Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II

by Kathryn Le Veque

  They’d been through so much since their acquaintance, things that should have ended any budding romance. Her father’s manipulation, his lies, her brother’s execution… any one of those things should have stopped a relationship between her and Val before it even got started, but they hadn’t. Whatever bond they had between them was stronger than her father’s scheming and the demands of Val’s duties. It was something that was worth fighting for.

  And she would fight until the very end.

  Off to her right, Vesper could see Kenan and the soldiers from Selborne, men who had been present when Canterbury had been killed. They were here as Val’s witnesses to the fact and her apprehension was eased somewhat at the sight of them. Surely Henry could not deny what so many men had witnessed. She could also see Calum, carrying Val’s saddlebags and the forged missive contained therein that was the key to this entire terrible situation. Poor Calum. He was a pawn in this ploy as much as Val was. He had been the one at Selborne to receive that fateful message.

  Thoughts of Selborne brought thoughts of her father. She hadn’t seen him since last night. Val had said he’d left Selborne before dawn and Vesper wasn’t sure if she would ever see him again. It was odd, however, considering how much McCloud had seemed to want her forgiveness for what he’d done. She didn’t think he would have left before they at least had some understanding between them, but she couldn’t think of that now. At the moment, Val’s situation had all of her attention. Her father would have to wait.

  “De Nerra!”

  The hair-raising cry distracted Vesper from her thoughts. It came from the far end of the hall as a door swung open and men began to appear. Everyone in the hall turned to the source of the shout as a well-built man with dark red hair, badly cut, came into view. He wore a full beard, dark with shades of gray in it, and was wrapped in heavy woolen tunics that looked as if they hadn’t been washed or mended in some time. Slovenly was the first thing that came to Vesper’s mind when she saw him. But before she could turn to Margaretha and ask who the man was, the older woman was on her feet and heading straight for the agitated figure.

  “My lord Henry,” Margaretha said loudly. “I have come with my son to face your good justice. Would you disrespect me so by not greeting me first?”

  Henry wasn’t in any mood for pleasantries. He’d come racing to the hall from the keep when Tevin had appeared with tales of Val de Nerra’s innocence but the truth was that Henry wanted to hear it from the mouth of his itinerant justice. He’d spent the past few days building up such an outrageous scenario about Canterbury’s death that it was now more nightmare than truth.

  Because of that, he was desperate to speak with Val but Lady de Nerra, Val’s mother, would not be overlooked. To do so would be a grave mistake on Henry’s part and he knew it. Therefore, he forced himself to focus on Margaretha. He smiled at her, his teeth gapped-toothed but not unhandsome. In fact, he laughed when he saw her.

  “I should have known you would come, my lady,” he said. “In fact, I am glad you have come. Mayhap you can explain to me what your son has done just as du Reims has tried to explain to me. What is this madness that I am hearing about him?”

  At that moment, Tevin emerged into the hall right behind Henry. Having run off to find the king before the man faced Val, he’d spent the past few minutes explaining to the king what had really happened at Canterbury. But Henry wanted to hear it from Val and had charged out of the keep before Tevin could finish his tale. Henry moved fast when he wanted to and he’d escaped the Earl of East Anglia in search of the only man who could give him the answers he sought –

  Val de Nerra.

  But there was the small matter of getting through Margaretha first. Before Margaretha could reply to Henry’s greeting, Tevin came up behind Henry and pointed to Val. “De Nerra has been arrested just as you asked, my lord,” he said to Henry. “But he should not have been. As I have told you, he is an innocent man and he can prove it. Val, tell Henry what happened and spare no detail. Do it now.”

  Margaretha was forgotten as all focus shifted to Val. In fact, Val found himself gazing steadily at the king. He and Henry had always shared an excellent relationship and as he studied the edgy expression on the man’s face, a bevy of thoughts raced through his head, not the least of which was regretting the fact that he’d not confirmed de Morville’s missive with Henry from the start. That would have prevented all of this.

  … or would it?

