To Defy a King (15 page)

The autumn dusk had fallen. In the west the sky was pimpernel-red, struck with primrose and bruised with violet. Feeling queasy, Mahelt lifted her cloak off its peg and fastened it around her shoulders. A hood and cape followed. She had been sick twice, lending veracity to her declaration that she was unwell, and had begged leave to retire and sleep off whatever was ailing her. Her father-in-law thought she was sulking over his refusal yesterday to let her visit her brother, but had given her the benefit of the doubt and bade her good rest and hoped she would feel better in the morning.

Earlier in the day he had granted her permission to write to Will, wishing him well and telling him that it was unwise for them to meet. That letter had gone with a merchant heading for Edmundsbury. But there was another letter too, sent via the pedlar who had left at dawn wearing a fine new set of hose, his pack laden with bread, cheese and sausage, and three silver pennies in his pouch. With the letter, he carried a gift to her brother of a silk scarf bearing the motif of the red Marshal lion. She hoped Will would understand its meaning.

'Mistress, please, you shouldn't do this!' Edeva wept, wringing her hands.

'It is too dangerous. Do not defy the Earl, I beg you!'

'It is only dangerous to me if you open your mouth!' Mahelt snapped at the maid. 'You will serve me best by telling anyone who comes to my chamber that I am sleeping. I shall be back long before dawn. Now, let the ladder down.'

'Mistress . . . I dare not!'

'Jesu God, then I'll do it myself!' Mahelt opened a coffer and took out the rope ladder she had sneaked into the chamber earlier in the day, concealed under a pile of spinning wool. The Earl's gatekeeper might be vigilant but there was still the wall. Going to the window, she threw the shutters wide.

The air held a scent of frost and the sunset was a narrow ribbon of blood-red on the western horizon. Although terrified, Mahelt also felt a flush of wild exhilaration. 'In Christ's name, don't be such a milksop!' she hissed at the maid's continued weeping. 'If it was your brother you'd do the same!'

Finally she coerced the trembling girl into helping her with the ladder. Edeva begged Mahelt not to go, but Mahelt had the bit between her teeth and made her way over the wall with rebellious determination. Nothing would stop her now. If Hugh could go hunting in the forest with his cronies for a night, then she could certainly visit her brother.

In the trees beyond the house, Will's groom Tarant was waiting for her with a spare horse, true to her instructions sent with the pedlar this morning.

Within moments, Mahelt was in the saddle and riding hard for Edmundsbury.

Roger glared at Edeva who stood weeping in front of him, her hands wrung almost to the bone. 'Over the wall,' he said, barely able to enunciate the words because his jaw was so stiff.

'Yes, sire,' Edeva sobbed. 'I told her she should not, but she refused to listen. I had to help her for fear she should fall or do herself an injury.'

'You didn't think to raise the alarm there and then?'

'I . . . I didn't know what to do . . . Oh sire, I beg your forgiveness!' Tears streamed down her face.

Roger wasn't in a forgiving mood and this silly wench was exacerbating his ire by the moment. Nevertheless, his years as a judge on the bench held him in check. At least she had come and told him. If she hadn't this entire, disgraceful exploit might have passed unnoticed and have left room for escalation. 'Enough,' he said. 'Go to your chamber for now and talk to no one. You were right to come to me, and in so doing you have saved yourself.'

'What will . . . what will happen to my mistress?'

'Let me concern myself about that. Away with you.'

When the woman had gone, Roger paced across the room to expend the energy of his temper. He glanced at Ida who was sitting near the hearth, her sewing frozen in her hand. 'We have given the girl too much leeway,' he growled. 'Why hasn't she been more closely watched?'

Ida shook her head. She too looked as if she might burst into tears at any moment. 'Mahelt has always been well chaperoned. If not by me, then by one of her women, or a chaplain.'

'But no one was by to prevent her from doing this, were they?'

Ida looked hurt. 'I was in the hall with you and about my duties. As far as anyone knew she had a sick stomach. What else could we have done?'

