To Defy a King (49 page)

Hesdin shot a wild glance at his companions.

'You can die the hard way, or the easy way - all of you.'

'Rochester has fallen to the King,' Hesdin said, sweat dewing his brow. 'He sent us north to punish the rebels and we were ordered to raid the lands of his enemies.'

'Ordered by whom?' Hugh kicked Hesdin in the stomach. The news that the keep of Rochester had fallen filled him with dismay, for it was a major castle held for their cause. 'I ask again, who sent you to do this?'

'Lambert of Allemain,' Hesdin choked, his hands clasped at his midriff.

Who rode with Longespee and had been in his employ in Ireland. 'And is Lambert of Allemain working for the Earl of Salisbury?' Hugh demanded.

'Is William Longespee part of this?'

Hesdin shook his head. 'The Earl is still in the south. This is by the King's order.'

'How many?'

'I don't know . . . I . . .'

Hugh kicked him again. 'How many?'

'As many as the King can afford to pay. I know not . . . but he is coming here soon himself.' Hesdin held up one hand in supplication, the other clutching his belly. 'I was doing as I was bidden. I beg your mercy, sire.'

'As they did?' Hugh indicated the corpses. 'As that child did? As you would have done with me and my wife and my sons?'

'No, my lord. I swear . . .'

'Hang them,' Hugh said implacably.

'A priest, God's mercy a priest!'

Hugh beckoned to his chaplain. 'Shrive them,' he snarled.

'I demand fair trial and judgement!'

'I am a judge,' Hugh said ruthlessly. 'And I condemn you as guilty for the murder of these innocents. Make your confession.'

He stayed to witness the execution, hardening himself to watch the men swing and kick and finally hang limp. Inevitably thoughts of what had happened at Nottingham came to mind, but he remained steely. He wasn't hanging children; he was meting out justice to their murderers. Mahelt watched too, with rigid spine and clenched jaw.

As they rode from the scene, leaving the mercenaries to twist and dangle in the raw wind, Hugh took Matthew's pack on to his saddle and began rechecking it. 'Rochester's fall is a hard blow,' he said to Mahelt. 'If only your father would change his allegiance . . .'

'He won't,' she said with certainty. 'Will has pleaded with him until he is hoarse, but he will stand by his oath of fealty until he drops. Perhaps it is a good thing to have someone of integrity on the other side to prevent the ravages of the worst of the faction . . .'

'It doesn't seem to be having much effect, does it?' Hugh delved further into Matthew's satchel, fumbling down to the base.

Mahelt stared at him. 'What are you doing?'

'There's a false lining.' A moment later, following several tugs and a curse, he withdrew a long strip of parchment, covered in what at first sight seemed like random lettering. Mahelt recognised it as a code strip. She had seen them enough times in her father's household. Reaching to his saddle pack, Hugh withdrew a slender beechwood rod. He drew rein for a moment and with meticulous precision rolled the parchment strip around the rod until certain rows of letters aligned.

'What does it say?' Mahelt's breath puffed in the air. Ralph nudged his mount closer and craned his neck.

Hugh's finger moved along the rod and his lips silently formed the words.

'The French have landed seven thousand troops at the mouth of the Orwell where my father's writ runs, and are marching to London to help us. More are coming, and Louis himself is making preparations. Matthew must have been on his way to give me this.'

Mahelt frowned, unsure if this was good news or not. The more entrenched each side became, the more atrocities that were committed, the harder it would be to make peace. 'It's escalating, isn't it?'

'It was bound to,' Hugh said grimly. 'John has agreed to the treaty with one hand and denied it with the other. It is bad news that Rochester has fallen, but at least we have French troops to shore us up.' He tucked the parchment in his purse and returned the rod to his saddle pack. 'We must make all haste to Framlingham. With the King headed north and his mercenaries plundering the land, it's not safe. The wolves are out in packs and it's a hunter's moon.'

