The Conqueror (5 page)

The moon sailed in a sky the colour of sapphires; here at the back of the house no man stirred. Raoul jumped down lightly, and turned to help the Duke.

William was beside him in a moment, and lastly Galet. The jester put his finger to his lips, and led them to the wall that enclosed the house and its courtyard, and scrambled up, fitting, his feet into the crevices in the rough side.

Over the wall they found themselves in the shade of great trees, outposts of the forest that crept up to the very walls of Valognes. A little way into the wood they came upon the tethered horses, William’s own destrier, Malet, and the big horse Verceray. William vaulted into the saddle, and leaned over to stretch down his hand to the jester. ‘Thanks be to you, Galet the Fool,’ he said. ‘Lie close, good dog, and look for me at Falaise.’

Galet mumbled his lips over the Duke’s hand. ‘God keep you safe, brother. Away with you; you stay too long!’ He disappeared into the shadows, and the horses moved forward, side by side.

The moon showed the rough road that led to the south. Malet bounded forward, snatching at the bit, and the sound of his flying hooves seemed to thunder in Raoul’s ears. After him sped Verceray, and for a while they rode thus, one behind the other, galloping southwards.

Presently, drawing abreast of the Duke, Raoul stole a glance at him, trying to see his face. The light was too dim for him to distinguish more than the jut of the nose, and the tilt of the proud chin, but he thought he caught a gleam of the eyes under the black brows. The Duke sat straight in the saddle, as though he rode for his pleasure. Raoul, himself still tingling with excitement, wondered at his calm. As though he divined what thoughts were passing through his knight’s mind, William turned his head, and said with the flicker of a smile: ‘This has happened to me before, many times, Raoul de Harcourt.’

Raoul blurted out: ‘Are you never afraid, beau sire?’

‘Afraid? No,’ said William indifferently.

They rode on shoulder to shoulder through the night. After a while William steadied the headlong pace, and again spoke. ‘Who opened the gate to let in my murderers?’

‘Lord, Grimbauld, with six others, lesser men.’

The corners of the Duke’s mouth twitched with a sudden gust of anger. ‘Ah, foul traitor! By the splendour of God, there shall be a reckoning between him and me!’ The cold ferocity of his voice made Raoul shiver involuntarily. The Duke looked at him again, as though he measured his man. ‘This will be a hard ride. I must reach Falaise by morning. Will your beast hold up?’

‘Yes, lord,’ said Raoul stoutly, ‘as long as yours.’ He glanced behind him, over the heath they had crossed. ‘I hear nothing yet, beau sire.’

‘They will follow me hard,’ William said. ‘My fair cousin dare not let me slip through his fingers now.’

Raoul regarded him in awe. ‘Beau sire, did you know then, all the time?’

‘That my cousin of Burgundy would be pleased to see himself on my throne? Do you think me a fool, Raoul?’

‘Never that, lord, but you gave no sign, and when in my ignorance I sought to warn you, you seemed as though you did not care,’ Raoul said shyly.

‘Nor do I care,’ William answered. ‘Heart of God, have I lived Duke of Normandy for eleven years to be affrighted now by a parcel of rebels? Hark ye, Raoul de Harcourt! the first thing in life of which I have remembrance is of my uncle Walter carrying me by stealth from my palace at Vaudreuil to a poor hut in the forest, there to lie hid from mine enemies. Often has he taken me thus, for from my eighth year my subjects have conspired against me greatly. They put to death my guardian Thorkill, and they slew Count Gilbert, whom men called the Father of his Country. You have seen FitzOsbern, my Seneschal; his father, Osbern the son of Herfast, died in my service, slain at my door, and I a lad not yet in my teens. Spine of God, I have waded already through rivers of blood! I have learned to trust no man lightly, for those who should have defended me against the world have sought my death since the days of mine infancy.’ He broke off, and laughed sardonically. ‘Now it is Guy of the Soft Tongue who lifts up his head to strike a blow at the Bastard of Normandy! By my father’s soul, there shall be a bloody reckoning.’ He urged his horse to a gallop; the night wind stirred the curls of his uncovered head, and carried an end of his mantle streaming behind him in a dark cloud. He turned his head, and Raoul saw his teeth gleam in the starlight. ‘Stay by me, Raoul the Watcher. By the living God, you shall see this Normandy under my heel!’

