To Defy a King (14 page)

'My father says we should be more careful about our conduct,' he said and then sighed. 'I suppose in truth he is right.'

Mahelt's irritation boiled up. Why did her father-in-law have to interfere?

She wondered if the old Earl had ever known the sweet intensity of courtship and desire. She couldn't imagine it. Certainly he never shared the Countess's bed these days, preferring to keep to his own chamber and pore over his charters and tallies. 'Do you always do as he says?' she challenged.

'I do my duty and obey him,' Hugh replied evenly. 'Do you not do the same for yours?'

Mahelt compressed her lips and felt mutinous. She hated the way everyone watched them, judging to a pinpoint what was suitable and proper behaviour.

Ida said she didn't want Mahelt to feel she was a prisoner at Framlingham, but it often seemed that way.

'Then I suppose we must do as he says . . .' she said with a deep sigh, before flashing him a wicked look from under her lashes, '. . . in public.' Leaving him, she went to ask Ida a question about the embroidery pattern, making sure her leg brushed his in passing.

Feeling more than a little masculine bemusement at the ways and wiles of women, Hugh escaped the bower for the straightforward company of his brothers and the business of the demesne, which at least was uncomplicated.

13

Framlingham, September 1207

A linen apron tied at her waist, her hair bound in a kerchief, Mahelt dipped a ladle in the cauldron of rich pork and bean pottage and emptied it into the bowl that a cowherd's wife was holding out. The woman bobbed a curtsey, gave Mahelt a shy smile and moved on to a trestle piled with small loaves of good white bread. Mahelt dipped the ladle again and served the next woman waiting her turn. It was a Michaelmas tradition for the demesne tenants to attend a feast provided and served by the lord and his family. Whilst the Earl and his sons doled out food to the men, the Countess and her ladies served the women and children.

Mahelt was enjoying herself immensely. This was much better than needlework. While acknowledging and rewarding folk for their diligence and hard work, she was in return receiving their appreciation and goodwill.

The duty came naturally to her and she was performing it so well that she was in her father-in-law's good offices and he had a ready smile for her today. The blacksmith had brought his bagpipes, someone else had a drum and several children and adolescents had linked hands to dance. Mahelt watched and smiled. Under the trestle from which she was serving food, Tripes contentedly gnawed on a hock bone.

Taking a momentary respite from his own serving and carving, Hugh sauntered over, a dapifer's towel slung over his shoulder and his blue eyes alight with pleasure. Mahelt returned his look and felt joy spark through her body. Since his father's warning about their behaviour, they had become more circumspect, but their courtship play had continued. Yesterday they had gone hunting and he had helped her settle her hawk on her wrist. His closeness, his fingers on her skin, the swiftness of his breathing before he moved away had been achingly delicious. And all under the watchful eyes of his father and within the bounds of propriety.

'You are doing well, lady wife,' Hugh said with a grin.

'I'm enjoying myself.' She dipped the ladle and raised it to offer him a taste.

'So am I.' He drank with his eyes on hers, and, although it was an ordinary exchange, it was meaningful and suggestive too and Mahelt's cheeks blazed.

Belatedly she noticed her father-in-law observing them and had to restrain herself from poking out her tongue. A messenger stood at his side, drinking thirstily from an earthenware cup. Taking the ladle from Hugh, Mahelt resumed her duty. Hugh, in good part, plucked the empty bowl from the hands of the little girl next in line, presented it to Mahelt to fill, and then returned it with a courtly flourish. The child giggled and fluttered him a coy look over her shoulder as she walked away. Hugh continued to assist and the queuing women nudged each other and cackled.

The Earl joined them and the laughter stopped. Mahelt felt a frisson of anxiety. She was almost as tall as he was; he couldn't look down on her from a physical advantage, but even with a serving towel over his shoulder, he still possessed enormous power and presence.

'A word with you,' he said to Hugh, casting Mahelt a shrewd glance that she didn't understand. She suspected she was about to be reprimanded yet again, and her irritation surged because she was on her best behaviour. She knew how it would go. He would deliver the reprimand to Hugh and expect Hugh, as her husband, to administer it.

Hugh bowed to his last customer and secretly squeezed Mahelt's hand before following his father away from the trestles.

