The Prince and the Pilgrim (30 page)

“This is a place for women only.” She laughed at his look. “Yes, I’m afraid it’s the outer dark for you and the rest, my dear lord!”

“While you and your women sleep warm on a goosefeather bed. I will put up with this,” said Alexander clearly, “for this one night only. And after that, my dear wife, if anyone, abbot, nun, or the High King himself, attempts once again to stop me sleeping in your bed –”

“No one will. And there’s the convent, see? Isn’t the rosy stone beautiful, set like that among the trees? That’s how Castle Rose is built, too. Shall we ride back and see how my father does? Oh, and Alexander –”

“My love?”

“When we do get to Castle Rose, I promise the bed is goosefeathers.”

He wheeled his horse beside hers to ride back to the duke’s litter. “No more than I expect,” he said, laughing, and added, but not aloud, “But I don’t expect to sleep very soundly, Alice my darling.”

When at length they came in sight of Castle Rose, they found that Count Madoc, in some state as kinsman of the duke, was awaiting them at the gate. With him was a group of his own men who, it was to be seen, went armed. But behind him, in the courtyard near the steps that led to the great door, was the castle’s own keeper, Beltrane, recovered from his ailment, and standing, keys in hand, with a crowd of the castle’s people near him. A rather larger crowd even than usual; there were farm tenants with their labourers, and estate workers and stablemen as well as house servants, as if Beltrane, feeling somehow threatened, had gathered as many of the duke’s own people as he could. And close behind him stood Jeshua, in a robe of office (somehow conjured up, it could be assumed, by the castle’s women) like the one he had worn as
domesticus
to Queen Clotilda.

The duke’s litter was carried at the head of his company, with Alice and Alexander riding to either side of it. After they had stopped to eat at midday, Ansirus had tried to insist on riding for the final stage; to avoid alarming his people, he said, though Alice suspected that he did not want to show any sign of weakness to Madoc. But in
the
end, for the journey had really tired him, he had let her persuade him to finish it as he had begun, though making the litter into a carriage of state rather than of sickness. He rode sitting straight against the cushions, with the litter’s curtains drawn back to show him fully, even grandly dressed, with a jewelled collar sparkling against the breast of his gown, and the great ducal ring, a rose of rubies, on his hand.

Madoc came forward as the litter approached the gate. He threw a quick glance of curiosity at the prince, with no sign of apprehension or even interest (so no rumour’s got through yet about the marriage, thought Alice), then with the barest of salutes to Alice, he hurried to the side of the litter.

“Cousin! Be welcome!” It was the greeting of a kinsman and of an equal, rather than that of a guest to his returning host. The duke, with some formally courteous reply, held out his ringed hand, and Madoc, after the briefest of pauses, bent his head and kissed it, then asked with a look of keen anxiety, and a voice raised to reach into the farthest corner of the courtyard: “But you are ill? Injured in some way? Your messenger gave us no news of this. By the gods, dear cousin, it’s as well I have been here to see to things for you –”

“Neither ill nor hurt in any way, I thank you.” The cool tones carried just as far. “Only older, and more easily tired than I was used to be. If you will lend me your hand?”

So it was that the duke, showing no sign of his recent weakness, walked steadily and in stately fashion into the courtyard on the arm of his kinsman, closely followed by his own party. Count
Madoc’s
men had perforce to bring up the rear. And when the duke came to the great steps and freed himself to receive the smiling greetings and enquiries of his people, Madoc could only fall back as the welcoming crowd pressed forward, and watch while the duke, with Alice and the young stranger, mounted to the head of the steps and turned to face the thronged courtyard.

There was no need to ask for silence. Not a man there but was eager to know who this young stranger was, with the travel-stained clothes and the bearing of a prince, and the sword of a prince glittering at his hip. And not a woman there but had already seen the ring on Alice’s hand, and noted the brightness of her eyes, and had come to the correct conclusion.

