The Shattered Rose (40 page)

"Henry Beaumont, Earl of Warwick."

Warwick was still a young man, but authority and strength stamped every line of his face and body.

"And Ralph Bassett, my legal adviser."

Bassett was surprisingly genial looking, with a scrubbed face. But Galeran had heard of him. He was a close companion of the king's and a blade-sharp student of the law.

"Does anyone object to these men hearing our discussion," Henry asked, "and advising me in this?"

No one did, though Galeran wished he knew more of the observers. The Bishop of London was supposed to be a worthy man. The Earl of Warwick, however, had been with Henry on the day his brother died, and might have had a hand in murder.

Galeran put aside such concerns as the king himself began to lay out the situation. "As we understand this case, my lords, while you, Lord Galeran, were away from England on the Enterprise of God, your wife bore a child to Raymond of Lowick. Does anyone here dispute that fact?"

Silence answered him.

"News, thankfully false, was brought to England of your death at Jerusalem, Lord Galeran, perhaps leading the Lady Jehanne and Sir Raymond to think themselves free to be intimate—"

Galeran almost objected, but he saw Raymond move and be restrained by the bishop. Very well. He, too, would wait and see just what plan they had.

"Upon your return, however," Henry continued, "their sin was clear to all. Raymond of Lowick confessed himself to the Bishop of Durham, and we assume the Lady Jehanne confessed herself to her priest and to you, her earthly lord."

This, it became clear, was a question requiring an answer.

"Yes, sire," said Galeran. He'd hoped to keep this hearing away from discussion of Jehanne's sin. Now he could only hope this wasn't heading straight toward the question of the suitable punishment for adultery.

It was.

"Sir Raymond," said the king, "received penance of the bishop—the penance which is contested here. What penance did the Lady Jehanne receive?"

Galeran tried an old device. "Sire, as soon as I heard of the bishop's wise judgment, I announced that my wife should perform the same penances, in prayer, in offerings to God's work, and in the raising of the child."

Henry nodded. "Thus leading to our dilemma. Unfortunately, as King Solomon found, a child cannot be divided between two contesting parties." Galeran thought they had passed over the treacherous spot, but then Henry added, "Did you not think it your duty, Lord Galeran, to impose some additional penalty upon your wife?"

"No, sire." Why did he feel as if he confessed a sin? Probably because of the disapproval emanating from all these men.

"And yet, I am told you struck her to the ground when first you met."

And who told you of that? "I did, sire. An action I regret. My wife's anguish and genuine repentance are punishment enough."

Flambard interjected at this point with a snide chuckle, "You are too fond, Lord Galeran. Too fond. It is easy enough for a woman to weep and wail. It does not serve good order for them to use that ability to avoid just punishment."

Galeran was hard pressed not to grin at the trap he was about to spring. "You think I should have beaten her, my lord bishop? But since my wife took on herself the penance imposed on Sir Raymond, would he not then have to be beaten too? In fact, it could be said that I owe him a blow. . . ."

Lowick erupted to his feet, hand on sword.

It was Flambard who snapped, "Sit down!" while glaring at Galeran. There was something more than just thwarted anger in his eyes, however. Why had this turn so worried the bishop? Did he not want the matter coming to violence?

Henry had his chin on his hand and was watching the reactions with great shrewdness. "We will leave the matter of the lady's just deserts to a later time. At issue here is the matter of the child, and the rights of the bishop to decide her placement. I am surprised, Lord Galeran, that you are so determined to keep a cuckoo in your nest."

There were any number of impassioned things Galeran could say, but he kept it practical. "The babe is at the breast, sire, and as all know, to deprive a child of its mother's milk is likely to harm it. I see no cause to injure an innocent. Since I wish to have my wife by my side, the babe must remain. And Donata, being a girl, will not threaten the interests of our future children."

"So you are willing to raise the child with the care and affection you would give to your own offspring, and arrange for her future well-being?"

"I am, sire."

Henry turned to the other bench. "Sir Raymond, I doubt you can do as well for your daughter."

"And yet she is my daughter, sire," said Raymond firmly.

