The Sword and The Swan (43 page)

Happy or unhappy, Catherine did not permit herself to fail in her care for her appearance, but Rannulf felt she could have chosen colors that would have become her better. The dark blue gown over a pale gray tunic lent no color to a face that had the blanched look of a long-time prisoner, and the silver embroidery of neck and sleeves had more luster than her hair. He remained rigid with eyes fixed upon her while she broke the seal and read, but when she held out the parchment to him with a hand that trembled sufficiently to make the letter crackle and took a faltering half step in his direction, Rannulf could not resist moving closer.

"I know nothing of such matters," Catherine whispered. "Do you order all to your own liking. If you are content, I shall be also."

"You know nothing, eh? But Sir Giles must think you know for he asks strange questions of an ignorant woman. Should he await attack or attack first himself?" Rannulf smiled coldly.

"Will you go to him?"

"It is the king's command that I guard the land against Bigod. I will go. Hugh Bigod may have thought that he could wrest keep and sheep, man and maid, horse and hamlet from a helpless woman. I am almost sorry I am here. I wonder what you would have done. Tell me, Catherine, would you have donned armor and led the men yourself?"

A faint color rose in her cheeks at the gibe. "Whatever I would have done, I would never have sought death as an escape from my troubles."

"Nor do I," Rannulf muttered. Even to quarrel with Catherine raised such a fire for living in him that he knew he could not yield life tamely.

Catherine saw her chance and leapt at it. "Mayhap people do not die of grief, but there are worse things than death to a woman who loves. Do not condemn me to such pain. Swear that you will fight to live, Rannulf, not to die."

"I swear," he said hurriedly as he turned away, "I swear. On this field I will fight to live."

Four men sat at ease at the high table of Warwick castle. Before them lay the remains of as excellent a dinner as late March could afford. The platters and trenchers were pushed back now to make room for pitchers and goblets filled with wine, and the flickering torches and steadier glow from wax candles lit the table, warming the yellow gold of the drinking vessels to a ruddy blaze. From the long tables in the hall rose the good-humored noise of self-satisfied men who were not yet drunk enough to begin quarreling. The wine in the goblets at the high table, however, sank only imperceptibly, and the voices of the men, although confident, owed nothing of that satisfactory emotion to the uplifting quality of the liquor.

"Well," Henry of Anjou said gaily, "I am becoming rusty for want of action. Since you have given us your countenance, Leicester, all we need do is knock on the gates and they are opened to us."

"Are you complaining?" Robert of Leicester asked.

"Only that I will need to spend gold on a tourney, it seems, if I am to keep my skill with sword and lance. No, seriously, I have never been so glad, and it is not for the ease of achievement that I am glad but for the sparing of the country. It does my heart no good to see the land ravished. It is
my
land, and I do not love to destroy it."

Leicester nodded his satisfaction. Here was one of the truly important differences between Stephen and Henry.

Whether it was a basic love of the soil or only a long-range comprehension that a country burned and bloodied by war yielded little profit, Henry did have a true and deep consideration for the well-being of the land that Stephen never had.

William of Gloucester lifted his goblet and drank. He had taken no part in the foregoing discussion and could see no part for himself in the one that would follow. He had no interest in military objectives, since he had no intention of taking part in any military action. Altogether the presence and plans of his three companions were exceedingly dull, and he would not have come except that to stay away would have given too much food for thought to Henry's suspicious mind. He had lost interest even in baiting Hereford, for that gentleman merely gazed at him with lackluster eyes. Leicester was no source of amusement, his monumental stolidity offering no weak spot to be pricked. Something would have to be done, and that right soon, to save him from extinction by boredom, Gloucester thought.

"We will have sufficient to do with sword and lance, my lord, if we go to relieve Wallingford. Stephen will not relinquish that readily because it is too close to his precious Oxford. He has even built a permanent camp decked out to look like a keep but almost defenseless at Crowmarsh. Still, it is a beginning. We should take that before he strengthens it and sends more men into it."

