The Sorceror's Revenge (15 page)

             
‘Who would undertake the commission?’ Simon de Montfort asked.  ‘I would prefer the country were at peace but the King is impossible.  If left to himself he would rule as his father John Lackland did and we cannot allow it.’

             
‘John of Hopton may be persuaded to take the offer to his cousin. He is not a rich man and he may covet his cousin’s wealth, but offered a rich bride he would have reason to be grateful to us.’

             
‘You speak as though you are one of us…’ one of the lesser barons at the back of the room gave him a surly look.  ‘I do not know you.  How can we be certain that you do not seek to betray us?’

             
‘Count Malvolia is to be trusted,’ de Montfort said.  ‘In France the count is respected.  He is an apothecary and physician of great skill, and I have reason to be grateful, for he cured my steward’s sister of a terrible sickness that had troubled her for years.’

             
‘If you vouch for him…’ the man at the back subsided with a mutter.

             
‘I have suffered at the hands of tyrants,’ Niccolai said, a grim smile on his mouth.  ‘I believe this King Henry 111 of England would become a tyrant if left to himself.  Simon de Montfort brought you all together.  You have come a long way, and in 1258 you forced the King to sign a treaty, which it is his duty to honour – but if he seeks to break his vow by means of a papal bull then you have only one option and that is to fight.  John of Hopton is ready to plead your case with Devereaux.  All he needs is your signatures on this paper.’  He placed the list of demands on the table.

             
One of the barons looked at the paper but shook his head.  ‘If we sign the King may have us arrested as traitors and hang us all.’

             
‘There is naught here that was not in the agreement of 58. It is merely a reminder of the oath the King took then, an entreaty to remember his duty. What we seek is not more concessions but the support of the King’s Champion for our cause.  Besides, Henry would have hung us all before now if he dared,’ de Montfort said and took the quill.  He dipped it in the ink and scrawled his signature across the page.

             
For a moment no one moved then the others approached, took the pen and signed.  Simon de Montfort handed the paper to Niccolai, who looked at it briefly, rolled it when he was satisfied the ink was dry, and slipped it inside his gown.

             
‘I shall take it to Hopton at once.  He waits to leave and I know that he will do his best for you. It is in his own interests, as he well knows.’

             
There were a few grunts as he left the room, and then one of the men spoke,  ‘Did anyone notice if Malvolia signed the paper?’

             
‘He does not need to,’ de Montfort said.  ‘He is only the messenger in this case. Besides, Malvolia is a busy man, and has business elsewhere before he returns to France, whence he came this very day.  We are the men who will shape the destiny of England and we must not shirk our duty.  In this land of ours no King must ever have absolute power again.’


     
* *

John of Hopton reined in as he and the twenty men that accompanied him came within sight of Craigmoor.  He was a dark man with a sullen look about his face, his jaw square and his mouth thin.  Unlike his cousin Robert, he had nothing to recommend him for his manner was as plain and blunt as his looks, and he had found little favour, either at court or with the fathers of the heiresses he had at various times hoped to wed.  He had always been jealous of his cousin, who seemed to find honours and women without trying.  The rich marriage offered to John was a tantalising prize and one that dangled like a carrot in front of the donkey’s nose.

             
Malvolia had made it plain that the alliance would only take place if he achieved the task that had been set him, which was to cause a rift between Robert and the King.

             
‘I do not doubt that he will treat this offer with scorn and consign the paper to the fire, where it belongs,’ Malvolia told him.  ‘I doubt that Devereaux will be won to the cause, but he must be offered his chance.’

             
‘And if he refuses, which, like you, I am certain he will – what then?’

             
‘The prize you would have cannot be so lightly won,’ Malvolia said, his expression cold, unyielding.  ‘If the attempt fails we shall talk again about what should happen to the King’s Champion.’

             
Hopton shivered as he remembered the look in the other man’s eyes.  He had been tempted to ask why Malvolia should hate Robert Devereaux, but he had kept his mouth shut.  Eleanor of Rothwell was a rich heiress; twice married she had inherited a fortune from both husbands.  No matter that she had a face like a horse.  He would ride her in the dark and get his heir of her. After that she could go to the convent or stay.  He could always find a willing whore to satisfy his lusts, which were in any case hardly insatiable.

             
Hopton neither drank nor ate to excess.  He was a cold man who showed little emotion, though devout in his way: murder was a foul crime and he feared God’s judgement too much to attempt it.  Although he envied Robert his wealth and his position, he had never considered that he might inherit the earldom, for there was the boy.  His mother had been Robert’s mistress and the marriage invalid, but the child had been adopted and installed as the heir.  Whether that would stand in Hopton’s way if his cousin were dead was a tricky point, something that might be decided by the Church rather than the Moot courts.

             
However, if Robert were disgraced, a grateful monarch might give Robert’s estates where he chose.  As yet Hopton had not made up his mind which side to choose, and for the moment he was prepared to have a foot in each camp – and he was not the only one.  He knew that some of the barons had begun to murmur amongst themselves that Simon de Montfort pushed the King too far.  His demands were unreasonable and it was hardly surprising that Henry should think of breaking the oath he had been forced to take in 1258.  If he obtained the papal bull he had requested there would be war in England.  Hopton intended to be on the winning side when that happened, but in the meantime he was happy to assist Malvolia’s plans to bring his cousin down – but if he meant murder it would be by another’s hand.

