Hellion (25 page)

To celebrate the Nativity, every serf and freedman on the manor of Langston was given two measures of beer, a rasher of ham, and a loaf of bread. Each child was allocated a handful of raisins as well. As many as could crowded into the hall, singing joyously of the Christ child’s birth. A health was drunk to the absent lord and to his good lady, who had seen to this happy occasion. Then the family was left alone to celebrate quietly. Isabelle, however, was pensive. There had been no further word from Hugh. She had resigned herself to not seeing him until spring. She looked over to her baby brother, Christian de Briard, now toddling with great determination everywhere his fat little legs could take him; his nephew, Hugh the Younger, crawled behind him. It was good that they would have each other as they grew up. She looked to her mother and stepfather,
content and happy as they awaited the birth of their second child. Belle sighed.

The winter was a hard one, bitterly cold and wet. There were severe ice storms that damaged many of the trees in the orchards. Candlemas came, and with it the lambing, but it was a poor season. Not as many ewes gave birth as had the year before, and many of the newborns were lost in a wicked snowstorm that struck toward the end of the month. Only sheep, Belle thought, could be so utterly capricious as to have their young at the worst possible time of the year.

The spring was late, the frost refusing to leave the ground. When the planting was finally done, it was washed away by severe rainstorms and had to be done again, which was accomplished with some difficulty, the earth being sodden and difficult to plough. The winter wheat had suffered with the cold and wet. When they were finally able to harvest it, the yield was scant. None of the usual signs seemed to bode well for a good growing season.

“Pray God,” Isabelle said to Father Bernard after the mass one morning, “that the summer crops are bountiful.”

“Without the lord, lady, little good will happen for Langston,” Ancient Albert, the old smithy, said in a quavery voice. “Where be Lord Hugh? We need him.”

Isabelle took the rheumy-eyed old man’s hand and said to him, “The lord is at Duke Robert’s court on king’s business, Ancient Albert. He will return soon. I know it.”

“There will be no luck at Langston until the lord is safely home,” Ancient Albert pronounced. “You does your best, lady, and loves the land, you surely does, but Langston must have its lord. Its luck is in its lord.”

Easter came and went. Alette de Briard gave birth to her second son on the fifth day of May. The boy was baptized Henry, after the king. And still there was no word of Hugh Fauconier. Isabelle was becoming frantic. Where was her husband?

“We will send to the king for word of Hugh,” Rolf said one evening as he sat with his stepdaughter in the hall. “Surely he will have had some word of him and know when he is to return.”

“Nay, I will
go
to the king,” Isabelle said quietly. They were alone, the servants having sought their beds, and Alette in her chamber nursing her newborn son. “A message would be as likely to get lost with all the correspondence the king must receive. He cannot, however, ignore me if I am standing before him, can he?”

“Belle, listen to me,” her stepfather said. “You know that Hugh and I were raised with the king. There are things about our liege lord that we have not discussed before you because frankly they were of no import to you. But if you go to court, you must know that Henry Beauclerc is a very lusty man. He has always enjoyed women more than he should. Although it is said of him that his couplings are more for political advantage than passion, I know that not to be true.”

“The king is a married man, Rolf,” Isabelle said naively, “and I a married woman. He will have no interest in me at all. Besides, I am not going to court for pleasure. I am going to find out where my husband has gotten to, and nothing more.”

“The king will look at you, Belle, and see a beautiful woman,” her stepfather told her. “You cannot refuse him if you engage his lust.”

“Then come with me, Rolf, and protect me.” Belle laughed. “I will be a most proper lady. King Henry will not be in the least taken with me. I shall wear a wimple and veil at all times, and pretend to be shy. Besides, he will surely maintain a loyalty to Hugh that will make it impossible for him to seduce me. Shall we take Agneatha with us?”

“Hugh would not want you to do this thing, Isabelle,” Rolf said. “He would forbid you, and as your stepfather so must I.”