"But you have no safe means to feed a baby. And if we were to give you the child when she is weaned, how are you to care for her then? You have no wife. You have no home."

"I will find a wife, sire. I will make a home."

The king raised his brows. " 'Tis not so easy, as I myself have found. I confess, I have daughters born out of wedlock, but I am content to leave them with their mothers for raising. Tell me, Sir Raymond, why do you want to burden yourself with a child?"

Under the direct question, Lowick's lips tightened. After a thwarted pause he said, "Because she's mine. I have the right."

It was laughably weak. What Lowick really wanted was Jehanne, and Galeran dead so he could claim Heywood, but of course he couldn't say that. Galeran noticed, however, that Flambard did not seem concerned by the hearing's progress.

That worried him.

The king leaned back in his chair and addressed his advisers. "My lords? Do you wish to question either party further, or do you have a recommendation for me?"

Galeran tried not to show his relief that the matter had come so easily to the end.

It was as well he hadn't, for the Bishop of London spoke. "Sire, we must consider the rights of the Church."

"Ah, yes," said the king. "You do well to remind me, my lord bishop."

It was clear to Galeran that Henry would rather not have been reminded, but it wasn't something the king could ignore. The Church had the right to judge in certain matters, and would not let that right be stolen.

Galeran felt his heart speed, though. This had always been what he feared most—the involvement of the Church as an institution. Flambard was a man, and a venal and unpopular one. The Church itself could not be ignored.

"Sire," said the Bishop of London, "this is an interesting case. The Bishop of Durham was within his rights to impose penance, and Lord Galeran is within his rights to lay penalty on his wife. When the two conflict, what is to be done?"

"If you don't know, my lord bishop," said Henry, "I certainly don't."

The bishop did not seem put out. "If there is no other solution, sire, I suggest that compensation be made. If Lord Galeran were to make an additional donation to some religious institution, that would balance the portion of the babe he has kept from Sir Raymond."

"The portion of the penance, you mean," pointed out the king. "I'd think Sir Raymond should pay to be relieved of that, despite his noble desire to rear his child."

""You are wise, sire," said the bishop with a dry smile. "Sir Raymond should therefore do some other penance. Since he is said to be a fine warrior, perhaps he should go as Lord Galeran did, to fight the infidel."

Henry almost smiled too, as he turned to Raymond. "What say you to that, sir? You must know that if this case were to be put formally before the law, both you and the lady could suffer severe penalties, including the loss of life itself."

It was so neat, even to getting Lowick out of the country, that Galeran wondered if it had all been arranged beforehand.

Lowick looked nothing so much as frustrated. "I would be honored to fight for Christ, sire, but I feel my first duty is to protect my child and her mother. . . ."

Flambard put a calming hand on Lowick's arm and used his jeweled and gilded crook to push himself to his feet. In his miter and vestments, he was an almost biblical figure. "Your pardon, sire, but there is an aspect to the situation that has not yet been raised."

Galeran shared a quick look with Raoul. He didn't know what was coming, but it was the surprise assault he'd been expecting all along.

"Yes, my lord bishop?" asked the king, who had also become suddenly watchful.

Flambard smiled—a beneficent smile worthy of a saint in a manuscript. "Your very reasonable assumption, sire— and that of my brother bishop—is that the intercourse between Raymond of Lowick and Jehanne of Hey wood was unlawful. It was also my belief when I imposed penance, though I was merciful because of the circumstances. However, on further discussion with Sir Raymond, I discovered that he thought himself entitled to his actions, not only because he believed Lord Galeran to be dead, but because he believed himself to be the lawful husband of the Lady Jehanne."

"On what possible grounds?" Galeran demanded, but a sick fear coiled inside him. Could Jehanne have gone through a marriage ceremony with Lowick? He'd been a little surprised that she hadn't if she'd thought him dead, but if she had, surely she would have told him.

Flambard directed a triumphant smirk at him. "Prior betrothal, my lord."

"You lie!" Galeran was on his feet and almost had his hands around Flambard's throat before the guards and Raoul pulled him away.