Acutely, Henry said nothing, turning courteously to Leicester as if he wished to hear his approval of Hereford's suggestion, But Leicester did not approve—as Henry had known full well he would not.

"I am sorry, Roger, I cannot agree that Wallingford should be the next step. I hope I am no coward, but I agree with my lord that what can be gained without bloodshed, or with little bloodshed, should be taken first."

Leicester held up a hand as Hereford appeared to be about to break into his rather ponderous speech and went on, "I have good reason for what I say. If we fight a well-entrenched and deeply hostile force, we are like to lose some of our strength. With each loss others will become bolder to resist."

"Perhaps, but the men in Wallingford have resisted with great bloodshed and almost without hope for nigh on six months."

"Nay, Hereford, you are letting your emotions rule your reason," Henry said calmly. "There has been much bloodshed at Wallingford, so much is true, and that has made both king's men and ours more stubborn. Neither will yield now unless they are literally destroyed. Besides, Wallingford has hope sufficient to its needs. They know I am here and that we have not forgotten them. We have shed a little blood also so that they have not starved."

"Nor will we be able to free them if we are caught between two fires. Do not look so black, Hereford. I know that Wallingford is in good case. Waleran—and there is no use scowling at my brother's name for he has served your purpose well and did William Beauchamp little harm except in his dignity. Waleran, as I began to say, is looking about in that neighborhood. Now and again he gives the men in Crowmarsh and the camp enough to think about so that supplies may be brought in. Wallingford is safe, and we must make sure our rear is safe."

Henry frowned slightly. "Safety is a good thing, but not if it is achieved at the cost of advances."

"How will Earl Ferrars and the towns of Bedford and Stamford added to your victories stand in your opinion of advancement?"

"Most excellently, my dear Leicester." Henry chuckled.

"If that is your opinion of seeking safety—to take Tutbury, Bedford, and Stamford—I shall hide under the bed when you begin to talk of war."

Leicester smiled. "My foster brother, Rannulf, earl of Soke, has roused Bigod. Once that monster is wakened, he strikes out in all directions. Stephen and Eustace are both safe as far east as Ipswich. I doubt much that they will return to help Ferrars or the others." Hereford's head, which he had allowed to sink on his breast, came up at Rannulf's name, but Leicester again silenced him with a gesture. "I did not say that Soke did this for our sake. In truth, I am sure as man can be without proof or confession that it is his lady's doing."

Interest gleamed in Henry's keen eyes. "Her father was most sincerely our friend. Do you think she may lead him to us?"

Leicester shrugged, then shook his head negatively. "I think not, although she has some power over him."

"Can Soke be won by gold or soft words?"

Regretfully Leicester shook his head again. "He can be won by nothing because he is bound by a lunatic's sense of duty and by a pitiful love which grows stronger as the king grows weaker. However, if Stephen yields or dies, Rannulf will not oppose you. Believe me, my lord, it would be most wise to let him go his own way. Moreover, he has not set his son against you, and Geoffrey will follow you willingly—if you do nothing to harm the father. They are blood and bone of each other, the children and the father."

"He loves his children—good. When I am king, coddling the children will doubtless win the father. What else does he love? Every man rises to some lure."

William of Gloucester yawned delicately and thought that one of the joys of his life had been removed when Soke's company was denied him. No one rose so easily to the lure; no one was so dangerous and therefore so satisfactory to torment. There would be no problem in catching Soke when Stephen was gone; he could put Henry in the way of doing so in five minutes. Henry need only set that dutiful idiot some difficult and dangerous task.

Actually the sooner Stephen was gone and they could be united into one court the better. In the beginning when it was needful to play Maud and Stephen like fish, there had been some sport to this war, but the brainless bashing and slashing was a bore. And these idiots, taking one keep at a time, might be another ten years at it without accomplishing anything. William slid his lidded eyes over his companions and stifled another yawn; his decision hardened.

"When do you plan to move on Tutbury?" he asked.

"A day or two," Henry replied cautiously. "There is nothing to bide here for."

"You will scarcely need me for that enterprise. Do I have your leave, my lord, to follow some small plans of my own? Only for a short time."