“You are indeed my stepfather, Rolf,” Belle said quietly, and there was danger in her tone, a danger Rolf recognized. “You are also, however, the steward of Langston, and I,
Langston’s lady. You must obey
me
in the absence of my husband. I do not have to obey you.”

Rolf de Briard sighed and bowed his head. There was no place he could imprison her that she could not escape. He tried a final ploy. “Let me go to the king for you,” he said. “He will speak with me for our friendship’s sake.”

Isabelle shook her head. “Nay, Rolf. The king would greet you fondly and invite you to join his hunting party. He would keep you with him when we very much need you here at Langston. Nay, I must go with you. We will learn what we must and return quickly to Langston. Ancient Albert is already muttering of Langston’s luck being its lord. The serfs will become discouraged if such talk spreads. We must get Hugh home!”

“Very well, Isabelle,” Rolf said, defeated. She was probably right, he thought. If he went alone, Henry would involve him in the activities of the court while Langston languished without him. Perhaps she could play the worried little spouse and engage the king’s sympathy, not his lust. Still, Alette was going to be furious. “Your mother will not like this at all,” he said to Isabelle.

“My mother is fearful of anything she considers out of the ordinary. She has never been to court, you know.” Isabelle chuckled. “She will think me quite disobedient, and you a madman for aiding me.”

But Alette surprised them both when she was told of their plans.

“I think it an excellent idea that you go to court and speak with the king,” she said to her daughter. “We really must have Hugh home again as soon as possible. And I am pleased, my lord,” she smiled at her husband, “that you will escort Isabelle, and keep her from danger. It would be unwise of her to go alone with only her servants about her. Besides, you know the king, and can help her to get an audience with him. It is a good time for you to go. The planting is finally done, and there is
really nothing to oversee until the haying.” She turned to her daughter. “I will look after my grandson.”

Here was something Belle had not considered, and for a moment she faltered. “He is not weaned,” she said slowly.

“But he is eating solid foods, for he enjoys imitating his uncle Christian,” Alette said. “I have plenty of milk, daughter. I will nurse him, too, when he needs it. He is, after all, past his first birthday. Go and find your husband. You need another babe to care for, and you are past eighteen now.” She laughed mischievously.

“As are you, madame, and yet you continue to have children,” Belle teased her mother. Then she grew wistful. “I should like a daughter to keep her brother company,” she said.

“I should like one as well,” Alette said, her blue eyes twinkling as she looked at her husband.

“Madame, you have a daughter,” he responded, returning her look of affection and love.

“I would like another,” Alette told him stubbornly.

“In time,” he promised her, “but first let us find Hugh.”

Several days later they departed for Winchester, for Rolf believed, since the king had spent Easter there, he would yet be there, preferring to avoid London in the warmer weather. They took with them Belle’s servant, Agneatha, and twelve men-at-arms for protection. Langston was left well-defended. Hugh’s squire would serve as captain of the guard, and Rolf’s squire would oversee the estate in his master’s absence. Father Bernard blessed the little party as it left the keep. As they rode down the hill into Langston village, Ancient Albeit blocked their way.

“Lady,” he said to her, his lined face worried, “where goest thou? Will you leave us, too?”

“I am going to the king, Ancient Albert,” Belle said. “He will know where Lord Hugh is. My mother is in the keep with my son, Hugh the Younger. Until his father returns, it is he
who is Langston’s lord, and Langston’s luck. We will quickly return, I promise you.”

“God go with ye, lady,” Ancient Albert said, satisfied. “The little lord is in the keep with his grandma. ’Tis good. ’Tis good.” He stepped aside to let them pass on through the village to where the ferryman awaited them to take them across the river Blyth so they might be on the road to Winchester.

Isabelle was very excited. In her entire life she had never been off Langston lands. She had never even crossed the river. There had been no need to do so. Everything she had wanted or needed could be found at Langston. Even if her father had lived and made a marriage for her, she would have probably remained in her home, as it was her dowry. Now, as the ferry took her across the river, Isabelle felt as if she were embarking upon a great adventure.

“I have planned our journey to Winchester, Belle, so that we will be able to shelter each night in the guest houses of convents, and abbeys,” Rolf explained. “Because you have never traveled before, you may find the first few days a bit tiring.”

