The Holding - Book 1 in The Medieval Knights Series (32 page)

"Yea, 'tis so, but their bellies will be full. We ride to the hunt daily and will distribute the meat evenly until the crops are in and Greneforde back to its former health."

She looked up at him as he spoke, knowing that he was remembering her words of Greneforde as it had been, knowing that he had heard her that day and was trying to give her back what she had lost. Again.

It was most unusual for the lord to share with all the bounty of the hunt, but she should not be surprised; William le Brouillard was unlike any man she had known. He was a man most generous, most beautiful. She could not take her eyes from him.

"You speak of riding to the hunt," she said as they entered the hall, "but I do not see your favorite companions at the hunt. Where are Rowland and Kendall? Do they dally in the yard?"

"Nay, and they had best not dally on the errand they have undertaken. They go to the king to tell him of our marriage."

"And to tell him the state of Greneforde," she added.

"Yea," William admitted, "I would have King Henry know that Greneforde is firmly in my grasp." And so saying, he wondered if his proud wife would feel rebellion rising within her at hearing him declare that her home was now his.

But Cathryn had never in the past begrudged him Greneforde and she did not now. Especially not now.

"Yea, he should know what you hold." And when William's hand crept down to rub the round contours of her derriere, she laughed. "Mayhap the king does not need to know
all
that you hold."

And, sensitive as they were to the moods of the other, William did not mention Lambert of Brent.

And Cathryn did not ask.

But he was ever in their thoughts.

Cathryn knew Lambert well and knew that he would not leave Greneforde, which he believed already his, without battle, however ruthlessly waged, that was why she had not felt secure even with him gone. That was why she had daily scanned the horizon, searching for the light of his fire and thankful when she had not seen it. But now William was here and lawful lord of Greneforde, and William had stated again and again that he would not relinquish his hold. They were words most comforting. Greneforde needed him, and now so did she.

William, not knowing Lambert but knowing men, understood that Lambert would not give up Greneforde without a fight. And from what he had learned of the man, it would not be a chivalrous fight but a fight of studied savagery. The thought did not cause even the blinking of an eye. William was ready, more than ready, to face the man who had beaten and raped Cathryn.

Yes, he was eager.

Chapter 16

Lambert did not have far to travel when he left the presence of the king to rejoin his companions. They were waiting for him not far from the Tower of Montfichet where the rivers Thames and Fleet joined. They waited without a fire to warm them, for they would have no unwelcome company join them in their well-hidden place.

With a movement of underbrush the two rose as one, hands pulling swords free of restraint. They relaxed their posture when Lambert's face
appeared
.

"What says the king?" demanded Guichardet, known as le Ebon for his long black hair.

"He says nothing of substance," Lambert replied, removing his mufflers and tying up his horse.

"But you saw him," Guichardet pressed.

"Yea, both saw and spoke, laying my claim to Greneforde as well as any foundation was ever laid. He will do nothing, decide nothing, until he sees le Brouillard. He gifted Greneforde to him for service well performed in times past. Le Brouillard must find another holding."

"Did you speak of the Cat?" Beuves of Girone asked with a sly smile.

"I did," Lambert answered. "And he did not like what I told him, yet he did not protest or deny the truth of it."

"Then he is certain of nothing," summed up Guichardet.

Lambert nodded, adding, "And he will not be until he speaks direct with le Brouillard."

"Then why allow this meeting to occur?"

"Yea, that is my thought," Lambert said, his blue eyes as cold as a winter sky.

"There are two ways to skin this cat," Beuves said, still smiling. "The king's messenger may meet some calamity and fail to deliver the summons; it has been known to happen, especially when one is traveling swiftly and without the usual caution. Or..."

"Or we can wait for le Brouillard to leave his safe enclosure and slice his throat before he reaches Henry," Lambert finished. "For myself, I prefer the latter."

"I have witnessed le Brouillard in battle," Guichardet offered. "He is no soft knight, but battle-hardened. It is not for singing pretty verse at the feet of Henry that he won Greneforde as his own."

"Greneforde is mine!" Lambert spit out. "And all that her walls encompass have I laid claim to."

He spoke of Cat and they all knew it. Beuves smiled and sat upon a log. "You are eager to fight him."

"I would have Greneforde," Lambert said.

"You did have Greneforde. You left." Guichardet pointed out.

"But there would have been no keeping her without the king's consent," Lambert pointed out. "Henry is no Stephen."

"Nay, he is not, and William is no court dog to run from your stick," Guichardet said again.

"You think I fear to face him in knightly battle?" Lambert said, rising to his feet, his hand going to his sword hilt.

Guichardet said nothing. Lambert had never yet faced a man with sword unsheathed, knowing the result to be death. Lambert had killed, but not that way. Not with knightly honor.

Beuves rose from his perch and stepped to Lambert's side. "Guichardet speaks not of fear but of wisdom. Let us choose the path to Greneforde carefully."

"I have chosen," Lambert said, slowly releasing his sword. "To kill a messenger of the king would cast suspicion upon me. Henry knows I desire Greneforde. He knows I am aware of the messenger."

"And so he would suspect you if his messenger failed to return to court," Guichardet said.

"Aye, but when le Brouillard leaves his nest, he will fly onto my blade. A knight such as he must have many enemies who can be blamed."