There was an immediate profit in the suspicion that leapt into Henry's eyes and was quickly masked. William's heavy lids drooped even more sleepily. Delightful. Henry would set spies on him whom he would need to avoid, for his plans involved what would certainly appear like trafficking with the enemy. And all for Henry's good too—how amusing.

"Do you wish to leave us, William? Perhaps we might be some aid to you in these plans."

"Nay, my lord," William replied. "Of all things, your presence would be the last I desired." He permitted an expression, frankly sensual, to appear on his face, adding, "My plans concern a lady and a young, and rather handsome, man."

The statement was literally true, for William's plans concerned Eustace and Constance. His expression was a blatant lie, assumed to deceive. Roger of Hereford stared fixedly at the wine in his goblet, trying to hide the revulsion he felt for William. It was bad enough to desert so serious a business in pursuit of pleasure, but somehow to do so for a pleasure composed of abnormal vice seemed to make matters worse.

Henry did not know whether to believe William or not, but the color of his complexion displayed the fact that the emotions he was concealing by a bland and unmoved expression were akin to Roger's. Leicester alone considered William without reaction other than a deep speculative interest, and William, enjoying himself for the first time in months, gave the stupid-looking earl full marks for an unusually keen intelligence.

CHAPTER 20

Rannulf grunted with pain and tried not to wince away from the hands that were probing the angry-looking, suppurating wound on his thigh. The leech muttered angrily to himself about men who expected miracles of healing when they would not even offer the minor cooperation of permitting themselves to be bled. He had just offered that remedy to Rannulf and been refused curtly.

"I do not know, my lord," Sir Giles said, "that it is wise to refuse. It will abate your fever somewhat."

"Aye, and lay me flat on my back for two days. Can we afford to give our enemies that much time?"

"Perhaps not, but you have so bedeviled them that I believe I can keep them from gathering their strength."

Rannulf gestured impatiently. "If I thought it would really help, I would do it, Giles. Four times these past months have I let them drain me white. So the fever abated—for two days or a week. Then the ague returns and I am no better."

"Because you will not lie still and let the poultices and potions do their work, my lord."

Rannulf cast Andre a glance fun of mingled exasperation and affection. He wondered what he could have done to inspire such infuriating devotion. Andre was worse than Geoffrey, plaguing him constantly with appeals to rest, to attend to the leech's recommendations, to take this or that remedy suggested by this or that herb-wife or witch-wife. Rannulf had wondered, passingly, if Andre could be in Eustace's pay and desire to poison him, but as he was regularly worn down by the young man's nagging, regularly took the remedies, and certainly suffered no adverse effects except occasional nausea from the taste, it was obvious that the intentions were excellent if the result was not. Now he did not trouble to answer Andre, turning to Sir Giles again.

"Believe me, it is no lack of faith in your ability that makes me unwilling, but I am most anxious to drive them farther yet from our border. As long as the king continues to press from the south, our opportunity is great, for Bigod himself must remain there. If Stephen is called away, which I fear will befall any day now because of the ill news I hear, Norfolk's attention will turn to us. Then there will be a bitter battle, and I would as lief it took place on Norfolk's land than on ours."

Sir Giles nodded reluctant agreement. The earl was perfectly right. The trouble was that he looked, and plainly felt, ill, and after more than three months of close contact as his battle companion, Sir Giles was deeply concerned for Soke's health. Nor was he concerned from the point of view of safety for the lands. His contact with Geoffrey had been reassuring in the extreme; the boy would be a worthy heir to his father. Geoffrey, however, was young and, more than that, Giles was growing very fond of Rannulf.

The earl bit his lip and stifled a groan as Geoffrey came in, pushing back his mail hood and wiping sweat from his face. "How is it, papa?"

"How is it ever?" Rannulf snapped irritably. "Well, what said the herald?"

"The castellan—if castellan he can be called who holds such a miserable daub of planks and mud—will be here anon to speak with you. I am sure they will yield on your terms."

"Then why did you not wait to escort them in as I bade you?"