Winter Song (17 page)

Their hands went to their swords, and their eyes went to the
bailiff, who emitted a squawk of terror, expecting the men to attack him, since
he had no idea what the two foreign words Alys had spoken meant.

“The produce—the wine, the corn, the roots, the fruit—where
is it?” Alys hissed, wishing to drive him to speech while he was off balance
with fear.

“S-s-sold. M-m-madame, it was not reasonable to keep…to keep…food
when there was no one to eat it.”

“Ah!” Alys smiled. “I am so glad to know it was not stolen
by dishonest persons, which could have happened when the keep was left with
open gates. How came it about, Master Ernaldus, that you retained guards so
careless that my husband and I and all our troop marched in without even a
challenge yesterday? Is this a way to watch over King Henry’s possessions?”

“I-I did not know it was within my power to dismiss them.”

It was the only thing the bailiff could say, but Alys saw
from his expression that it was not true, and also that he had recovered from
the shock of fear and had realized as he said the words that they were a
perfect defense.

“They grew insolent,” Ernaldus’s voice was stronger and
surer. “I wrote to complain to the master of the king’s wardrobe, but I
received no answer. I did not dare drive them out without permission. And—”

“That is of little account,” Alys interrupted hastily,
seeing the haven to which Ernaldus was heading and determined to catch him
before he reached it. “But there has been no yield from Blancheforte marked in
the king’s accounts for many years. It was understood that the yield supported
the keep and its people. The people are starving, the keep is near in ruins,
the money is not in the king’s hands. Where is it, Master Ernaldus?”

Cut off from the false explanation he had hoped to make,
Ernaldus glared at Alys with hatred—a single flash before he dropped his eyes.
To say he had sent the money to the king, which he had intended, was no longer
possible, and it infuriated him to realize that Alys was utterly indifferent to
his expression. In fact, she hardly noticed, she was taken up with a rapid
calculation of the value of his horse, clothing, and jewelry. It should be
enough, she thought, even if one subtracted the value of what she must give him
to wear and a lame ancient beast from the keep stable, to pay for stocking the
keep for the winter and perhaps even for a few extra bushels of corn to feed
the scarecrows on the demesne.

What Alys would have liked to do—what she would have done at
once had she been still at Marlowe—was to instruct Arnald to take Ernaldus someplace
where his screams would not disturb her and squeeze the truth out of him. But
this was not possible for two reasons. Most important was that Raymond might
not approve her taking an action so far from her normal sphere of activity. Not
that Alys considered the correction of a dishonest bailiff outside her ordinary
duties, but she was not blind or deaf to the fact that Raymond was too aware
the land was hers, that she had the right—if she were mad enough to insist on
it—to sit on the council of Bordeaux instead of him. He was going to be raw
enough, having to explain to Calhau that he was his wife’s deputy.

Then there was the question of Ernaldus’s connections.
Taking him apart piece by piece might annoy someone who, politically speaking,
should not be annoyed. Until she could write to Uncle Richard and get the king’s
order to dismember Ernaldus, she would have to content herself with gentler
methods. But she would get the order. King Henry did not like to be cheated,
either. Alys smiled.

The smile happened to coincide with Ernaldus’s reply to her
previous question. Backed into a corner but not yet defeated, the bailiff had
said, with an assumption of injured dignity, that the money was in his care.
With untrustworthy men-at-arms in Blancheforte, it was obviously impossible to
leave anything there, and not having had an answer from the master of the
wardrobe, he knew not else what to do with it.

“Then there can be no problem,” Alys responded, assuming a
neutral tone of voice again, as if she were satisfied. “You can return this
year’s yield to me, either in gold or in kind,” and she proceeded to enumerate
what she calculated the keep’s share of the demesne yield to be in terms of
bushels of wheat, barley, and rye.

The bailiff gaped at her. “It is not so much, not by half,”
he protested.

Alys’s eyes grew colder. She began to recite the measure of land
and the bushels per hectare. Master Ernaldus stammered objections, naming the
laziness of the serfs and their dishonesty. Alys shook her head and reminded
him that she had only just come in from the fields, where she had seen the
thickness of the stubble and the thinness of the serfs. Then Alys smiled again
and nodded.