  Taking a deep breath, Val summoned his courage.

  “I was away from Selborne when Hugh de Morville, Reginald FitzUrse, Richard le Breton and William de Tracy arrived bearing a missive that I believed was from you, my lord,” he said evenly. “I have brought the missive with me so that you may see it. The missive instructed that I was to arrest the Archbishop of Canterbury and bring him to Winchester to face your justice. The missive threatened to strip me of my appointment should I refuse, so naturally, I obeyed.”

  Henry was listening to Val intently, soaking up every word from his mouth. Upon the mention of the missive, he interrupted Val from continuing.

  “This missive,” he demanded. “Where is it?”

  Val turned to Calum, who had his saddlebags. Swiftly, Calum came forward and laid the bags on the table nearest Val, untying the flap before digging in to the pouch. But Henry recognized the knight and his eyes narrowed.

  “De Morville Secundi,” he said, referring to the fact that Calum was Hugh’s younger brother. “What do you know of your brother’s actions?”

  Calum knew this moment would come. He swallowed hard as he pulled forth the fateful vellum that his brother had given him, more fearful than Val was in a sense. It was his brother who started this and Calum who gave the missive to Val. Aye, he was guilty as much as Val was. He prayed that Henry didn’t see it that way.

  “My lord, I can only tell you the same thing that Val can,” he said. “I was the one my brother gave the missive to. He had me read it before Val did. When I asked him why Val should be given this duty, he told me that it was because he was the law for all of Hampshire and since Winchester is in Hampshire, it is his jurisdiction. My lord, never at any time did I have the slightest hint that he was lying to me. He and the other knights all told the same story and all confirmed that the missive came from you. There was no reason for me to doubt my brother and no reason for Val to doubt him.”

  Henry’s expression was starting to tighten, a distinct sign that he was becoming angry. “And he told you that de Nerra was to arrest Becket and bring him to me?”

  Calum nodded and extended the missive to Henry. “See for yourself, my lord.”

  Henry snatched the vellum and unrolled it, his eyes greedily devouring the carefully written words. Tevin was looking over his shoulder as were a few other advisors, all jockeying around behind the king to get a look at what he was reading.

  Time seemed to go unreasonably slow as the king read the fateful missive. It was agonizing. But the more Henry read, the darker his face became. By the time he was finished, all of that darkness came to a head and he exploded in a bellow of sheer fury that echoed off the roof, reverberating violently against the walls. Even the men in the hall, standing around and watching the scene, were uncomfortable with the cry. It was an ugly sound.

  It was a sound of utter pain.

  “This!” Henry held up the vellum. “This did not come from me! I did not send this!”

  Calum was starting to fear for his safety. He looked at Val, who appeared equally concerned. “We know that now, my lord,” Val said, hoping Henry didn’t demonstrate that anger on him and Calum. “But at the time, we had no reason to believe you did not send it. It was delivered by men I trusted, men who have delivered dozens of such missives from you. There was no reason to believe this one was any different.”

  Henry was so angry that he was trembling. “But this was not from me,” he said, shaking the vellum at Val in a threatening manner. “Did you not think to confirm an order of this magnitude?”


  Val had, but he wasn’t going to say so. Only his complete belief in the truth of that missive would save him and he knew it. “I have never questioned an order from you, my lord,” he said simply. “It was not my place to confirm an order signed by the king.”

  That was very true and Henry, above his rage, realized that. He was coming to see that the terrible plot he’d suspected was not something Val de Nerra was behind. He wasn’t systematically trying to destroy the hierarchy of England, starting with Canterbury. Henry knew that had been a foolish consideration to begin with but a fearful man will think many things, not all of them reasonable. Clearly, Val was caught up in something beyond his control which should have eased Henry, but it didn’t. He was becoming distraught.

  “Tell me what happened at Canterbury,” he finally demanded. “Tell me everything.”