Mahelt returned to doling out the pork stew, but she had to force her smiles now as she waited for the blow to fall. It wasn't fair. Once everyone had been round at least once, she left the ladle in the stew and untied her apron.

Ida joined her, still wearing hers. 'You have done so well.' She beamed, kissing her. 'I am proud of you. You have a true talent.' Her look became teasing. 'I can tell you prefer this to sewing.'

'I cannot deny it,' Mahelt said, trying to engage with her but feeling distracted.

Ida glanced round the gathering. 'It is good to have days like this to remember.'

'Yes,' Mahelt agreed, but she didn't want to live for memories. She wanted to live for now and in the moment. She saw Hugh returning and his troubled expression confirmed her fears, especially as Ida suddenly found a reason to be busy elsewhere.

Facing him, Mahelt stood erect and prepared to fight her corner. 'What has your father said to you this time?' she demanded, prepared to make attack her defence.

'Come.' Hugh took her arm and drew her to a bench, shooing away the two children who were sitting on it, swinging their legs and sucking on pork rib bones. 'It's not what you think.'

'Then what is it?'

'He's just had word from the court - from my brother Longespee.' His eyes were sombre as he took her hands in his. 'Your father's in England. He's been summoned back from Ireland by the King.'

She had been prepared to defend herself against the petty foibles of her father-in-law and Hugh's words stunned her. She didn't know whether to be overjoyed or terrified. 'Why? Is my mother back too, and my brothers and sisters?'

He shook his head, looking serious. 'No, they are still in Ireland. But your father's been summoned before the King to answer in a dispute between himself and Meilyr FitzHenry.'

Mahelt tossed her head. 'I know about the dispute. It's one of the reasons my father had to go to Ireland in the first place. Meilyr FitzHenry has been stealing our land and he has to be stopped before we have nothing left.' Her eyes darkened with anger. 'It's criminal that he's the justiciar in Ireland but he commits acts of thievery against decent men.'

'FitzHenry has been summoned to court too, and some of your father's Irish vassals . . . but I am afraid there are difficulties.'

She began to feel cold. 'What kind of difficulties?'

Hugh sighed. 'FitzHenry has plundered your father's port at Newtown and attacked his men and positions.'

'The whoreson!' Mahelt sat upright, her eyes flashing. 'The craven turd!

How dare he!' Rage and fear shimmered through her. 'My father will not let this go unpunished; he won't stand for it!'

'He has left his best men to protect your mother and your brothers and sisters,' Hugh said with brisk reassurance. 'Jean D'Earley has been given the charge and he is strong and loyal to the core.' He didn't add that her father was trapped at court and powerless. The Marshal couldn't return to Ireland without John's permission and in the meantime FitzHenry's henchmen could wreak mayhem as they pleased. The King not only had Mahelt's two oldest brothers hostage now, he had her father too. His own father was deeply worried about the implications, and Hugh was concerned for Mahelt. Who knew where this situation would lead? It might take more than this to bring the Marshal down, but what was happening showed how dangerous it was to be on the wrong side of a distrustful, vindictive king.

'Your father will weather this,' he said, allowing none of his doubts to show on his face. 'He is a great man. We'll protect you at Framlingham. Nothing will harm you here.'

Mahelt gave an irritated shrug because she didn't care about that. She wanted to fight. Glancing around at the feasting, singing and dancing, it suddenly seemed silly and all her work with the ladling a waste of time because it wasn't helping her father. Her hatred for John was so strong it curdled her stomach.

'Longespee wrote that your father was trying to obtain the King's permission to return to Ireland, but that John will take more than a little persuading. For the moment all we can do is watch and wait.'

Mahelt's expression contorted. Watching and waiting was a trial worse even than needlework. Her restless energy and impatience was desperate to engage and do something. The knowledge that action was impossible drove her mad. She jerked to her feet, needing to be in motion, and set off at a rapid walk, striding out like a man, wishing in truth that she was a man and could take up a sword and hew her enemies into little pieces.

Finally, at the side of the mere, she stopped, her feet almost in the sedges bordering the water. A half-grown family of mallards flustered away, quacking in alarm. Mahelt compressed her lips. Her head ached with pressure and her eyes were smarting. Hugh had followed her, and now, without a word, he set his arm around her shoulders.