“What if the court is not at Winchester, Rolf?” she asked him.

“If the king has moved on to another place, there are those in the government who will have remained behind. They will know where we must go. But Henry will be at Winchester, I am certain. He doesn’t like London at this time of year, and it is too early for good hunting in the New Forest.”

“How long will it take us to get to Winchester?” she inquired.

“Seven to nine days, providing we can make good time and have decent weather,” he told her. “You will get to see London, Belle, but first we must pass through Colchester. It’s a small town, and very old, but then, you have never seen a town before. It will be a good start, for London is a large, noisy place such as you could never imagine. We’ll not stay there long.”

They rode across the countryside until they came to a
narrow road. Turning onto it, they moved steadily south. The first night, they sheltered at a small convent, St. Mary’s. Agneatha and her mistress were given beds within the convent itself. Rolf and the men slept in the guest house belonging to St. Mary’s, just outside its walls. Their supper was spare: a small trencher of bread, a piece of broiled fish, a cup of cider.

“They don’t treat themselves too good, do they?” Agneatha whispered to Isabelle as they sat together, separated from the nuns, at their own little table. She pulled a bit of bread off the trencher, remarking, “ ’Tis stale, and the fish don’t smell that good, I fear, lady.” Agneatha was twenty, and very outspoken when it was warranted. “We’ll starve before we gets where we’re going if this is the kind of hospitality we’re going to receive.” Her nut-brown braids trembled with her irritation, for Agneatha enjoyed her food, as her plump form attested.

“Shhh, Agneatha, St. Mary’s is obviously a poor convent. Look, the good sisters are having only pottage and bread. They’ve obviously given us their best. We are lucky to have a safe lodging. Rolf tells me that travel is very dangerous, and only our men-at-arms prevent robbers from attacking us. We’ll feast grandly when we reach the court.”

The next day they halted within five miles of Colchester. They would pass through the town the following morning. All of the Langston people were amazed by the number of people they found on the road as they moved toward the town. There were lords and ladies, with men-at-arms such as those in the Langston troupe. There were farmers driving cattle and geese into the town’s market. An abbot on a beautifully caparisoned mule passed them, followed by a double line of brown-robed monks, singing plainsong as they went. And then they saw it, an enormous keep towering over the town. Awed, Isabelle gazed up, mouth open. It was the biggest building she had ever seen in all of her life; far, far bigger than Langston Keep.

Rolf smiled. “This town,” he said, “has been here longer than anyone can remember. When there were Celtic tribes in England, this town was here. The people who conquered this
land before the Saxons, built temples to their heathen gods when they lived here. The castle is built upon the ruins of one of those temples. Some of the bricks in the castle come from it. The cattle market for the district is here, and always has been. And the finest oysters in the world are found here,” he finished.

“I could not have imagined such a place as this,” Belle said.

“Do you like it?” he asked her.

She shook her head. “It is too noisy, Rolf.”

He laughed. “Wait until you see London,” he warned her.

They had been on the road several days, and the weather held for them. The early spring had been too wet, and now it seemed as if it were too dry. Belle could see that most of the fields they rode by were as behind in their growth as were the fields at Langston. It did not bode well for a good year, and she worried that they would not be able to get through the next winter without some starvation. She was becoming angry at Hugh. He should be home, she thought, and not running about Normandy. Langston needed him. His son needed him.
She needed him
.

Finally, as the roads began to grow even more crowded, she realized that they were nearing the great city of London. She could see the city ahead of them, surrounded by a dingy haze.

“It’s from the coal and wood fires used for heating and cooking,” Rolf said in answer to her unspoken question.

They passed through Ealdgate, the portal believed to be the oldest of the city’s gates. The city surrounded them, and for the first time in her life Isabelle felt afraid. There were too many people. Too many buildings were all crowded together on either side of the narrow streets. She grew very quiet, looking straight ahead as if seeking an exit from this terrible place. The gray day made the city seem all the darker.