Epic Historial Collection (80 page)

“Scared, Philip?” said Stephen.

“Terrified,” Philip replied candidly; and then, made reckless by fear, he added cheekily: “How about you?”

The king laughed at his nerve. “A little,” he admitted.

Philip remembered that this was his chance to talk about the cathedral. But he could not concentrate while his life was in such peril. His eyes went constantly to the castle, and he raked the ramparts, watching for a man drawing a bow.

The castle occupied the entire southwest corner of the inner city, its west wall being part of the city wall, so to walk all the way around it one had to go out of the city. Stephen led Philip through the west gate, and they passed out into the suburb called Newland. Here the houses were like peasant hovels, made of wattle-and-daub, with large gardens such as village houses had. A bitter cold wind whipped across the open fields beyond the houses. Stephen turned south, still skirting the castle. He pointed to a little door in the castle wall. “That's where Ranulf of Chester sneaked out to make his escape when I took the city, I suspect,” he said.

Philip was less frightened here. There were other people on the pathway, and the ramparts on this side were less heavily guarded, for the occupants of the castle were afraid of an attack from the city, not from the countryside. Philip took a deep breath and then blurted out: “If I am killed, will you give Kingsbridge a market and make William Hamleigh give back the quarry?”

Stephen did not answer immediately. They walked downhill to the southwest corner of the castle and looked up at the keep. From their position it appeared loftily impregnable. Just below that corner they turned into another gateway and entered the lower city to walk along the castle's south side. Philip felt in danger again. It would not be too difficult for someone inside the castle to deduce that the two men who were making a circuit of the walls must be on a scouting expedition, and therefore they were fair game, especially the one in the purple cloak. To distract himself from his fear he studied the keep. There were small holes in the wall which served as outlets for the latrines, and the refuse and filth which was washed out simply fell on the walls and the mound below and stayed there until it rotted away. No wonder there was a stink. Philip tried not to breathe too deeply, and they hurried past.

There was another, smaller tower at the southeast corner. Now Philip and Stephen had walked around three sides of the square. Philip wondered if Stephen had forgotten his question. He was apprehensive about asking it again. The king might feel he was being pushed, and take offense.

They reached the main street that went through the middle of the town and turned again, but before Philip had time to feel relieved they passed through another gate into the inner city, and a few moments later they were in the no-man's-land between cathedral and castle. To Philip's horror the king stopped there.

He turned to talk to Philip, positioning himself in such a way that he could scrutinize the castle over Philip's shoulder. Philip's vulnerable back, clad in ermine and purple, was exposed to the gatehouse which was bristling with sentries and archers. He went as stiff as a statue, expecting an arrow or a spear in his back at any moment. He began to perspire despite the freezing cold wind.

“I gave you that quarry years ago, didn't I?” said King Stephen.

“Not exactly,” Philip replied through gritted teeth. “You gave us the right to take stone for the cathedral. But you gave the quarry to Percy Hamleigh. Now Percy's son, William, has thrown out my stonecutters, killing five people—including a woman and a child—and he refuses us access.”

“He shouldn't do things like that, especially if he wants me to make him earl of Shiring,” Stephen said thoughtfully. Philip was encouraged. But a moment later the king said: “I'm damned if I can see a way to get into this castle.”

“Please make William reopen the quarry,” Philip said. “He is defying you and stealing from God.”

Stephen seemed not to hear. “I don't think they've got many men in there,” he said in the same musing tone. “I suspect nearly all of them are on the ramparts, to make a show of strength. What was that about a market?”

This was all part of the test, Philip decided; making him stand out in the open with his back to a host of archers. He wiped his brow with the fur cuff of the king's cloak. “My lord king, every Sunday people come from all over the county to worship at Kingsbridge and labor, for no wages, on the cathedral building site. When we first began, a few enterprising men and women would come to the site and sell meat pies, and wine, and hats, and knives, to the volunteer workers. So, gradually, a market grew up. And now I am asking you to license it.”

“Will you pay for your license?”

A payment was normal, Philip knew, but he also knew that it might be waived for a religious body. “Yes, lord, I will pay—unless you would wish to give us the license without payment, for the greater glory of God.”

Stephen looked directly into Philip's eyes for the first time. “You're a brave man, to stand there, with the enemy behind you, and bargain with me.”

Philip gave back an equally frank stare. “If God decides my life is over, nothing can save me,” he said, sounding braver than he felt. “But if God wants me to live on and build Kingsbridge Cathedral, ten thousand archers cannot strike me down.”

“Well said!” Stephen remarked, and, clapping a hand on Philip's shoulder, he turned toward the cathedral. Weak with relief, Philip walked beside him, feeling better for every step away from the castle. He seemed to have passed the test. But it was important to get an unambiguous commitment from the king. Any moment now he would be engulfed by courtiers again. As they passed through the line of sentries, Philip took his courage in both hands and said: “My lord king, if you would write a letter to the sheriff of Shiring—”

He was interrupted. One of the earls rushed up, looking flustered, and said: “Robert of Gloucester is on his way here, my lord king.”

“What? How far away?”

“Close. A day at most—”

“Why haven't I been warned? I posted men all around!”

“They came by the Fosse Way, then turned off the road to approach across open country.”

“Who is with him?”

“All the earls and knights on his side who have lost their lands in the last two years. Ranulf of Chester is also with him—”

“Of course. Treacherous dog.”

“He has brought all his knights from Chester, plus a horde of wild rapacious Welshmen.”

“How many men altogether?”

“About a thousand.”

“Damn—that's a hundred more than we have.”

