Winter Song (18 page)

“You will know best about those matters,” she said, “but to
come back to the management of Blancheforte, where will we find men or a
bailiff? But wait, I have a thought. Do you not have a bailiff for the farms
near Marsan? And did you not tell me that those lay near to Benquel?”

“Yes, to both,” Raymond replied, “but I do not see what that
has to do with Blancheforte.”

“Your bailiff from the farms can come here. I assume he is
more honest than that toad Ernaldus. And Sir Oliver’s man from Benquel can take
the farms under his care. You said, I think, that he was a good man.” She
paused, seeing Raymond’s frown. “Have I said something foolish, my lord?”

“You make easy disposition of my farms into the hands of
your vassal,” Raymond said.

At which point, Alys’s nervousness overset her temper, and
she snapped, “It is you who ever make the mark between yours and mine. To me,
the lands are
ours
. When I took you as husband, you became one flesh
with me in my heart and mind. If I am not so to you, I am sorry for it.”

Raymond, who had not been angry at all, but merely
carelessly voicing a general irritation with the added complexities of the
situation generated by the bailiff’s dishonesty, was startled. He placed a hand
over Alys’s and laughed.

“I had forgot how easily you burst into flame. You have been
so meek and mild since our wedding, I thought marriage had tamed you. Indeed,
you are flesh of my flesh, my love—and it is a clever thought to take the
bailiff from the farms, too. In fact,
I
have an idea to add to yours. If
peace is made with the Vicomte de Marsan, Sir Oliver will be able to reduce the
number of men-at-arms in his keep. I can take those men into my service, thus
doing him a favor, for no man desires loose men-at-arms wandering his lands,
nor the expense of keeping more men than he needs.”

Alys leaned over and kissed her husband’s cheek. “You have a
very sweet temper, my lord,” she murmured.

“If so, I have not shown it these last two days,” Raymond
admitted.

“You have had much to try your patience. I am at fault for
provoking you on little things when I know you to be troubled.”

“Then we are quits,” Raymond said, smiling, “for surely I
know better than to bring trouble made by outsiders into my home.”

“Then you have been taught wrong, my husband,“ Alys replied,
smiling also, “for it is the first purpose of a wife to be shouted at so that a
man may face the world with the bile and spleen cleansed from his blood.” Her
eyes twinkled. “Your sweet nature has defeated me. I offered you good cause to
lose your temper, and you coddled me instead.”

Raymond burst out laughing. “But it is much pleasanter to
coddle you than shout at you, and it soothes me just as well.” Then he sobered
and pushed away the sweet, which he had barely touched. “Is there something
with which I can write? I would like to put this idea of
ours
to the test,
and for that I must tell the Vicomte de Marsan and Sir Oliver that I am here. I
wrote to both from England, but there was no time to have an answer. We must
hear what Marsan thinks before we can go further.”

Chapter Nine

The next few days were busy but peaceful. Either Rustengo’s
plans were not yet ripe or Raymond’s arrival and reaction had made him wish to
think them over. Master Ernaldus ransomed his horse and clothing for the
agreed-on sum. Alys put a new herdsman in charge of the cattle—the one who had
watched over the animals was too well-fed-looking for her taste. She had noted that
only Ernaldus’s favorites were better than walking skeletons. The kitchen staff
was banished and replaced. A young priest presented himself with a letter from
the priest of Saint Remy’s church. Alys liked his looks and the way he blushed
when she called him Father. She invited him to stay permanently as chaplain in
Blancheforte if that would suit his superiors.

Word had spread across the demesne of the miracle that had
taken place in the keep. The gates of Blancheforte were thronged each dawn with
men and women begging for work in exchange for the good meals available. There
was no grumbling here about the exactions of the lord who took serfs from their
own fields to work on the master’s tasks. Alys wondered briefly if a course of
starvation would have done the people of Marlowe some good by teaching them how
well off they were. However, she also saw that it took ten men of Blancheforte
to do the work of two of Marlowe. This was not only a result of deliberate
inefficiency—naturally, the first reaction to gentleness was an attempt to take
advantage, which Alys cured with selected whippings and expulsions. The
straining of men and women weakened by too-long semistarvation to do a normal
task showed.

