To Defy a King (22 page)

'I've heard that story dozens of times,' Hugh snapped as he unlaced the ties on his shirt. 'King Richard was unarmed and your sire knew he had the advantage. Your father has done many great things, but he has never taken an uncalculated risk and he has never defied the King - only sought to protect himself from attack. My father is a great man too, but not in the same way as yours. King Richard used yours to fight his wars in Normandy and to hold fast against adversity. He used mine to administer justice, apply the law and keep peace in the shires. Now we have a different king and times have changed. We must all make adjustments, but staying true to one's path is the best way.'

'But what if you are turned from your path?' she persisted. 'My brother should never have been made a hostage and my father should never have been persecuted. That is gross
injustice
. Surely, if there is an obstacle in the way, you remove it.'

'Or you go round it, or change it.'

'To do that you must have knowledge.'

'Knowledge is one thing, I agree, and often hard won, but plotting and treason are another matter entirely. There is a line that must not be crossed.

Your father and mine know this, but I am not sure your brother and his friends do.'

'My brother is loyal!' she flared.

'To his family, yes, but if he crosses that line and he is found out, there will be repercussions for everyone. It is not just himself he will bring down.'

Mahelt busied herself arranging her combs and pots of salve on her coffer.

Hugh was right but she wasn't going to admit as much because she felt protective of Will and she hated conceding an argument. 'What about de Braose?' she asked, taking a side-step. 'Do you think the King did murder Arthur? Do you think de Braose is being persecuted because he knows too much?'

Hugh heaved a deep sigh. 'I believe it very possible that John killed Arthur, but there is no proof. I think de Braose has become too arrogant and powerful, and John has set out to bring him down - as he tried to bring your father down. He fears men who have the potential to be stronger than he is.'

'You didn't tell me about de Braose.'

'No,' he said. 'What good would it have done?'

'That is not the point. You should have told me, not kept me in ignorance.'

She folded her arms around herself. 'Do you value me as more than just a breeder of your heirs?'

'Of course I do!' Hugh's eyes flashed. 'You are in my thoughts all the time.

I wear you like my skin! I didn't want to concern you when there was no need. I have gone out on a limb for you by inviting your brothers here, because I knew they couldn't come to Framlingham. I see you, Mahelt. I see through to your heart. I want you to bear me sons and daughters. I want to give them to you, but if you think that is the only reason I need you at my side, we might as well inhabit separate chambers as of now.'

Her lip curled. 'As your parents do?' It was like the sparring matches on the tourney ground where opponents tested each other's mettle and boundaries -

often drawing blood.

'We are not them.' Softening, he leaned forward and cupped her face in a conciliatory gesture.

She closed her eyes at his touch. 'I want to trust you.' 'I want to trust you too . . . but can I? It is a sword that cuts both ways, my love.'

'You can trust me to the last drop of my blood,' she answered fiercely, 'but you must swear to me the same . . .' She bound him to the moment with the intensity of her stare. Her breathing quickened and her pelvis grew heavy as she saw the expression and purpose in his.

'On my soul,' he said hoarsely and, pulling her against him, kissed her hard.

Mahelt kissed him in reply with an equal strength, and in mutual agreement they took each other to bed to seal the pact and tend each other's wounds.

19

Framlingham, June 1209

Mahelt placed her hand on her womb as she felt the baby kick and turn. Her waistline was still slender at the sides but her belly revealed a proud curve as she entered her sixth month. The announcement of her pregnancy at the feast of Candlemas after she had missed her second flux had been greeted with joy and celebration by her marriage family. Her father-in-law was being mellow and indulgent towards her and very tender of her welfare because she was fulfilling her role as the bearer of the next generation. In her turn Mahelt had called a truce. Her nature had gentled as her pregnancy developed. She found herself wanting to sit and sew with Ida rather than be in constant motion. She couldn't pass a cradle without looking into it, and had suddenly discovered an interest in infants and small babies that she hadn't known she possessed. When Ida's daughter Marie visited with Ranulf and their offspring, Mahelt watched the infants with new eyes. It gave her a pleasant shiver to think about having a child of her own - Hugh's child -

becoming a mother, making Hugh a father, and giving her own parents grandchildren.

