Read B0078XH7HQ EBOK Online

Authors: Catherine Hanley

B0078XH7HQ EBOK (2 page)

BOOK: B0078XH7HQ EBOK
7.13Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

‘Please. You must realise that after what you witnessed yesterday, there was no possibility that I could let you live.’

‘When our lord hears of this …’

The man snorted. ‘Our lord? It was he who ordered me here.’

Papa struggled against the men restraining him. The child had never seen him look so angry. He shouted: ‘I did what I did for the good of the kingdom! I didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to witness it even, but I realised it was the only chance for peace, to stop further bloodshed.’ His voice rose. ‘I felt sick just being there. But you? You
enjoyed
it!’

The man seemed to think about this for a moment, then spoke again. ‘Well yes, maybe I did. The whelp deserved it. This, on the other hand … I’m almost sorry. Almost.’

In one quick movement he brought his sword back and thrust it into Papa’s body before ripping it back out again. Unable to believe the sight but powerless to avoid it, the child watched as Papa slowly fell forward out of the grasp of the men, blood spewing from the hole in his body and from his mouth. As he died, his face turned towards the kist, and for one frozen moment his eyes caught those watching him before the light went out of them and his body slumped to the floor. The child stared, hypnotised, at the blood spreading across the floor and soaking into the discarded bedsheets, but was jolted back to reality by the man’s voice.

‘Our work here is done.’ He smiled, revealing that he lacked two teeth on the left-hand side of his mouth, and turned to walk out of the room. As he left he issued an order to his men.

‘Burn it down.’

 

In the grey light of dawn the child wandered, dazed, through the ashes of the building. What had happened? Who was the man? Shut in a private world, the child never noticed the hooves of the horse as they approached, rearing at the last moment to avoid crushing the tiny figure. The child looked up and, for the first time in many hours, saw a kind face. They stared at each other for a long moment before the man spoke, his voice gentle.

‘Was this your house?’ The child nodded mutely. The man looked at the ashes. ‘Your father and mother?’ Tears started to run down the child’s face as the man registered grim understanding. ‘An evil deed. But perhaps some good may come of it.’ He leant down from the saddle and the child was encircled in one strong arm and lifted high on to the great horse. It was just like riding with Papa … the tears came again, and as the man and the child rode away from the ruins of the house, one tiny hand was clenched around the ring.

Chapter One
 
Yorkshire, 1217
 

Edwin whistled to himself as he crossed the courtyard. He was in a better humour that morning. The Lord knew he had no reason to be, but he’d momentarily escaped the semi-darkness of William the Steward’s office, the spring air was fresh, the sun was shining, and he was surrounded by familiar, smiling faces, so his spirits had lifted a little. He sidestepped neatly as one of the masons swept past him without looking, and tossed one of his mother’s oatcakes from hand to hand as he continued on his way.

And then, without warning, the fear struck him.

The dread. It had been a constant companion these past weeks, a black demon squatting on his shoulder, and now he stopped in his tracks, the feeling jolting him, overwhelming him, making him feel sick to the pit of his stomach. Every so often he forgot about it, managed to feel happier for just a moment – or even for a longer while – but then it would return. He knew why, of course, but that didn’t exactly help. He was dizzy. Quick, find something else to think about. Look at the keep. Think of it; force yourself to concentrate on it and nothing else. Breathe.

