Candace C. Bowen - Knight Series 03 (22 page)

“As a matter of fact, I am.” Baron de Grey crossed his arms. “Young Olin owes me for a wager he lost on a joust.”

“You cannot be serious?” Fulke’s raised voice had hovering nobles inch closer.

“I would never lay claim to such a thing were it not true.” Baron de Grey chuckled. “Shall I go and seek Olin out for you?”

“If you were to secure me an appointment with the king this day,” Fulke said, “I would owe you a service.”

“To have you beholden to me is a reward onto itself. Stay here and accept the adoration of the enraptured crowd. I shall return as soon as possible.”

Reveling in his good luck, Fulke realized he and Baron de Grey had become the center of the court’s attention. Seeing him take notice, many of the assembled nobles belatedly looked away. “Saints bones,” he swore to himself, “I wish I were home.”

Chapter Sixteen

“There is a small brook up ahead with a small copse of trees for cover,” the captain of the guard called at dusk. “We will camp there for the night.”

“I say we go on,” Talan said. “There is plenty of light left to see by.”

“Look who has deigned to speak,” the captain said dismounting. “Tis a shame you wasted your breath. Make camp or I shall have my men lend you assist.”

“If I were you, I would not be so anxious to reach the city,” one of the guards said.

Left with no choice, Talan dismounted.

A short time later, the men were gathered around a small, smoking fire. Sitting on damp blankets, the canopy of foliage above them did little to keep the wind and rain from soaking them further.

“I think I will call it a night.” Wrapping up in his sodden cloak, Caine curled up on his side.

Settling down beside his brother, Frederick covered his eyes with his arm. “Let us pray for better weather on the morrow.”

Talan lay on his back heedless to the rain pelting his exposed face. His body wracked with shivers, his mind was on revenge. While he knew Edmund would see to Mylla’s care, he worried about her present state of mind. Before drifting off into an exhausted slumber, he wondered if she would ever forgive him for killing her eldest brother.

†

Edmund stopped at twilight to make camp in a recessed outcropping of rock. “There will be no fire so I suggest you dress accordingly.”

Her voice hoarse from her futile attempts to reason with him, Mylla tried one last time. “Edmund, after what you have done, you cannot possibly believe the family will go on as if nothing has happened.”

“In time they will see reason.” After ignoring her for the better part of the day, he finally responded to her entreaties. Dropping his saddle onto the ground he propped himself against it. “I do not blame you,” Edmund said. “You were coddled and raised to believe you were more than what you are.”

“And what is it you think I am?”

“You are woman,” Edmund said. “Your duty is to advance the family fortune through marriage, and naught else. After your betrayal, we are fortunate the justice will still have you.”

“As his mistress,” Mylla said. “Do you despise me so much you would sell me so cheaply?”

“Tis your fault you are to be his mistress, not mine.” He rolled onto his side away from her. “Now cease your prattle and get some rest. I would have you look your best on the morrow.”

Mylla waited until she heard Edmund’s soft snores. Praying for a break in the clouds, she walked her horse until she found a large boulder. After several attempts, she managed to seat herself in the saddle. “You must lead the way,” she whispered turning the mare in the direction they had come. “There is not enough light for me to see by.” Nudging the steed with her knees, she closed her eyes in relief when they began to move. 

†

Wearing a formidable scowl, Fulke stood with his arms crossed to deter any curious nobles from seeking him out. At one point he spotted Gervase strolling through the hall with a highborn lady on each arm. Cracking a brief smile at his knight’s boldness, he once again resumed his daunting stance. 

It appeared Empress Matilda had greatly influenced the court in his absence. Italian nobles unknown to him adorned in costly silk brocades had taken a role of dominance. Married as a child to Holy Roman Emperor Henry V, she quickly became a young widow. Vain and demanding, her enemies in England had outnumbered her allies until she surrounded herself with sycophants from the Italian court.  

“So it is true,” a deep voice stirred Fulke from his observations, “Henry’s prodigal favorite has returned against orders.” 

“Count Stephen.” Genuinely pleased to see the king’s nephew, Fulke clasped arms with the older man. “It is good to see a friendly face amongst so many foreigners.”

