To Defy a King (39 page)

'I've always admired your optimism,' Ranulf said. 'Personally, I foresee stormy weather.'

There was a brief but comfortable silence as each man digested his thoughts.

Hugh had been in the field with the Bigod troops for just over a month, awaiting the French invasion. Over the past few weeks spies had been reporting daily on the state of the gathering French fleet. King Philip had invested sixty thousand pounds on his planned bid to take England from John, claiming that an excommunicate king was outside the pale of society.

Philip said it was his Christian duty to rid England of such a monarch.

However, John had rallied support behind his banner. He might be unpopular, but not everyone wanted to see French rule in England. William Marshal had come from Ireland with five hundred knights and John's Flemish mercenaries were standing firm. Their loyalty depended on pay, not hereditary oaths. William Longespee was staunch too. Hugh tried to avoid thinking about his half-brother but was often forced to do so because they dwelt in proximity in the camp and sat at the same board in counsel.

Hugh finished his wine and called for another flagon. Once John had yielded to Pandulf, the Papal Legate, the latter had hastened to the French and informed King Philip that the invasion was off because England was now a papal state and John had undertaken to accept Stephen Langton as Archbishop of Canterbury, welcome back all the churchmen who had gone into exile during the interdict, and pay reparations. Rebellious barons such as de Vesci and FitzWalter who had gone into exile were to be restored to their lands and granted the kiss of peace.

With an army prepared and no invasion to pursue, King Philip had been justifiably furious and had turned his attention on John's ally, the Count of Flanders, bringing his full force to bear on Ghent. The Count had begged John for help and John had responded by despatching Longespee at the head of the English fleet with seven hundred men under his command. The ships had sailed five days ago for Flanders and as yet there was no news.

'I'll just be glad to go home,' Ranulf said. 'I left a newborn son in the cradle.

At this rate, by the time I return he's going to be walking and his sisters will be ready for marriage!'

Hugh thought briefly of his own sons. With Roger the rate of growth and change had slowed down, but his namesake was at the fleeting stage between baby and toddler where one month or two made a vast difference.

Except this might not be one month or two; it might be all summer, fighting to protect the rule of a man who made his flesh crawl.

'That is an ominous silence, brother,' Ranulf said, and now there was no amusement in his eyes.

'Once Langton has returned and depending on what happens in Flanders, the King may well cross to Poitou and strike north to try and catch King Philip between two fires,' Hugh said.

Ranulf pushed his hands through his fringe, leaving deep finger tracks in the silvered brown. 'Well, he's not doing the catching with me and mine,' he said shortly. 'Even if it weren't for my wife and babes, I've a harvest to bring in and affairs to attend to at home. I won't stay beyond the terms of my service and I am not prepared to set one foot off this shore.' He finished his wine and banged his cup down. 'I won't pay for him to hire men overseas either. I've done my service and in person. Once the term is complete I am quit - until next year.' He looked at Hugh. 'What about you? Will you go if he asks?'

'I would have to think about it.' Hugh rubbed the back of his neck.

'I'm surprised you would even consider it.'

'It's for the whole family to discuss and for my father to decide.'

'But you are the one who has to go and perform the service.'

Hugh sighed and spread his hands. 'Yes, but what would I gain in rebelling against my father? I will not let John divide us. I have seen him dig his knife into the mortar that holds families together, prise it apart and then wait to see everything tumble down. When the time comes, we will act for the good of all.'

'Well, wassail to the good of all,' Ranulf said sourly. He poured another drink and raised a toast. Hugh responded to the gesture by raising his own cup and wondered whether to make this his last one.
In vino veritas
. He wasn't certain that he wanted to start talking truth should they hit a third flagon.

A pilgrim entered the alehouse laden down with lead ampullae, crosses, prayer beads and an ornate parchment scroll tied with red ribbon. 'No wonder the Pope wants a few of Saint Thomas's bones for Rome,' Hugh muttered to change the subject. 'They must be worth more than their weight in gold.'

Ranulf's eyes gleamed sardonically. 'I wonder which bits they'll decide to . .