He considered the building, the huge whiteness towering over him as it had done since his childhood. He focused his mind. He wondered if there could possibly be a finer or more impressive building in England. Neither round nor square but a strange multi-angular shape, the design had been the idea of the old earl Hamelin, the present earl’s father, who’d had it built to replace the old wooden keep which had existed for as long as anyone could remember. Not that Edwin had ever seen the old keep – the stone one had been finished before he was born – but he could well imagine the difference it had made to the appearance of the castle. He tipped his head back to look all the way up to the top: four floors high, plus the wall walk on the roof; how could men construct such a huge edifice? And how many stones had been used in its creation? As usual, the figures arranged themselves neatly in his head, and the dread receded a little, pushed back into the recesses of his mind as he started to calculate how many stones might be in one layer all the way round, plus the buttresses of course, and how many layers made up the building …

So engrossed was he in his reckoning that he was nearly upon the two ladies before he noticed them, and he stepped back hastily with a muttered apology to allow them to pass. The earl’s sister, as was her usual custom, swept past without a word, considering him too lowly to notice, but her companion, Mistress Joanna, rolled her eyes at him as she scurried to keep up. Edwin managed a slight smile, forgetting his own troubles long enough to wonder how she managed to maintain such a sunny disposition when she had to spend so much of her day shut up with that old … no, he should stop that line of thought immediately, lest he think something insulting about one of his betters. But still, Mistress Joanna must have to exhibit considerable forbearance to be the companion of the Lady Isabelle de Warenne, and she did it with grace and a ready smile. Perhaps that was one of the things Robert liked about her; Edwin had long suspected that the two of them might be sweethearts.

Robert. Now, there was an idea: maybe he would have some further news about the war; as the earl’s senior squire, he had access to information to which other mortals were not privy. Besides, it might help him to keep his own mind off other matters. Where would Robert be?

He had just set off across the bustling inner ward again when a blond head hit him at speed – painfully – in the midriff, knocking him off balance. Momentarily winded, Edwin gasped for air, but steadied himself and put out his arms to stop the boy falling. At one glance he took in the large chunk of bread in one hand, the even larger chunk in the mouth, and the nearby open door to the kitchens, and smiled, properly this time.

‘All right, Simon, all right, no harm done, but slow down or you’ll choke yourself!’ The boy sprayed crumbs everywhere as he tried to offer an apology, but only ended up gagging. Grimacing and wiping the front of his tunic with one hand, Edwin held him steady and then reached out and thumped him hard on the back until he stopped. ‘There. Better? Good. Now, if you can stand still for one moment, perhaps you can tell me where Robert is?’

Simon took a deep breath and a swallow. ‘Hello Edwin I’m sorry I hurt you he’s down at the stables with Martin looking at my lord’s new warhorse I wanted to go and see him as well he’s a beauty but I had to take a message for my lord!’ Another breath. ‘Can I go now?’ Working his way through the gabbled, pauseless sentence, Edwin translated the answer he needed and released the page, who raced off across the inner ward, narrowly avoiding an incident with one of the serving-men carrying a bucket of water from the well. The encounter had saved him an unnecessary trip all round the castle, at any rate: he changed course and headed out through the gatehouse, waving to the porter as he passed, and down into the outer ward.

There was an open area to one side of the stables where steeds could be exercised, and Edwin’s eye was drawn there first, as two of the grooms were putting the finest horse he’d ever seen through its paces. The chestnut stallion was trotting in a circle, a long rein held in the hand of one of the men. Edwin drank in the sight: what would he give to be able to ride a horse like that? He’d ridden before, of course, not like some of the villagers: his father was the bailiff on the earl’s Conisbrough estate and often had to travel to some of the outlying holdings on business, and Edwin had accompanied him on a number of occasions as his assistant and scribe. But he’d ridden one of the estate’s rounceys, workaday horses which rarely travelled faster than a leisurely amble; the animal in front of him was a destrier, a warhorse destined to carry the earl in battle. It was a magnificent specimen, a perfect blend of strength and grace.

Two other young men were watching the horse. One was more than a head taller than the other, and as Edwin drew near to them he nudged his companion and pointed, and Robert turned to greet him, the smile on his face broadening. Little needed to be said as he moved up to make room, and the three of them stood watching the animal’s exercise. After a short while scrutinising the horse’s gait, Robert nodded briskly at the grooms, indicating that they could lead it back to its stable. He turned to Martin, having to look up steeply.

