“Val has already been to Winchester,” he muttered. “He has already told Henry what has happened. He said he would. I should have never listened to you when you said we had to hide. We should have come to Winchester immediately.”
Hugh yanked back on his horse’s reins and reached for his broadsword with the intention of going after Richard, but Reginald FitzUrse stopped him. “Nay,” he said, putting himself between the two men. “Richard is right. We should have come to Winchester right away. We should not have delayed as we did.”
Hugh sucked in a deep breath, struggling to calm his frayed nerves. “We needed to think on what to do,” he reiterated again. “All of you believed it to be the right course of action at the time. It was far better for us to take the time to stay out of sight and decide a course of action.”
“Look at us,” William de Tracy spoke. He lifted his arms beneath his worn cloak as if to make an example of himself. “We stole these clothes, sold our fine horses, and now we find ourselves on beasts that we should be eating rather than riding. No one would suspect that we are four of Henry’s knights and that is how we planned it but, still, we find ourselves riding to Henry. Richard is correct; we should not have panicked and gone into hiding. We simply should have gone to Henry to tell him what had happened. We did this for him, did we not? He should be glad for what we did. If we believed he ordered us to kill Canterbury, then we should have run back to him to announce it.”
Hugh was feeling as if they were blaming him for his insistence that they conceal their identities and stay away from Winchester in the days following Canterbury’s assassination. He sighed heavily. “So we are returning now to tell him everything and pray for his blessing,” he said. “If he does not give it, then we must make it clear that we were following Val’s lead. It will be the four of us against him. That is why we gave him the forged missive, is it not? So Val would take the blame if Henry is displeased. We must insist on this.”
William shook his head in disgust. “If Val has already gone to Henry, then Henry knows that we instigated it,” he reminded Hugh. “Moreover, Val had several men with him who will vouch for the fact that Val did not kill Canterbury; we did. And what of that missive? Henry will know that it was forged and Calum will testify that we gave it to him. Henry will know that we were at the root of everything!”
Hugh was feeling his position weaken by the moment. Coming into Winchester from the south, they could see it ahead about a half a mile. The morning was gloomy and a hint of rain was in the air as Hugh finally pulled his horse to a halt. The other three followed suit, all of them looking at the city ahead.
“And so, it comes,” he said quietly. “Do we enter Winchester and tell Henry that we have rid him of his nemesis? Or do we go to him and blame Val de Nerra for it?”
FitzUrse, his gaze locked on the castle in the distance, spoke. “If we believed this was Henry’s order, then we should have no shame in telling the king what we have done.”
Hugh looked at him. “We were convinced enough when we planned the event.”
“Now I am not so sure.”
Truth be told, Hugh wasn’t, either. None of them were. The aftermath of the event caused them all to wonder if they’d done the right thing. Doubt was what had caused them to go into hiding. The doubt was still there, gaining in strength.
“If we tell him what we have done and he is displeased, it could mean our end,” Richard said. “I am not entirely certain that Henry will be happy with what we have done.”
“Nor am I,” William said quietly. “Val told us to return to tell Henry, but I am not willing to meet my end today. Let us flee England and send Henry a missive from afar, seeking his counsel on our actions. Let Val explain his role in all of this; I, for one, am not ready to face Henry. Come with me if you wish, for I am leaving the sight of Winchester behind me.”
He turned his horse south, for there was a road leading east a mile or so back, a road that would lead them across southern Hampshire to another road heading north into London. There, they could make an escape if they chose to because today wasn’t a day for confessions. Men who had been so convinced of a royal order weren’t so convinced any longer.
It was easier to let another take the blame.
One by one, the other knights followed him, all of them fleeing Winchester and the justice that awaited them. It was easier to escape what they’d done rather than face it.
Face a king who had lost an old friend by their hand.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Vesper had never been to Winchester Castle but she’d certainly heard tale of it. Coming in from the northeast on that gloomy morning, she could see the vastly large complex to the southwest, looming above the town that surrounded it like the jewel in a crown.
The village of Winchester itself was a fairly large establishment, having been one of the places that the Duke of Normandy began laying down his foundation of conquest so many years ago. Winchester Castle had been part of that and as the party from Selborne drew near, the size and structure of the castle began to come into view. It was positively enormous, a huge fortress surrounded by a moat big enough to be a lake.
It was past the nooning meal by the time they arrived in town and most people had gone about their morning business, but there were still a great many villeins who paused before their homes or places of business to watch the gang of knights and two small women ride by.
The homes near the edge of the town were newer, of waddle and daub construction and pitched roofs, while the homes nearer the center of the town and towards the castle were older. Some weren’t particularly well-kept and more than one home could be seen in the midst of repairs.
Vesper thought it was all quite fascinating, even fascinating enough for her to forget why they’d come. She’s spent the last several hours in silence, riding alongside Val, keeping her dagger in her hand in case some fool tried to harm him. In truth, it had been rather exhausting to be so edgy all of the time and unable to relax, so by the time they’d reached Winchester, she was feeling a good deal of fatigue. But she pushed it aside, ignoring the aches and the hunger because she knew that, now, they were quickly approaching what would soon become Val’s fight for life. Henry was waiting for him in the walls of that enormous castle and she wouldn’t let her guard down until it was all over.