40

Framlingham, March 1216

Once, still half in girlhood, Mahelt had giggled as she helped Hugh pile a cart with valuables as they set out to thwart the demands of King John's tax gatherers. Now, in the blustery cold of a March morning, she refused to lift a finger to assist as the wealth of Framlingham was slung across packhorses and loaded into carts. There were barrels and sacks of silver pennies, and even a few pouches of precious gold bezants. Bolts of silk, reels of gold thread wound on ivory dowels. Boxes filled with the gleam of gold rings and precious stones. Silver cups and plate. Flemish wall hangings. Ida's gold and sapphire coronet. All the moveable wealth of Framlingham was being piled into carts to be dispersed at sundry religious houses where the Bigods were patrons. One lot was headed for London to supply the Earl. Another sizeable portion was going to the nunnery at Colne where it could easily be transported overseas if it came to the worst. Yet more was bound for Thetford, Hickling and Sibton.

Mahelt felt queasy as Hugh came from their chamber carrying his personal jewel box. He was taking that too? Sweet Virgin. Having ravaged Yorkshire and Lincolnshire, the King had turned southwards again. Castle after castle had capitulated. Men seemed to think because Rochester had fallen no fortress could withstand the royal forces, and it had become a self-fulfilling prophecy. But Framlingham was well fortified. It had a trained garrison and enough supplies to hold out for months. The defences had never been tested but they were strong and of the latest design. Why was everyone acting as if they thought it was going to fall?

'Why do you have to go now?' she demanded as he strapped the box to his packhorse. 'I don't understand.'

Hugh tightened the buckles and faced her, but even though he met her gaze, she knew he was deliberately not seeing her. 'It's just a precaution. Only a fool keeps his eggs in one basket. My father says it will be better if we split our wealth and put it in several different places as we did before.'

'And take it all from Framlingham?' she asked on a rising note. 'Every last piece?'

'I told you, it's just a safeguard. My father is short of funds in London and he thinks it better to hold the reserves there. I won't be gone long. I'll be back within four days, I promise you.'

Mahelt persisted because she knew he was not dealing honestly with her. 'If matters are so urgent that you have to move our reserves, then you must take me and your mother and the children with you.'

Hugh shook his head. 'Then I would have to see to your protection as well as that of the goods. I would not be able to move as swiftly - my mother is too frail to keep to the pace.' He stepped forward to rub her arm. 'You are safer here behind our walls until I return.'

She shrugged him off. 'So the treasure is not safe to stay here, but your family can take their chance. Is that it?' Her voice was loud now and people were beginning to look, but she didn't care.

Hugh firmed his lips. 'I cannot perform two tasks at once. I don't have the men to escort you and the treasure both. You are safer at Framlingham for the time being.' He reached for her again. 'Lenveise is here to command the garrison. You have nothing to fear.'

'So you say,' Mahelt said with scorn in her eyes. She had no love for William Lenveise, nor he for her.

'As soon as I return, we'll decide whether to move to London.'

Mahelt said nothing because there was no more to be said. He was putting his duty to all these barrels and sacks of glittering dross before the most precious treasure of all.

Hugh kissed her and she neither moved her lips under his nor raised her arms to embrace him. 'You might as well be gone,' she said stonily, knowing that if she gave her feelings full rein she would scream at him like a fish-wife and to no avail because he would go whatever she did.

His jaw tightened. 'I'll say farewell to my mother and our sons,' he said.

'And then I'll arm up.'

'As you will.' Mahelt dug her fingernails into her palms while the words

'Don't leave me!' crashed through her like a storm. The words of the love song he had left on her pillow were as worthless as if the ink had dried in the horn, unwritten.

'What other cloth do we have?' Ida pointed to the back of the cupboard.

'What's that?'

Mahelt tugged out a bolt of mid-blue wool. All the silk had been taken, and the better twill weaves, but there were still a few ells of linen and some tunic lengths of wool. A chambermaid had a son who was getting married and Ida had promised him some cloth for a good pair of chausses.

'This would suit.' Ida tested the fabric between forefinger and thumb.

Mahelt put the bolt to one side and checked it herself to make sure the moths had not eaten any holes in the fabric. Nearby she could hear her sons playing a game of knights and squires with Roger ordering Hugo about in an imperious voice. She found the will to smile a little. Hugh had been gone for two nights and this was the morning of the third day. She was still on edge, but by keeping herself occupied was able to stave off the worst of her anxiety. She remained angry with him that he wasn't here to watch the defences, but kept repeating to herself that he would be home soon. She had been tempted to take the boys and the few horses remaining in the stables and make her own way to her father's manor at Caversham, but she couldn't leave Ida in her fragile condition, and she knew how dangerous the roads were without a fitting escort. She was as good as a prisoner here. She wouldn't think about that either.