“Of course,” she said, “I realize part must be used to feed
that large herd of kine, which you were doubtless afraid to slaughter, but that
then brings us to the question of cheeses. Do I not remember that Bordeaux is
famous for its cheese flavored with wine?”

“The kine do not belong to Blancheforte!” Ernaldus shrieked,
bounding to his feet. Instantly, Peter was in front of him, his drawn sword
pressed into the bailiff’s breast. Ernaldus sank back on his stool, pallid
again. “It does not matter,” he got out, his voice choked with fury and terror.
“Four are mine, and two calves.”

“Very well. I suppose the herdsman will know them. He will
bring them to you when you wish. I must warn you that your term as bailiff here
is ended. I am not satisfied either with the condition of the keep or of the
serfs on the land. It is true that they are only cattle also, but ill-cared-for
cattle give poor service.”

“None of it is my fault,” Ernaldus whined. “I could not
watch night and day. The men-at-arms took what they wished. I could not prevent
it.”

“I do not see that,” Alys said coldly. “If I had been
bailiff here, I would have found a way to deal with only twelve men-at-arms so
that, even if I could not dismiss them, they would have done their duty and
given no serious cause for complaint.”

“I do not doubt it,” Ernaldus snarled.

Alys smiled. “Neither do I. Then there is only the need to
decide whether you wish to return the yield in gold or in kind.”

Again the bailiff tensed as if to rise, but Peter, who had
stepped back, raised his sword again. “Whichever you prefer,” Ernaldus got out,
“but you cannot expect me to do it today. I must return home and make
arrangements.”

“Assuredly,” Alys said calmly. “You may go whenever you
like. I will only ask you to leave your clothing and rings and pins and your
horse and harness as a pledge of goodwill.”

“Will you send me out naked?” he cried.

“Naturally not,” Alys rejoined. “That would neither become
you nor please me. I will furnish clothing and a horse.” And when the bailiff
was on his way out, she flung a final stone. “I am grieved that the
inefficiency of the king’s officials in the wardrobe may have caused this
trouble. I will write soon to my uncle-by-marriage, the Earl of Cornwall. When
I do, I will beg him to bring this matter of Blancheforte’s yield to the king’s
own notice. Thus you will doubtless obtain your just deserts swiftly and
surely.”

She sent Aelfric with him to bid Arnald to escort him and
his men off the grounds and be sure they did not return. Then she plopped back
down on her chair and breathed a sigh of relief at having got him out before
Raymond came in. This made her begin to worry because her husband was late, but
before she could imagine anything very bad, word came that he had entered the
outer wall.

His mood was far better than it had been the previous day,
and he apologized for his lateness. Alys bade Peter summon the castle folk in
to eat and took Raymond to a side chamber to divest him of his cloak and armor
and give him a comfortable gown which was laid ready. Peter Calhau, he told
her, had greeted him far more warmly than he had expected, and seemed eager to
hear every tidbit of news and gossip from the court of England, even those
things that did not pertain to Bordeaux.

Alys raised her brows. “I wonder what this pleasure in your
company portends,” she remarked. “Is it that he is cleverer than Rustengo—no, I
do not mean cleverer because, of course, Rustengo had reason to be sure of you
and Calhau knew he must either charm you or declare himself in opposition to
your claim.”

Laughter glinted in Raymond’s eyes as he led Alys back to
the hall and seated her at the table. “It is you who are clever, my heart. I
could never have managed to insinuate so adroitly that I was allowing myself to
be flattered enough to lose sight of the true situation.”

“No! I never meant any such thing,” Alys protested. “You
talk as if I think you a fool. I do not! I meant only what I said.”

Raymond laughed outright at her vehemence. “Very well, I
will believe you because it is better for my pride. But I cannot answer you. I
do not yet know what Calhau’s manner portends. I doubt if he himself knows. In
any case, nothing of real note was said. We talked of the problems of
Bordeaux—in the most general terms with no mention of the threat of unrest that
may be caused by my kinsmen, it was pleasant but not important—the opening
steps of the dance of power. Now, what have you been about?”

As she told him, Raymond’s eyes opened wider and wider. To
Alys’s relief, he seemed more surprised than angry. “Was that estimate of the
yield true,” he asked, “or a fancy to jolt the man?”

