The Shattered Rose (41 page)

"Sire," he said, allowing his astonishment to show, "my own betrothal document has over thirty names on it. Lord Fulk was a man of importance in the north and could have gathered as many or more to witness this document."

"An excellent point," said Warwick.

Flambard's eyes narrowed, but his smile stayed in place. "Perhaps, since Sir Raymond lacked family or connections, Lord Fulk thought it kinder not to overwhelm him. It was, after all, at the time an insignificant matter to do with a mere daughter."

"All the same," said Galeran, "there are notable omissions. Why, for example, were neither my father nor Hubert of Burstock at such a ceremony?"

The king nodded. "An excellent point. What a pity," he added with meaning, "that Lord William of Brome is not here today to speak to this matter."

Galeran wondered if his family’s future was going to hinge on his father's allegiance after all.

The only thing to do was to take the step he both hated and thirsted for. He rose. "I am willing to put this matter to the test of the sword, sire. I challenge Raymond of Lowick to prove the right of his claim with his body."

Lowick rose immediately. "I accept!"

Chapter 20

The king frowned between them. "It would be to the death, sirs, with God as your judge." If there had been a planned end to this meeting, it was clear that they were now far from it and Henry was not pleased. He could not block a court battle, though. It was every man's right.

But at that moment a page came in to bow and murmur to the earl, who then leaned forward to speak to the king.

Henry's frown eased. "Sit, sirs, for the moment. It does not please me to lose good fighting men without need, and we might be able to cast light on this problem in other ways. William of Brome has arrived."

Even as Galeran turned to greet his father, he saw Flambard's face stiffen, and Lowick's sag with shock. Clearly neither of them had expected this.

What had they expected?

Probably that Galeran's death would be an accomplished fact before his father heard of any of this.

The door opened and Lord William entered in a statement of rich garments and jewels that could have been designed to counter Flambard's clerical magnificence. Three equally grand attendants paced behind him. Galeran was so accustomed to the hard-used cloth and leather his father wore at home that he almost laughed at this flamboyant display.

It served its purpose, though. It made his father's rank clear.

Lord William went directly but unhurriedly to kneel before the king, joined hands extended. A satisfied glint in his eye, Henry covered those hands with his own as he greeted him. It was a simplified version of the oath of fealty, but carried weight all the same.

"Lord William," said Henry, "we are delighted to see you in such good health."

"Aye, well," said Galeran's father as he rose, "I could perhaps have done with a day or two's more rest, sire, but I heard rumors that Raymond of Lowick was at Waltham asking about me and decided I'd better find out what he was up to." He glanced at Lowick and the bishop with a wicked twinkle in his eye. "Likely he got the impression I was sicker than I am. I think someone might have said I was at my last prayers, even."

"Indeed? We must not put your health and welfare at risk, my lord. Please sit." Henry ordered a chair brought forward, the only chair to be used other than the throne upon which he sat. It could just be concern for a possibly sick man, but the message was clear.

Support me, Lord William of Brome, and I will recognize you as one of my mightiest barons, leader of the north. And I will favor your family, today and on other days.

As soon as Lord William was settled, the king said, "You are come most opportunely, my lord, for you should be able to help us with a troubling matter. Sir Raymond of Lowick claims he was legally betrothed to the Lady Jehanne before her betrothal and marriage to your son, Galeran."

Lord William stared as if he'd been told the sun was made of cheese. "Rubbish, sire."

"He has a document that appears in all ways reliable. Unfortunately, the witnesses are all deceased."

"Of your kindness, sire, have the names of these witnesses read to me."

At the end of the short list, Lord William snorted. "Someone must have combed Northumbria for men of stature dead in the last ten years, sire. But we're a healthy lot up north, and that bunch were never gathered in one spot in their lives to the best of my knowledge. Certainly not at Heywood, where I would have known of it What's more, mere are a great many names that should be there for any such document to make sense. Such as mine."

