To Defy a King (24 page)

'It doesn't show yet!' quipped de Lacey and received a rude finger gesture from Will.

Hugh decided to take up Richard's offer and join them for a while, because, despite the danger, there was something uplifting and refreshing about their company. He drank a mug of the local ale, which was much better than the far-travelled wine, and even picked up the bridle Richard had indicated and began to work on it with a cloth swiped round a pot of beeswax.

After a while Will said, 'I suppose you've heard that the King is going to take away the shrievalties from John's father?' He indicated de Lacey.

'Longespee told me, yes.' Hugh looked up from rubbing the leather. 'I also heard that my lord de Lacey will be engaged in fulfilling other duties for the Crown. He is just being deployed elsewhere - which the King has the right to do.'

De Lacey shot Hugh a scornful look. 'It seems he has the right to do many things,' he said with a curled lip. 'There was no cause to remove my father.'

Will leaned towards Hugh. 'What do you think he is going to do with all this money he has obtained from the King of Scotland?'

Hugh shrugged. 'There are many things for which he could use it - building ships to protect the coast from the French for one thing.'

'Or funding a campaign in Ireland,' Will said.

'That may be so. I think it a good thing the Scots are not going to be raiding over our borders, because my Yorkshire fees stand in the way. I have enough trouble with wolves of the four-legged nature without dealing with raids by Galwegian wild men.' He drank up his ale, aware of Will's brooding scrutiny. 'I have to go.' Standing up, he put the refurbished piece of harness on the trestle. 'I've more people to bring the news. I hope you will soon be able to visit and see Mahelt and your new nephew.'

'Will I be welcome?' Will asked, the cynical expression back on his face.

'That is up to you.'

Hugh ducked out of the tent into the evening and puffed out his cheeks. The younger William Marshal was hard work. A chilly wind had sprung up with the arrival of sunset and he paused to pin his cloak higher up on his shoulder. Richard stepped out of the tent and caught up with him. 'It was good news you brought us,' he said. 'Will meant it too but his mood is sour.

Pay no heed.'

Hugh stopped and faced his earnest, freckled brother-in-law. 'I don't,' he said. 'And the offer to visit remains. I want my son to know his Marshal uncles.'

Richard's grin shone out. 'Is that a responsible remark for a new father to make?'

Hugh laughed and, feeling lighter in the heart, slapped the young man's shoulder. 'Likely not, given the circumstances. I hope not to regret it.'

'You won't.'

Hugh gave a non-committal shrug. 'We'll see,' he said and went on his way.

And soon he forgot about Mahelt's brothers because there were other camps and other celebrations, and it was as if a light was shining over his world because there was a new little being in it.

On his way home, Hugh bought gifts for Mahelt: a ruby cross on a gold chain; a belt with a delicate gold buckle; a silk headdress and hair ribbons; a teething ring and a rattle for the baby. The generosity of his love tumbled over into the generosity of his purse and he had to rein himself back because while the former was bottomless, the latter wasn't. His father had stayed with the King who was travelling south to Marlborough where all his vassals-in-chief had been summoned to swear allegiance to him and his own infant son Henry. Superficially there was peace, but it was tense and flawed, threatening to break like badly spun yarn.

His mother bustled out to greet him as he rode into Framlingham. Her face was alight and he had not seen her so animated for a long time. She embraced him with fervour, her brown eyes aglow. 'Your son is beautiful . .

. and so is your wife,' she said as the grooms led the horses away. She gave him a kiss and a gentle push towards the stairs. 'Go to them, they're waiting for you.'

The first thing Hugh saw when he entered the chamber was the cradle set near the bedside. Going to it, he looked down at his son and was filled with wonder. Seeing Mahelt's swollen belly and knowing she was with child was not the same as seeing that child in the cradle. The baby was not bound in swaddling but was wearing a long linen smock. His little arms and legs were waving and he was making noises to himself, not fretful, but more as if he were accustoming himself to the sound of his own voice and exercising his limbs. His hair was soft and dark and his eyes were his mother's dye-pot blue-brown.