She and Hugh finally had a private chamber in the old hall and a bed of their own. They could be alone together with every right and sanction. For Mahelt it was bliss. The Earl had insisted on an official bedding ceremony when they returned from Yorkshire, and the rosebud coverlet had been formally spread on their new bed and blessed by Michael the chaplain, who continued to serve the household even though the interdict had taken a tighter grip on the country. In the chapel at Framlingham, the castle inhabitants still went to mass and confession, were married with blessings, or buried with hallowed respect. News arrived occasionally from Mahelt's brothers and from Ireland, but all of it was innocuous. Will had heeded Hugh's warning, and Mahelt's pregnancy meant she was less keen to be involved in matters beyond the household.

'Are you well?' Ida touched Mahelt's sleeve, a note of concern in her voice.

Mahelt turned from her reflections and smiled at Ida. 'Yes, Mother. The babe is lively this morning, that is all. He's a little whirlwind.' Her tone was wry. In the month since quickening, the movement in her womb was constant. She was sure the child never slept; he or she already possessed the wherewithal to be a champion jouster.

Ida laughed with pleasure and sympathy. 'Come. Lie down. Let me rub your feet.'

'You are very kind to me.' Mahelt went to the bed and slipped off her soft shoes. It was so good to be pampered. Ida, who had a talent for such work, began to massage her feet with firm strokes. Mahelt half closed her eyes and relaxed. Had she been a cat, she would have purred. Even the child calmed its kicks and somersaults, as if attuned to Ida's soft voice and soothing hands.

Ida sang softly under her breath as she worked, but after a few verses of a lullaby, paused to speak. 'I am so glad you have settled down with us, my daughter.'

'Now that I am doing a woman's duty, you mean?'

Ida looked apologetic. 'When you first arrived, I loved you immediately, as I would a daughter, but I did not know you. I tried to draw you into the family and make you welcome, but after . . . after what happened I feared for you.'

'I know, and I am sorry,' Mahelt said contritely, because she did indeed regret causing Ida upset. Yet she knew she would still act in defiance again if she had to. 'I have grown up since then.'

'Indeed, a great deal.' Ida hummed the tune through another verse and continued her rubbing. 'It is better for everyone now that you can live as a true wife and have responsibilities that are your full due. You make my son happy, for which I bless you, and the Earl is well pleased.'

Mahelt almost made a face at the mention of her father-in-law.

Ida sighed. 'I know you and the Earl have had your differences, but he has always had your welfare and the welfare of this earldom at heart.'

'Yes, Mother,' Mahelt replied with muted diplomacy. She knew Ida wanted everything to be splendid and right, but it wasn't always possible. Earl Roger desired all to be in its place and performing its proper function, but things needed room to stretch and grow to survive, and he didn't seem to understand that. Her mother-in-law had become resigned, but Mahelt was determined that no matter how many children she bore down the years of her marriage, no matter how much domestic responsibility was laid at her door, she would never allow herself to become squashed into a box.

Hugh came into the chamber and joined them, bowing to and kissing his mother in formal greeting, and then embracing Mahelt similarly. He had been busy with his father going over the business of the earldom and the preoccupied look on his face made her anxious. He hadn't come to his mother's chamber for the pleasure of passing the time of day.

'The summons has come as we thought,' he said. 'We've to muster in York at the end of July with our levy and then move north to deal with William of Scotland.' He flicked a sombre glance at Mahelt. 'There are rumours of a conspiracy against the King by the northern barons. He's intending to secure the Scottish border and deal with any wayward ambitions King William and others might be harbouring.'

Mahelt felt a qualm on Will's behalf. 'There are always rumours of conspiracy,' she said. 'John could see conspiracy in a cup of water.'

Hugh shrugged. 'That may be so, but it does not alter the fact that we must obey the summons.'

Ida heaved a sigh. 'I had better go and begin sorting out your father's baggage,' she said tactfully and, giving each of them a kiss, left the room.

