The Poisoned Serpent (29 page)

Bernard and Thomas exclaimed in surprise.

“He is accompanied by the Earl of Wiltshire and by William of Roumare, Earl of Cambridge,” Rotier went on.

Silence reigned in the solar.

Then Cristen asked, her voice a little breathless, “What of my father? Do you know if he accompanies the king?”

“I believe he does, my lady,” William Rotier replied.

More silence. Nicholas and Iseult exchanged anxious glances, not understanding what was happening.

Then, “What a merry gathering we shall be,” Hugh said.

“Aye, my lord,” Rotier replied impassively.

Hugh frowned. “What is the temper in the town, William?

“The town is in a state of shock, my lord. Richard was very well liked. People are having difficultly realizing that he was a villain.”

Hugh nodded soberly, his gaze on his empty porridge bowl.

“However, you are well liked, too, my lord,” Rotier continued. “Neither the townsfolk nor the castle guard appear inclined to dispute the result of yesterday’s combat.”

Bernard said gruffly, “What of the sheriff?”

“He is under house arrest. There can be little doubt that Stephen will replace him once he learns of Gervase’s dishonesty.” Rotier grimaced. “God knows who he will name as sheriff in his place.”

Hugh lifted his eyes from his contemplation of the empty porridge bowl. “What a jolly time we are in for,” he said lightly.

“The king won’t take us away from you, will he, Hugh?” Iseult asked nervously.

Hugh looked at her in astonishment. “Why ever would he do that?”

She gazed back at him, wide-eyed and apprehensive.

“No one is going to take you away from Hugh, Iseult,” Cristen said calmly. She looked at Rotier. “Thank you for bringing us this news. We will prepare ourselves as best we can.”

Rotier bowed to her and turned to go.

Bernard stood and said, “I’ll go back to the castle with you.”

The two men went out together.

Thomas said gloomily, “Sir Nigel is going to murder me.”

“Nonsense,” Cristen said briskly.

“Why would Sir Nigel want to murder you?” Nicholas asked curiously.

Hugh stood up. “I suppose I really can’t return to the sheriff’s house, but I wish I weren’t staying here.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Cristen said.

He looked somberly at her small, tense face.

“All that matters now,” she said, “is that you convince the king.”

I
t was precisely two hours past noon when Stephen, King of England, entered his city of Lincoln. He came as a triumphant war leader, having, by judicious use of his feudal army and his paid mercenaries, put to rout the rebels in Cornwall.

Most of the king’s feudal troops had returned home, and he was accompanied to Lincoln by his Flemish mercenaries and their captain, William of Ypres. Also riding in the king’s train were the Earl of Wiltshire and the Earl of Cambridge, two powerful men bent on increasing their ascendancy by acquiring the additional honor of Earl of Lincoln.

A worried Sir Nigel Haslin accompanied his outraged overlord, Lord Guy. Nigel was grimly determined to rescue his daughter from her own folly and remove her to the safety of Somerford.

Stephen took up residence in Lincoln Castle while most of his troops quartered themselves outside the city walls. The king had expected to be greeted by the sheriff, but was met instead by Lord Richard Basset. Over a late afternoon dinner, his chief justiciar apprised him of the situation in Lincoln.

The king was not happy with the justiciar’s news. Stephen wanted to bask in the glory of his triumph in Cornwall, not listen to tales about more betrayals.

God knows, the king thought irritably, he had had few enough victories to celebrate since his cousin Matilda had landed in England and raised war against him. Now, at last, he had achieved a clear-cut success in Cornwall, and what happened afterward?

The minute he set foot out of Cornwall, he had been met by two of his most powerful and dangerous earls, both of whom demanded the same thing: the lordship of the murdered Earl of Lincoln. Now he had to hear how the Sheriff of Lincoln, whom he had trusted, had been cheating him out of the tax money he needed to pay his troops. Not to mention the fact that the sheriff’s son, one of the most promising young men in the kingdom, had been found guilty of murder.

Stephen was weary of situations where, no matter what he did, he could not win. If only he could trust his English nobles, he might be able to rely upon a feudal army to prosecute the English war and so use the money he was expending on the Flemings to fight Matilda’s husband in Normandy. But he could not trust his nobles. Most of them were no more than jackals, caring little who sat upon the throne as long as they could expand their own power base and increase their own wealth.

A perfect example of his perpetual quandary was the situation he found himself in at the moment, with two of his most powerful barons pressuring him to award them the lordship of Lincoln. To choose one was to alienate the other. And Stephen could not afford for either man to take his extensive holdings and his immense feudal army over to Gloucester and Matilda.

The king was not in a good mood as he finished his
dinner, and he regarded with disfavor the men who sat with him at the table. The chief justiciar and William of Ypres had a place on either side of him. They were flanked by the Earls of Wiltshire and of Cambridge. At one end of the table sat Sir Nigel Haslin, the man who had so ably led Wiltshire’s contingent in Cornwall. The king had heard some gossip about Sir Nigel’s being in search of a runaway daughter. Finally, at the other end of the table, sat the man who was representing the disgraced sheriff—the very man, it seemed, who had just been acquitted of murdering Gilbert de Beauté.

