To Defy a King (21 page)

Her nipples were a marvellous shade of rose-brown. He kissed the elegant sweep of her collar bone, her slender, pale throat, and gloried in the sight of the spring sun gleaming on her skin. He tugged his tunic over his head and taking her hands, set them to the fastening at the top of his shirt. She needed no more hint than that and untied the strings. He pulled the garment off and her eyes met his for a moment before lowering to contemplate his body.

Mahelt had seen him half-clad before, but never as intimately as this.

Always they had touched with their clothes on and it was the first time she had explored his bare skin when they were alone. He was supple and muscular, all in proportion. His hair was surrounded by a nimbus of sunshine and it was as if they were both beings of light.

The rose petals were damp under her hips and buttocks and the sheets were cool and pristine. She shivered, gooseflesh rising on her arms.

'Are you cold?'

'No . . .' Ripples ran through her from head to foot. She saw her own luminosity reflected in his gaze and returned to her a hundredfold. 'Hugh,'

she whispered and touched his hair, before burying her face against the strong pulse beating in his throat. She could feel the rapid thudding of his heart against her ribs and her own pounding in unison. As they stroked and touched and kissed, she began to feel as if they were one person. One flesh, as the Church said that a man and wife became when they took the marriage vows. Adam's rib restored. Feeling the undulation of his hips, she responded in similar wise. He gasped and pulled her over on top of him and threaded his fingers through her thick hair, bright and dark at the same time. Aware of his arousal, Mahelt trembled with excitement and fear. She disliked being caught in a situation where she was at a disadvantage and thus she dared herself to push on a stage further and with that daring came wildness, as if she were in the midst of a battle and it was the only way to survive.

And Hugh harnessed that wildness and used his own experience to bring her to his will even while he was desperate with his own need. He entered her and the sun played over their bodies as they moved within the light. He kissed her eyelids, her nose, her throat, then her mouth, timing each motion of his lips and tongue with the surge and retreat of his hips. The smell of perfumed sheets, the sharpness of their mingled sweat, the spicy scent of her hair filled each breath he took and became part of him. He felt Mahelt tense beneath him and thrash her head on the bolster, and knew it could not last for much longer but he wanted it to go on for ever because it was perfect and perhaps it would never be this perfect again. He gathered her in his arms and she wrapped her legs around him and in turn gathered him in, giving and receiving and giving back, all melding into one.

In the aftermath following the blinding sunburst of release, Hugh flopped over on to his side to avoid squashing her with his weight. Her hand moved against his heaving rib cage. 'Your heart will tear through your breast,' she murmured.

'Then it will be in your keeping.' He stroked her hair. 'And that is as it should be because you are its owner.' As a peaceful lassitude washed through his bones, he felt that the world could go and do as it wanted; he didn't care. Only let him and Mahelt stay here in this moment for ever. 'I have my wife,' he said, and then added with a smile: 'My woman.'

Mahelt glowed when he said 'my woman'. Because she truly did feel like a woman now. She knew what other women knew. She had the experience and she was grateful to him for making it so good. Leaning up on her elbow, she traced her other hand over his body. The sunlight had shifted and mellowed from white to pale gold. His hands and wrists, face and throat were darker than the rest of him, making him look as if he was wearing an undergarment of flesh - one she had recently reached beneath to touch his true self. She felt such a welling of love for him that it brought tears to her eyes. 'My husband,' she reciprocated. 'My man.'

Over the ensuing days, Hugh took Mahelt riding around the demesne and showed her the fields, the woods, the sheep pasture. He gave her little surprises: a dainty ring depicting two clasped hands; a crown of roses for her head; silk garters for her hose and gold ribbons to dress her hair. They played like children and this time there was no one to stop them or cast censorious glances, and they made love with the windows open and the light upon the bed until they were sore and sated.

One day a traveller visited the manor, headed for York. He carried jewels in his knapsack: glossy black jet, garnet, and amber from the Baltic. Hugh was particularly taken by an irregular lump of amber that had a strange insect trapped inside it, looking as if it had been drowned in honey. The detail was so clear that he could see the delicate veins on its outspread wings and the fine hairs on its legs. He bought the piece from the packman, together with a deep red garnet for his father's hat and a large blue jewel to set in a pendant for his mother. And pearls for Mahelt, to wind like stars through her hair.