  Val knew this would be the hard part. “When I returned to Selborne and read the missive, de Morville and the others were already a day ahead of me, heading to Canterbury. They said they were going ahead of me to try and convince the archbishop to surrender to me peacefully. I left immediately to follow them, taking twenty men with me as well as my knight, Kenan de Poyer. Kenan witnessed everything I did at Canterbury’s cathedral, as did the soldiers I brought with me. I have eleven witnesses to what happened there, my lord. It was… not pleasant.”

  Henry’s eyes widened with impending horror. “What? Speak, man!”

  Val briefly thought on being tactful about it but decided that wasn’t the course of action to take. He wanted to paint the horror of what de Morville and the others were capable of so Henry would know the depths of the betrayal and horror they were all facing.

  “We arrived in Canterbury at the West Gate Inn, the location that Hugh indicated where we should meet him when we arrived,” he said. “We entered the city close to Vespers and de Morville and the others were not at the inn, so I suspected they might have gone to the cathedral, knowing that Becket would be there for the evening prayer. We went to the cathedral and were heading around the side of the structure where the cloister is when we began hearing the signs of a struggle. We rushed into the cathedral, near the quire, only to see de Morville and le Breton delivering a death blow to Becket. The man’s head was in pieces and his brains were all over the ground. From my perspective, it seemed to me as if they intended to cut Canterbury to pieces so I stopped them. When I asked de Morville why he had killed him, he told me that Becket attacked him with a staff and he killed in self-defense. My lord, I saw no staff on the ground so I chose not to believe him. I told him to return to Winchester to confess to you what he had done. I further told him that I would be telling you what I saw, as I am now. So help me God, this is the complete and unreserved truth. I never lifted a finger against Becket, at any time, but I was too late to protect him from those who sought to kill him.”

  By the time he was finished, Henry’s cheeks had gone from an angry red to a sallow pale. Visibly shaken, he stared at Val for several long seconds. Even Tevin, who had not heard the detailed testimony of the event, looked taken aback, as did Henry’s advisors and nearly everyone else in the hall. It was an utterly horrific description.

  “And so, they killed him,” Henry finally muttered, oddly calm in contrast to the shouting man from moments earlier. Now that he knew the truth, he was deeply grieved. “Thomas’ blood was spilled at the very ground upon which he served. But I do not understand why these knights should do this. I did not command it. I did not ask it of them. Why should they do this in my name?”

  “To please you, my lord,” Tevin said, subdued. “These knights have always sought your favor. They knew of your extended trouble with Canterbury. Mayhap, they sought to seek your favor, once and for all, by ridding you of a most troublesome priest.”

  The words hung in the air between them, sharp and cutting, but it was enough to jolt Henry. A most troublesome priest….

  He suddenly turned on du Reims, his eyes wide as a sense of foreboding swept him.

  “Those words,” he hissed. “I spoke those words, once. I did!”

  Tevin nodded, realizing that a great deal was coming clear to him at that moment. It was tumbling over him like an avalanche. “At Bures Castle,” he said. “I heard you say them. Everyone in the room heard you say them. In your anger, you shouted them.”

  Henry’s mouth flew open, a gesture of astonishment as he, too, began to grasp what Tevin already understood. “They thought….”

  “That you meant them. Aye, my lord, I believe they did.”

  “So they concocted a scheme to rid me of him!”

  “For your favor, I am sure. Mayhap, they even believed you gave a command. In any case, they lied to Val and now he stands here before you, not them. He has taken their blame. Val is innocent, my lord. You must release him.”

  Henry was astonished by the pieces of a terrible puzzle as they came together to present a picture of appalling proportions, but one thing was for certain – it all made perfect sense. Now, he was starting to understand what had motivated these knights to kill on behalf of the king.

  Words from the king himself.

  Who will rid me of this troublesome priest?

  After a moment, Henry turned to Val. “And you,” he said. “Did they seek to deflect the blame on to you? Because they have succeeded marvelously. Everyone in England believes you have killed Canterbury.”