With the exception of William of Ypres, it was not a group that the king found overly congenial. Nor was he at all pleased when a servant approached him with a request that he grant an audience to Lord Hugh de Leon when the meal had finished.

The king knew what Lord Hugh wanted—to wed the de Beauté heiress, whose lands would give the de Leons control of the whole middle of the kingdom. Lord Guy had been pestering Stephen on the subject ever since he had joined the king’s retinue.

The king was fed up with the lot of them. Suddenly, as he scowled at the knight in front of him, he decided how he would handle this powder keg of a situation. He would give the heiress to the de Leons and the earldom to Roumare. Both hounds would get a piece of the bone. They would neither of them be satisfied, but they should have enough to keep them from selling their allegiance to Gloucester.

Stephen was irritated enough to want to make things as uncomfortable as he could for all these greedy barons. “Tell Lord Hugh he may approach me now,” he said.

He would deny this importunate boy the honor of a
private audience, would force him to ask for his favor in public, the king thought sourly as he took a drink of ale and leaned back in his chair. He remembered Hugh from their one previous meeting, and thought that it would be pleasant to see that annoyingly self-possessed young man shaken a little.

There was only the single long table set in the dining room this afternoon. Daylight came in through the open window, but the table was lighted by candles as well. Behind each of the seven men who were dining stood a server to present the food and pour the wine and offer finger bowl and napkin as needed.

There had not been a great deal of talk during the meal, but even that died away as the slender, black-haired figure of Lord Hugh de Leon entered the room and approached the king.

Stephen looked into the fine-boned face and startling light eyes of Roger de Leon’s son.

“Your Grace,” Hugh said, and went down on one knee.

Stephen could see the bulk of a bandage under the sleeve of his left arm. “You wish to have audience with me,” the king said. “I grant your request.”

It irritated Stephen that nothing on Hugh’s grave face indicated any discomfort at being forced to speak in front of an audience. The king had not given him leave to rise, so Hugh remained on one knee as he said, “Your Grace, I have come to offer you my allegiance. I am ready to swear my personal faith to you and, once I am Earl of Wiltshire, I will pledge the loyalty of all that I have power over to your person and your cause.”

There was stunned silence in the room.

Then Lord Guy of Wiltshire said in an angry voice, “He already owes you his allegiance, Your Grace! He
pledged it when you recognized him as my heir. There is no need for this extravagant show.”

Still on his knee, Hugh replied calmly, “
You
pledged my faith for me, Uncle. I never swore an oath myself.”

Stephen thought back over the events of the last few months and realized that what Hugh had said was true.
What was the boy trying to do?
the king wondered with a mixture of anger and bewilderment.

The answer came to him almost immediately. Hugh was trying to bribe the king into giving him the de Beauté girl in return for an oath of allegiance.

Stephen, who had just decided that he would indeed give Elizabeth to Hugh, abruptly changed his mind. He did not like having his hand forced, particularly by a cub who was younger than his own son.

Young Hugh had just overplayed his hand and lost himself an heiress, the king thought grimly.

“I believed your uncle’s pledge of your loyalty, Lord Hugh,” the king said coldly. “That is why I granted you status as his heir. Have you by chance come to ask me for something else?”

Stephen’s blue eyes were as cold as his voice. With his splendid physique and leonine head, he looked every inch a king, as he regarded the kneeling young man with palpable displeasure.

“Your Grace,” Hugh said soberly, “I have come here on behalf of myself and the Lady Cristen Haslin of Somerford. We wish to wed, Your Grace, but my uncle is Lady Cristen’s overlord and he will not give his consent. As you well know, he wishes me to marry Elizabeth de Beauté instead.”

A stifled moan came from somewhere to Stephen’s left. Sir Nigel, the king thought. He looked at Hugh measuringly. So this was the man Lady Cristen had run off with.

The king’s eyes narrowed as he sought ways he might turn this new development to his advantage. To gain time, he asked, “Is Lady Cristen the daughter of Sir Nigel Haslin of Somerford?”

“Aye, Your Grace,” came the firm reply.

Stephen stared thoughtfully into the gray eyes that watched him so steadily. Hugh did not look at all foolish, or subservient, kneeling before him in front of a tableful of men. Rather, he looked perfectly composed and in command.

“Your Grace, this is infamous!” Guy burst forth furiously. “The boy has some foolish notion that he is in love with Lady Cristen. As if that had anything to do with marriage!”

“Your Grace,” the boy said softly. “You are beleaguered and hampered by barons whom you cannot trust. Two sit here in this room with you.”

Outraged denials came from both Guy and William of Roumare. Hugh ignored them.