Side by side the two destriers pounded along the track. ‘Ah, lord,’ Raoul said eagerly, ‘it was for this that I joined your service. I am your man, to my death and after, my hands between yours, my sword at your call!’

‘So be it!’ William said, and he stretched out his square hand.

The horses drew close, till Raoul’s knee brushed the Duke’s. Their hands met, and grasped hard. ‘Beau sire, crush this serpent of unrest, and let us have peace in Normandy!’

‘I will have war before I have peace,’ William said. ‘Splendour of God, it is time and more that this virgin sword of mine was fleshed! Hark ye, in a day, in a week, Normandy will be up and in arms against me. I can count upon this hand the men I know I may trust.’ His voice grated, and Raoul felt rather than saw his frown. ‘Falaise first, and then to France.’

Raoul said aghast: ‘To France, lord?’

‘Yea, to Henry my suzerain, to demand his aid.’

Memories of old sores crossed Raoul’s mind. ‘Seigneur, will you trust the French King?’

‘He is my suzerain,’ William said curtly. ‘He dare not refuse me.’

They rode on, slackening the pace again as they plunged into the murk of a forest.

‘Who stands for you, lord?’ Raoul asked.

‘I shall see in a little space,’ William answered, with a kind of grim humour. ‘Of this western Normandy, perhaps none. Of Caux, and the Roumois, of Evrecin and Ouche, all the land east of the Dives, many.’ His horse stumbled over a tree-root, but was held together by a rigid hand. ‘I have had few friends in my life. My cousin of Eu stands faithful. They say he swore allegiance to me as I lay in my cradle. There is Roger de Beaumont, old Hugh de Gournay, De Montfort, whom you know. I have two uncles, half-brothers to my father: shall I trust them? Yea, while I can hold them in mine eye. In my childhood I had a friend in Edward the Saxon, he who is now King of England, but he could do no more than pray for me. Yet he loves me as I think few have. His brother Alfred dealt more in actions than in prayer, but he was a fool, and met his death at the hands of Earl Godwine. For the rest – I could name you more easily my foes. They are as numerous as the trees of this forest.’ He drew his mantle more closely about him. ‘Saw you one Ranulf de Briscassart at Bayeux, the Viscount of Bessin? He is a lean man and sour, and his eyes shift under mine. He stands for Guy. There is the Lord of Thorigny, him they call Hamon-aux-Dents. A bandog, that one, who would do me a mischief if he could. These are powerful seigneurs, but there is a greater who I think stands with them.’ He paused. ‘So be it. If he lives he will one day serve me. He is that Néel de Saint-Sauveur, Viscount of Côtentin, who came not to Valognes. If he came it would have been as my true vassal. He came not. We shall meet in battle.’ He glanced up at the stars. ‘Press on: we must cross the Vire before dawn.’

When they reached the border at last the horses were sweating and blown. Fortune favoured them with an ebbing tide, but the dawn was stealing upon them as they breasted the current. The water washed the riders’ knees, and Raoul’s teeth chattered with the cold. The horses scrambled up the bank on the further side, and stood with trembling legs, and heaving flanks. William was watching the grey light creep above the horizon. ‘We must leave Bayeux to the south of us,’ he said. ‘I dare not enter that town. On! there is no tarrying here.’

At St Clement they rested their horses for a while outside the little church. William, a religious man, went in to kneel a few minutes before the altar, with his strong hands clasped, and his gaze sternly devout. They mounted again almost at once, and now Raoul had difficulty in keeping up with the Duke, who forced the pace on ruthlessly. The last stars had disappeared as they skirted sleeping Bayeux, and the dawn-mist shrouded the town from their sight.

The sun was striking through the mist when they came to Rie, with its castle standing by the road. William would have passed it by, but the bridge was down, and a man was seen to stand on it, scenting the morning air. He had watched the labouring horses come along the road from afar, curious to know what men these were who rode foaming destriers so early in the day. As they drew abreast at a stumbling trot he recognized the bare-headed figure on the black horse, and gasped, and ran out to stop the Duke. ‘Seigneur! Seigneur! hold!’ he shouted, and stood in the riders’ path with his arms flung out.

The Duke reined in. The Sieur of Rie caught Malet’s bridle, and cried: ‘What evil befalls, lord? How is it you travel thus, alone and in disorder?’

The Duke looked directly at him. ‘Hubert, dare I trust you?’ he said.