The packman's name was Matthew; he was a garrulous young man who, although aware of his place in the world, was not obsequious and plainly took great pride in his profession. He was hoping to sell most of his stones to the goldsmiths of York.

'You should have a care,' Hugh warned him. 'Men will rob you for what you have in your pack.'

Matthew shrugged. 'If they do, they do, but all they see on the outside is a poor pedlar not worth their time. I don't wear rich clothes, I don't have a fine horse, just my donkey, and a common pack saddle.'

Hugh nodded, seeing the sense in this, and it made him thoughtful. Perhaps Matthew would be useful to foster should he need to send messages to his father or others less obviously than by a messenger wearing Bigod livery.

Mahelt opened her eyes and, as she returned from the oblivion of sleep, gazed through the open shutters. She was fascinated by the way the light changed through the window from white, to gold, to ochre as the day progressed. Hugh was still asleep beside her, his hair a sun-streaked tangle, his mouth relaxed in a natural curve, encircled by a sparkle of stubble. A fierce pang of love arrowed from her heart to her loins. He had said last night that it was time they returned to Framlingham. She knew he was right but she was keen to enjoy these remaining few days and wring from them every last droplet of gold that she could, because once they returned to Suffolk, their lives would immediately become constrained by their duty to others. She was just contemplating kissing him awake when she heard the sound of hoofbeats in the yard, the jingle of harness and voices bantering back and forth.

Mahelt threw on her chemise and, binding her hair in a plait, hurried to the window. To her utter astonishment her brothers Will and Richard were dismounting, together with another young man she had not seen before.

Looking upwards, Richard saw her peering out and gave her a grin and a wave. Mahelt hastily backed out of sight and ran to shake Hugh. 'Wake up!'

she cried, her voice vibrant with excitement. 'Wake up, my brothers are here!'

Hugh grunted, forced his eyes half open and groped for his shirt. 'They took their time,' he mumbled.

Mahelt paused in donning her dress to stare at him. 'What do you mean

"took their time"? You knew?'

'I heard they were at Newcastle, so I wrote to Robert FitzRoger their custodian. I thought he'd be sympathetic enough to allow them to ride down to Settrington for a couple of days.'

'You didn't see fit to tell me?' She laced the sides of her gown with swift fingers.

'I didn't know for sure that he'd let them off the hook, so I preferred to keep it secret and hope for a surprise.'

Mahelt leaned over the bed and kissed Hugh hard on the lips. 'I love your surprises!'

'They do reap their rewards,' he replied with a chuckle.

Mahelt nipped his lower lip between her teeth and he swatted her buttocks.

She gave him a mock glare as she bundled her hair into a net and secured a veil over the top with gold pins. 'You'll pay for that.'

'I'll look forward to it,' Hugh retorted, not in the least set down, and laughed to himself as she flung from the room like a whirlwind. Gradually, however, his smile faded and his expression grew thoughtful. He pushed aside the knowledge that his father would not approve of what he had done. He considered it better to let Mahelt flout the rules when he was with her, rather than letting her go off on her own wild tack. This way he could keep his eye on what was said and done, and perhaps learn something too.

Mahelt hurried across the hall to greet her brothers, flinging her arms around them and exclaiming with joy. Then, with less exuberance, she curtseyed to John FitzRobert, eldest son of her brothers' gaoler. The young man had the pitted marks of smallpox upon his face and a fierce expression in his eyes, but he was well spoken and his manner was courtly enough.

Hugh arrived in the hall still fastening his belt. 'I am sorry, we are slugabeds this morning,' he said with a smile as he greeted their guests. He brought them to the dais table where servants were setting out jugs of wine, fresh loaves, cheese and honey.

At first as they sat over their food, the talk was all light banter and family matters. Will and Richard told Hugh the tale of their sister throwing rancid salve at them while defending her 'castle' and Mahelt put her nose in the air.

'I won,' she said. 'Didn't I?'

'Yes, you did,' Will said with a quirk of his lips. 'My cloak was never the same again.'

