SirenSong (40 page)

“My lord, I beg you,” Martin pleaded, “think! No sooner will
you go out of the keep than Lady Alys will return. She will be so frightened
for you. She will rush to follow you and bring you back. And what can you do at
Hurley? It would not be fitting for you to go into Lady Elizabeth’s chamber. I
fear Sir Mauger is already suspicious.”

It was true. William’s doubts as to whether Mauger knew and
had been baiting him returned. He paced the floor and soon became uncomfortably
aware that his legs were growing unsteady. He tired so easily. He went to a
window and pulled aside the skins that sealed it against the rain.

“You will get wet,” Martin exclaimed.

William ignored him and leaned out. “The rain is less.
Surely Alys would have come already.”

“Wait a little longer,” Martin cried. “By the time you ride
to the ferry, Lady Alys will have left. My lord, my lord, Sir Mauger will think
it very strange—”

Martin stopped abruptly. William’s hands had suddenly
gripped the frame that held the scraped skins so hard that the knuckles showed
white and his whole body had tensed.

“The boat!” he exclaimed. “I think I see the boat. God in
heaven! It is gunwale deep, and the river is wild.”

Trained to act in times of emergency rather than stand
frozen with horror, William burst away from the window and ran toward the
stair, nearly knocking Martin down. The steward gathered himself together and
began to follow but realized that was foolish. He could be of no help. Shaking
with fear, he crept to the window and nearly fainted when he forced himself to
look out and did not see the boat.

“No! No!” he whimpered. “Take me instead!”

As he spoke, the little craft, which had been hidden
momentarily, came into sight. Martin breathed again. It was so heavy-laden it
was not answering well to the boatmen’s efforts, but it was still afloat.
Simultaneously, he heard William bellowing in the bailey for horses to be
brought down to the small dock and for strong swimmers to make ready. Martin
pulled himself together. From the keep dock, one could see only a short stretch
upriver. He called two lusty menservants to him.

“Watch the boat,” he ordered one. “Call out to Paul what it
does and where it is from moment to moment. And you, Paul, stand in the window
above the dock and shout down to Sir William what Hugo tells you.”

The shouted messages began as soon as Paul had reached the
short end of the keep above the river. Having done what he could to help in a
practical sense, Martin sank to his knees and began to pray. This he did more
fervently every moment as Hugo’s stentorian roar reported the boat was still
afloat and coming closer. The minutes passed, slowly at first, dragged out by
fear, and then quicker and quicker as hope grew strong. The hall started to
fill as more servants rushed in to be closer to the news.

“It rounds the point,” Hugo shouted.

A shrill chattering pierced Martin’s concentration. The
maids had come down from the women’s chambers and were weeping and shrieking
with mingled fear and excitement. Painfully, Martin climbed to his feet. Silly
geese, honking away when they should be preparing for their mistress who would
be soaked and frozen. He seized one of the older women by the arm.

“Fool! What do you do here? Go and send a woman to fetch a
warm, dry cloak. Others should prepare a hot bath for Lady Alys. See that the
fire is high in her chamber. Heat sand to be laid beside her if she has taken a
chill and be sure her bed is well warmed.”

Once they had orders, the women became less disorganized.
But Martin had forgotten all about them. His words had made him conscious that
he was as guilty as they. He had been on his knees praying while he allowed Sir
William to stand out in that rain without a cloak. He rushed to Sir William’s
chamber, found the cloak, and hobbled down the stairs. Then he ran, an ugly,
crabwise scuttle, around the building, through the small water gate. Here he
stopped, holding his breath. The boat was in sight, tipping dangerously as the
boatmen tried to bring it out of the fast, rain-swollen current. Two women were
screaming hysterically, drowning out the instructions Sir William was trying to
shout at the rowing men.

Suddenly a struggle erupted in the boat. Martin cried out in
terror. Two cloaked figures seemed to be fighting while a third crouched at the
knees of one rower and a fourth tried feebly to grasp one of the struggling
pair.

One of the men-at-arms started to move. The boat tipped a
gunwale under the water. A boatman shrieked a warning and the man threw himself
back to trim the craft.