“You see afore you my cousin’s latest attempt to liven our dull existence, her words mind you, not mine.” Stephen’s brown eyes lit up as he firmly clasped Fulke’s muscular forearm. A head shorter than Fulke with collar length blond hair, he had a long nose, trimmed mustache and close-cropped beard. Wearing an embroidered blue tunic denoting his high status, his demeanor held him above all other nobles.

“I take it there is no newfound admiration betwixt you?” Fulke asked.

“Nor is there ever like to be,” Stephen said. “Tell me, why have you risked provoking the lion’s wrath by coming here?”

Fulke pointedly glanced around at the eavesdropping crowd.

Holding up his hand, Stephen’s voice echoed in the now silent hall. “Leave us.”

Obeying the count’s command, nobles quickly scattered in all directions. Once the hall was cleared, Stephen’s personal guards blocked the outer doors to keep anyone from entering.

“I see you have retained your authoritative touch,” Fulke said, clearly impressed at the speed of the departing group.

“I possess a kingly manner, do not you think?” Stephen crossed his arms with a grin.

“The nobles respond to you as if you were already crowned king.”

“In time it will not matter how many foreigners my cousin surrounds herself with,” Stephen said. “I am determined to take my rightful place on the throne.”

“The last we spoke you were attempting to sway Robert Fitzroy to back your claim,” Fulke said. “Have you succeeded?”

“Bastard of Henry’s that he is the first Earl of Gloucester will not betray his half-sister.” Stephen glowered. “He will no doubt become her greatest ally in the conflict that is to come.”

“Conflict?” Fulke frowned. “You do not believe the matter can be settled with diplomacy?”

“Diplomacy is not a word in Matilda’s vocabulary,” Stephen said. “Battle is the only realistic conclusion.”

“Such a thing is sure to divide the country,” Fulke said. “Are you certain there is no other way?”

“The majority will not support a female sovereign, Fulke. You know that. After my cousin William drowned, I am the closest to a legitimate son that Henry has. After all, he raised me. No one could rule in his stead like I could.”

“Stephen, a conflict of such magnitude could take years.”

“Indeed it may, yet I am hopeful that Henry will come to his

senses.” Stephen reached up to grip Fulke’s shoulder. “Despite your pledge to Matilda, I am ever hopeful I can count on your support if he does not.”

“I will continue to pray that time never comes.”

“I see you have remained diplomatic in your long absence.” Stephen smiled. “It appears I have monopolized the conversation with my political ambitions. Why have you come?”

“One of my men has run into a spot of trouble with Henry’s Chief Itinerant Justice. I have come on his behalf.”

“I must say, that is the last thing I would have expected to hear,” Stephen said. “What has your man done to cross the merciless Ranulf?”

“Do you consider Ranulf a friend?”

“A friend of mine?” Stephen laughed. “Would I call him merciless if he were? Truth be told, I would rather not consider the man to be an acquaintance. He is loyal to Henry, which means he has cast his support for Matilda’s claim.”

“I must admit I am beyond pleased to hear it.”

“Cut to the gist, Fulke.” Stephen turned serious. “What is this about?”

“Love, actually.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Extremely loyal to his wife, Stephen was intrigued. “Let me guess, your man championed a lady by standing in the way of the justice’s baser desires.”

“You are not far wrong,” Fulke said. “Talan fell in love with the Sheriff of Rochester’s only daughter, Mylla. He had a mutual understanding with the lass prior to the justice’s claim.”

“I take it the mutual understanding was not formerly proclaimed?”

“Talan is honorable to a fault. He wanted to have everything in order prior to petitioning the sheriff for her hand.”

“Then I would say it is unfortunate timing on your man’s part,” Stephen said. “Did the lady’s father agree to the justice’s troth?”

“He did. Do you think the sheriff had any choice in the matter?”

“Nevertheless, I am afraid there is nothing that can be done.” Stephen paused as a thought occurred to him. “Something has already been done. That would explain your presence here.”

“Indeed you are correct,” Fulke acknowledged. “Talan has fled Rochester with his lady love.”