Mahelt sniffed and looked superior. The talk turned to Ireland and discussion about their new baby brother, Ancel. 'Let us hope we get to meet him before he's a grown man,' Will said.

'If we don't, we'll all be greybeards,' Richard remarked. Mahelt nudged him. 'Don't say that, we'll all be together soon.'

Will shook his head. 'Don't be so certain. Meilyr FitzHenry may have been defeated, but the King won't let things rest as they are.'

Mahelt eyed him. 'What do you mean?'

'John hates to lose and he's vindictive. He won't let our father alone in Ireland, especially now William de Braose has fled there.'

Mahelt's eyes widened. 'De Braose has fled?' She gazed at Hugh in bewilderment, but he was avoiding her eyes. 'Why?'

Will looked surprised. 'I thought you would know. He's run to Ireland with his wife and family. The King says de Braose owes him thousands of marks, and he's ordered him to pay up and give hostages for his good faith.' Will spoke the word 'hostages' with grim revulsion. 'But it's much more than a matter of owing money.'

Hugh shot Will a warning look. 'This is not a conversation for company.'

'Then when else shall we have it?' Will demanded. 'Shall we sweep it into the midden like everything else and pretend the stench beneath our noses doesn't exist?'

'Will knowing make a difference?' Hugh shook his head. 'No one goes poking in a midden unless they must.'

Mahelt glared at Hugh. 'Tell me. I will not be left in ignorance.'

Hugh compressed his lips.

Will turned to her and said, 'De Braose was the last person to see Prince Arthur alive and he knows what happened to him.' He glanced round the gathering. 'John murdered his own nephew in cold blood.'

'That is mere rumour,' Hugh snapped.

'Enough of a "mere" rumour for de Braose's wife to refuse to give her sons as hostage to John,' Will retorted. 'Enough to raise de Braose on high for his silence, and then bring him down like a rat scrabbling at the end of a sealed tunnel. Enough to destroy him and his kin. How much rumour is needed before it becomes a truth? How much more do we have to suffer of this tyrant's rule?'

'That is enough.' Hugh's voice was hard with anger. 'Be welcome to visit with your sister and hunt on my lands, but know that I will not harbour such talk at my hearth.'

Will matched his stare. 'Not talking about it will not make it go away. It will grow and grow while you ignore it -
because
you ignore it - and one day it will swallow you whole and you will wish you had listened.'

'Not if we take pains to protect ourselves. There are more ways than one and within the letter of the law. In East Anglia we have been little troubled.'

Will's expression said without words he thought Hugh was deluded.

'Perhaps because you are comfortable in East Anglia turning a blind eye,'

FitzRobert said.

It was on the tip of Hugh's tongue to say better a blind eye than blinded in truth, but he held back. FitzRobert's sire was not only constable of Newcastle, but the sheriff of Norfolk too and it was prudent to tread carefully. 'I have clear enough vision to see how close we all are to the edge,' he replied with finality. 'Enough of this talk. Would your fathers approve if they were sitting here? How do you think they would respond to your words?'

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Then Will muttered an apology into his chest and Richard asked a deliberate question about one of the gazehounds dozing near the fire, and the conversation lurched into safer waters.

Mahelt finished combing her hair and watched Hugh pace their chamber with restless energy. Her brothers and FitzRobert had retired for the night to a chamber off the hall and would leave with the morning light to hunt and then travel back north.

Hugh let out a deep breath. 'Will is treading a dangerous path.'

'What path would you tread if you were him?' Mahelt demanded. 'If you had been taken from your family and subject to whim and cruelty?'

Hugh rubbed his brow. 'If you stick your head over a parapet you are asking for an archer to put an arrow through your eye. Better to stay down.'

'And what of truth and justice? What if all your friends and allies were being killed? Wouldn't you go to their aid?'

Hugh gestured impatiently. 'Of course I would, but putting my head over the parapet would just mean joining them in death. That I have invited your brothers to visit is already close enough to peering out through the crenel gaps!'

Mahelt lifted her chin and said with scorn, 'My father once stood in the way of Richard Coeur de Lion to stop him capturing old King Henry when they were at war. He was willing to sacrifice himself. He never counted the cost.'