Conquering Passion (12 page)

The wine was beginning to ward off the chill of the sea air creeping into Ram’s blood. “I was indeed, your Grace.” He knew what came next.

“When he came to Normandie, I greeted him with splendid hospitality after his difficult journey. He was shipwrecked, as you know, and we rescued him from Guy de Ponthieu. He assisted us with our campaign against the Bretons, saving two of our commanders who’d fallen into quicksand. I knighted him for that.”

William took a long draught of the wine and bit into a pastry. “He swore an oath, of his own free will, that he would represent me at Edward’s court and would do everything in his power to ensure the throne came to me, after Edward’s death. He promised to garrison my troops in the castle at Dover, and anywhere else I might choose—at his expense, I might add.”

“I can testify to that, as a truthful and honourable man who was present.” Ram had heard the story many, many times over the course of the past six sennights, and his attention was more on the play of the moonlight on the rippling water. Did Mabelle watch the same moon?

William suddenly threw his empty goblet down angrily, and it rolled back and forth with the swell. “Then comes the unwelcome report, that this insensate Englishman has not waited for public choice, has broken his oath, and has seized the throne of the best of kings on the very day of his funeral. But, unfortunately for Harold,” William laughed, “The Pope doesn’t approve of oath-breakers and has given my crusade his blessing.”

Watching the rolling goblet made Ram’s stomach clench and he felt the familiar bile of
mal de mer
rise in his throat. He wondered if William would be as free and easy with his confidences and friendship if he did become King. Only six years separated them in age but William had been the Duke since he was a boy.

“I’m not naive, Ram. I recognize the real reason most of the Normans have supported my
crusade—
the promise of titles and lands in England, for anyone who would help me get my throne.”

He jumped to his feet and braced his legs against the movement of the ship. “I’m offering them the investment opportunity of a lifetime. If we can take England away from Harold, we’ll divide up the kingdom. The Pope has legitimized our violence as necessary, in a just cause, to depose an oath-breaking upstart.”

He raised his hand and pointed. “He’s even given me this fine consecrated Papal banner.”

Both men became lost in their thoughts as the longboat bobbed in the waves. Ram wasn’t a good sailor and, if he had to be in a boat, would prefer it wasn’t anchored. He didn’t wish to retch in front of William. The Duke was probably envisaging thrones and crowns and coronations. Ram thought of Mabelle, and his father’s magnificent castle, his home. He wondered if and when he would ever see them again.

As dawn broke, they heard the cry from the prow, “We’ve sighted the fleet.”

“Signal to regroup, and continue on to the coast.” William sat, legs wide, hands on his knees, his back rigid, as the longship resumed its journey.

At Pevensey they heaved the longboats up on the shore, but when William stepped off his boat, he slipped and fell into the mud. Trying to avoid the accident being perceived as a bad omen, Ram quipped, “His Grace already has the earth of England in his hands.”

William smiled his thanks at his quick-thinking friend, and raised his fist full of the muck. Everyone cheered, obviously relieved this awkward moment had passed.

“This is a good omen, Ram. We’ve had a safe crossing, and Harold has no one here to oppose us. Our spies were correct. He didn’t expect us to come so late in the year.”

Knights and nervous horses poured out of the boats.

“They are relieved to be back on dry land,” William commented.

“As am I,” Ram agreed.

When all were ashore, William summoned his commanders to his tent. “Eude,” he indicated his half brother. “Eude will send out men immediately to raid the surrounding countryside for supplies. We’ll move a few miles inland to the east, to Hastings, and erect the temporary wooden stockade we brought with us in pieces. An excellent idea of yours, Montbryce.”

Ram swelled with pride, squaring his shoulders and jutting out his chin as he inclined his head in acknowledgement.

Merci, Mabelle
.

William paced as he went over his plans for what Ram felt must have been the hundredth time. “Then we await Harold’s inevitable arrival. We could advance on London, but it would be better to lure Harold to the coast. We have a sheltered harbour here. It’s a good defensive position, and Sussex is Harold’s territory. He’ll ride to defend his people from our harassment. We must continue to forage from his lands, though we brought enough provisions with us. The English fleet will regroup to cut off our escape by sea. We must attack people and property in the vicinity, incensing Harold and drawing him here quickly.”

***

“This castle feels empty without my boys,”
Comte
Bernard said sadly, as he and Mabelle supped. “They’ve gone off to fight before. I should be used to this by now.”

Mabelle understood his concern for their safety. His life revolved around his sons—they were the hope of his family’s future. He seemed to have aged considerably in the few days since the departure of the fleet.

“We’ll pray daily for their safe return,
milord
.” She kept her voice calm, but her heart thudded in her ears, her head ached and she was filled with a sense of dread.

Pray God he returns to me.

They’d received no word of the crossing. Had the ships arrived? How had Ram weathered the sea journey? Was he safe? She couldn’t get him out of her head, couldn’t forget the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands. It had been challenging and stimulating to sit discussing the preparations for the invasion, but now it was a reality and the potential loss to the Montbryce family, and to herself, overwhelmed her. An atmosphere of nervous expectancy, tinged with fear, pervaded the castle.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Harold's forces began arriving back on the south coast in groups throughout the day on the thirteenth of October, in the year of Our Lord One Thousand and Sixty-Six. These men had won a hard-fought battle eighteen days before, two hundred and sixty miles to the north and were now expected to fight another.

Harold, his brother, Leofric, and several other knights were poring over charts in Harold’s tent.

“Despite the hardship, morale is high,” Leofric told Harold. “Soundly defeating Hardråda has boosted confidence.”