The hood fell back on the person nearest the stern, showing
Alys’s golden hair. In the next instant she had cast aside her cloak and swung
a tremendous blow, felling the person with whom she had been grappling a moment
before. Elizabeth, who had been trying to pull her fear-crazed maid away from
Alys, after settling Emma’s hysterics with a good slap, threw herself down on
top of Maud. Both men-at-arms and Alys bailed frantically. The boat rose an
inch, so that water stopped slopping in with every movement.

Now that Emma’s shrieks had been shocked into quiet and
Maud’s were muffled under Elizabeth, the boatmen could hear Sir William’s
voice. The horsemen plunged into the river carrying lines, and the crisis was
over. Martin sank down on the wet stone and wept. William covered his face with
one hand, shaking so badly he would have fallen in the river himself if one of
the men had not steadied him.

The young are very resilient. As soon as Alys saw the lines
made fast, her fear dropped away. By the time the boat was warped in, she was
able to spring lightly ashore and run to her father, crying out that he was all
wet and should go inside at once. He did not answer, only crushed her against
him so hard that she could not find breath to say any more. A maid hurried
forward with a dry cloak for her, and William let her go, prepared to give her
the tongue-lashing of her life now that he had her safe. He never got the
chance.

“No,” Alys said to the maid, “I will take no hurt from the
wet. Go cover Lady Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth!” William exclaimed turning in time to receive
her into his arms as a man lifted her ashore. “What…why…”

“Not now,” Alys ordered sharply. “Let us get her inside.
There is a long tale to tell, and horrible—simply horrible!”

It was some time, however, before William heard a carefully
expurgated version of Elizabeth’s experiences. Dry clothing had to be exchanged
for wet, and Alys insisted that Elizabeth eat before she explained. Fortunately
before William had really absorbed the enormity of what Mauger had done and
intended and worked himself into a great enough rage to ride to Hurley with a
challenge to single combat, Raymond burst in on them, muddy and bloodstained,
and a new spate of explanations began.

“Then it was he, not the merchants who attacked me,” Raymond
said thoughtfully. “Did you not say his servant’s name was Egbert? The man who
led me to that trap called out to ‘Egbert’ inside the inn.”

“There is more than one Egbert in these parts,” William
pointed out. “Still, it would be rather a great coincidence. Elizabeth, can you
guess what Mauger will do if this Egbert does not return or returns and reports
that Raymond has escaped?”

“I do not trust myself to guess anything about him,”
Elizabeth remarked bitterly.

William leaned over and took her hand in his. “It is not
easy for those with only good in their hearts to see evil in others. You do
know him, my dear. You only need to add different intentions to this
knowledge.”

“He is not a coward,” Elizabeth said slowly, “although he
also does not wish to accept the results of his mistakes. Often he will blame
them on others or seek to turn them in some way into a benefit.”

“I am afraid that is all too true of most men, myself also.”
William smiled wryly. “What man likes to say
mea culpa
?”

“What I mean is that he will try to blame you for this. He
will try to explain to the world that
you
deceived him.”

That made good sense and William followed the idea to the
conclusion that Elizabeth would not have thought of. “He cannot attack Marlowe
directly. Even if he kept the mercenaries he hired for Wales, he does not have
enough men. Obviously he knows I believe you because he has sent no messenger
to demand your return. Yet I do not think Mauger a man to sulk and do nothing,
particularly as you tell me his purpose all along was to gain hold of Marlowe
and Bix. He will seek help from some great man to attack us and right his
‘wrong’.“

“The Earl of Cornwall?” Elizabeth asked.

William laughed aloud. “If he goes to Richard, we will be
blessed. Could fortune so favor us?” He paused to think then sighed. “I think
not. He must know that Richard is in Scotland, and he would not take the chance
of going there. Nor would he write to Richard, who might not know his name and
might not look soon at a letter from a minor knight, not even his own vassal,
when he is busy with affairs of state. No, he will go to some other great
lord.”

“Which?” Raymond asked eagerly.

