Hellion (26 page)

“We must cross the river,” Rolf said, “to reach the road to Winchester. There is a fine bridge we’ll use, not a ferry this time.”

They came to an open-air market on the river’s edge. Belle
breathed a bit easier being out of the grim city streets. She looked about her, astounded. There were stalls selling every kind of merchandise. One displayed bolts of cloth such as she had never seen. It glistened, and there were colors she had never imagined. A poulterer’s stall was hung with chickens, ducks, geese, and game birds. A horse merchant had staked his animals out for prospective buyers to see. One booth offered glazed pottery, fine-turned wooden bowls, and spoons. Rolf stopped at the wine merchant’s booth to buy them a cup of wine. He called to a pie merchant with a tray of buns upon his head to stop, and selected three buns filled with raisins, paying the man a ha’penny for his wares.

“There’s the bridge.” Rolf pointed as they continued along.

“I do not like this London,” Isabelle said. “I will be glad to be quit of it. It’s even dirtier and noisier than Colchester. Will Winchester be as bad, do you think?” She stuffed the last of the bun into her mouth, chewing the sweet raisins until they were pulp.

Rolf laughed. “Winchester will be no worse than Colchester, Belle, and you’ll not have to stay long, I promise you. I will get the king to see us. Then we shall be able to return home.”

They clattered across the bridge, leaving the city behind. The road they now traveled was called Stane Street. It had been built by the Romans. The weather had held for them, and Rolf thought if it continued, they would reach Winchester in another two days. He was not happy bringing Isabelle of Langston to court. What if Henry took a fancy to her? No matter what she believed, the fact that she was Hugh Fauconier’s wife would not deter his lust. Fortunately, Belle, being a countrywoman, had not the elegant clothing the Norman ladies of the court would be wearing. Her glorious hair was relatively well hidden beneath a modest linen veil, her gown simple. She would appear like a sparrow next to the peacocks. With luck, the king would not be intrigued. With luck, he would tell them what they needed to know, and they would depart back to Langston.

The sun shone for the remainder of their trip, and a warm spring wind blew at their backs as if pushing them onward. At last they reached Winchester, which was, Belle immediately decided, not at all like either Colchester or London. It was a far quieter town, its Romanesque cathedral and castle dominating it. No sooner had they entered it than Rolf knew the court was still here. He recognized many faces, and there was an air of gentle bustle about the town. With a deep sigh of resignation, he led his little party to the castle.

“Ohh, isn’t it exciting?” Agneatha bubbled. “Do you think we’ll get to see the king, my lady? Ohh, they’ll not believe the half of it when I tell it back at Langston.”

“No,” said Belle thoughtfully, noting the elegance of the women’s clothing, “they will not.” She glanced down at her practical but plain garments. Why hadn’t Rolf told her? She’d disgrace Hugh for certain! She would have to make the best of it for she had no other choice, and after all, it had been her idea to come to court and petition the king. She could only hope her appearance would not go against her.

It was the dinner hour, and the king was in the Great Hall. Rolf made Isabelle and the Langston party wait outside the hall. He didn’t want their presence announced so dramatically, for he was not certain how much of Hugh’s visit to Normandy was public knowledge. There were always spies about, ready to report the most insignificant little bit of tittle-tattle to Duke Robert
and
to Robert de Belleme, who had sworn vengeance on King Henry for driving him out of England. Seeing a young page he knew, Rolf called him over.

“Go to the king, my lad, and say that Sir Rolf de Briard has just arrived at court and would speak privately with him if he would be so kind as to give him a few moments. Wait until you can address the king discreetly. Do you understand, my lad?”

“Aye, m’lord,” the boy said, and he hurried off.

Rolf stood quietly against a wall, waiting, watching for the page to gain the king’s ear. A juggler with a small, amusing dog began to entertain before the high board, the dog tossing
balls to his master, then snatching them away, to much laughter. The attention of the diners was well-engaged. Rolf saw the king cock his head to one side, and in the shadow of the king’s chair he could see the page. The king nodded to the lad, and Rolf could see his lips moving gently. Then he looked back to the juggler, laughing uproariously at the antics of the little dog.