"Perhaps Lord Fulk intended to keep the matter quiet," Flambard suggested rather desperately. "This document, which I accepted in good faith, casts doubt upon the right of Lord Galeran to child, wife, and castle, so it is not surprising that you would try to discredit it, Lord William. The only true test is by the sword."

Henry looked pensively at the players. "My lord bishop, I fail to see why you are so ardent in his cause."

Galeran could almost see Flambard controlling himself. "I merely wish to see right prevail, sire, as is my duty."

"Then perhaps instead of involving Lord Galeran, who has done no evil, and in fact is blessed by his service in the Holy Land, we should ask Raymond of Lowick to prove the truth of his claim by the test of hot iron."

Lowick was no coward, but he blanched at the thought of proving his lie by holding red hot iron in his hand, then seeing how badly he was burned. "I maintain my right to prove the truth by my sword, sire," he declared.

""Your majesty," said the bishop, "the most grievous sinner in all mis, both by concealing her prior betrothal and entering an illegal union with Lord Galeran, and by later betraying those vows, not to mention the murder of her unwanted child—"

"By God . . . !" But Galeran was again stopped by Raoul before he could do the bishop bodily harm.

"Sit, Lord Galeran," snapped the king. "I have not heard previous mention here of murder."

"Because there was no murder," snarled Galeran, eye to eye with the bishop.

"How, then, did the child die?" Flambard turned smoothly to the king. "A healthy child, sire, of eight months, who went to bed one night and never woke. And the very night of his burial, the burial of her only child, Jehanne of Heywood joined with Sir Raymond in his bed. Willingly. It seems to me that the Lady Jehanne should be the one subjected to the ordeal of iron."

Galeran could feel the mood of the room change. Thus far, he'd succeeded in keeping Jehanne in the background, but now she was on trial, and in danger. She was that traitorous creature, the adulteress. But this was much worse. There could be mercy for an adulteress, and her husband was generally the final judge. There could be no mercy for a woman who killed her own child.

"The child who died was my son," he said, as calmly as he could. "If his death was suspect, do you not think I would have acted?"

"You know how the child died, my lord?" Flambard asked in false amazement.

"I know she would not have killed Gallot." Galeran turned to the king. "My wife loves children, sire, and desperately wanted a babe of her own. It was why I took the cross and went on the Enterprise of God. And God rewarded us with a child who was the more precious after being waited for so long. I can bring forward any number of witnesses to swear that my wife was a devoted mother, and grieved the loss of her child most deeply."

"I can swear to that," said Lord William. "She does not weep and wail as most women do, but to one who knows her, she was grievously hurt."

The Bishop of London spoke up. "The question is not did she grieve, but did she or did she not fornicate with this man on the day of her child's interment?"

Silence answered him until the king said to Lowick, "Well, sir? You are the one who can answer that question."

And Lowick said, "She did, sire."

He spoke reluctantly, though, and Galeran thought perhaps he, too, wanted to keep the danger away from Jehanne. It was a small mark in his favor.

"She had her reasons, site," said Galeran, though he knew he was moving onto treacherous ground. Even if he could make sense of it here, he didn't want to mention Jehanne's war with God. "My wife has confessed all to me, telling me everything that went on at this time. Put most simply, she was driven mad. She thought I was dead, and when her son was torn from her as if by the hand of God, she lost her wits with grief. She sinned with Lowick but the once before coming to her senses, and I defy him to swear otherwise."

"Sir Raymond?" asked the king.

Lowick glanced once at Flambard, but then said, "It was just the once, sire, and yes, I do believe she was not in her right mind at the time. I tried to resist her, but proved too weak."

There was a stir, almost of amusement, at this picture, and Galeran felt a bit of the tension seep out of him. He could almost feel in charity with Lowick. He'd seen the danger to Jehanne and moved to lessen it.

In fact, he could have clasped him to his breast in brotherly love if it hadn't been for that forged betrothal document. But that was doubtless the work of Bishop Flambard.

Who had wanted Jehanne put to the ordeal.

All Galeran's anger focused on the bishop.