‘Go and tell our lord that the horse is fine: no ill-effects from the journey. I’ll be there shortly.’

Martin nodded and loped up the hill towards the inner ward, seeming to be all elbows and knees as his long-legged strides carried him along the path. Edwin watched him go, wondering when he had last heard the earl’s second squire actually speak. Seeing his friend’s gaze, Robert remarked, ‘I swear if that boy grows any taller we’ll be able to use him as a flagpole. I’m already having difficulty in training against his long reach, and once he comes into his full strength there’ll be no stopping him. Now come …’ Grabbing Edwin by the shoulder, he steered him towards the path back up to the inner ward. ‘You must have a few moments to spare, let’s get some air.’

Edwin didn’t take much persuading. He’d been helping William Steward with his accounts all the morning, which was not actually his task, but his assistance had saved his uncle several days of puzzling labour. Edwin could never understand how it was that other people couldn’t see the neat columns of numbers in their heads, or how they had trouble adding up bushels, or ells, or shillings and pence, but it seemed that they did, so he was happy to help out with something which was no effort to him. But the tiny office which led off the service area behind the great hall was cramped and airless, and he was glad of the opportunity to stretch his legs. He tossed the oatcake he was holding – now somewhat the worse for wear – to Robert and fished another out of the front of his tunic for himself as they entered the gatehouse and climbed the stone steps which led up to the walk around the top of the inner ward’s encircling walls. A man-at-arms who was about to come down stood aside and waited while they ascended; Edwin nodded his thanks as they passed, for it was Berold, a local man he’d known since childhood.

It was windy up there, as it usually was, but the air was fresh and free from the normal smells of tightly-packed humanity. Edwin took a deep breath and tried to unwind the knots in his head. They strolled around towards the north side of the castle and then stopped, surveying the bustling ward beneath. The work of rebuilding the castle in stone was continuing: the keep and curtain wall were complete, but most of the buildings inside the inner ward, nestling against the walls, were still wooden. The earl had ordered them replaced, and masons hurried to and fro going about their tasks. Their work was a mystery to Edwin, but each seemed to know his part, and the structures came together like magic under their hands. For many of them it was a lifetime’s work; some of them had learnt their trade there from their fathers, who had built the keep itself a generation ago. They were starting with the kitchen, which Edwin supposed was sensible, as that was the part of the castle most susceptible to fire. Then their work would move on to the adjacent great hall, and Edwin thought to himself that it would indeed be a grand place to eat when it was finished. It was no more than the earl merited, though: William de Warenne, Earl of Surrey, was one of the richest and most powerful men in the kingdom, and it was right and fitting that he should have imposing surroundings in which to entertain and impress his guests. Edwin had never met the earl face-to-face, of course, but he’d sometimes seen him at fairly close quarters during the course of his work, and he counted himself fortunate to live under the rule of such a great man. It was the best that someone like him could hope for.

Robert finished his cake and fastidiously picked a few crumbs off the front of his tunic as they continued walking. There was a moment of companionable silence before Edwin asked a question about one of the two things which had been preying on his mind these last days.

‘So the earl will join the war against the French invaders?’

Robert sighed. ‘Yes, it looks that way.’ He fiddled with the thong around his neck which held something he kept under his shirt – Edwin suspected it was a lock of hair or some other keepsake from Mistress Joanna, as he had observed that she had a similar cord around her own neck – and went on. ‘Prince Louis holds large parts of the country, so the regent needs to stop him before he gets too powerful. He’ll be forced to do something soon, so we’ll have to be prepared to march anywhere at his command.’

BOOK: B0078XH7HQ EBOK
7.13Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Building Heat by K. Sterling
Love Notes by Gunter, Heather
So Much It Hurts by Monique Polak
Then and Now by W Somerset Maugham
The Lonely Dead by Michael Marshall
Mosaic by Leigh Talbert Moore