The Innocent (28 page)

"How futile," Ranulf said, "and perhaps a bit ridiculous to my mind. Besides, what right have these gypsies to choose a chaste woman and make her an object of their unrequited desires?"

Garrick Taliferro laughed heartily. "You are too practical, my friend," he said. "The ladies love it, and it does their husbands honor that these great troubadours chose their wives to court. There is no evil intended, although in the case of the duchess, there are some who want to believe these young men are her lovers. It is not so, of course. The duchess is far too clever, and too honorable a lady to indulge herself with troubadours. She adores her duke."

"I would not allow such men about my Eleanore," Ranulf responded darkly "Such creatures have no place at a humble manor like Ashlin." Then he changed the subject entirely. "When do you think I can pay my compliments to Duke Henry, Garrick? I do not like leaving my wife and child for too long. The Welsh are raiding this year along the border. I have raised my walls higher, and I have a good captain who has trained more men in the arts of defense, but still, I dislike leaving them for too long."

"I will speak with the duke when I have the opportunity," his companion said. "In the meantime I hope you will join me and the other knights in the hunt, and on the jousting field."

"I have my armor with me," Ranulf said. "While I hoped my journey would be a brief one, I have spent enough time in a king’s court to know it would probably not be. They say Stephen will not last a good deal longer, so I suppose I can expect to be home sometime before Christmastide. I can only pray the Welsh will keep from my gates."

"You may lose livestock, but little else," Garrick Taliferro said smoothly. "Tell me of my godson."

"He is clever," Ranulf said. "I vow he recognizes my voice when I enter the solar, but my good wife says he is too young yet."

"I suppose I should marry one of these days," Sir Garrick said. "I have a small holding to the west of London. My mother lives upon it, and she is forever importuning me to take a wife. Perhaps when Duke Henry becomes England’s king, I shall ask her to find me a nubile young lass to wed, bed, and give me heirs. A man needs sons. The king has one, and it is said the duchess is breeding once again."

"Another reason I am anxious to return home." Ranulf smiled. "Both Eleanore and I want more children, but I cannot get them on her if I am in Normandy, and she is at Ashlin."

The evening was a pleasant one. There were jugglers to entertain the guests in the hall, and the duchess’s favorite troubadour of the moment, a slender young man with dark curly locks and melting amber eyes, sang a beautiful song of his unrequited love for the fairest flower in Aquitaine. Ranulf had to admit the music was sweet even if he thought the song insipid. The men at his table began to dice, and, not having the coin to waste, he excused himself.

He found his way back to the stables, joining his squire in a large and comfortable stall that Pax had made quite habitable. The horses had been unsaddled, the pack mule unloaded. The animals had been fed, watered, and brushed. Their saddles were set upon the broad carrier between the stalls. His armor was set neatly in a corner with his small trunk. Pax had added more hay to the stall in order to make two comfortable piles that he had covered with their cloaks to make beds.

"You'll have to wash in the horse trough outside, my lord," the squire told his master.

"In the morning," Ranulf said, laying himself down.

***

The next few weeks passed surprisingly quickly. They ate in the Empress Matilda’s great hall. They hunted with the duke and his companions. They jousted, and here Ranulf began to gain a small reputation among the court, for he was unbeatable and had yet to be unhorsed by any opponent. When he one day unhorsed the Empress Matilda’s champion, he accepted the laurel wreath of victory from the duke’s hands, then presented it to the empress, bowing graciously.

"Who is that?" the duchess asked one of her ladies.

"I do not know, my lady. He cannot be important," she replied.

Alienor of Aquitaine smiled thoughtfully. "He may not be important, Adela, but he is clever, and he has exquisite manners." She turned to her husband. "Who is he, Henry?"

"Ranulf of Ashlin" came the immediate reply. "He has come to pay me his respects. Perhaps now I shall let him." The duke beckoned the knight forward. "We welcome you to Normandy, Sir Ranulf," he said.

Ranulf knelt before Duke Henry. Placing his hands in those of England’s next king, he pledged him his fealty.

"Rise, Sir Ranulf," the duke said when the oath had been given and received. "We are grateful for loyal knights such as yourself. Your honest fidelity and faithfulness to King Stephen throughout his reign has not gone unnoticed."