It had come to him that his high connection could win Sir
William what he wanted. Raymond could ask the king himself to punish Mauger or
at least prevent him from attacking William and give Hurley back into
Elizabeth’s hands. But Raymond had not heard the king discussed for nearly six
months without having a much better knowledge of him than he had started with.
Henry would flick aside a minor knight who did not even have a powerful
overlord to support him, but he would not confront a powerful man on Sir
William’s behalf. He would look the other way and bewail men’s evil and dislike
Sir William all the more for causing him trouble.

On the other hand, if Raymond went to whomever Mauger was
trying to influence, identified himself as Henry’s nephew-by-marriage, and
hinted that the king would be ill pleased to have his brother’s favorite
affronted… Yes. Then Henry need not be troubled at all, except to agree that
William was Earl Richard’s close friend.

“That I cannot tell you,” William replied. “Hereford would
be most likely, because Aubery is obviously a great favorite with him, but
Hereford is in Wales and all his forces are committed to dealing with David.”

“The Earl of Hereford would not listen to him anyway,”
Raymond said. “He thinks him an idiot because of the way he bungled that last
action we were in. Also, he knows you too well to believe any ill of you.”

William smiled indulgently at Raymond. “No man is free from
all evil, and Hereford is too wise to think me a saint. I— Oh, Diccon, take a
squad of men into the town and see if you can find any men sore wounded or dead
of sword blows. Likely they will be in that western part of the town you are
forever warning your men to avoid or in some ditch or nearby waste ground. If
you find such, bring them here. Do not rouse the town over this. It is not of
great import. What is important is that I need a messenger to ride to Earl
Richard in Scotland with all haste, and I mean
haste
.”

Having waved his man away, William turned back to his
companions. “Now I regret that I avoided Mauger at court. I have no idea who
his friends may be. We must do what we can to protect ourselves here. Raymond,
drop the matter of the merchants, and bring in every man who can hold a sword
from the town and the farms. Alys, you and Martin had better see to stuffing
and garnishing this place for war. I will speak to the men and warn them to be
alert, and I will write to Richard, who will do what he can, but—”

“William,” Elizabeth burst out, “this is madness! Let me go
away. I can seek shelter in a convent.”

He looked at her, and Elizabeth’s eyes dropped. She was not
frightened for herself. She was very willing to die with William if that was
necessary, but she could not bear to think of Alys and Raymond being sacrificed
to protect her nor that Marlowe should be ravaged on her account. Still, she
said no more, and William’s answer made any future objections hopeless.

“It would not help, Elizabeth. Mauger must have his revenge
on me whether you remain here or not. Do not forget that it was Alys who freed
you and helped you escape. You say Mauger wants Marlowe. He must take Alys to
gain that end. We are all in this together.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, and Raymond stiffened, but she
did not weep or fall into hysterics any more than did Alys. William turned to
Raymond, but only to see if he had a counter opinion.

“I will start gathering the men tomorrow,” was all Raymond
said, proud to be consulted and also that William no longer even thought of
offering him the choice of leaving before they were attacked.

Raymond had realized he could not go off to counter Mauger’s
moves. He had not the faintest idea of where to go. In addition, Sir William
was not yet strong enough to gather and train men for defense himself.

William levered himself out of his chair. “I will go write
to Richard now.” He bent over Elizabeth. “My love, come and lie down to rest
until I am finished.”

Raymond was somewhat shocked at the openness of this avowal,
but he saw only amused resignation looked out of Elizabeth’s eyes. William was
truthful to a fault, but that was not the cause of his declaration. He had said
often that he had waited long enough. Plainly, he intended to enjoy her openly
in whatever time they had. She rose without comment. Perhaps he was right. In
Marlowe, no one would dare look askance at her. Why then should they suffer the
discomfort of sneaking a kiss or a coupling, fearing to be discovered?

Before Raymond could say anything after William and
Elizabeth disappeared into his apartment, Alys said, “You need not think Papa
and Elizabeth have ever wronged Sir Mauger. They could not help what they felt.
They have been in love with each other since they were children. Now that she
is free, they may do as they like.”