Harold bit his bottom lip. “But not our numbers. However, we’ve recruited many more to our cause on the trip south, and collected fresh troops in London. I assume a battle is inevitable since no form of parley has been offered. I’ve made the decision to fight William, before he can consolidate any further.”

Leofric put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You’re the King the people of England want, your Majesty. They didn’t want Hardråda, and they certainly don’t want William. Edgar the Aetheling is much too young. You’re the dead Confessor’s brother-by-marriage. He wanted you to have the throne.”

Harold believed the decision of the powerful Witan to support him, instead of Edgar, had nothing to do with the Aetheling’s age. Stigand and Ealdred, the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, and the other powerful members of the Witan, recognized him as the more capable monarch. Harold knew in his heart they were right.

In the few months he’d been king, and despite the conflicts he’d been embroiled in, he’d struck down several iniquitous laws, and established just ones. He’d ordered thieves and wrongdoers arrested, and had improved England’s land and sea defences, placing infantry garrisons at key points along the coast.

Now he needed to clear his head after the long ride from the north, and concentrate on the coming battle. Some, including his own mother, advised him to wait before joining William in battle, but he was adamant. He hoped the confidence in his voice would resonate with his commanders as faced them squarely, one hand on the hilt of his sword, his back rigid, his crowned head held high. “We can’t afford to give the Norman time to make friends and allies in England. My decision to surprise the Norwegians is what brought about their defeat.”

One knight raised his hand, as if to speak, but Harold’s glare silenced him.

“We will fight William
now
. We need to choose the location of the battle with care.”

He looked around for any further signs of opposition but saw none. “I’ve opted for Caldbec Hill for a number of reasons. It gives a natural advantage because of its all round visibility. It’s protected on each flank by marshy ground, and there’s a forest behind it. It’s easy to reach from London and is close to William's position.”

Many indicated their understanding and agreement.

“The Old Hoare Apple Tree is a well known landmark and will make an excellent rallying point. By nightfall, I estimate at least seventy-five hundred of our men should have arrived. Preparations must be laid to challenge William as soon as possible. He’s in Hastings. Tomorrow is Saturday. I was born on a Saturday, and my mother has always said it’s my lucky day.”

At first light, the English set off towards the enemy. The common soldiers wore conical leather helmets, the wealthier helmets of iron and as much clothing as possible under their hauberks, to serve as padding. The rich knights had hauberks with hoods worn under the helmets. All were on foot, armed with battle-axes, swords, shields and spears.

Gyrth came to the King. He went down on one knee before his brother. “Harold, there will be great danger in the coming battle. Let me take your place to lead the army against the Normans. You’re too important, as our monarch, to expose yourself, especially tired as you are after Stamford Bridge. England can’t risk losing her King.”

Harold took Gyrth’s hand and pulled him from his knees. “No, Gyrth. I thank you for your love and concern. William is deliberately victimizing my people in Sussex. It’s personal now. I’ll lead our victory against him.”

***

Prayers were offered in the Norman camp throughout the night prior to the battle, and the men confessed their sins. Ram sought out his brothers and they received the Sacrament of Penance together. He wanted to clear the air, once and for all, between Antoine and himself. He’d never truly believed his brother had a relationship with his future wife, but the unfounded jealousy was there, in the back of his thoughts. Mabelle had uttered Antoine’s name at the lake. He and his brother could both die during the coming battle. Antoine had sensed his coolness, he was sure. The crackling campfire held their gazes.

“Antoine, brother, there’s no easy way to ask you this, but I must.”

“I know something’s on your mind, Ram, something that’s bothered you for months.”

“It’s Mabelle.”

Antoine shook his head. “I’ve never understood why you didn’t marry her that day. I was ashamed of you, I have to admit, the way you treated her. You’re lucky she still speaks to you.”

Ram hesitated. “You’re part of the reason I didn’t.”

Antoine looked startled. “Me?”

“I chanced upon Mabelle in the woods, on my way home that day. She seemed to be waiting for someone.”

Hugh and Antoine looked up suddenly. “And you thought it was I? Why?”

“She spoke your name.”

“My name? What do you mean?”

“When she first saw me, she thought I was you.”

Antoine had straightened his back. He stared intently at Ram. “I’m confused. You saw her in the woods, and she thought you were me?”

Ram shifted uncomfortably on his camp stool. Now he would have to tell the whole story. “She was asleep.”

“In the woods?”

“She’d been bathing—at the lake—and fell asleep.”

Antoine looked at Hugh and the two burst out laughing, drawing the curious stares of other knights nearby. Hugh almost fell off his stool.

When Antoine could speak again, he stammered, “What you’re trying to tell us, older brother, is that you stumbled across Mabelle lying naked in the woods and—but, wait a moment—did you know who she was?”

“
Non
. And she wasn’t naked. Not quite, anyway.”

“So, let me see if I have this right.” Antoine held up his thumb. “One, on the way to your wedding, you stopped to watch an unknown,
almost naked
maiden?”

He held up his forefinger. “Two, you became angry with me?”

His middle finger popped up. “Three, you were so furious with her, because she thought you were me, that you called off the wedding.”

Another fit of laughter from Hugh caused Antoine to pause.

“I
knew
something had happened that day. I could tell there was tension between you,” his younger brother said.

“Four,” Antoine continued, “You’re an idiot, and five, you should fall to your knees and ask the woman’s forgiveness.” He thrust his five outstretched digits in front of Ram’s reddened face.

His brothers continued to mock him, and soon he was laughing and shaking his head at his own folly. He stood and dragged Antoine off his stool and into his embrace, choking back tears. “I’m sorry, Antoine. Forgive me. When I’m near Mabelle, I lose my senses.”