an intimidation tactic, but that
particular method failed to work on William.  The old Marshall had battled
kings and princes and was not about to be put off by a mere knight, no matter
how large or powerful.

"Your father knows
Bertram de Rosa," William said steadily. "They served together as
young knights under Henry the Second, and, as I recall, supported the sons
against their father in their quest for the throne.”

“Until my father
realized what an unscrupulous character John was.”

The Marshall knew all of
that and nodded his head. “Yes, yes, and then he married your mother and
withdrew from politics all together, which is no easy feat in this world.”

“And what makes you
think that Bertram will be at all receptive to my father and his suggestion of
betrothal?’

“Because your father
saved Bertram’s life once, and any honorable knight will consider that a life
debt.” William pointed his finger at him. “You will bring your father to me and
I will tell him what is to be expected."

Garren growled low in
his throat and turned away, stomping off across the room. He knew the decision
had already been made no matter of his protests. Ignoring the tantrum, William
picked up his pewter chalice and swirled the last of the red liquid, watching
the dregs at the bottom of the cup. Had he been a fortune teller, perhaps he
could have divined the future of this particular venture. There was much at
stake.

"Garren," he
said quietly. "When you became an agent for the king, it meant that your
life was no longer your own. We must do as we must to preserve England and
Richard's throne. Your particular calling in this is a great one that I cannot
leave to a novice. It requires your wisdom and skill."

"Marriage requires
no wisdom and skill," Garren rumbled. "It requires the hide of an ox
and the loins of a rutting bull. We have a number of younger men in the king's
service that could do as well as I or better."

"Untrue," the
Marshall countered. "I have known you for eighteen years. You have served
me and your king flawlessly with your strength and cunning. This could be
perhaps the most important task you have yet to undertake. Can you not see
that, lad?"

Truthfully, Garren
could. Going into the de Rosa lair was an enormous risk. But he would have
rather faced a thousand rabid men in battle all by himself than plunge into
matrimony.

"My lord," he
tried to soften his tactics. "I am not the marrying sort. My life has been
dedicated to the service of the king. I am not a lover, nor am I particularly
comfortable with women. Although I appreciate the seriousness of this mission,
as Bertram de Rosa is indeed a formidable supporter of John's, I sincerely
believe there are others better suited to a marriage."

William wasn't swayed.
"You are perfect, foremost because your father and Bertram fostered
together when they were squires. They have known each other many years. What
could be more natural than your father proposing a marriage contract between
his son and Bertram's daughter?  There is no one else I can trust with such a
coincidental connection. Bertram will never suspect a thing."

"That you're
planting a spy in his midst."

"For all he knows,
he is simply gaining a son." He put his cup down and sat forward, his
yellowed eyes intense. "Can you not see the importance of this? What we
learn from de Rosa could quite possibly bring about the end of John. For months
the prince has been working towards something big, a move against his brother
that we cannot seem to determine. With you in the de Rosa stronghold, it is
more than possible that you can discover the prince's plans and put an end to
all of this. Is that not what we are all fighting for?"

Garren took a long, deep
breath. He ran his fingers through his short, sand-colored hair, trying
desperately to contradict William's assertion. But he could not. The Marshall
was correct, and Garren saw the logic of it. Being a logical man, it was
difficult for him to continue resisting. He was dedicated to the service of
Richard, and if the king required him to marry to aid his cause, he was sworn
to obey.

"Christ," he
finally hissed. "I could handle this task very well if it did not involve
a woman.  Useless, petty, clinging...."

William put up a
quelling hand. "The Lady Derica de Rosa is a beautiful woman, so I am
told."

"A viper can also
be beautiful until it bites you."

William could do nothing
more to convince him. The man was set. William stood up, his back curved with
age. Once, he had almost been as tall as Garren himself.  Now he found himself
looking into the man's chin.

"You will bring
Allan le Mon to me by the end of the week so we may discuss this
proposal," he said with a finality that could only come from William
Marshall. "I plan to have you wed to Derica de Rosa by late spring. Do you
have anything further to say?"

"Would it do any
good?"

"No." William
was moving toward the door of his solar, a strong indication that their meeting
was over. "I shall look for your father in a few days to discuss the
arrangement."

Garren was angered,
resigned to his future. The most important task of his life would probably also
be the most taxing. He wasn't fearful of the mission in the least; what
concerned him was a spiteful, suspicious, conniving wife. It would cause him to
be on his guard on both fronts, and he did not relish the thought.  It would
make the undertaking twice as dangerous.  When he paused at the door to bid the
Marshall farewell, he noticed an odd look to William's eye.

"There is something
more I should probably tell you, Garren," the old man said, "and
though I am reluctant to do so, it is only fair. The Lady Derica is the only
female in her family for generations. I am told they treat her as if she is the
Virgin Mary incarnate. She is protected, pampered, and coddled."

Garran rolled his eyes.
"I
knew
it. A spoiled, petty female. Of all the...."

"Wait,"
William laid a wrinkled hand on his arm. "I am not finished. She has three
uncles and three brothers in addition to her father, and I am told they guard
her with the ferocity of a pack of wolves. You must know that acceptance as her
husband will not be a simple thing. There will be much trial and tribulation
with it and you must be amply prepared."

Garran snorted, an
ironic smile on his lips. "Nothing about this is going to be simple. What
is one more obstacle?"

"You must be ready
for the scrutiny, on all sides.”

"Could I not be
assigned a simpler task? Abducting the Pope, perhaps?"

William shook his head.
"Garren...."

"Or perhaps you
would like me to march into Windsor and, announcing I am a spy for his brother,
challenge John to a game of 'catch me if you can'?"

"You jest,"
William smiled weakly. "Good. As long as your sense of humor remains
intact, I know you will be successful. It takes humor to temper the serious
nature of this endeavor and keep your sanity. I hesitate to suggest it may be
the most important one of your life."

There was something in
William's tone that caused Garren to sober. "You have already done
that."

"I know. But I will
suggest it again."

Garren left Chepstow in
the dark of night, wondering if he shouldn't keep riding until he reached the
sea and still, keep going.  He suspected that his life was going to change
dramatically.  He wasn't used to feeling uncertain about any task he was preparing
to undertake, but this particular venture had him reeling.  Give him battle,
gore, blood, and men set to kill him, and he was in his element. But suggest a
marriage in the line of duty, and he felt like a novice.

Above him, a bird of
prey hovered against the night sky, calling to its mate. Garren glanced up,
noticing the bird was directly over him as if preparing to swoop on his head
and peck his eyes out. It couldn't be a good sign.  Bad omens abounded in the
whispering night, and for the first time in his life, Garren le Mon thought he
had a true taste of fear.