'Well now, my young man,' Hugh said softly and chucked the child under the chin with a gentle forefinger. The baby gurgled and turned his head.

Father and son looked at each other and Hugh was certain that the infant was focusing on him. His whole being flooded with warmth and joy. He turned to Mahelt, who was standing by the bed, watching his reaction and smiling radiantly.

'Isn't he beautiful?' she said with pride. 'And so strong and clever already.

He tried to grab your mother's blue jewel the first time she saw him. See, she's hung it on the cradle.'

Hugh tenderly took her in his arms and kissed her. Her waist was slender, but her stomach was still rounded from the birth. 'You are well?'

She screwed up her face. 'They tell me it was an easy labour, but it didn't feel like it at the time. I have great sympathy for my mother and yours - and any woman who endures this year upon year. As a penance for Eve's sin, it is well exacted!' She stopped over the cradle and lifted the baby out. 'But worth it.' Her touch was confident, for she had been old enough to handle her sisters when they were born, and was used to infants. Smiling, she placed him in Hugh's arms, and he too was well at ease, since he was the eldest of many. He tickled the baby under his chin and laughed to see him wriggle. 'I promise not to tax you year upon year, but I cannot complain at the result.' He kissed her again. And for the moment nothing else mattered in the world but being in the heart of his home with his wife and his son.

21

Framlingham, December 1209

The ground was hard with frost and the air bitingly cold. Winter sunlight reddened the yard where the men were sparring and practising with their weapons, their bodies haloed in expended breath. Mahelt sat by the open shutters in the hall, watching the sport with Ela and Ida and the other women of the household.

Ida said to Ela with a wistful note in her voice, 'You are welcome to stay for the Christmas feast, you know that.'

Ela turned her neat, small head. 'Thank you, Mother, and I would accept, but the King expects my husband at court.' There was genuine regret in her reply. Her expression was carefully neutral as she spoke of the King.

'Yes, of course.' A forced smile concealed Ida's disappointment. 'At least you can enjoy yourselves while you are here.'

'Are you saying they won't when they are with the King?' Mahelt asked with a gleam of devilry in her eye. Christmas would soon be upon them and Longespee and Ela were visiting for a few days before attending the royal gathering at Windsor. There had been the usual tensions and undercurrents, but everyone was managing to be civil and thus far their stay had passed without incident. Ela was very taken with little Roger. She loved to cuddle him and make him giggle. Mahelt had noticed how Longespee watched his wife and the baby with a look that was half yearning and half sick. She suspected he would not want to dally beyond the days he had allotted to spend here, and that Christmas at court would be easier for him to bear than Christmas here.

Ida flushed. 'Of course not, but at court they will have more duties and responsibilities. Here they are both family and welcome guests.'

Suitably reproved, Mahelt focused her attention on the sparring men. The sound of quarterstaffs clacking together drifted up to the window; the shouts of advice and Ralph's expletive as he was hit on the thumb. Mahelt smiled to herself. That was a new one. She would have to remember it.

Down in the courtyard, Hugh paused to catch his breath. The frozen air burned in his chest and although he was warm in his quilted tunic and sweating with exertion, he was still aware of the bitter cold. He would rather have spent his afternoon by the fire roasting sweet chestnuts, telling tales and singing songs, but Longespee had wanted to come out to the tiltyard and exorcise his demons, and since he was the guest, and Hugh's other brothers were keen, he had obliged rather than be a killjoy.

As his breathing eased, he watched his half-brother twirl the long sword for which he was famous and demonstrate several slick, polished manoeuvres.

The others tried to emulate him but none possessed Longespee's skill.

Ralph, who had also paused for respite and was now recovered, challenged Hugh to a sparring match. Hugh obliged, lifted his shield and went through the manoeuvres, turning Ralph's blows with ease and economy.