She was carrying the cloth to the cutting trestle when Michael the chaplain ran into the chamber. 'Countess, my lady, you must come quickly,' he panted. 'There's an army sighted approaching our walls!'

'What?' Ida gave him a startled look.

'Madam, it is the King and Savaric de Melun!'

Mahelt's blood froze. She shook her head. 'It can't be.'

Michael moistened his lips. 'I wish it were not so, madam, but the sentry is certain about the shields and the banners.'

Mahelt dropped her armful of cloth on to the trestle. It struck a pot of pins, scattering them across the board like tiny gleaming daggers. She stared at them and fought a nauseous feeling of panic. 'I knew this would happen.'

Ida pressed her hand to her throat. 'What are we going to do?'

'Not open the gates, that's for certain,' Mahelt snapped and, rallying, hurried from the chamber and out on to the wall walk. A bitter March wind beat around the defences and cut through her gown and chemise like iced steel. A crowd had gathered to watch the approach of the troops. Mahelt stared at the banners fluttering on spear and pole, most prominently the leopards of England in their snarling, burnished gold. The mercenaries bore that blazon on their shields too, rank upon rank of them under the command of mercenary captain Savaric de Melun. Dear Holy Virgin!

William Lenveise arrived on the battlements wearing his armour. Having run up the steps, his chest was heaving as he rested one hand on his sword hilt and with a set jaw gazed towards the force advancing on them at a steady tramp. Some of the footsoldiers were beating their spears on their shields and others were chanting out a rhythm as they marched. Towards the back, sturdy cobs hauled carts piled with siege equipment and in their rear smudges of smoke showed where hayricks and farmsteads had been set alight.

'Let me see, let me see!' Roger was hopping up and down. One of the knights obligingly picked him up to show him the view from the battlements and his eyes grew as round as goblet rims. Ida joined Mahelt on the wall walk, gasping from her climb. Her hands went to her mouth and she cried out at the sight of the army surging around their towers like an incoming sea.

Mahelt briefly closed her eyes.
Hugh, what have you done to us? Why didn't
you listen?

As John's army started to spread out and pitch camp, two men detached from the throng and rode towards the gatehouse, one of them cantering ahead bearing a banner of truce while the other stayed off the pace. Mahelt recognised the latter as Savaric de Melun himself and cold prickles shuddered up her spine. The herald shouted up on behalf of the mercenary, demanding those inside the castle to surrender in order to prevent bloodshed, and spare lives.

'Tell them no,' Mahelt said through clenched teeth. 'Tell John to go and boil his head.'

Lenveise gave her a swift glower. 'We should at least listen to what they have to say, my lady.'

'Why?' Her lip curled. 'It will all be lies and falsehood. I won't give them so much as an inch of ground unless it be for their graves.'

Lenveise shook his head. 'With respect, my lady, in the absence of the Earl and Lord Hugh, I have the command of this keep. I shall do as I judge fit for its defence and protection.'

Mahelt stared at him and he stared back in a way that went through her as if she had no more substance than a shadow.

'My lady, we should listen to what they have to say, even if we reject it.' He gestured brusquely. 'I need to clear the wall of all but my men. I cannot have women and children cluttering the fighting platforms.'

Mahelt knew she could not stand against him - that he would go his own way whatever she said. Wordlessly she turned away and, with her head carried high, left the battlements.

The postern gate was unbarred to admit de Melun and send out two senior garrison knights as guarantors for his safety. When he entered the great hall in the company of Lenveise, Mahelt stood with her arms protectively around her sons, Ida trembling but resolute at her side. Roger tugged at his mother's gown. 'Look, Mama, look at his sword!' He pointed to de Melun's decorated scabbard.

Mahelt squeezed his shoulder. 'It is not the sword that makes the man, remember that,' she said in a voice loud enough to carry. De Melun glanced in her direction and gave her a look that was amused, calculating and wolfish. Mahelt responded with an icy glare. Seeing him cast his gaze round the chamber, taking stock, she wanted to rake out his eyes.