The page hurried back to Rolf. “The king says he will see you in his private chamber. You are to go there now and wait for him. He will come when he can.”

Rolf thanked the page and left the Great Hall. “Go into the hall,” he told the Langston men. “Say you are with Sir Rolf de Briard, high steward of Langston Keep. You will be fed. Remain there until I come to fetch you, and speak little.” Then he turned to Isabelle and Agneatha. “The king will see me, Belle. Come, and I will take you to the chamber where we will speak. I do not know how long it will be before he comes, so we must wait. At least you will have your privacy.”

They went to the little room where Hugh had first spoken to the king regarding Langston, and where later he and Rolf had bid the king farewell. They had no sooner entered it when a page arrived with wine and goblets. He deposited the items upon the table and left. Rolf poured Belle a goblet of the liquid. The poor girls were probably starving at this point, but they had no choice but to wait. Belle thoughtfully shared her wine with Agneatha, whose belly was rumbling with a mixture of hunger and excitement.

Isabelle considered her attire. It was painfully plain, though it was one of her best gowns. Her skirts were of an indigo-blue linen. Her grass-green linen tunic was belted with a girdle made from small squares of blue and green enameled copper, each square studded with a single small pearl. The embroidery at the neck and sleeves of the gown was of real gold thread, in a foliage design. Her hair, braided neatly in its single braid, was covered by a fine white linen veil, its hem also embroidered in the gold thread. Isabelle discreetly brushed the dust of
the road from her garments. If only she had had the time to change into better garments. If only I had better garments, she thought.

“You look fine,” Rolf reassured her.

“I look like what I am,” Belle responded, a bit tartly, “a country bumpkin. Why did you not tell me of the beautiful clothing the court ladies wear? I hope I shall not embarrass Hugh with my less-than-fashionable appearance, Rolf. I saw those wonderful materials in London in that market by the bridge. Can I buy some when we return home? Certainly my lady mother would enjoy having something so fine.”

“I never thought much about clothing before we left Langston,” Rolf admitted. “Besides, you have not come to the court to join it. We have come to find out where Hugh has gotten to, Isabelle.”

“It could not hurt my case if I were to look pretty,” Belle replied, annoyed. Why did men not understand these things?

“Belle,” Rolf said to her low, urgently. “Remember what I have told you about the king. He has a weakness for pretty women, and you are a very pretty woman. I must warn you again that being his friend’s wife would not deter him if he desired you. As I waited in the hall I learned that the queen is due to deliver a child in August sometime. She bore her first little prince too early, and the babe died. This child is therefore twice as important. The king will have eschewed his wife’s bed for many weeks now. I know him well. His eye will be roving. Let me do the speaking, and for sweet Jesu’s sake, keep your lovely eyes lowered and your head down. Let Henry Beauclerc’s lust look elsewhere.”

“Very well, Rolf, I shall play the meek and modest little wife of Hugh Fauconier lest I send you into a fit and my mother be widowed again; but I think it ridiculous. I will not leave here, however, until I learn where my husband is. Understand that, and do not fail me.” Belle brushed her skirts again vigorously, shaking them free of wrinkles.

They waited. Agneatha fell asleep, exhaustion finally setting in and the too-rich wine, unwatered, going to her head.

“Poor lass,” Rolf said. “It is all too much for her, I think.”

Belle nodded, and then she smiled. “The wine was very potent, and I fear I let Agneatha have more of it than I should have. She is not used to such a fine brew, and if truth be known, neither am I, but I erred on the side of caution.”

Finally, they heard footsteps in the corridor outside the small chamber. The door was flung open by a page, and the king entered the room. Rolf bowed low as Belle spread her skirts in a deep curtsey, head well down and eyes modestly lowered as her stepfather had suggested. Still, she could not help sneaking a look at the king, and found him a fine figure of a man, with his black hair and his bright blue eyes.

“Rolf, it is good to see you, and who is this lady?” he asked.

“My liege, may I present Isabelle of Langston, my lord Hugh’s wife and my stepdaughter. We have ridden from Langston to beg you to give us news of Hugh. We have not heard from him since Martinmas.”

