To Defy a King (48 page)

She gave him a wide, frightened look. 'What will you do?'

'Nothing as yet. I need time to think.' Now that the initial shock was wearing off, his mind was working again. He felt a prickle of guilt at having thought Hugh responsible. There was humiliation and chagrin that Hugh had protected Ela when he could not. There was Ralph too, his Bigod brother who had ridden and fought alongside him, and still languished in a Paris prison. And then he thought of John. His royal kin with whom he had stuck through thick and thin and for what false reward? Yet he knew he must tread very carefully. He was one of John's mainstays, but he was not a man of independent wealth who could easily go his own way. He only commanded sixty-four knights' fees and the rest of his wealth came from the royal coffers. For now he would have to remain as he was, but he would make plans and when the time was right, he would act

Turning to Ela, he knelt as if he were a baron doing homage to his lord, and put his hands between her thin, white fingers. 'I swear liege homage to you, my wife. I no longer owe my brother first loyalty. That crown is now yours.

Whatever I do, it will be for you and your honour and glory.'

Ela hesitated and then stooped over him. Their lips met again and this time it sealed the pact of a new direction in their relationship. Rising, he took her hands in his. 'Let us go to mass in the cathedral,' he said, 'and we will be cleansed of this unholy thing. And after that we will not speak of it again.'

38

Framlingham, November 1215

Hugh looked up as one of the midwives emerged from the bedchamber.

Moments ago he had heard the unsteady wails of a newborn infant amid a melange of women's voices. 'Your lady wife has been safely delivered of a daughter, sire,' the woman announced with a smile. 'The babe is strong and well limbed.'

Hugh rose to his feet. 'And my wife?'

Before the midwife could reply, Mahelt answered for herself, shouting from the room that she was well.

Her reply made him smile because it was so like Mahelt to break with decorum. 'I am glad to hear it, my love!' he called back. 'I'll see you presently. Bring my daughter out to me,' he told the midwife.

She curtseyed most properly, thereby restoring without words a certain correctness to the proceedings, and went back into the room, returning moments later with a lamb-skin bundle of newborn baby. Hugh's daughter was squawking like an angry little crow. Her few damp wisps of hair were gilt-blond and her eyes were the misty blue of all infants. Somehow he had been expecting another son and she was a surprise, albeit a welcome one. He felt protective towards his sons, but looking at his daughter, just minutes old, he experienced a deep and ancient feeling running in a different channel. He kissed her forehead and was comforted by a sensation of peace and continuity in a dangerous world. She almost seemed to be looking back at him and her concentrated regard reminded him of Mahelt when she was deciding whether to accept his word or not.

His mother emerged from the birthing chamber bringing with her the scent of herbs and incense. Her over-gown sleeves were hooked back and she was drying her hands on a towel. 'Is she not beautiful?'

'Indeed she is.' Hugh's smile of agreement continued until it became a broad grin. He stooped to kiss his mother, who was as flushed and lively as a girl today, her eyes glowing with the twin pleasures of being a nurturer and of having a new grandchild.

'You have a baby sister,' Hugh said to his heir, who was running around with a toy banner pretending to be a standard-bearer.

'Let me see, let me see!' Roger ran to his father and hopped up and down, one foot after the other, trying to peer into the bundle of sheepskins.

'Me too, me too!' Hugo stood on tiptoe, craning because his father was holding the new baby too high up. Hugh stooped and gently parted the swaddling to show them the baby's little face. Roger immediately drew back, wrinkling his nose. 'Why's she got those marks on her?' he demanded.

'Being born isn't easy. You had them too.'

'She doesn't have any teeth!'

'They grow later.'

Roger grimaced and, clearly unimpressed, ran back to his play. His brother peeped, touched the baby's cheek, and then dashed after Roger. Hugh chuckled and, with a laughing glance at his mother and a shake of his head, took the baby back in to Mahelt. The midwives were bustling around like swallows at nesting time. Mahelt was sitting up, decently covered, her hair combed and braided.

'Let me hold her.' She reached for the baby and Hugh watched with tender amusement as his wife checked her over, making sure she had all her fingers and toes, filling her eyes with the sight and scent of her. 'Isabelle,' she said.

'I want her named Isabelle for my mother.'

'As you wish, my love. The boys have Bigod names. It is only fair you should have the naming of the first daughter, and she is indeed
tres belle
. I pray she has your sweet nature.'