‘Yea, as God lives you may trust me, beau sire. Speak boldly! I am your man.’

‘Why then,’ William answered, ‘I am fleeing for my life. Do you seek to stay me?’

‘For as long as shall suffice you to break your fast, lord, and mount a fresh horse,’ Hubert said promptly. ‘Enter and fear nothing! If your enemies come up with you I will hold my castle in their teeth.’

They rode over the bridge into the bailey of the castle, and slid down from the saddles. Old Hubert de Rie was shouting lustily for his servants; he swept the two weary men into the hall of his castle, and in a little while the place teemed with hurrying bondmen, some bringing raiment for the Duke, some kneeling to bind the straps over the hose round his legs, one presenting a basin of water for him to lave his face, another holding a napkin, a third standing by to offer a horn filled to the brim with wine of France. While they dressed him William spoke over their heads to Hubert, briefly recounting what had befallen at Valognes. In the middle of this there came in three young men, solemn-eyed, lanky youths, who knelt before the Duke while their father proudly told over their names to his liege-lord.

‘Behold your lord!’ he admonished them. ‘You will be his escort. On your lives, leave him not till you have brought him safe to Falaise!’

‘On our heads be it,’ the eldest of them said in a deep, serious voice, and put his hands between the Duke’s.

So they rode at length to Falaise, leaving Hubert to lead the pursuers off the track. This he did so guilelessly that at the end of an hour’s tricky riding, when he left the hungry band, they still believed him their well-wisher, and zealously followed up the road he had indicated.

At Falaise the Duke stayed only a night. The town was a loyal outpost in the middle of hostile territory, and news came in soon enough. All the land west of the Dives was in open revolt under Néel de Saint-Sauveur, and Ranulf, Viscount of Bessin, while in Bayeux Guy, the son of Count Raymond of Burgundy, was declared the true ruler of Normandy by right of his mother, Alicia, the daughter of Duke Richard II. His manifesto was made public, wherein he denounced William as base-born and unfit to govern. William showed his teeth when he heard of it, and rode at once to Rouen, escorted by a bodyguard of picked men.

The capital welcomed him with loyal alacrity. He was met with great pomp by his uncles, William, Count of Arques, and Mauger, the Archbishop of Rouen, riding in splendour at the head of the faithful vassals. Strangely in contrast to this cavalcade the young man in the plain tunic and flowing mantle reined in his horse hard upon its haunches, and stiffly returned the salute of half a hundred men. He lodged in the episcopal palace, and all that evening he sat in conference with his uncles: William, hostile, yet for the moment loyal; Mauger, sleek man, setting his finger-tips together, and regarding their whiteness in meditative silence. My lord Bishop kept great state, and housed his nephew royally. William lifted his brows at the wealth of gold plate and costly hangings, but said nothing. Raoul, wandering over the fine palace, caught a glimpse of an opulent lady, who wore silk and many jewels, but he also held his peace.

At the conference it was decided that the Duke should ride to the Court of King Henry, who lay at Poissy, and there petition his aid against the rebels.

The Count of Arques misliked the scheme, and spoke hotly of past wrongs. ‘
Allancz al roy?
’
he repeated. ‘Go to the King? Heart of a man, are we to forget how Henry seized Tillières? I would not trust the French Fox, no, not I!’

But Mauger smiled, and said smoothly: ‘This is to bind him to us. He dare not refuse.’

‘So I think,’ the Duke said. His deep voice sounded oddly after Mauger’s silken speech. ‘I will not nurse up old hostilities towards my suzerain.’

He was gone again the next morning, riding at the head of an escort to the French border in his usual headlong way. He made his knights feel breathless, but they admired him. It was a tired but a proud company that at length reached Poissy, and reined in before the drawbridge of the castle. A herald cantered forward to the very edge of the bridge, and shouted his announcement in a voice like a clarion: –

‘William, by the Grace of God Duke of Normandy, craves audience of his Most Puissant Majesty Henry, King of France!’

Poissy was startled; as the Duke’s troop rode into the bailey men had already run to warn the King’s attendants of this unexpected coming. Within an hour of his arrival William was ushered into the King’s presence. He stalked in, attended by the Lords of Arques, Gournay and Montfort, and by three knights, of whom Raoul was one, and found the King seated on a dais in his chair of state, with his nobles round him.