The duke spoke easily, as one would to friends. “Forgive me for being brief, but it’s true I have ailed a little recently, and a journey is tiring for a man of my years. But now that I am here, in my home, and with you all, I need fear no evil. The more so as I have great news for you.” He took Alexander lightly by the hand and brought him forward a pace, with Alice, to stand beside him. “Let me present to you the man who, after me, will rule here at Castle Rose. He is the husband of your lady, my daughter Alice, and his name is Alexander. He is Prince Alexander, only son of Prince Baudouin of Cornwall and of the Lady Anna of Craig Arian in the valley of the Wye … No, a moment more, good people! A moment more! The first to kiss my daughter’s cheek and to welcome the bridegroom must be my dear
kinsman
, Count Madoc, who has ruled in my place while I was gone. Madoc?”

It was as skilfully done as his homecoming had been. But Alice, receiving the ritual kiss and watching Madoc greet Alexander, felt a tiny thread of fear crawl up her spine, as if the hairs had brushed up like the fur on a wary cat.

Then all was laughter, and calling out, and greeting, and joy. Alice managed, through the kisses and happy tears of her women, to come near enough to her father to urge him to go to his bed and rest, but the duke had one more thing to say, and in time a hush was called and he could say it.

“Thank you, thank you, my friends! I think it’s time, now, for us all to go about our business. Count Madoc, let me bid you once more welcome. If you had hoped for a different outcome to your journey, I am sorry. I hardly expected to find you here before me, I would have written to you with this news, and so spared you some trouble, but now –” a smiling gesture – “I’m afraid that the arrows of love, striking at random as they do, have left us nothing to discuss, and me nothing more to say except to thank you for your care of my people during my absence, and to hope that you and your men will join us in our celebration of this happy homecoming.”

Madoc, pale with anger, but holding himself firmly in, began to say something, but the duke, still smiling, lifted a hand.

“Later, my dear cousin, we’ll talk later, but now, by your leave, I must rest.” He turned back to the throng in the courtyard. “Listen, my friends!
When
my daughter and Prince Alexander were wedded at the monastery of St Martin they vowed, both of them, that their real wedding must be here at Castle Rose. So tonight, so please you, we will hold the wedding feast, which you will all share, and after that the bride will go to her bedding here in her own home, with God’s blessing and the love of us all.”

At this the noise broke out again, but briefly, as the duke turned to go indoors, and Alice, blushing now and laughing, led Alexander in after him, while cooks and house-servants bethought themselves suddenly of how few hours were left in which to prepare the bridal chamber and a wedding feast that would do honour to their lady and to themselves.

And through it all Count Madoc smiled and smiled and watched with cold eyes, and his men stood like soldiers with no battle to fight, until he spoke with their captain and they withdrew from the cheerful bustle into their own quarters by the tower where they had been lodged.

As if nothing of beauty and joy were to be omitted that night, there was a full moon, which rose late, the colour of apricots, into a sky full of bright stars. Nor moon nor stars were even noticed by Alice or Alexander, though their bedchamber window was open to the sky. Not even when, in the dead hours towards dawn when the lovers, like the rest of the castle, slept, a beam, fading to silver, slanted across the bed to touch Alexander’s eyes.

For that alone he might not have wakened fully. He stirred, murmured something, and the arm that circled Alice drew her closer, but then a sound, faint but persistent, broke through his sex-drugged sleep and brought his eyes, protestingly, open.

The sound was there still. There was someone at the door. And now a voice, soft but urgent, was added to the tapping.

“My lord! My lord Alexander!”

Anyone who interrupted this night, thought Alexander dimly, ought to be hanged. But then anyone who did so – his mind cleared very quickly as he slid from the warmth of the bed, and the chill air of dawn struck his naked body
like
a cold shower – must do so for some very urgent reason. And that could only mean (as he snatched up a bedgown and flung it round him) that could only mean some sort of serious trouble.

It was Jeshua outside the door. In the smoky light from the cresset by the doorway his face showed pale and tense.

“What is it? The duke?”

Jeshua shot a glance past Alexander to where Alice lay sleeping, then said in an urgent undervoice: “It may be. No, he’s not ill, but I think there’s danger to him, or to you. I ask your pardon for disturbing you now, but I think we must talk.”