"I will give you that same allegiance, my liege," Ranulf replied.

"We believe that you will," the duke replied. "Now, we present you to your future queen, my duchess Alienor."

Ranulf bowed low to the beauteous woman who was even lovelier close up. "My lady, I pledge to you my loyalty as well," he said.

"We thank you, Sir Ranulf," the duchess said. Her voice held a hint of music and was very sweet. "We have noticed that you have yet to be unhorsed in the joust. You are a fine knight."

"I am but fortunate, lady," Ranulf replied. Bowing, he backed away.

"We invite you to remain with us awhile, Sir Ranulf," the duke said. "Unless, of course, you are needed at home."

"I am honored, my liege," Ranulf replied. "While the Welsh have been restless this summer, Ashlin is in good hands with my wife and is well fortified."

"You have built a keep?" the duke said, his brow darkening.

"Nay, my liege! It is forbidden except with royal permission," Ranulf quickly answered. "I have but raised the height of the walls about my demesne to protect my family and my serfs. I hope I have not offended you in that."

"Nay," the duke replied, mollified, and pleased to see the level of obedience rendered by Ranulf de Glandeville. If only all of England’s lords were so amenable, but they were not. They were a greedy, grasping lot, and he would rule them with an iron hand. "Return to your friends, Sir Ranulf, and know that we are pleased with you," the duke told the knight. Their eyes met but for a moment in complete understanding.

Ranulf bowed to the duke, the duchess, and finally to the Empress Matilda. Then he moved away.

"Men like him kept my cousin Stephen in power all these years," the empress said, almost grimly, "but he'll render you the same loyalty, Henry. They are honorable these simple knights: Cultivate as many of them as you can. They will keep you in power when your great lords seek to quarrel with you, my son. When did you meet him?"

"What makes you think I have met him before?"

The empress snorted. "My eyes are not so weak they did not see the look that passed between you," she said low. "This simple knight of yours is here for a purpose.
What purpose?"

"I promise you we will discuss it, Mother, but not in so public a venue," the duke said, and the empress nodded, pursuing the issue no further. She was her son’s chief adviser, and they had no secrets from each other. He had learned the art of governance at her knee, but he had also seen how her arrogance had been her downfall, so he had cultivated a softer manner that, while firm, was less dismissive and overbearing. Such an attitude served him well.

Ranulf, in the meantime, returned to the tents where his squire was waiting. Sir Garrick joined them, and the two men talked as Pax disarmed his master.

"That was a clever move on your part," Sir Garrick said. "You have caused a great deal of envy among the other knights."

"I do not mean any offense."

"None is taken." Garrick laughed. "We are all most admiring of what you did in having unhorsed the empress’s champion, presenting the old dragon with your wreath of honor. It was well-done."

"Better not to make enemies of ladies in high places, I have learned over the years." Ranulf smiled. "The duke recognized me, and I was able to pledge him my fealty. He introduced me to the duchess. She spoke kindly to me. I have been invited to remain with the court, and, of course, I could not refuse the invitation."

"Your wife will understand, I am certain."

"Aye, she is a good wife and chatelaine," Ranulf replied, but secretly he worried about his petite. Rouen seemed so far from Ashlin. A small sea and a great deal of land separated them. He wondered if the Welsh had raided them, or if, as had happened in past years, Ashlin and its folk had been left in peace. There was no way to get a message to his wife. Ashlin was out of the way. No one from this court, even a knight returning to England, which none was at the moment, would go their way. No merchant train would, either. Ashlin saw an occasional peddler, but no great train ever passed by. He had to put his family in God’s hands now.

After the tournament in which he had overcome the empress’s champion, Ranulf began to reahze he was being favored by the Duchess Alienor. That same evening in the hall she beckoned him, asking, "Are you a man of the gentle arts, Sir Ranulf?"

He grinned rather wryly, and replied, "My lady, I am naught but a simple knight. While I read, and I can write, I use these talents only as lord of my manor."

"Do you know Latin?"

"Church Latin, my lady," he answered her.

"No poetry?" She cocked her head to one side.