'The King won't win,' she said between clenched teeth. 'I swear he won't.'

And then she turned into the comfort of his chest and hid her face against the soft blue wool of his tunic.

14

Thetford, Norfolk, October 1207

A month later, Earl Roger brought his household to Thetford for several days and Hugh took the opportunity to go hunting in the forest with his brothers and the household knights to secure fresh meat for the table.

In the time since learning the news of her father's return to England, Mahelt had heard little concerning his dispute with Irish baron Meilyr FitzHenry.

Debate was continuing and her father was being forced to drag his heels at court where John was keeping him close to hand.

Having spent an hour exercising her mare, Mahelt was dismounting when a pedlar arrived riding a larger version of Pie, the black and white pony Hugh had given her. Several cat skins dangled from his pack basket and although his hose were an expensive shade of scarlet, they were wrinkled and torn. He stank of old smoke and the ingrained dirt of weeks of travel. Mahelt made to avoid him and go inside the hall, but he crossed her path, removed his greasy hat and bowed. Then he swiftly handed her a sealed, folded parchment that had been tucked under the brim. 'Lady Bigod, I was bidden to give you this by a certain young lord I encountered on the road. He said to tell you that a lion is always a lion, the more so when it belongs to a Marshal.'

Mahelt hastily tucked the parchment into her belt beneath her mantle, glancing round to see if anyone had seen the exchange, but the pedlar had picked his moment well and the groom was busy with her horse. 'Thank you,' she said breathlessly. 'Ask at the kitchen for bread and ale and tell them Lady Mahelt Bigod said you were to be fed.'

'My lady.' He flourished another bow, vouchsafing her a sight of the lice crawling through his hair, before shambling off towards the kitchens. Mahelt sped to her chamber, dismissed Edeva with an impatient flick of her fingers, and sat down in the window-seat to read what was written on the parchment.

Tripes leaped on to the seat beside her and settled down to a spot of grooming. Mahelt gazed at the splotchy writing that had obviously been penned in haste, and laughed while she wiped away her tears. However, as she read the words, her heart began to race. Will, in the custody of his gaoler's son, John FitzRobert, and a knight of the court called Robert Sandford, was on his way north, but would be staying at Edmundsbury on the morrow night. He desired her to come there and meet him. Frowning, she bit her lip because it was easier said than done.

She made herself tidy, ensuring that her head covering was straight, her gown smooth without a dog hair in sight, and that everything about her appearance was modest and decorous. Affecting a demure air, she took a deep breath, and went in search of her father-in-law.

He was busy with his scribes in his alcove, but he beckoned her within the small chamber and broke off his discussion. 'Daughter?' He raised his brows. 'Is all well?'

'Yes, my father.' Her heart in her mouth, Mahelt showed him Will's letter and asked his permission to ride out and visit her brother.

Her father-in-law steepled his hands under his chin and considered her out of shrewd grey eyes. 'I think not,' he said eventually, his voice calm but imperative. 'It is not a woman's place to go gadding about, especially when she is as young and unknowing as you are. I can spare neither the men nor the horses for such an escapade. And receiving private letters from passing vagabonds is unseemly and not the kind of behaviour I expect of my son's wife.'

Mahelt stared at him in dismay. 'But Will's my brother! I haven't seen him since he was taken hostage!'

The Earl was implacable. 'I am sorry for that, but I must look to your safety and the interests of my family first, and that means keeping tight rein on all that happens here. I will not have this household called into question. By all means you may socialise with your brother, but openly and appropriately.

This smacks to me of clandestine doings. For all I know you could be riding into a trap.'

'Please!' Mahelt implored. 'You can't deny me, you can't!'

'Daughter, I can and I do,' he replied icily. 'I suggest you repair to your room, calm yourself and think on the subject of obedience.'

Mahelt had always been able to wind her own father around her little finger and Hugh could be cozened to an extent. But her father-in-law had no such chink in his armour. He was steely. She gave him a perfunctory curtsey and swept from the room. He watched her exit with narrowed eyes and then turned back to his business, but he did not dismiss her from his mind.