“It was true. I may be off a few shillings’ worth, but not
much more.”

“Then why did you not keep him here once you had him?” he
asked.

“I suppose I should have,” Alys admitted, “but I was afraid
to go too far. He had four well-armed men with him, and his clothes and horse
and trappings were so rich, it seemed to me he must have some powerful
connection. What I did can be defended, but I was afraid to hold him against
his will.”

What Alys did not say was that she had also been afraid that
Raymond, thinking the little yield of Blancheforte insignificant, might have
undone everything if Ernaldus had still been there when he returned. She did
not believe Raymond would have retained the man as bailiff. He was too angry
about the careless way the keep had been neglected. However, he might have
waved away the loss in money and produce, considering it a cheap price to pay
to be rid of the bailiff without trouble.

“I do not see that holding him could make him more bitter
against us,” Raymond remarked, but he was smiling. “After all, I could always
say that it was my silly young wife who was at fault,” he teased.

“Yes, indeed,” Alys agreed, but perfectly seriously. “What a
fool I am. I forget no one here knows me and that you would be easily believed
if you called me a fool.”

“Not if they saw this keep before and after you took it in hand
or heard your disquisition on the yield of produce per hectare,” he chuckled. “Now
I must do my share. I must find a new bailiff and, even more important, I must
hire men-at-arms. They must be trained and ready by the time we leave.” He
paused and pursed his lips. “I think we will leave the hanging of those dogs in
the prison until after the new men come. I wish it to be clear in their minds
that we will not suffer laxness.”

“No, nor abuse of the serfs in the keep or on the demesne,”
Alys said. “These people are so stupid with fear and hunger that each provides
less than a third the labor one might expect.”

Raymond made an irritated sound. “You have answered one
question before I asked it. I was just about to tell you to have Arnald look
about on the land for men suitable for training, but we have no time to waste
on those so out of condition as you say these people are. I will need to hire
men-at-arms. It is most awkward.”

“Why?” Alys asked, surprised. “Are there no white shields in
Bordeaux?”

“Too few,” Raymond replied, his face growing more troubled. “Not
too few for my purposes, but too few for a town this size, and from what little
I have seen, I would not care to hire those men who remain free. I fear that
means both de Soler and Colom have been hiring men. A pox on whatever fancy
made King Henry change the line of power in this town.”

“But if they have hired men already, will they not come to
blows very soon?” Alys asked, laying down the chicken leg she had just picked
up.

“I do not know. Perhaps there is some particular cause, at
least, it may be that Calhau believes that.” Raymond paused and frowned. “The
king may believe it, too, and that was why he was speaking of my being a bridge
between my kinsmen and the Coloms. But, Alys, I am much afraid that the
particular cause is only an excuse. To me, what Rustengo said implied that he
does intend to seize power again.”

“But there is no sense in seizing power by pure force. It
will only bring the king down upon them with an excuse to fine and imprison
and, in the end, remove from their hands all chance of regaining their power.”

“The king is far away,” Raymond reminded her. “This is not
England, where troops can be levied in a few weeks. And, as I said yesterday,
if de Molis abandons the south to bring order to Bordeaux… I do not know
whether it is better to try to ease matters here or leave Rustengo and Calhau
to their own devices and go south at once to take hold of Amou.”

“To defend it against the king of Navarre with twenty men?”
Alys asked, with an effort keeping her voice from trembling.

“Oh, I would have help. Gaston would be glad to send troops
to my assistance. Whether I could rid myself of them and him once the threat of
Theobold of Navarre was gone is a different matter. No, I suppose I had best
try to keep Rustengo quiet. But you are not eating, my love.”

“I had got so interested,” Alys said.

She was learning that it was more important to hide her fear
from Raymond than it had been to hide it from her father. Sir William had been
amused or annoyed, as his mood determined, when Alys showed anxiety for his
safety. The effect on Raymond seemed to be different, and dangerous. Alys had
perceived that if she betrayed fear, her husband felt it a reflection on his
ability, and it seemed to drive him toward danger in an effort to prove he was
capable of surmounting it. Trying to avoid showing what she felt about the idea
of defending Amou, Alys moved the discussion back to their own concerns and
stumbled on another of Raymond’s sensibilities.