"Nay, lady. What use would I have for poetry?"

The duchess laughed. "Poetry is very useful for wooing a lady, sir. Are there none among my ladies who might take your fancy, Sir Ranulf? If there are, you must learn poetry."

"I am a married man, my lady," he told her. "I came to Rouen but to pledge my loyalty to your husband, and offer whatever small services he would desire of me. While I find the ladies surrounding you as fair as summer flowers, they are but pale stars in comparison to your brilliant and radiant moon, my lady duchess."

Alienor of Aquitaine smiled, both surprised and flattered by his speech. "I think we may make a poet of you yet, Sir Ranulf. Tell me, if you did not use poetry, how then did you woo your wife?"

"The lady of Ashlin was chosen by King Stephen to be my wife. The holding sits near to the Welsh border, and the king sought a loyal man to hold it. My wife had been in the convent of St. Frideswide’s since she was five, lady, and was within just a few weeks of taking her final vows. Instead she was married to me."

"Ah," the duchess said, understanding perfectly.

"We have a newborn son. His name is Simon, after my father," Ranulf said, "and Hubert, for he was born on St. Hubert’s Day."

"Perhaps one day your son may come to court to serve my little William," the duchess said. She liked this simple man with his honest answers. There was nothing at all complex about Ranulf de Glandeville. He was a refreshing change. She turned the conversation back to the arts.

"Can you sing perhaps, Sir Ranulf?"

"Sing?"
He thought it an odd question. Men did not sing. "Nay, my lady, I do not sing."

One of the duchess’s ladies leaned over and whispered in her mistress’s ear. Alienor of Aquitaine smiled mischievously. "The lady Elise wishes to know, if since you do not write or recite poetry, or sing, how you make your wife happy, Sir Ranulf?"

"By making
her
sing, my lady," Ranulf answered quickly, eliciting a burst of laughter from the duchess and her ladies.

"You are quick of wit by far, my lord," the duchess said, her blue eyes twinkling and her musical voice tinkling with mirth. "There may be hope for you after all."

He bowed. "I am but an honest man." He smiled.

He was included in the royal circle more often than not now, although the great lords considered him of little import. The duchess entrusted him with her younger ladies in the evening, and he chaperoned them, keeping them from the more unruly lords and knights who might compromise the reputations of the naive maidens. He did not flirt as others might have done, for he considered how hurt his innocent Eleanore would be if she knew it. The younger girls in the duchess’s train took to calling him Sir Uncle, which Garrick Taliferro found very amusing.

"What a reputation you are gaining," he teased his friend.

"I should rather be called
uncle
than have my wife learn one day that I had conducted myself in a lewd and lecherous manner," Ranulf replied. "Eleanore still retains an innocence due to her convent upbringing."

"I believe you love her," Sir Garrick said.

"I do, although I have never said it to her. When I go home, however, I shall. It is past time Eleanore knew it. I have always been fearful that she would reject me, for I am older, and I was forced upon her. Still, before I left I thought perhaps that her manner toward me was softer, that she might have similar feelings for me. I can be silent no longer."

"Of course you must tell her," his friend agreed. "Although I do not understand it, women seem to like to hear the words,
Je t'aime."

***

August passed, and September. In early October the duke mounted an expedition against one of his vassals, Robert de Torigny, a troublesome man who had suddenly refused to render the duke his due. Ranulf was invited to join the siege at the castle of Torigny. He was glad to go, for the gay life of the court and his duties shepherding young ladies was not really to his taste. An invitation to the siege cheered him immensely, and he fought with vigor, earning the respect of those great lords who had previously been dismissive of him. He was quickly considered a good man to have by your side, or at your back.

At the very end of October, word was brought to the duke that King Stephen had died on the twenty-fifth day of October at Dover Castle. King Henry accepted the news calmly, then continued his siege until the castle of Torigny was reduced to rubble, and its lord chastised, humbled. The new king returned home to celebrate his elevation with his joyful mother and his wife, who was great with her second child. Te Deums were sung, Masses of thanksgiving and for the soul of King Stephen were offered in all of Rouen’s churches. Though it had an archbishop, Rouen had not yet a cathedral.