“I am not such a one,” he said. “I was brought up by Ralf Corbaille to believe that a feudal oath is an oath made to God. If I take an oath to you, Your Grace, I will uphold it until I die.”

Stephen looked into those compelling gray eyes and saw, with some astonishment, that Hugh was telling him the truth.

“And what if I refuse to allow you to wed Lady Cristen?” the king asked. “What will you do then?”

Hugh smiled. “I did not come here to threaten you, Your Grace.”

The kneeling, slim, black-haired young man dominated the room. Everyone present understood perfectly that his pleasant words denying a threat were in fact a threat in themselves.

He must love Lady Cristen very much to have taken this bold step, Stephen thought. The king, an emotional man who dearly loved his own wife, was moved.

He gestured for Hugh to stand. When he had gotten to his feet, the king asked him, “Is Lady Cristen in the castle?”

“I believe she is, Your Grace.”

“Go and get her.”

The boy didn’t move, but gave Stephen a long, wary look.

The king met his eyes steadily. “Go,” he said again.

Hugh went.

As soon as he was out of the room, Guy broke out in passionate fury.

“You cannot mean to give in to him, Your Grace! I have told Hugh that if he marries Lady Cristen, I will disown him as my heir.”

“If you do that,” the justiciar said practically, “you will drive him right into Gloucester’s arms.”

“Then arrest him,” Guy said grimly. “He can’t go over to Gloucester if he is in chains.”

Stephen looked at the pale, worried-looking man who sat beside Guy. “Sir Nigel,” he said. “How say you?”

“Your Grace,” Nigel Haslin replied, “If Hugh de Leon pledges you his faith, he will keep his word. And Hugh de Leon would be an enormous asset to Your Grace’s cause. He is a brilliant young man whose sword and counsel you could rely upon utterly. He is a man of honor, Your Grace. Do not let him get away.”

Guy turned to Nigel in fury. “
You
have plotted this! For all this time, this is what you have been maneuvering for—to marry your daughter to the next earl!”

“That is not true, my lord,” Nigel said.

“Do you mean that you knew nothing of this?” the king asked.

“I knew what Hugh wanted,” Nigel replied. “But I told him that he could not marry my daughter without the consent of her overlord.”

“Well, she does not have my consent!” Guy shouted.

“Contain yourself, Lord Guy,” the king said. He was beginning to enjoy himself. “It seems to me that this is a matter of true love.”

“Love has nothing to do with marriage, Your Grace,” Guy returned in a voice that was only slightly less than full volume.

“I find it rather touching,” said William of Roumare.

Guy glared at his rival with loathing. The Earl of Cambridge, a broad, powerfully built man with auburn hair and brown eyes, looked back imperturbably. He undoubtedly would be delighted to see Hugh marry one of his own vassals and not the heiress to a quarter of Lincolnshire.

Stephen understood this very well. He also understood that Hugh’s offer of allegiance might be a boon. Nigel Haslin had said that the boy was brilliant. Something about Hugh made the king think that Nigel might very well be right. And Stephen could hold the threat of recognizing Hugh as earl over Guy as a weapon to keep Guy in line.

I can’t lose
, Stephen thought with satisfaction.
If Guy betrays me, I will recognize Hugh. At the very least, Wiltshire’s forces will be divided against themselves. Internal dissension will render them useless
.

The king gestured for more wine.

I will also keep Elizabeth de Beauté and all her lands in my hands, a gift to smooth my way with some other waver
ing baron
, he thought as he took a pleasurable drink of the newly poured wine.

As Stephen was putting down his cup, Hugh came in the door with a girl at his side. The two young people walked solemnly forward and went down on their knees before Stephen.

“Your Grace,” Hugh said. “May I present the Lady Cristen Haslin.”

Stephen looked with approval into the delicately lovely face of the young woman who was going to save him so much trouble. Large, luminous brown eyes looked gravely back, and Stephen suddenly remembered that he had met Lady Cristen before.

“Rise, my lady,” he said genially, and gestured for Hugh to do the same. “We remember well your generous hospitality to us during the siege of Malmesbury.”

She smiled. “I am honored, Your Grace.”

“So,” he said. “Lord Hugh de Leon has informed us of his desire to wed with you. Are you in agreement with his wish?”

“Aye, Your Grace,” she said.

As Hugh and Cristen stood and looked at him, Stephen was struck by the intense feeling he had of their oneness. They were not looking at each other, nor were they touching, but the feeling they gave off was very powerful. Stephen felt it, and he imagined everyone in the room must feel it, too.

It was touching, and it was convenient.

“I will welcome your pledge of loyalty, Lord Hugh,” the king said. “And I will be happy to dance at your wedding.”

Stephen came around the table and accepted Hugh’s oath right there, in the presence of a livid Lord Guy.
Then he invited Hugh to attend him in his bedchamber, and the two went off together alone.

As soon as the king had left the room, Guy stalked out as well, walking by Cristen as if she did not exist. Nigel hurried to the side of his daughter and she gave him a sympathetic smile.