It was the Bishop of London who was speaking now, however, clearly concerned about murder. "What of the child's death, though? Perhaps the lady ran mad at the news of her husband's death and took the life of her child. A sad case, but not one that should go unpunished."

It was Lord William who addressed this issue. "Sire," he said, "it was an unusual death, but not totally unheard of. Generally people say that the mother overlaid the babe as they slept. Country people talk of spirits stealing the child in the night. My son was away, so I had certain inquiries made. There was no sign of physical damage other than some bruising where the child had lain after death. Nor was there sign of poison. It is hard to kill without leaving any sign. And," he added with meaning, "it is too easy for people to point the finger when there is any trace of suspicion."

Galeran stopped breathing. His father was raising the subject of William Rufus's death. He was as good as saying that if Jehanne was blamed for Gallot's death, Brome might join those who accused Henry of killing his brother.

He was threatening to support Robert of Normandy.

The king's eyes narrowed in the dangerous silence.

"Moreover," Lord William continued blandly, "I spoke with the infirmarian at Waltham Abbey on just this matter, it being of interest to me. ..."

Galeran remembered to suck in a breath. Coming out of his shock, he noticed that FitzRoger had entered and was standing just behind the king's throne as if waiting to speak.

"... Brother Garth agreed with me that such deaths do occur, with no reason being obvious. Generally the child is younger than Gallot, but all particulars of Gallot's death match cases he has known. I really think it must be put down to an act of God, that He in His wisdom decided to take the sweet child to His bosom."

"So be it," said the king shortly. "There seems no cause to look longer at such an insoluble mystery, and it is surely wrong to cast stones when there is no certainty of guilt. If anyone has sinned, God in His wisdom will act."

Henry looked at Lord William as he spoke, and it was almost as if he spoke of the suspicions about himself and his brother's death.

Speaking briskly, the king continued. "It seems to me, also, that there is grave doubt about this betrothal document. Grave enough doubt for me to dismiss it unless some evidence can be brought forward to support it. Since all the formal witnesses are dead, this will prove difficult." He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sure you, my lord Bishop of Durham, took the document's validity on trust But Raymond of Lowick must have known he was party to a deliberate deception."

At this swift change of focus, Lowick turned pale. He stood. "With all due respect, sire, I maintain the validity of that document, and claim the right to prove it in battle."

Henry looked nothing so much as exasperated, and Galeran suspected it was true that he saw such court battles as a waste of good fighting men. Galeran felt much the same way, and any desire he'd had to kill Lowick had drained away. The man had been used by Jehanne and duped by Flambard.

And he had spoken up to save Jehanne from harm.

FitzRoger stepped forward at this point to lean close to Henry and murmur in his ear. The king's expression changed again.

What now? Galeran wondered with a twist in his gut.

He wanted to leap up. Act. Do any crazy thing to end this sneaking through truth toward safety. Jehanne was probably safe from the worst punishment, and the Bishop of London had provided the compromise that would leave Donata with Galeran and Jehanne.

If their marriage could be preserved.

That marriage hung in the balance, however, if the king permitted an ordeal by sword. If Galeran died on Lowick's blade, God would have become substitute for all those dead witnesses and Jehanne would be Lowick's wife.

Galeran watched the king and his champion, wondering if they were arranging the details of a court battle. Then FitzRoger straightened and Henry's perceptive eyes scanned the people in front of him.

"Lord Galeran," he said, "would you not agree that an adulterous wife must be punished?"

Shocked by this turn, Galeran had to rearrange his mind before he could answer. "Sire, a lecherous one, perhaps. But not one briefly demented by grief."

"But as the Bishop of Durham says, repentance can be faked, as can madness, and it is often necessary to make a public example of sinners. What if I were to command you to whip your wife, to show the world that such infidelity is not to be tolerated?"

Galeran stared at the king, who had had so many lovers. Many married. Many of whom had borne him bastard children. As far as he knew, not one had been punished for her sin. "If it were your judgment, sire," he said slowly, "then I would have to obey."

He hoped Henry heard the message that by such a judgment he would lose a loyal subject He hoped FitzRoger had passed on his veiled warning the other day.