Roger reached the end of the chamber and turned round to stalk back the other way. 'She should have been curtailed long before this ever happened,'

he snapped. 'You go out riding with her and you act like a pair of wild women. I thought you would teach her how to be a good wife, but instead, she is teaching both of you how to become hoydens!'

Ida gasped and put her hand to her mouth, feeling as if he had struck her.

She was appalled at what Mahelt had done and filled with remorse and self-blame, wondering what she herself had done wrong. She couldn't think of any way she could have made things better for the girl and had believed they had a good relationship. Her husband was indeed right; it had been fun to laugh and ride and enjoy the company of a bright young woman -

something she had sorely missed since her daughters had married into other households. Mahelt had lifted the clouds, but at what cost? 'It is just a foolish thing, a childish prank,' she said.

A muscle ticked in Roger's jaw. 'But she is not a child any longer, and this is not a prank. Indeed, it could be dangerous to all. And Hugh is no better.

He lets her lead him on like a lovesick mooncalf, and then he abdicates his responsibility to go hunting and socialising. The girl needs more to occupy her time, because obviously she has too much of it on her hands.'

'What are you going to do?' Ida asked, feeling sick and frightened. 'Will you go after her?'

He shook his head. 'No. I need to know if there is more to this before I decide, but she will be brought to heel. I will not have this insubordination in my household.'

As Mahelt dismounted outside a merchant's house on the outskirts of Edmundsbury, Will was waiting to greet her in the moonlight. She gasped his name and flung herself into his arms, crying with joy and the release of pent-up tension. He hugged her to him and kissed her so hard on either cheek that she felt her flesh bruise against her teeth.

'It's so good to see you!' His voice cracked with emotion. 'I'm so glad you came!'

'Do you think I would let anyone or anything stop me!' she answered fiercely. She looked him up and down. He was much taller than she was now.

His laugh was wry. 'I don't think anyone would dare, sister, but even so, I know the risk I have asked you to take.'

She jutted her chin. 'I don't care. I'd have ridden through hell to get here.'

They entered the house, which was warm and well appointed, and Will guided her to a seat by the hearth and poured her a cup of hot wine from a jug resting near the embers. 'I told Sandford and FitzRobert that I had a liaison with a young lady.' He sent her a quick look from under his brows.

'Which is true, but they don't realise it's my sister. They've gone off to drink wine elsewhere for a while to give me some peace.'

'They are your gaolers though?'

Will shrugged and looked rueful. 'It's more that I'm in their custody for the moment. John's sending me north away from our father - for a while anyway. He doesn't want us colluding with each other at court. FitzRobert's father is constable of Newcastle, where I'm to be held. In truth, I am glad to be away from the royal train.' Deep lines furrowed his brow. 'You do not know. It is like trying to survive in a pen full of hungry rats. Some of John's mercenaries . . .' He broke off and swallowed. 'I will not speak of it.'

Mahelt sipped the wine but the heat didn't touch the frozen lump of fear at her core. 'What of Papa, and Richard?'

'Richard's all right. He has that way about him that gets him by. He's constantly teased because of his red hair and his size, but he shrugs it off.

Our father . . .' Will's mouth twisted. 'He shrugs all off too, but at what cost? He just answers whatever humiliation John heaps on him with a smile or a calm look, but the insults and treachery must be ripping him to shreds inside where it doesn't show. I cannot bear to see it. And as to what's happening in Ireland, God help us.' He tossed back his own drink and poured another cup.

Mahelt clenched her fists at the thought of her beloved father being hounded like this. She dared not think about Ireland beyond the superficial because she would become a screaming harpy.

'Our mother's with child again as well,' Will added. 'Due in the early spring, Papa says. They wanted one of us at least to be Irish born.'

Mahelt gave him a shocked look and wondered how much more could be piled upon them before everything broke down. The news of a pregnancy was usually a cause for celebration, but the thought of her mother coping alone in Ireland as her condition advanced, and this her ninth time, only compounded her agitation.

Will hesitated, and then said, 'I have something for you.' Reaching down between shirt and tunic, he produced a piece of parchment folded small.