  Val watched as Tevin, standing next to Henry, snapped his fingers at d’Vant, pointing to the shackles on Val’s wrists. D’Vant immediately moved forward to remove them as Val addressed Henry’s statement.

  “Unfortunately, they do, my lord,” Val agreed, feeling some relief as he came to realize that Henry understood his role in the situation. “When I arrived to prevent de Morville from chopping Becket to pieces, I had several soldiers with me, men bearing my crimson and white standard. That is why the rumors say I killed him. Clearly, I was there.”

  “But you tried to stop it.”

  “Aye, my lord. I did.”

  Henry was beside himself with what had happened, the depth of the deception perpetrated in his name. Wearily, he planted himself on the end of the nearest bench, his mind overwrought with everything he’d been told.

  “Then you have been treated most unfairly,” he said. “You are being falsely blamed for something that is most serious while the real murderers have fled like cowards.”

  D’Vant finished removing the last shackle and Val rubbed at his wrists where the iron had chaffed his skin. “It would stand to reason that I should have thoughts of revenge against de Morville and the others, but I am more concerned with myself at the moment,” he said. “I am afraid it will take some time to restore my reputation in this regard and it greatly concerns me, to be truthful. It will make the execution of my duties as itinerant justice far more difficult if men believe I have murdered a priest.”

  Henry sighed heavily. “It will make it impossible,” he said. “Even if you are innocent, there will be those who cannot be convinced of it. I will do all I can, of course, to let the nobility know that you had nothing to do with Canterbury’s death, but the common man… the fools who live and die by God’s word… may never believe it. They may never trust you again.”

  Val knew that but it was still difficult to hear. He made his way to where Henry was sitting, leaning against the tabletop in a weary gesture. After a moment, he shook his head. “It is unfortunate,” he finally said. “I have greatly enjoyed my royal appointment. I have executed my duties to the best of my ability and have built a great reputation. And now… now it is all gone. Everything I have worked for is gone because of men who were trying to gain your favor.”

  A sense of desolation filled the hall as the men began to realize that Val’s life as the Itinerant Justice of Hampshire was over. It was a position of law he could never hold again, through no fault of his own, because there would always be those who doubted his credibility. He’d been betrayed and ruined by men he trusted.

&
nbsp; It was a grossly unfair situation in the purest sense of the word.

  No one understood that better than Vesper. She had been listening to everything, horrified anew by the details of what Val had been involved in, realizing as everyone else did that Val’s reputation was in ruins. Although she’d promised Val she would not speak, something in her simply couldn’t remain silent. The man she loved, the great and noble knight she deeply respected and admired, was seemingly at an end but she couldn’t accept that. She refused to. Something had to be done but they were all standing around, looking as if they were preparing for a funeral. Well, there would be no funeral if she had anything to say about it.

  “Then you must help him, my lord,” she said, her voice trembling with nerves because she knew she should not be speaking. “Val is a great and noble man who has shown that greatness in just the short time I have known him. He has an infallible sense of justice and duty and it is completely unfair for such a man to be ruined. You cannot allow that to happen.”

  Henry looked up to see an exquisitely beautiful woman standing in his hall. He hadn’t noticed her when he entered but he was noticing her now. As he watched, Val went over to her, giving her a rather disapproving look. Henry pointed.

  “Who is this woman?” he asked.

  Val put his arm around Vesper’s shoulders as he faced the king. “This is Lady Vesper d’Avignon,” he said. “We are to be married.”

  That seemed to bring back at least some of Henry’s humor. The dark eyes twinkled. “What a right and glorious announcement,” he said, looking to Margaretha, who was still standing a few feet away from him. “And you, Lady de Nerra? Does this please you?”

  Margaretha was still in the throes of relief over the fact that Henry wasn’t going to punish Val for his role in Canterbury’s assassination. She was feeling rather lightheaded, in fact. When she realized that Henry was addressing her, she eased herself down onto the bench behind her.

  “Pleased?” she repeated. “I am positively ecstatic. I shall finally have some grandchildren.”