Until Val was free.
On the other side of Val, Margaretha hadn’t uttered a word, either. She kept that enormous broadsword across her lap as she rode and Vesper was growing increasingly concerned for the older woman. Vesper knew that if she was exhausted, then Margaretha must be feeling it, too. But to her credit, Margaretha remained stoic and calm. That seemed to be her usual manner, which Vesper was coming to appreciate. But she wondered just how that calm demeanor would hold once Henry confronted Val. The very fact that Margaretha had come at all showed that she was a lioness who wasn’t about to let her cub fall victim to Henry’s anger.
The great gatehouse of Winchester faced east so they skirted the moat, heading for the big structure at the head of the bridge that spanned the moat. Vesper’s attention was torn between the castle and its ominously big walls and the village off to the west that they had recently passed through. People were still watching them, like a passing parade, but Vesper’s attention ended up on the gatehouse when they finally reached it.
That was when the situation became interesting.
Passing through the gatehouse hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, the horses’ hooves creating hollow sounds as they clopped across the bridge that led into the vast bailey of Winchester. But once they reached the bailey, littered with outbuildings and another smaller set of walls that isolated the keep off to the north, it was as if a massive army was waiting inside for them.
Soldiers were strewn all over the ward and makeshift camps were dotted all through it, accompanied by the appropriate rubbish and scents. It smelled like a zoo of men. As the incoming escort came to a halt, armed men approached from the direction
of the keep, making their way through the hundreds of soldiers in the bailey.
“My lord,” a heavily-armed soldier bearing a crimson tunic with the royal lion on it addressed d’Vant. “Henry has sent me to bring the prisoner to him. He has seen your party coming from the east for quite some time and demands his presence.”
D’Vant dismounted his war horse, turning it over to one of the grooms who had rushed out from the stables.
“No need,” he told the soldier calmly. “I will escort de Nerra.”
“But Henry said….”
Before d’Vant could respond, Tevin suddenly appeared from around the rear of Dacian’s horse. He had just dismounted his steed and, in hearing the soldier’s request, decided to intervene. He wasn’t going to trust Val’s safety to soldiers he didn’t know. It would be a feather in the cap of any soldier to claim he was the one who killed Canterbury’s assassin.
“The prisoner is not your responsibility,” he snapped. “De Nerra will be taken to Henry but not by you.”
The mighty Earl of East Anglia was not to be tangled with; every fighting man in Henry’s service knew that. The soldier backed away somewhat.
“Aye, my lord,” he said, now seemingly nervous that he had roused Tevin’s anger. “Henry asked that he be brought to the hall.”
“Then he shall. Now, get out of my sight.”
The soldier backed away to stand with the other men he’d brought with him as du Reims charged past them, heading in the direction of the hall in search of the king and leaving d’Vant to escort Val. But the armed soldiers sent by Henry were eyeing Val quite critically as the man slid off his horse and removed his saddlebags. In spite of his shackled wrists, he went to help his mother from her mount.
Vesper, meanwhile, had dismounted, still holding that dagger as if it meant life or death for Val. There was no way she was going to relinquish it. As she went to stand next to Val and Margaretha, one of the armed soldiers that had come to take Val to Henry shouted.
“Murderer!”
Val didn’t even react; he didn’t so much as look up. He was in the process of trying to convince Margaretha to turn the sword over to d’Vant but Vesper heard the shout and it infuriated her. Dagger in her hand, she moved in the direction of the heavily-armed soldiers.
“Who said that?” she demanded. “Who was it? Are you so cowardly that you shout from a group of men so you can hide behind them? You should be ashamed!”
Val’s head snapped in her direction when he heard her angry voice. Quickly leaving his mother, he rushed to Vesper just about the time d’Vant got to her. Dacian, too, had heard her angry challenge. Val had her by the arms as d’Vant put himself between Vesper and the armed soldiers.
“My lady, your bravery is astonishing,” d’Vant said, a twinkle in his eye. “I should be so fortunate as to have such a courageous lady to protect me. But it would not do to challenge those men. They are ignorant and you would only be wasting your breath.”
Vesper was so angry that she was trembling. “Why do you let men treat Val like this?” she asked. “You know he is innocent yet he bears chains as if he is guilty. Why do you let him shame himself so in public?”
Dacian looked at Val, regret in his expression. “It was not my idea, my lady, I assure you.”
Vesper’s brow furrowed and, puzzled, she turned to Val also. “Then why do you wear these shackles?”
Val had his hands on her arm; his wrists were chained too closely together for him to grasp her any other way. “It is better this way,” he said quietly. “Dacian will not get in to trouble with Henry and men will believe I have had no special treatment because Henry has ordered my arrest. We are simply following the wishes of the king, so do not trouble yourself over fools that believe only rumor.”
He was pulling her back, away from the armed men, but Dacian turned around and ordered the group away. Grumbling, they went. Once they were far enough out of range, Dacian motioned to Val.