By this time several barons had gathered around, and now another one spoke. “Lord, if he's coming across open country, he'll have to cross the river at the ford—”

“Good thinking, Edward!” Stephen said. “Take your men down to that ford and see if you can hold it. You'll need archers, too.”

“How far are they now, does anybody know?” asked Edward.

The first earl said: “Very close, the scout said. They could reach the ford before you.”

“I'll go right away,” Edward said.

“Good man!” said King Stephen. He made a fist with his right hand and punched his left palm. “I shall meet Robert of Gloucester on the battlefield at last. I wish I had more men. Still—an advantage of a hundred men isn't much.”

Philip listened to it all in grim silence. He was sure he had been on the point of getting Stephen's agreement. Now the king's mind was elsewhere. But Philip was not ready to give up. He was still wearing the king's purple robe. He slipped it off his shoulders and held it out, saying: “Perhaps we should both revert to type, my lord king.”

Stephen nodded absently. A courtier stepped behind the king and helped him take off the monkish habit. Philip handed over the royal robe and said: “Lord, you seemed well disposed to my request.”

Stephen looked irritated to be reminded. He shrugged on his robe and was about to speak when a new voice was heard.

“My lord king!”

Philip recognized the voice. His heart sank. He turned and saw William Hamleigh.

“William, my boy!” said the king, in the hearty voice he used with fighting men. “You've arrived just in time!”

William bowed and said: “My lord, I've brought fifty knights and two hundred men from my earldom.”

Philip's hopes turned to dust.

Stephen was visibly delighted. “What a good man you are!” he said warmly. “That gives us the advantage over the enemy!” He put his arm around William's shoulders and walked with him into the cathedral.

Philip stood where he was and watched them go. He had been agonizingly close to success, but in the end William's army had counted for more than justice, he thought bitterly. The courtier who had helped the king take off the monk's habit now held the robe out to Philip. Philip took it. The courtier followed the king and his entourage into the cathedral. Philip put on his monastic robe. He was deeply disappointed. He looked at the three huge arched doorways of the cathedral. He had hoped to build archways like that at Kingsbridge. But King Stephen had taken the side of William Hamleigh. The king had been faced with a straight choice: the justice of Philip's case against the advantage of William's army. He had failed his test.

Philip was left with only one hope: that King Stephen would be defeated in the forthcoming battle.

II

The bishop said mass in the cathedral when the sky was beginning to change from black to gray. By then the horses were saddled, the knights were wearing their chain mail, the men-at-arms had been fed, and a measure of strong wine had been served to give them all heart.

William Hamleigh knelt in the nave with the other knights and earls, while the war-horses stamped and snorted in the aisles, and was forgiven in advance for the killing he would do that day.

Fear and excitement made William light-headed. If the king won a victory today, William's name would forever be associated with it, for men would say that he had brought the reinforcements that tipped the balance. If the king should lose…anything could happen. He shivered on the cold stone floor.

The king was at the front, in a fresh white robe, with a candle in his hand. As the Host was elevated, the candle broke, and the flame went out. William trembled with dread: it was a bad omen. A priest brought a new candle and took away the broken one, and Stephen smiled nonchalantly, but the feeling of supernatural horror stayed with William, and when he looked around he could tell that others felt the same.

After the service the king put on his armor, helped by a valet. He had a knee-length mail coat made of leather with iron rings sewn to it. The coat was slit up to the waist in front and behind so that he could ride in it. The valet laced it tightly at the throat. He then put on a close-fitting cap with a long mail hood attached, covering his tawny hair and protecting his neck. Over the cap he wore an iron helmet with a nosepiece. His leather boots had mail trimmings and pointed spurs.

As he put on his armor, the earls gathered around him. William followed his mother's advice and acted as if he were already one of them, pushing through the crowd to join the group around the king. After listening for a moment he realized they were trying to persuade Stephen to withdraw and leave Lincoln to the rebels.

“You hold more territory than Maud—you can raise a larger army,” said an older man whom William recognized as Lord Hugh. “Go south, get reinforcements, come back and outnumber them.”

After the portent of the broken candle, William almost wished for withdrawal himself; but the king had no time for such talk. “We're strong enough to defeat them now,” he said cheerfully. “Where's your spirit?” He strapped on a belt with a sword on one side and a dagger on the other, both of them in wood-and-leather scabbards.

“The armies are too evenly matched,” said a tall man with short, grizzled hair and a close-trimmed beard: the earl of Surrey. “It's too risky.”

This was a poor argument to use with Stephen, William knew: the king was nothing if not chivalrous. “Too evenly matched?” he repeated scornfully. “I prefer a fair fight.” He pulled on the leather gauntlets with mail on the backs of the fingers. The valet handed him a long wooden shield covered with leather. He hooked its strap around his neck and held it in his left hand.

“We've little to lose by withdrawing at this point,” Hugh persisted. “We aren't even in possession of the castle.”

“I would lose my chance of meeting Robert of Gloucester on the battlefield,” Stephen said. “For two years he's been avoiding me. Now that I have an opportunity to deal with the traitor once and for all, I'm not going to pull out just because we're evenly matched!”

A groom brought his horse, saddled ready. As Stephen was about to mount, there was a flurry of activity around the door at the west end of the cathedral, and a knight came running up the nave, muddy and bleeding. William had a doomy premonition that this would be bad news. As the man bowed to the king, William recognized him as one of Edward's men who had been sent to guard the ford. “We were too late, lord,” the man said hoarsely, breathing hard. “The enemy has crossed the river.”