“Danger? To the duke?” Alexander had, naturally, looked with curiosity and speculation at Count Madoc in the courtyard, and afterwards in the hall of feasting, but he only saw that the count, though not at first quite able to avoid showing an understandable chagrin and anger at the failure of his marriage plans, had appeared to control himself reasonably soon; and at the wedding feast, where he was seated at the duke’s left hand, he had behaved with reserve, but with smiling and careful courtesy. Alexander had seen no more than that; with eyes only for Alice, and thoughts only for the coming night, he had noticed nothing else. Nor had he given a thought to what might have passed between Madoc and the duke in their private interview after the feasting.

Now he said softly: “No, wait. Over here.” Shutting the bedchamber door softly behind him, he took the other man by the arm and led him across the passageway into an embrasure where a window let in the chill air of dawn.

“Now. Tell me. You’re talking about Count Madoc?”

“Who else? My lord, not for anything less would I have disturbed you tonight, and I left it as long as I dared –”

“Never mind that. Get on. What do you know?”

“Only that the count would do anything, dare anything, to get possession of these lands. Beltrane told me other things that have happened, but no matter of that now. I do know one thing that was to pass tonight between him and the duke, because I shall have to make the arrangements. The count is to leave, though not for a day or so. This for form’s sake only. But he is to dismiss his men-at-arms tomorrow, to wait for him beyond the castle’s boundary.”

“Yes? Can the duke enforce this?”

“Oh, yes. But you see what it means? If the count is to move, it must be tonight.”

“Move? To do what?”

But he knew, even before Jeshua said: “Have you ever heard of the Young Celts?”

“Ah,” said Alexander softly. “Yes, indeed. And they – she – whoever it is – really are depending on him somehow to take possession of Castle Rose?”

“I think so. He was the obvious choice, the heir, with an easy way in by marriage. I don’t know much about your country, my lord, but I understand that this would be a good place to hold, perhaps commanding the road north, or the port to the west where we landed?”

“I don’t know that either, but – surely it’s not very likely that he’ll try anything now? Even if I were out of the way, the duke must have made it
clear
when they talked, that he knew of the count’s links with the faction, and that he’d have no hope of the Lady Alice? What better reason could he give the man for passing over his claim, such as it was, to her hand, and bestowing it on me? What are you afraid of? What else have you heard?”

“Nothing definite. But I was there when the message came in that the duke was on his way back from St Martin’s, and I was watching the count when the duke presented you as the Lady Alice’s husband. Afterwards – when everyone was busy preparing for the feast – I followed Count Madoc to see what he would do. I know murder when I see it, my lord. He went to talk with his captain, and though I heard nothing of what was said, I saw their looks. Then I tried to warn Beltrane, but he was full of the marriage, and too cumbered with the coming feast – and besides, he would not believe me. He’s a simple man, and to him this place, after a lifetime of peace, is peace itself. There may have been difficulties recently, but now that the duke is home, he cannot see that anyone can make trouble. More, he would not believe that a kinsman would harm the duke or the Lady Alice. Nor –” there was no change in the even, faintly accented voice – “would he readily believe anything that I, a foreigner and a Jew, would say about his master’s kin. So I came to you.”

“And what would you have me do?”

“Sir –” the voice did change now; relief and urgency. “Sir, if you would go to the duke’s room. He and Count Madoc have not long finished their talk, and gone to their beds. I waited to see my
lord
safely to his chamber, and at present all is well, but there’s only one man there to attend him, a servant who usually sleeps within call in the antechamber. I thought there would be guards set, but there has never been any need, and no one has thought of it. So, sir, if you would go there now, just for the time it takes for me to rouse some of the duke’s men and set them on watch? I need your authority for that, too. I’ve already been down to the east tower and turned the key on the count’s men. If it turns out that there’s nothing planned, they’ll never know. I’ll open it when it’s daylight.”

“Good man. You’ve done right. I’ll go. Just give me a moment to put something on, and get my sword. And perhaps – if my lady wakes to find me gone – and thinks her father is in danger –”

“I wakened Mariamne. She’s here with me. She’ll stay with your lady in case she wakes. Let us pray to the God we share that we need not alarm her, and that all this has been for nothing.”