"Sit, Lord Galeran," said the king with remarkable calm. "We will have truth here today, I assure you." As Raoul pushed Galeran back onto his bench, Henry turned to the bishop. "You have proof of this?"

Flambard snapped his fingers and Brother Forthred stepped forward to place a document in Lowick's hand. Lowick then knelt before the king to present it.

Galeran stared at the parchment as if it were a snake in the desert. Prior betrothal could invalidate his marriage. Could it be true? Cases cropped up now and then of forgotten or ignored childhood betrothals. . . .

His chief emotion, however, was pure rage. Would they try to tear away what he and Jehanne had made together, this bishop and his pawn? He'd kill them both first.

He forced himself to be calm. He needed sharp wits here, not a sharp sword. But the time for that would come.

He looked at Flambard, who seemed piously content.

He looked at Raymond of Lowick's back, seeking the unease that would reveal a lie. The man's proud posture told Galeran nothing.

The king unrolled the parchment and read down it quickly, then passed it to Ralph Bassett.

The Earl of Warwick, who'd looked rather bored to this point, leaned forward. "With your permission, sire . . . ?"

Henry nodded, and the earl addressed Raymond, who was still on one knee.

"Sir Raymond, if you were betrothed to the Lady Jehanne, why did you make no objection to her unlawful match with Lord Galeran?"

Lowick answered firmly. "I saw no point in it, my lord. Jehanne's father had changed his mind. I knew that if he'd wanted to, he could have found a way to negate the betrothal."

"But he didn't?" asked the earl.

"No, my lord."

Galeran studied Lowick's voice. He thought he detected the flatness of untruths, but it was hard to tell, and what he was saying was plausible. Galeran had been young at the time of his betrothal and marriage. If deceptions had taken place, he might have been unaware of them.

He couldn't believe, however, that no one was aware of the prior betrothal. His father, for example, would surely know. Damn Lord William for hiding in Waltham when he should be here.

"When the betrothal was drawn up," Lowick was saying, "Jehanne was too young for marriage and she still had two brothers living. When her brothers died, leaving her an heiress, her father wanted to wed her elsewhere."

"Why?" asked the earl. "Did he not consider you able to hold her properties?"

Galeran saw Lowick's neck turn red. He could almost feel sorry for the man except that he was lying. He was surely lying and his hesitation under this question was finally giving him away.

Glancing at Flambard, Galeran thought the bishop looked disgusted with his tool.

Lowick still had not answered the earl's question, and the king sternly commanded him to do so.

"He wanted her allied to a powerful family," Lowick said at last. "I have no such family."

"Then why," asked the earl, "did he feel you a suitable husband earlier?"

"I was like a son to him, my lord." Lowick's voice had steadied. "The betrothal was a way to bring me into the family."

"But one he did not want when she was his only child?" The earl leaned back, nodding.

It was so plausible that Galeran himself wondered if the story might be true. Old Fulk had a soft spot for Lowick and might well have decided to bring him into the family through marriage, perhaps intending to give the couple a small estate.

Still, it was incredible that a betrothal be kept secret. There were always witnesses. That was the
purpose
of witnesses.

Ralph Bassett and the Bishop of London had been scrutinizing the betrothal document, and now Bassett spoke up. "This appears to be a valid document, sire, but as always in these matters, it is the witnesses who matter. They must come forward to attest to the truth."

"Alas, sire," said Flambard. "I have had searches made and none of the witnesses still live."

Everyone's brows rose at that. When it came to witnesses to such documents, it was the more the merrier just to avoid this possibility.

Galeran almost sighed with relief. The document was a forgery with false witnesses chosen simply because they were dead. Now to prove it. "Who were these witnesses?"

Ralph Bassett read off names. The first were old Fulk and his sons, of course, all certainly dead. Next was Gregory the Seneschal, more recently dead.

"I knew that man," said Galeran. "He died only recently, and was witness to my own wedding. He would not have put his name to an illegal document."

Flambard interjected smoothly, "Even at the cost of losing his position, my lord?"

It was a pointless discussion, so Galeran listened to the other names. There were only eight.