             
He recalled his wandering thoughts. Sitting here would avail him nothing.  He would present the document and await his cousin’s answer, though he already knew what it would be.  The question was, why had Malvolia chosen him for the task?

20

‘I would have thought you knew me better,’ Robert said as he finished reading the list of demands and the signatures beneath it.  He scanned the names and discovered that there were fewer than he might have expected.  Were some of the barons wavering? They must all sense that war was close. In the case of civil conflict they must all choose sides.  Striding towards the hearth in his hall, where a log fire constantly burned, he ripped the sheet of parchment in two and consigned it to the flames.  ‘Tell whoever sent you that Robert Devereaux stands with the King.  They must have been fools to imagine that I would be interested in their petty schemes.  They plot against a man worth a hundred of their leader.’

             
‘You have been given your chance, and it was for this that I took this commission,’ Hopton replied.  ‘You will not blame me if there is worse to come, cousin.  You are a powerful man and your support brings in many of those who waver.  Without you, the King would be that much the weaker and might see sense.  If you will not join us, you may find that there will be other attempts to change your mind.’

             
‘Nothing will change my allegiance.  I am for the King, as always.  Only my death will stop me taking my place at his side when the call comes.’

             
‘Then you must be on your guard.’  Hopton frowned.  It was in his mind to warn his cousin that he might have an enemy in Count Malvolia, but he held his tongue.  Eleanor of Rothwell’s fortune lay tantalisingly just beyond his reach.  He would not risk losing it for the sake of a man for whom he had once felt friendship.  ‘I shall speak of this no more, cousin.  I did not promise to persuade you, only to bring you this message.’

             
‘And you…’ Robert’s gaze narrowed.  ‘When we were young  I trusted you as much as any man.  What has changed you?’

             
‘I shall be honest with you, cousin.  As yet I am not certain where my allegiance lies.  I do not consider that by bringing you this I have tied myself to either camp. I was told that if you stood with the barons a bloody war might be avoided, and this I would support.  It is a sad thing when the King and his barons are at odds, Robert.  To my mind it wastes lives and money.  I am not a rich man and I cannot afford to fight without reward.  Henry did not see fit to award me land or honours after the campaign in Wales.  Therefore I must seek my own fortune where I may.’

             
Robert looked at him thoughtfully.  He was angry but trying not to show how much he resented that his cousin had been used to bring him this message.  Until this moment he had thought he could trust Hopton in a crisis, but now that trust was breached.  His friend Jonathan was dead, which left Robert isolated and with few allies he could truly rely on. Who had planned this strategy – and why?

             
‘Who sent you to me, cousin?  Was it de Montfort?’

             
‘He called the meeting, but someone else brought me the commission – but I may not answer your question for I took an oath.  I shall only say that I think you have an enemy – someone who hates you.’

             
‘I dare say I have made many enemies.’ Robert frowned.  ‘Will you stay?  I planned a feast for this evening, but now there seems nothing to celebrate.’

             
‘I cannot stay.  I must report that the message was treated with disdain.  You were offered the chance to mediate with the King and perhaps bring peace, cousin.  You have refused it and I think it will not be offered again.’

             
‘Will you take my hand?  Let us at least not be enemies, Hopton.’  Robert offered his hand to his cousin, but as Hopton made no move to take it, his mood darkened.  ‘You have made your position plain.  Go then, our friendship is at an end.’

             
Hopton inclined his head, then turned and strode from the room.  Robert stared after him, holding his temper by a thin thread.  How dare they send his cousin to him?  Surely they knew that he would refuse such a request?  Had it been anyone else but Hopton, he might have put a sword through the messenger.

             
Yes, of course.  It was for this reason that Hopton had been chosen.  Whoever had sent him on this impossible mission had known that it would anger him, but been sure enough of his reaction to gamble that he would not lift his hand to strike down his own cousin.

             
As yet Robert could see no reason for any of it.  Surely they must have known that he could not be so easily swayed.  Hopton said that he had been given his chance, which meant that the next thing might be…an attempt on his life?

             
He knew Hopton would never attempt murder.  He felt that this had been a warning – as if someone wished to throw down the gauntlet, to let him know that he was being challenged.  Robert sensed a dark force behind what had taken place here this day and shivered.  For a moment he seemed to hear mocking laughter but dismissed it as imagination.

             
The whole thing had been a mere trick to make him ill at ease, and in part it had succeeded.  He frowned as his steward came towards him, no doubt to inquire if he still wished for a feast that evening.

             
‘My lord, I have been told that John of Hopton and his men are leaving.  Shall the feasting go ahead?’

             
‘The food has been prepared, let the men enjoy themselves this night – and what is left may be handed to the village and any beggar that comes to our door for alms.’

             
‘You are generous as always, my lord.’

             
The steward bowed and walked away, leaving Robert to stare moodily into the fireplace.  What he needed was a good lay but Joanne did not satisfy his needs.  He wanted a woman who could match him for fire and his thoughts turned first to his wife, who had once been such a woman and then to the girl in the wood.

             
Melloria was cold to him.  She looked at him as if he were nothing and even if she allowed him to love her, she would lie there like a dead thing – but the girl in the woods…even as she’d struggled he’d felt her lips respond.

             
Mayhap he might find her there again.  His blood quickening as he thought of what he wanted to do with Mistress Alfreda.  Dismissing his cousin’s warnings as spite, he strode from the hall.  It was colder today but still dry.  If he found her he would take her down on the dry bracken and enjoy the sweet juices that he was sure would run between her thighs when he loved her.