"'Tis easily said," Guichardet said grimly.

"And easily excused," Lambert retorted.

"Some deaths are harder to purchase than others," Guichardet pointed out.

"Yet I can meet its price and gladly. Killing le Brouillard will give me much satisfaction."

Beuves saw the shimmer in Lambert's eyes and knew he thought of the Cat he had trained to accept his hand, and he wondered if Greneforde would call to Lambert so loudly if Cat did not reside there.

"And when he is dead, how will you regain Greneforde?" There was no Philip now to buy them entrance, and most all the rogue knights that had followed Lambert had drifted off. It was as they said: Henry was no Stephen, and England was not such easy conquest as she once had been.

"By the king's command," Lambert declared. "Without le Brouillard to cry his ownership, King Henry will look more favorably upon me, as I already have ties there and a history." Though it would not help his cause if Henry looked too closely into that history. It would be coin well spent to make a second donation to the priest who had once shepherded Greneforde and who had proved so helpful in the past.

"Then we wait and watch," Beuves said, "and when the messenger is both come and gone, we wait with sterner purpose."

"Aye," agreed Lambert, "we wait for le Brouillard."

And when he was dead, Cat would be alone and vulnerable... again.

* * *

Though Rowland searched most diligently, he did not detect the faintest trace of Lambert between Greneforde and the king, who, beyond all expectation, still resided in London. Kendall remarked that they were covering four times the ground they needed to find the king, but Rowland would not be moved from his course, nor would he discuss it. Knowing Rowland as he did, Kendall did not take offense at his silence, though he complained loudly that he would have taken his squire if he'd known they planned to tour England.

It was also beyond expectation that they were received into Henry's presence at once upon their arrival. After all, it was no message of great urgency that they carried. Kendall was delighted with the prompt hospitality shown them. Rowland drew down his black brows in foreboding.

The hall was closely packed upon their entering, and the play of light on the bright woolens and silks worn by the court shimmered in the weak winter light. Kendal] made good use of the congestion to greet comrades not seen since he had departed for Greneforde with William. He enjoyed the crowds and the intrigue that was never far from a sovereign of such wealth as Henry of Anjou. The vivid coloration of fabric and jewel was a visual treat after the armored knights and ragtag villeins of Greneforde.

Rowland saw the crowded hall with different eyes; the courtiers looked, as they jostled and elbowed for position, like nothing so much as maggots feasting on rotting flesh. He did not waste his energy considering them. Rowland had eyes for none save Henry, but he did wonder why there was so much activity surrounding their arrival.

Edgar of Lisborne, a man of much experience who had earned Rowland's hard-won trust, caught his eye and communicated with eloquent wordlessness that he should be prepared. Rowland took the warning to heart and approached King Henry cautiously. Not so Kendall.

"You have been expected," King Henry began.

That was so, Rowland reasoned, for the king would know that William would send him word of his taking of Greneforde, yet the hall buzzed with a feverish undertone.

"I do not see William," Henry finished.

"Nay, my lord, for he would not leave Greneforde vulnerable in this time of transition," Rowland said carefully.

"Aye, my lord king," Kendall added with a chuckle, "'tis no easy matter to part a man and woman newly wedded."

The hall seemed a thing alive with bodies twisting to confer with neighbors and the sound of whispering barely contained. There was something amiss. Edgar's face warned of it even if the very strange behavior of the court had not. Rowland straightened his dark head and put his hand to his sword hilt.

"King Henry," he began, "William le Brouillard has secured Greneforde. The tower is sound and manned with knights loyal to you."

"And he has taken Cathryn of Greneforde to wife?" asked one of the councilors whom Rowland could not name.

Again Edgar's eyes warned him, though it was not necessary. Something was very much amiss here.

The weight with which each word fell upon the air was far too heavy.

"Yea," he said slowly and with great care. "They were married by Father Godfrey the day we did arrive."

"He acted with speed," Henry remarked, his hands folded and supporting his chin.

"My lord," Kendall said with a forced smile, for the crushing atmosphere had finally made an impression on his sturdy spirit, "any man would speedily claim such a beauty as Cathryn of Greneforde."

"As you say," Henry declared, straightening in his massive oaken chair. "Another has laid claim to Greneforde in your absence and has made a strong case for himself."

Rowland stepped nearer the king, ignoring all the flurry of talk and movement that swirled within the confines of the room.

"William is in firm possession of Greneforde, my lord," he announced in a voice unshakable.

"I do not find that difficult to believe," Henry admitted with a slight smile, "yet this other knight spoke quite explicitly of a prior claim."

"His name?" Rowland asked in a firm monotone.

"Lambert of Brent," Edgar supplied with a trace of eagerness. He was glad at heart to be able to supply the name of the man who threatened William's prize with sly manueverings.

Rowland stood unmoving and unshaken by this proclamation. Kendall was at a complete loss, but wise enough to hold his counsel and his tongue.

"Lambert's claim goes deep," the unknown councilor offered, "to the Lady Cathryn herself."

The titter that rose from the corners of the room was all that was needed to cause Kendall to gasp in shock and disbelief. Rowland did not move except to turn and face the councilor with all the blackness of his eyes. The man shrank back behind another and was silenced.