“Come along, then,” he said. “The sooner we get this over with, the better.”
Val still had hold of Vesper, fearful of what would happen if he let her go. She was fully willing to attack a group of grown men with her little dagger because she believed they had slandered him.
“Agreed,” he said. “Would you mind escorting my mother? I fear my hands are full.”
That was metaphorical as well as literal as far as Dacian was concerned; Lady Vesper was quite a handful, to be sure. Taking a few steps in Margaretha’s direction, Dacian held out a hand to her.
“Lady de Nerra,” he said politely. “I would be honored to escort you into Henry’s hall.”
Margaretha was pale with exhaustion but her posture and the tone of her voice suggested otherwise. “Take me to Henry,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “I have a need to speak with him.”
“Indeed I will, my lady.”
“Immediately, Dacian.”
Dacian was again glad that he wasn’t a target of Lady de Nerra’s rage and he didn’t envy Henry one bit. The man was going to have trouble on his hands, very soon. Without hesitation, he began to lead the woman towards the hall that had been built in the time of the Duke of Normandy as the rest of the group, including Val and Vesper and Calum, followed. Since the duke built Winchester and the castle had served, for many years, as the seat of England, it had a long hall built of stone with a steeply pitched roof that was designed for large gatherings. Rather than a hearth to warm the space, it had a fire pit in the center of it. As the group approached, they could see smoke escaping from holes near the roofline.
It was a hall where Henry conducted business as his forefather once had. The great oak doors yawned wide to admit the entire party into the hall. The floor was covered with stale straw, ankle-high, to keep in the warmth in the cold winter temperatures, but the smell of it was quite overwhelming. Food had fallen from the tables into the straw and, if not eaten by the dogs, had subsequently rotted, so the entire hall had a rotting-food smell coupled with the scent of the dogs who were roaming the hall in packs.
The aroma was quite pungent and when Margaretha entered, she was hit by the smell and, for a moment, came to a pause and briefly closed her eyes, sickened. D’Vant thought there was something genuinely wrong with her and looked at her with concern, but she waved the man on. He took her deeper into the hall but when Vesper entered behind them, she wasn’t quite as tactful in her reaction as Margaretha was. Her hand flew to her nose.
“Sweet Jesù,” she gasped. “What a stench!”
Val looked around the hall for Henry, mostly, but he had a faint smirk on his face as he did so. “It is your punishment for demanding to come along,” he muttered. “Now you must sit in this filthy smell. It is probably rotting the inside of your nose as we speak.”
Vesper looked at him in horror, her hand still over her nostrils. “You could not have warned me?”
“Would that have made you remain at Selborne?”
“Possibly.”
“Then I was a fool not to mention it.”
He was grinning at her and, in spite of herself, Vesper started to laugh. The smell really was atrocious. But more than that, it was the first relaxed word she’d had with Val since leaving Selborne. She used her free hand to squeeze his arm.
“It would not have made me stay at Selborne,” she said softly. “Please do not be angry with me for coming with you. Had the situation been reversed, you would not have stayed away from me. I cannot stay away from you.”
The smile faded from Val’s face. “I suppose I understand,” he said. “And I do appreciate that you are so fiercely loyal.”
“I would do anything for you.”
His pale eyes glimmered at her, very much wanting to kiss her but he didn’t dare. This wasn’t the place. “Anything but return to Selborne.”
She fought off a grin. “Anything but that.”
He snorted softly before giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “When Henry enters, say nothing,” he said softly. “D
o nothing. I believe all of this can be resolved quickly with the evidence I will present, so do not make it more difficult for me with emotional outbursts. Will you promise me?”
Vesper nodded, but it was with reluctance. “Even if he is terribly wrong and cruel?”
Val lifted his eyebrows. “This is the king we speak of,” he reminded her. “He can be as wrong and cruel as he wants to be. But he is not unfair or unreasonable. All will be well in the end, I swear. But mind your tongue.”
“I promise.”
The twinkle in his eye was back. “Good lass,” he said. “Now, let us find a place to sit in this mess. I see that Dacian has seated my mother; let us go and join them.”
Truthfully, Vesper was grateful for it. Although her rump was sore from riding, she very much wanted to sit on something that wasn’t moving. There were three fairly large feasting tables in the hall, placed in the shape of a horseshoe, and Margaretha was sitting at the end of one of them. Vesper took a seat next to her on a bench that had splinters sticking out of it, so she sat close to Margaretha to avoid the splinters. But sitting next to the woman meant that Val moved away from her and she suddenly stood up, planning to follow him until he put a hand out to silently direct her to sit again. She did, unhappily, as Val went to Dacian and lost himself in quiet conversation with the man.
Vesper never took her eyes from him. She was feeling some apprehension now that they were in Henry’s smelly hall, knowing that the king would soon make an appearance and all of the horror and rumors of the past several weeks would soon be made clear for all to hear. All that Val had suffered through would finally be resolved and she found herself praying fervently for the king’s mercy so that they could be married and begin their life as husband and wife. Perhaps that was a selfish hope but she couldn’t help herself.
She just wanted this to be over.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II Page 121