.' He paused and cocked his head towards the street where someone was shouting in wild excitement. Leaving their mugs, Hugh and Ranulf raced outside. Several folk had linked arms and were dancing a carole. Two soldiers were whooping at the tops of their voices in between blowing on hunting horns. Beyond them another man was waving and gesticulating and being embraced by yet more people.

Hugh and Ranulf hurried over to that particular group. 'What news?' Hugh demanded.

The messenger at the centre turned to them, his face glowing. His hat had been knocked askew and hung at a precarious angle on his sweat-flattened curls. 'Great news, messires!' He clenched his fist. 'The Earl of Salisbury, my lord Longespee, has won a great victory against the French! Their fleet's been destroyed and enough booty taken to fill the cathedral fifty times over!

God is smiling on England again. It's a sign, a true sign!'

He was lifted up on the shoulders of his companions and borne on towards the cathedral, still crying his tune to the noise of bells and horns and hoarse cheers. Hugh and Ranulf repaired to the alehouse to finish their wine but did so swiftly and standing up. The news would already be all over the camp if it had arrived in Canterbury.

'Well, that answers the question about the French and puts them out of the reckoning,' Ranulf said. It was a forthright statement and the inflection difficult to tell, as was the manner in which he raised his cup. 'Here's to our brother by marriage, the Earl of Salisbury.'

Hugh raised and drained his cup. 'To justice,' he said.

Hugh unfolded the protective bundle of grey cloth that Ralph had just flourished at him and discovered inside a cloak made of thick scarlet wool, lined with the fur of Russian squirrels. The breast clasp consisted of a silk cord, attached to two round brooches of solid gold, and the edging was of gold brocade set with gemstones.

Hugh stared in amazement. 'This is fit for a king!'

Ralph flushed with pleasure. 'I thought you'd like it. Who knows, it might even belong to Philip or Louis. I found a chest with three cloaks and five silk tunics!' He pressed his hand to his breast, indicating one of the latter: a magnificent affair of red damask that set off his dark hair and made his eyes shine. An ornate dagger in a gilded sheath weighed down his right hip and his hands glittered with gold rings. He was strutting like a barnyard cockerel, but his open pleasure and his delight in being able to extend largesse for once, instead of receiving it, saved him from being smug. 'I have a bolt of silk for our mother and a gold cup for my lord father . . . as well as two hats.'

'Oh, he'll like the hats.' Hugh chuckled. He shook his head at his brother.

'You've moved on from wolfskins, I grant you that.'

Ralph laughed and made a rude gesture at Hugh. 'Are you not pleased?'

'Oh, certainly!' Hugh said and opened out the cloak to try it on.

'You have never seen such plunder!' Ralph enthused, and settled down to tell his story as the June evening darkened and the sparks rose from the camp fire in dragon flashes of orange and gold. 'We couldn't believe it!' His eyes shone. 'The entire French invasion fleet anchored in the harbour at Damme, and hardly any guards because all the crew and soldiers were away from their ships besieging Ghent! We had the pick of five hundred cogs and galleys! We seized what we wanted and cut the rest adrift. We'd have had more if King Philip hadn't got wise to us, but by the time he reached Damme there was nothing he could do. He didn't want what was left of his fleet falling into our hands so he sent in fireships and burned them to the water. We sank some for him in the right place to block the harbour.' Ralph rubbed his hands. 'It was glorious! There'll be no invasion now lest we are the invaders! Our brother Longespee's new ship has proven its worth ten times over, and so have English sailors! Never have I seen so much booty so easily seized. We barely had to strike a blow. The weather was on our side too and we're safe home and laden with French spoils!' A mischievous smile curled his lips. 'You see what happens when you have the backing of the Pope?'

Wry looks were exchanged around the fire and someone cuffed him good-naturedly. 'I am not sure that God has had His hand in any of this, whoever the players are,' Hugh said, fastening the cloak, 'but at least for the moment we are safe and we have a breathing space to consider our next move.'

'Reclaiming Normandy, of course!' Ralph said without hesitation. 'We have the men and the means. We should strike while we have the advantage.'

'It's also a matter of having the will,' Hugh said with a glance at Ranulf.

'There are issues at home just as pressing that need addressing.'