Nonetheless, the work of repairing pens and sheds and stables
proceeded rapidly. Clearing of the gate towers was begun, and Raymond bent his
attention to the walls and the instruments of war. This occasioned a small
problem when Peter Calhau arrived unexpectedly. The very last thing Raymond
wanted Calhau to hear was that he was strengthening the defenses of
Blancheforte. Nothing, Raymond was sure, would convince the man that it was a
measure taken only in case there might be trouble. Raymond was sure that Calhau
would leap to the conclusion that Raymond knew of and was ready to participate
in plans for the forceful return to power of de Soler.

Fortunately Alys was in the bailey, and she came running to
the gate. She so bemused Peter Calhau with bitter complaints against Master
Ernaldus, dragging him into the inner bailey at once to show him the decayed
condition of the outbuildings, that he did not notice the unusual activity on
the outer wall. Then she asked a host of eager questions about where to
purchase cloth and supplies, and began to blush and beg pardon for importuning
a guest. By that time her youth and beauty had had its effect and she was able
to lead Calhau into the hall, seat him in state, and press wine and cakes on
him—until Raymond got the work covered and got down from the walls himself.

Most probably Calhau had come to determine just what Alys’s
welcoming had caused him to overlook, but he could not suspect her of
deception. The very modesty with which she removed herself as soon as her
husband arrived to entertain his guest showed her young and artless. However,
Raymond was able to convince the mayor that he did not intend to fill
Blancheforte with armed men. This was partly owing to Alys’s “innocent”
chatter, because she had confided how much she needed of various stores, which
confirmed Raymond’s assertions. Also Raymond disclosed his plan of taking men
from Benquel, whom Calhau knew would be neutral. In the end they parted with
considerably more sincere amity than at their previous meeting.

Alys was the greatest gainer. She had realized that Ernaldus
might have been telling the truth when he first said the herd of cattle did not
belong to Blancheforte. When she pressed him, it would be just like him to
conceal the name of the owner so that she would get in trouble for
appropriating the animals. She had told Calhau of this, and he had promised to
investigate the matter.

Beyond that, from Calhau’s immediate eagerness to prosecute
the bailiff, he had betrayed the fact that Ernaldus was probably an adherent of
the de Soler party. Most innocently Alys had refused that offer. Master
Ernaldus, she said sweetly, had been sufficiently punished by being deprived of
his place. Moreover, she remarked with spurious timidity, since he claimed to
have been appointed by the king’s master of the wardrobe, it was not her place
to punish him. She intended, she added, to write to the Earl of Cornwall an
account of what Blancheforte should have yielded over the years it was in
Master Ernaldus’s hands. Uncle Richard would take the account to the king. If
the king wished to pursue the matter, he could then do so.

When Calhau was gone, Alys and Raymond compared accounts of
the visit. Raymond decided he had better visit Rustengo to tell him of Calhau’s
coming to Blancheforte. Not to do so would arouse grave suspicion in Rustengo
if he heard of it from another source. Incidentally, Raymond said, he would
complain of Ernaldus so that if Rustengo wanted to deal with the matter
himself, he could. It might add to the de Soler party’s problems if Alys
complained to the king, so he would be grateful to Raymond for asking him
first.

However, in the late afternoon those plans had to be
altered. A letter arrived from the Vicomte de Marsan acknowledging and
enthusiastically accepting Raymond’s proposals. He suggested that Raymond come
to Marsan as soon as possible, bringing with him Sir Oliver, so that an
agreement as to the terms of enfeoffment could be reached.

“I think I should go tomorrow,” Raymond said. “I do not
think Bordeaux will erupt in the next few days, and telling Rustengo about
Calhau can wait. My relationship with Marsan is important. Rustengo will
understand that. It is possible that I will need to convince Oliver that this
is the best way, and I do not wish to give Marsan too much time to think. In
the first flush of pleasure at getting back what he considers his right, he is
likely to be generous, which will make it possible for me to agree to his terms
without argument. That will make for a good feeling between us. If Marsan has
time to consider, he may begin to think of what he has lost over the years and
wish to recoup.”