Hugh sat down in his mother's place and took Mahelt's feet into his own lap.

He loved their strong, graceful shape, the high arches, fine long bones and alabaster skin, but his move was as much pragmatic as it was indulgent.

While he was holding her feet, she couldn't leap up and pace about the room.

'So what are these rumours of conspiracy?' she demanded, as he had known she would. 'And how have you come to hear them? You said to me before that rumours are only rumours and nothing until proven.'

'Yorkshire is not so far from the Scottish borders and my mother has kin at the Scottish court; so we hear things. King William has been exchanging letters with Philip of France discussing an invasion of England. There's also trouble simmering in Ireland. Roger de Lacey at Chester is under suspicion because his son has been writing letters to France and stirring the brew and the family are powerful across the Irish Sea also.'

Mahelt bit her lip. 'Is . . . is Will involved in any of this?'

Hugh gently rubbed her feet. 'I do not know - and I do not want to know.

Christ, I hope not, for his sake. From what we can tell, Ireland, Scotland and France are preparing to unite and John cannot allow that to happen. Scotland is the easiest kingdom to deal with first. He doesn't have to cross the sea and plundering over the Scots border is a pastime that everyone will take to with delight whether they love John or not.'

'And what of my father?'

He saw her eyes darken with anger and fear. 'I esteem your father and he is a strong, shrewd man,' he said carefully. 'He will deal with matters as they fall.'

'You think he is involved too, don't you?'

He hesitated and then said, 'I think he knows what is happening and I think he will keep his distance. He has reached agreement with the King over Ireland and even if de Braose is his ally, King John is his liege. For the moment John's eye is fixed upon Scotland; there is no cause for immediate worry.'

Mahelt withdrew her feet from his lap and, leaving the bed, went to look out of the window. 'Will you see my brother?'

'Probably.'

'Tell him . . . tell him to be very careful.'

'I shall do so,' Hugh said, thinking it would be wasted breath because Mahelt's brother, like Mahelt herself, did not take kindly to advice. Rising to his feet he came to stand behind her, close but not touching. Beyond the window the fields and meadows sparkled in tranquil summer sunshine.

'And you be careful too,' she said in a tight, hurting voice that made his heart go out to her.

'I am not about to become embroiled in anything, my love.' He set one hand to her shoulder and curled the other across the gentle swell of her womb. 'I have too much to lose.'

She turned in his arms and traced his jaw with the tip of her index finger.

'Oh Hugh . . .'

Looking down into her eyes, filled with trouble and love, he realised he still did not know what colour they were, only that they held the world in them.

20

Framlingham, August 1209

Raised up on her elbows in her confinement bed, Mahelt watched the nursemaid bathe a squawking baby boy in a bronze bowl at the fireside. He was pink and perfect with a damp quiff of dark hair, long limbs and a lusty cry. A son and future successor to the Earldom of Norfolk and her father's firstborn grandchild. She was proud of herself, satisfied and elated, if a little sore. He was to be named Roger for his grandsire because it was a traditional Bigod name.

Mahelt had retired to confinement a fortnight ago as Hugh rode out to the royal muster in the north. She had expected to be brought to bed at the beginning of September, but the child had arrived early and caught everyone out - including his mother. One moment she had been sitting by her chamber window watching the sky and wishing she could ride out beneath the vast expanse of blue, the next she had been overtaken by a sudden gush of water from between her thighs and cramping, powerful contractions. It had been short for a first labour, so the midwife had said. Less than four hours all told and everything had gone well; Mahelt had been indignant because the midwife had patted her hips, commenting that she was a big strong girl, just as if she were a mare or a cow. Today, with her breasts suddenly burgeoning into massive udders, Mahelt acknowledged that the woman probably knew something she didn't.

Since the baby had not been expected for at least another three weeks, Ida was away in Ipswich dealing with the Earl's business and Mahelt's only companion had been Ela of Salisbury who had come to keep her company during the confinement.

Ela watched the nurse and baby with yearning, troubled eyes. 'He is beautiful,' she said.