Ranulf nodded. 'Not everyone is as eager as Longespee to do the King's bidding, nor have the excommunication and interdict been officially lifted yet.'

'But they will be - very soon they will be,' Ralph said.

Ranulf rose to his feet and stretched. Ralph had given him a silk purse for Marie with a rope of pearls inside it and he held it with diffident courtesy, as if he was accepting it because he had to, not from sincere choice. 'I'm for my bed,' he said. 'If I drink any more I'll be nursing my skull in the morning.' He saluted the men on the bench and walked off to his own pavilion.

Ralph stared after him. 'What's wrong with him?'

'He's got a lot to think about,' Hugh said. 'We all have.' To distract Ralph, he tossed one edge of the cloak over his shoulder to show the patterned grey and white lining and opened his hands in a gesture that invited comment.

Ralph grinned. 'I'm regretting not keeping it for myself.' He refilled his cup and said anxiously, 'You're pleased for our brother Longespee, aren't you?'

'Of course I am.' Hugh tried to sound wholehearted. 'It's a great victory and one to be proud of.' Which was true. The politics of the situation might be murky and the future uncertain, but it didn't detract from what Longespee had achieved. Such expeditions were what he had been born for - dashing enterprises that risked all. 'But I am just as proud of you.' He squeezed Ralph's shoulder. 'A good commander is nothing without his men.'

Later, lying on his camp bed, Hugh pillowed his hands behind his head and listened to the champing of the nearby horses, the sounds of movement and soft conversation from the men on duty. He was tired but his mind was churning. Longespee had won a great victory for them, and the impetus should be maintained by taking the gathered army to Poitou, but it wasn't going to happen. The loyalty and commitment were not there and men who had affairs at home had already been kept in the field for too long. There were other issues to be faced, and until that happened, John's army, whatever the successes on its periphery, was merely going to march on the spot.

30

Winchester Cathedral, July 1213

A cloud of incense ghosted within the illuminated rays of sunlight streaming through the arched cathedral windows, and rainbow motes sparkled upon the crowd standing in the great nave. Mahelt stood with her mother and her brothers and sisters to witness King John being formally absolved of his excommunication and welcomed back into the bosom of the Church by Stephen Langton, restored Archbishop of Canterbury.

John swore upon the gospels to love and defend the Church, uphold the laws of his ancestors and abolish bad governance. Mahelt listened and thought that it was all very well, but really the words meant nothing, because John would not keep such vows unless pinned down and nailed to them. He was swearing with fervent sincerity just now because he wanted to take his army across the Narrow Sea and strike at the French while they were still reeling.

Longespee was already back in Flanders with a brief to aid its count and keep Philip's army occupied.

Langton leaned to bestow the kiss of peace on the King. He had already done so on the steps of the cathedral, but now he performed the act again before God and the Holy Saint Swithun. Langton's face was that of a didactic with pursed lips that could by turns be pedantic and primly amused.

He liked to guide, direct and educate; he saw himself as a man of reason and balance with much to set in order.

The mass celebrated, the King, the Archbishop and attendant bishops exited the cathedral by the west door and, a third time, John and Langton exchanged the kiss of peace before a throng of witnesses so that no one could be in doubt that a full reconciliation had taken place.

Mahelt walked with her mother from the cool dark of the cathedral into the full blaze of the late July sun and had to shade her eyes with her hand. Her father stood close to the King, as did her father-in-law who had come from Framlingham for the occasion. His complexion was a livid scarlet in the day's heat because he had insisted on wearing his ermine-lined mantle. Ida was absent because her health remained uncertain and the journey would have exhausted her reserves. For the moment Mahelt was the acting Countess of Norfolk.

Will joined her from the huddle of young bloods and older knights with whom he had been standing, including Mahelt's brother-in-law Ranulf FitzRobert, and former rebel Eustace de Vesci who had been pardoned and reinstated. 'The King should take up the life of a travelling minstrel,' Will muttered scornfully. 'Those promises are just falsehoods to get him off the hook and persuade us to go to Poitou. It won't do him any good.'

'Peace will do us all good, my son,' his mother said, her gaze sharp with warning.