“But we cannot leave all undone here,” Alys protested. “There
are not even sufficient provisions for the servants or for what men we must
leave to guard our furnishings. I intended to ride to Bordeaux with you
tomorrow to buy what is necessary.”

Raymond frowned. “They must make do. This business with
Marsan is more important than supplies and servants.”

Alys, of course, said no more. Raymond went back to his work
on the walls, and Alys went upstairs to tell Edith and Bertha to pack clothing
for the trip. She noticed that as soon as the maids left them, the women of the
castle began to look uncertain and draw together when they had finished the
immediate task on which they had been employed. None had the sense or
self-confidence to begin something new without specific orders. Alys could see
that she would be back where she started, although less filth would have a
chance to accumulate, if she left Blancheforte at this time.

Thus, when she and Raymond sat down together at dinner time,
she reintroduced the subject, asking whether Raymond believed Sir Oliver would
resent him.

“It is a possibility, but I think a distant one,” Raymond
answered. “It is true most vassals would rather their lords were at a distance
and not looking over their shoulders, but this is a different case. Here Sir
Oliver has long needed an overlord’s protection and has been unable to obtain
it. He is threatened and harassed by Marsan’s men. I have high hopes that he
will be delighted to see me and some expectation that he will be eager to come
to terms with Marsan. My only doubt is that in so long a conflict, sometimes
personal hatred is aroused. I must say that Marsan’s letter does not sound as
if that is the case, but he is the stronger.”

“I was not thinking of Sir Oliver’s hatred for Marsan, but
only whether you can trust him, and whether, for example, it would be safe to
go to Benquel with only a few men.”

“As to that, yes, I am certain it would be safe. If he hates
the vicomte, Oliver might try to convince me not to do homage to him, but he
would be mad to offer us violence. He is only a simple knight of neither great
family nor large influence.”

“You are
sure
, Raymond?” Alys asked with considerable
intensity.

“My love, what do you fear?” he asked, putting an arm around
her. “Indeed, I know Sir Oliver—not very well, perhaps, but I have guested at
Benquel. He knew I was tied to Marsan, and he did complain to me of the
constant trouble he had from that quarter, but he did
me
no hurt nor
offered any insult.”

Alys sighed. “Well, if you are sure it is safe to go there,
my lord, then I think I will not go with you.”

Raymond had opened his mouth to reason further when the
sense of what Alys had said struck him. He opened his mouth again and, still wordless,
closed it once more. Meanwhile, Alys was hastily explaining her purpose and
assuring Raymond that she would miss him every moment, and the only reason she
could endure parting with him was that she knew, from the speed with which the
courier had returned, that it was no long journey to Benquel. By this time
Raymond had sorted out his emotions and started to laugh.

“Alys, I do not know whether I should strangle you or beat
you,” he choked. “You have managed to insult me at least three separate ways in
one sentence, and I am sure if I were to think about it, I would find a few
more doubts about my honor, ability, and good sense.”

Astonishment opened Alys’s blue eyes wide. “My dear lord, if
I have truly done such a thing, you should beat me, but you will have to stop
laughing to do so. It is very hard to beat someone while you are laughing. And
strangulation seems to me to be overly severe a punishment for an error. What
did I say amiss?”

“First, you implied that I was either so much a fool or so
uncaring as to take my wife into a situation of danger without adequate
precaution. Next, you implied that you could preserve me from that danger
rather than I you. Last, you seem to believe I intend to do homage to Marsan
when it is you who must do it.”

Alys began to laugh also, and hung her head in false shame.
“Alas,” she chuckled, “I am guilty, but only of the first crime. As to the
second, far from thinking I could be of any assistance, I only wished to share
your fate. And as to the third, it is no crime for a woman to trust her
husband.” She looked up, serious now, and asked, “Is there not some way for you
to do my homage by proxy? If my confirmation is needed, I can give it when we
pass Marsan to go to Amou. You did tell me that we would do so, did you not? We
could stop for one night at Benquel so that I may meet Sir Oliver, and I may
say whatever must be said to Marsan. Will that not do?”