“They absconded?” Throwing back his head, Stephen’s laughter echoed throughout the vaulted hall. “What a juicy dilemma. The palace will be all atwitter upon hearing this latest tidbit.”

“That I do not doubt,” Fulke said.

“I knew it was something of grave import, yet to find it also entertaining is quite a boon.”

“Forgive me if I do not share in your amusement, Stephen. Talan is more than my knight, I consider him a brother.”

“Aye, I well know how you care for your men. It is churlish of me to make light of your predicament.” Stephen once again grew serious. “You wish to have the formal betrothal with the justice annulled?”   

“Do you think it at all possible?”

“I cannot say for sure. The justice has more enemies than friends at court. There are many here who would pay a high sum to see him slighted. On the other hand, Henry is quite fond of him. They have an attachment going back to their boyhoods.”

“I keep hearing as much.” Fulke straightened to his full height. “That is why I must humbly ask for your assistance in this matter.”

“You expect me to use my influence with Henry to intercede on young Talan’s behalf?”

“It is what I am asking.”

“I see.” Stephen’s demeanor changed. “And what may I ask would I receive in return for my intercession?”

“The only thing I have that you would find of value,” Fulke said after a long pause. “Upon Henry’s death, I would consider breaking my vow to Matilda in support of your claim to the throne.”

“You would only consider it?”

“Like I told you when you initially sought my support, I will do what I feel is best for the realm,” Fulke said. “It is the only pledge I can make to you.”

“I suppose that is a start.” Stephen relaxed by crossing his arms. “Unfortunately, it seems like you will benefit more from the current bargain.”

“With all due respect, Stephen, I do not have time to play games. We both know you need my support if you are to sway more barons to your cause.”

“I had forgotten how forthright you can be. It is a refreshing change after being surrounded by bootlickers for so long.” Stephen smiled. “You also happen to be correct. I highly value your support, and for it, I will do what I can for your man. Only know this, there are no guarantees where Henry is concerned. He may or may not listen to me.”

“I am well aware of that, yet my word is my bond,” Fulke said. “I shall give your claim serious consideration when the time comes.”

Stephen clasped Fulke’s shoulder with a genuine smile. “You are likely the most honorable man I have ever met. I know what it cost you to strike this deal. In time, I shall prove to you that I am the right claimant for the throne.” 

“Thank you.” Feeling like a traitor, Fulke lowered his head. It was not so long ago that he had joined with an assemblage of English and Norman barons to swear allegiance to the king’s daughter. Henry’s only legitimate offspring after the death of his only son, the king intended for the widowed Matilda to be crowned the first Queen of England. Deeming his cousin unworthy of the crown, Stephen had secretly been plotting to claim the throne for himself upon the death of his uncle.

“I am pleased we have reached an accord,” Stephen said. “Let us hope Henry is in a forgiving mood.”

“I have information that may sway the king’s favor our way,” Fulke said.

“What information could you possibly possess against the impenetrable justice?”

“Is attestation that he has committed outright murder good enough for you?” 

“The justice has murdered more men than I can count,” Stephen scoffed. “The king is not only aware of it he more often than not condones it.”

“Aye, commoners are plentiful,” Fulke conceded with a grin. “Only I speak of a noblewoman…. related however distantly to the king.”

“If this woman you speak of is related to the king, she is also relation to me,” Stephen said. “Who is it you are referring to?”

“Are you familiar with the justice’s third wife, Lady Kaylein?”

“Kaylein?” Stephen appeared taken aback. “We often spent time together as children. She was more sister to me than cousin.”

Relief flooded Fulke’s features. If Stephen was fond of the lady, Henry was bound to be as well.

“Are you saying what I think you are saying? Kaylein did not flee the justice’s house with a lover?”

“From what I have been told, she never left his London residence,” Fulke said. “Even now her body rests in the oubliette he had dug in his basement.”

“And all this time we believed de Glanville’s account.” Stephen clenched his fists with tightened lips. “My uncle even felt obligated to make amends to him for being labeled a cuckold.”

“The justice is a wise man,” Fulke said. “He would rather be considered a cuckold than a murderer of a noblewoman with royal blood.”