Mahelt eyed him. He was biting the inside of his lip. 'That is a given,' she said loftily.

'I . . .' He looked up as a servant poked her head round the door and whispered urgently to one of the chamber ladies. The woman nodded and hastened over to the bed. 'Countess, my lord, my lady, Messire Ralph is here.'

Ida gasped and, gathering up her skirts, left the room at a run. Hugh hastily retrieved his daughter. 'I won't be gone long.' He kissed Mahelt again and hurried after his mother.

Ralph was standing by the hearth, staring round as if imprinting the walls, the hangings and furniture on his memory. He was gaunt, haggard and travel-stained. Ida threw herself upon him and burst into tears, sobbing his name. Ralph curled his arms around her and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, but still the tears came and his shoulders shook with sobs. After a moment, still weeping, he disengaged to embrace Hugh, but awkwardly because of the baby.

'Your new niece,' Hugh said, a quiver in his own voice. 'Born this very morning.'

Ralph gazed upon the baby and, having wiped his eyes on his sleeve, gently stroked her face. The boys charged into the hall, chasing each other, shouting, waving their toy weapons. Roger's cloak flew from his shoulders and his legs galloped as he pretended he was on a horse. Hugo surged in his big brother's wake. 'Wearing clothes now, the little one,' Ralph said in a quavering voice. 'Last I saw him, still in smocks . . . and the baby . . . Jesu, she was not even conceived . . .' Emotion stoppered his voice and fresh tears spilled down his face.

Hugh handed his daughter to a maidservant with instructions to return her to Mahelt. Then he embraced Ralph again, properly, and in so doing noticed the deep red weal abrading his brother's wrist. 'Dear Christ!'

Ralph snatched his hand away and looked round in alarm, but their mother was at the other end of the hall, calling for a warm bath, hot food and fresh raiment. 'Don't let her see,' he whispered fiercely. 'They put the fetters back on me when Longespee left and they thought the ransom might not be forthcoming.'

Hugh shook his head. 'I did not realise our father had paid.'

'My gaolers told me he sent half the money and pledged to deliver the rest over the next two years. Longespee went surety.' Ralph's mouth twisted. 'I may only be a younger son, but it seems to the French that I am as valuable as an earl.'

'Longespee didn't pay anything towards your release?'

Ralph shrugged. 'He cannot afford to.'

'No?' Hugh raised a contemptuous brow. 'He could try selling some of his fancy cloaks.'

'He saved my life,' Ralph said curtly. 'If not for him, I might have been hanged.'

Hugh bit his tongue. He didn't want to quarrel on the day his daughter was born and his brother returned to him. 'Then I thank him, and I thank God to have you safely home,' he said, finding diplomacy.

'Where's our father?'

'In London . . .'

'Ah.' Ralph's brow puckered. 'They told me very little while I was a prisoner, but even so you hear things and I talked to the ship's master on the voyage home. I heard we had defied the King. I think that too was part of the reason they let me go. The French will want support when Prince Louis invades England.'

The brothers looked at each other. Despite their antipathy for John, it was a disquieting thought: the prospect of swearing allegiance to a French overlord.

'Longespee is still with John,' Hugh said. 'God knows why after--' Again he bit his tongue. It was not his to reason. 'It is your decision, of course, and you may feel beholden to him.'

Ralph heaved a deep sigh. 'I fought the French at Bouvines . . . and to change and fight for them now . . .' He rumpled his hand through his hair. 'I do not know where I stand.'

'Neither do any of us,' Hugh said, and added, 'but I do know it is good to have you home.'

Ralph smiled wanly. 'I don't suppose you've kept my wolfskins?

Hugh shook his head. 'That would have been asking too much.'

39

Yorkshire, January 1216

Mahelt rode beside Hugh on her black mare as they made their way home down the great north road from their visit to Yorkshire. Although it was full winter, the sun was bright and sharp, and the sky was a fine blue with clouds that reminded Mahelt of her flock of sheep grazing on the upland hills. She was enjoying the ride and it was good to be out in the fresh air. Ten weeks on from the birth of her daughter, she felt well and full of energy, and she always enjoyed travelling on horseback.