Longespee stopped to watch them, his hands on his hips, his expression critical. After a moment, he gave a small shake of his head. Hugh noticed the unspoken remark from the corner of his eye and, as he and Ralph broke apart, he lowered his sword and turned. 'Do you have anything to say?' he demanded, shoulders heaving. 'We might as well hear it.'

Longespee folded his arms. 'To Ralph that he is good, but he should keep on practising and go more for the legs since he does not have the advantage of height.'

Ralph reddened at the praise and criticism, and nodded with the eagerness of a young dog in training.

'And to me?' Hugh enquired.

'That you fight defensively, and perhaps you do not have enough killer instinct to be a battle commander.'

Hugh narrowed his eyes. 'I was unaware that this was a battle. Perhaps next time, to please you, I should cut off Ralph's head.' He sheathed his sword and folded his arms. 'You have great skill in the military arts and I commend your abilities, but it is not everything, nor does it mean that those with less . .

. dazzle are not competent. A tunic does not serve a man better just because it is edged with thread of gold - indeed sometimes a plain one gives better service.'

Longespee's nostrils flared. 'Your meaning?'

'I would have thought it obvious to a man of your wit.'

Longespee looked pained. 'I do not know why you take such a hostile tone when I am only telling the truth.'

Hugh refrained from saying that Longespee's vision of the truth was not the same as his. If they continued in this vein, there would be a bitter argument and for his mother's sake he would keep the peace. 'Then let us agree to see the truth differently. You will excuse me.' Hugh left the gathering to approach the man he had just seen leading his laden donkey into the courtyard. It was Matthew the gem-seller, and this time he had a woman with him and a little boy of perhaps five years old. Hugh greeted Matthew with pleasure and, gesturing him to rise, patted him on the shoulder.

'I am glad to see you, and by the looks of your load you are hoping to lighten it here.'

'Indeed, sire, that is part of my errand,' Matthew said. 'This is my wife Godif, and my son Edmund.' The woman curtseyed. The tow-haired little boy flourished a most proper bow that caused Hugh's lips to twitch.

'Go and take your donkey to the stables and tell the grooms I said you were to bring him there. Then seek out Simon the Chamberlain and have him bring you to my mother's solar. The women will want to see the contents of your pack for certain - although perhaps I shouldn't be so swift to send you to them in consideration of the grief to my purse!'

Matthew smiled, and then straightened his mouth and added, 'Sire, I bring news as well as jewels. The King has been excommunicated by the Pope.

There's been a decree issued but not enforced.' He glanced beyond Hugh to Longespee who had come forward to listen, drawn by curiosity about what Hugh would actually find to say to such lowly people.

'How do you know this?' Longespee demanded.

'I heard it from one of my clients, sire.' A red flush crawled up Matthew's throat.

'Hah!' Longespee snorted. 'As if someone like you would be told such information.'

'Matthew carries jewels to great men of the Church as part of his employment,' Hugh answered curtly. 'As I said, a man doesn't need a fancy tunic to show off his importance to everyone.' He turned to the gem pedlar and his family. 'Go to. I'll join you in a while and make sure you haven't made too good a job of emptying my coffers.'

'One of your spies, I suppose,' Longespee said with a curled lip as Matthew and his family departed towards the stables with the weary donkey.

'Not in the least; merely a man who bears news wherever he goes and whom I like and can trust.' Hugh gestured to the squires to start tidying away the equipment. A bruised dusk was creeping up on the horizon and even had it not been time to pack up, he no longer had even the semblance of interest in weapon play.

'What happens if the King is excommunicated?' Ralph wanted to know.

'It means his seat on the throne becomes less secure, for one thing,' Hugh said. 'He must have known this was going to happen. That's why he had everyone swear allegiance to him at Marlborough and why he was so keen to pin down William of Scotland.'

'We cannot let Rome dictate to us,' Longespee said indignantly. 'The King has been thoroughly reasonable over the matter of Archbishop of