“He has not returned to England?” The king sounded puzzled. His attention engaged by the news, he looked away from Belle. “I asked him to remain for a while with my brother’s court to pick up what small bits of information he could, but I assumed he had returned home in early spring. There was no need for him to remain longer, as he could not tell me anything that I did not already know; for example, that Robert de Belleme agitates against me in Normandy and attacks my few holdings there that my brother has returned to me. There are few secrets at my brother’s court, it seems, that are not public knowledge. This is most strange, Rolf.”

“Then what could have happened to my husband?” Belle asked.

The king turned to look at her closely for the first time. “Madame, I fear I do not know,” he said honestly, noting that Isabelle of Langston was a most pretty young woman.

“But you must find out!” Belle cried. “ ’Twas you, my lord,
who sent my husband to Normandy! A falconer could have easily delivered the gyrfalcon. ’Twas you who asked Hugh to remain with Duke Robert. I want my husband back! We need him at Langston. My son is fatherless without Hugh Fauconier. Who will defend him?” Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled with her indignation.

“
Belle!
” Rolf de Briard’s voice was uneasy. “My lord, I must apologize for my stepdaughter. She is an outspoken country girl, unused to the ways of your court and its protocol.”

“Nay, my lord, do not apologize, for the lady is correct when she says Hugh is my responsibility.” The king smiled slowly at Belle. Then reaching out, he tipped her face to his gaze, intrigued by the fact she did not shyly lower her eyes as many would have, but rather stared straight into his own blue ones. “I shall send to Normandy to my brother, my lady Isabelle, for news of Hugh Fauconier. You will be reunited with your husband as quickly as I can arrange it. Until then you must remain here at court as our guest. I like new faces, and we shall soon hunt in the New Forest. Did you perhaps travel with one of Hugh’s fine birds?”

Belle moved just enough to loosen his light grip on her chin. “Nay, my lord. ’Tis no pleasure trip for me, you will understand. I but came for word of my husband. I am honored by your invitation, of course, but we cannot remain. There is my infant to consider, and it is almost time for haying. The serfs cannot be left alone for too long, with only my mother to guide them. She has not the authority to command them, being of gentle nature and mild disposition.”

“Indeed,” the king said, amused, and further fascinated by this girl who spoke to him in such serious and practical tones, as if he were her equal, and not her king.

Rolf swallowed hard. He would have to back Isabelle up. He knew she could not possibly see the danger she was in, but he certainly did. “My liege, I fear I must agree with
my stepdaughter.
” He stressed the connection hard, hoping that that, combined with the fact that she was Hugh’s wife, would deter
the king from any lustful intentions. “I know Hugh has told you that it was the lady Isabelle who kept Langston whole and prosperous during her late father’s absence from England. My sweet wife, Alette, is just not strong enough to maintain firm control and see to all that must be done upon the manor. We must return as quickly as possible. I know that you will send to us when you have word of Hugh Fauconier.”

The king smiled. It was a flinty smile. “Send one of your men back to Langston for some birds,” he said to Isabelle. “It is foolish that you return all that way only to have to wait for word from Normandy. If you remain here, that word will be delivered you all the quicker. I will send tomorrow to my brother, I am certain that Langston can survive your absence for a short time, madame, but if you are overly concerned, then Sir Rolf is free to return to his duties and his wife.”

“I have not the garments to join the court,” Isabelle countered. “Look at me, my lord, I am but a simple countrywoman. You would shame me and my lord husband if I were forced to appear in such clothing.”

“The proper gowns can be supplied you, madame,” the king replied.

“I have not the wherewithal to pay for such garments,” Isabelle told him honestly. “
I must return home, my liege
.”

“
Nay, madame, you must remain here
. I am your king, Isabelle of Langston, and you will obey me. Now, I must go and look in on the queen. She is great with child, and most uncomfortable. It soothes her that I visit her when she is so fretful. Remain here until a page comes for you. He will show you to your quarters. Will you stay, Rolf, or do your heavy duties call you back to Langston?” Henry Beauclerc’s blue eyes twinkled with mischief and his delight at having gotten his own way. He was indeed a dangerous opponent to have.

“I will remain, my liege, for to do otherwise would be to shirk my duties to my lord, Hugh Fauconier,” Rolf said quietly.