A covered cart pulled by two sturdy cobs followed behind. Cocooned in furs, Mahelt's women, the nurse and the baby were keeping warm inside whilst young Roger proudly rode his own pony. He considered himself very much the man now that he was allowed to ride on his own - for a few miles anyway - and thus far he was keeping up the pace, helped by friendly encouragement from his uncle Ralph who was accompanying them. Hugo was having a turn on his father's saddle and looking around as if he was lord of all he surveyed.

'Clippety clop, clippety clop,' sang Hugo, clapping his hands.

Roger dug his heels into his pony's sides and urged him to a faster pace.

Hugh chuckled with pleasure at his son's daring, but when Roger galloped too far in front and disappeared from sight, he handed Hugo to Mahelt and cantered after him to return him to the fold.

Rounding a turn in the road, Hugh saw that Roger has drawn rein and was staring at something at the roadside. Expecting to find a dead animal, Hugh rode up to the boy and pulled Hebon round in a tight arc. Three bodies sprawled in the grass: a man, a woman and a child, their clothes torn and bloody. With a horrified jolt, Hugh recognised Matthew, his wife and son.

The gem pedlar lay on his side, his legs bent and his arms raised, a huge rusty patch saturating the left side of his tunic.

'Are they dead, Papa?' Roger stared at him with wide eyes, seeking reassurance.

'Yes, son.' Hugh took Roger's reins and turned the pony around. He could feel his throat closing. He wanted to heave. The little boy had shining golden hair just like Hugo's.

Mahelt arrived, looked and covered her mouth. 'Dear Christ!'

Ralph spurred ahead, his sword drawn and his shield high.

Hugh gestured brusquely to his knights as they joined the scene. 'Keep your eyes peeled,' he snapped. He told Roger to get in the cart with the nurse in such a way that the white-faced child obeyed without question or protest.

Mahelt handed Hugo to a knight.

Hugh's skin crawled as if there were ants under the surface as he dismounted to inspect the bodies. All of them had spear wounds. Their packs were missing and the woman had been raped. Hugh fought the urge to retch. 'Get these people put across a horse and covered up,' he ordered harshly. 'In God's name let us have decency here, even though there be none. Be quick about it; there is danger.' He cursed to himself, wishing they had stayed at Settrington.

Hooves pounded on the track ahead as Ralph came galloping back, yelling a warning. 'Beware! Armed men!'

Hugh sprang back into the saddle and thanked God he was wearing his gambeson. It had been as much for warmth as protection, but it would serve him now. He was able to grab his helm off the packhorse and his shield.

Hastily he directed his knights to form a protective barrier around Mahelt and the travelling cart.

The soldiers pursuing Ralph consisted of half a dozen mercenaries, their pack beasts laden with booty. The leader's shield was plain red, but his saddle cloth was fringed blue and gold. 'It's our brother Longespee's men!'

Ralph panted. 'That's Girard of Hesdin!'

'What?' Hugh's revulsion increased. His own brother's hirelings desecrating his territory? How much deeper in filth could Longespee sink! 'I want him taken alive,' he snapped.

The mercenaries swiftly realised that in pursuing Ralph they had ridden upon a party four times their size and well armed. They reined around and tried to scatter into the winter forest, but Hugh's crossbowmen brought down two as they rode for the trees and another three were chased down and caught before Hugh blew on his hunting horn to regroup the men at the cart, not wanting to divide his own troops. The slower, loot-crammed pack ponies were seized and Hugh recognised Matthew's pack on one of them, still laden with its pieces of garnet, jet and amber. There was a new iron cooking pot among the booty too, a bacon flitch obviously purloined from someone's smoke house, strings of onions and a bag containing small items of cheap copper, bronze and silver jewellery, some of it bloodstained. Hugh was rigid with shock and fury. When he had mentioned hunting wolves to Ralph, he had not realised they would be of the two-legged kind. The mercenaries they had caught reeked of smoke and their clothes were battle-splashed. Now that smoke had been called to mind, there was a distant whiff of it in the wind too. Somewhere a homestead was burning.

Hugh ordered three nooses strung from the bough of a sturdy oak tree.

Seeing what he was about, Hesdin knelt at his feet and craved mercy. Hugh stepped back from the man so that the hem of his robe would not be sullied by the grasping fingers. 'What were you doing riding
chevauchee
on my land?' he snarled. 'By God, tell me or I will slit your belly and spin you round that tree by your entrails! Did Longespee send you to do this?'