'What's this?'

He looked furtively round and handed it to her. 'Letters from the King about sending soldiers to Ireland. It concerns numbers of men and which castellans he's sending where - instructions to his agents.'

Mahelt's stomach plummeted. 'Where did you get this?' she whispered.

'One of FitzRobert's messengers happened to leave his letter satchel unattended when he went for a piss. I daren't keep this with me lest they search my baggage, but if you can find a means to pass it on to our mother and Jean D'Earley, it will be of great value to them. Don't let anyone else see it because it will be our downfall. I didn't know whom else to trust and I can't keep it with me.'

Mahelt shivered at his words, but stiffened her resolve and tucked the parchment into the pouch at her belt. 'Don't worry,' she said, her confident aplomb concealing terror. 'I'll deal with it. I'll write to Mama and pass this on as soon as I can.'

Will offered her food, but although she nibbled at a crust of bread and a wedge of cheese, she was too apprehensive to be hungry. The letter and the knowledge she should not be here were preying on her mind. 'I have to go,'

she said, finishing her wine. 'The Earl refused me permission to see you and if he finds out I've gone . . .' She let the sentence hang.

Will nodded manfully. 'I understand. Roger Bigod is set in his ways.' He gave her a quick look. 'What about your husband?'

Mahelt flushed guiltily. 'Hugh's away hunting in Thetford forest. He doesn't know.' She toyed with a loose thread on her cloak. 'He makes me laugh, and he sees the layers in things. He's not rigid like his father.'

'Can you rely on him?'

Her flush deepened as she stood up. 'I wouldn't tell him about this,' she said, 'but I do trust him . . .' She put her arms around Will again and squeezed him close, absorbing the touch and feel of kinship, not wanting to let him go, but knowing she must. 'Take care of yourself, and I pray to see you again soon. Don't worry about the parchment. It's safe with me.'

'I don't remember what it was like at home any more,' he said, his voice muffled against the hood of her cloak. 'I daren't because it would unman me. Besides, I can never go back and neither can you . . . Ah, I say too much. Go, Matty, and do what you can.' He kissed her temple and her cheek.

A boy brought a fresh horse and Will boosted Mahelt on to its back for the thirteen-mile ride back to Thetford. 'Godspeed,' he said. 'Tarant will see you safe.' He nodded at the groom.

Mahelt blew her brother a kiss from the saddle and nudged the horse with her heels. Looking over her shoulder as she rode away, she fixed in her memory Will's image outlined in the torchlit doorway, his arm raised in farewell.

Mahelt woke late in the morning and lay in bed, re-orientating herself. The happenings of yesterday were like a dream, but when she reached to the small tear in the mattress and felt the curled edge of the parchment Will had given her last night, she knew it was true. Her thighs were stiff from hard riding and her arm twinged where she had banged it on the wall whilst clambering back up the rope ladder and through the chamber window an hour before dawn. Edeva had been waiting for her, and trembling so hard she had barely been able to draw the shutters closed. Mahelt had not been much better herself, but she had been awash with excitement too and it had taken her a long time to fall asleep. What had woken her now was Edeva tiptoeing about the chamber. The maid had brought her a cup of buttermilk and some bread and cheese. Mahelt was still too keyed up to be hungry, but she made herself drink the buttermilk at least. If the tray returned from her chamber with the food untouched, it would give credence to the fact that she was unwell.

Edeva kept her eyes downcast as she helped Mahelt to dress, and her chin kept dimpling as if she were about to burst into tears. Mahelt felt like snapping at her not to be such a goose, but she held her tongue. Pretending nothing had happened was probably the best way to deal with matters. She was about to send the maid for parchment and ink so she could write to her mother when a squire came to the door saying that the Earl wanted to see her in his chamber immediately. Mahelt swallowed panic. He couldn't know. He couldn't! Unless . . . She looked at Edeva but the maid was extremely busy smoothing the bedclothes. The servant was waiting, making it clear she was to go with him, and Mahelt knew that claiming sickness would not stand in her father-inlaw's way.