Val smiled in a gesture of a man who had what he wanted. “I have already asked her and she is agreeable.”
“Then there is nothing more for me to say. I will ride ahead of you two on the way home so that you may speak privately.”
As McCloud went to mount the fat old war horse that the stable master indicated, Val turned to Vesper and victoriously winked at her.
She winked back.
CHAPTER SIX
Saltwood Castle
Kent, England
Quartier de Chevaliers (Knight’s Quarters)
On the crowded grounds of Saltwood Castle, what was kindly termed the porcher was actually the building that housed the knights for the king and traveling soldiers of an upper rank. Porcher loosely meant pig’s sty and the building was just slightly above a mud pit for the livestock to wallow in. The dirt floors could be muddy at times because the drainage was poor and this attracted flies when the weather was warmer and misery when it was colder. Mold grew on the floors and up the walls, a black mold that the servants tried to remove because it had been known to make men sick. In all, it was a nasty and cold place.
But it was the one place where Henry’s knights could come for privacy away from their duties for the king, and Henry carried a large retinue of seasoned knights. While Henry was inside Saltwood’s great stone keep for the night as his court traveled from France to Winchester Castle, his seat in England, the knights who were not on guard retreated to the porcher to drink and sleep until their time to tend the king came once again.
But this night was different.
Six knights had originally been sitting in the common room of the porcher on this dark and clear night, men who had served Henry for many years. These were six of Henry’s most trusted. While the king slept, other knights were on guard and the six retreated for a well-deserved rest.
But sleep was difficult to come by for men who were constantly on duty, constantly on guard, so they sat in the common room before a hearth that belched black smoke into the room and tried to tire themselves with pitchers of sweet red wine. Eventually, towards midnight, two of the knights retired, leaving four still sitting up and talking.
In the weak light of the chamber, lit only by a bank of tapers that dripped tallow all over the dirt floor, those four men had something serious on their minds.
They had for several days.
Now that they were finally alone, it was time to speak of it.
“Thank God François and Etienne have retired,” Hugh de Morville spoke softly. “Good men, we must speak of this and speak quickly. This may be our one and only opportunity.”
The other three knew what he meant. They’d been speaking of the subject on and off for over a week, muttering to each other when others weren’t around but, now, they had some privacy as a group. It was unexpected and welcome. It was time to bring the subject out in the open and do it swiftly.
“Then I shall begin,” a knight with shaggy dark hair and a bushy beard spoke. “We all heard our lord speak at Bures. We all heard him declare his wish for Canterbury’s removal. Will we continue to ignore it?”
The first man looked at his comrade. “Reg, we will not ignore it, which is why we must speak of this now, before too much time elapses,” he said. “We have stood by for years while the contention between Canterbury and Henry goes on. Canterbury used to be an ally of the king but he continues to prove that he is a foe. Now, has excommunicated those who crowned Henry the Young King and he continues to wreak havoc for the king. As Henry’s protectors, it is our duty to protect the king and rid him of his enemies. Do you agree with me on this?”
Those around the table nodded. “Hugh, there is no doubt that Canterbury has become a foe,” the third knight, a man with a receding hairline, spoke softly. “But what are you suggesting, exactly? That we actually rid Henry of Canterbury?”
Hugh nodded his head. “That is exactly what I am suggesting, William,” he said quietly. “You heard Henry’s plea; we all heard it. He said ‘who will rid me of this troublesome priest?’ It was a command, I tell you. Certainly, he could not come out and order us to rid England of Canterbury and the cancer he has become. To do so would incur God’s wrath, for certain, and Henry needs God to govern this fractured country.”
“So you are suggesting we carry out this – this command?” The fourth knight spoke, a heavyset man who was older than the rest. “We are to rid Henry of Canterbury? Can we not simply arrest the man and bring him to Henry for punishment?”
Hugh gazed at the man. “Richard, we are sworn to the king,” he emphasized. “Would you agree with that statement?”
Richard le Breton nodded reluctantly. “I would,” he said, sighing heavily. “But by assuming Henry has ordered us to rid him of Canterbury, we are, by nature of that act, assuming responsibility for it. God will punish us, not Henry. Does Henry’s sin become our own?”
Reginald FitzUrse, with the shaggy brown hair, held up a hand. “We have sworn to uphold Henry’s will upon this earth,” he said, siding with Hugh. “We are sworn to the king above all else. We must carry out his wishes.”
William de Tracy sighed heavily, running his fingers through his receding hair. “That is essentially true, but we are also sworn to uphold the church,” he said. “Our oath is to God and the king.”
“It is the king we must face today and God at a later time,” Hugh pointed out. “I, for one, am committed to my king. Henry has been good to me; he has been good to all of us. It is a prestigious post we hold. Is it now a post for cowards who are afraid to do the king’s will?”
Those words echoed in the small room as the hearth crackled and smoked. For several long seconds, the snapping of the flame was the only sound heard as the men pondered the subject at hand.
“To assassinate the archbishop would have far reaching consequences,” Reginald said softly because no one else seemed willing to speak. “Henry would be avenged and, perhaps, he would even be pleased, but the church would be out for blood. Do you think Henry would protect us then?”
Hugh pondered the dregs in the bottom of his cup. “I have no wife to consider hardship for, no family,” he said. “My vocation is my life. There is little else. But there is my brother to consider, I suppose.”
The others looked at him. “Calum is not far from here,” William said. “Selborne Castle is a two days’ ride from here. Hugh, do not hate me for saying this, but mayhap we should seek assistance from your brother.”
Hugh’s head came up, his brow furrowed. “Why? This is not his task.”
William’s eyebrows lifted. “Think on it,” he said quietly. “We all want to carry out Henry’s wishes but we do not wish to become hunted men in the process. I have my family to consider, lands and titles that will become mine upon my father’s death. I do not wish to lose that. The same can be said for Richard and Reg. And you – you will inherit the Lordship of Westmoreland when your father dies. Do you truly wish to lose that, Hugh?”
Now, Hugh was beginning to feel some doubt. “Of course not,” he said. “But why must we seek assistance from my brother?”
William sat back in his chair, his gaze upon Hugh intense. “Because Calum has nothing to lose,” he muttered. “And because he serves Val de Nerra, who is Henry’s Itinerant Justice in Hampshire where Winchester Castle is located. De Nerra is the law and, instead of killing Canterbury, we will simply have Val arrest him.”
It was an intriguing thought, one with great possibilities. “And do what with him?” Hugh asked.
William’s dark eyes glittered. “Whatever Henry wants him to do. Val has the authority to administer justice on behalf of the king. You are very aware that Henry feels that he must have jurisdiction over the clergy. It will be Henry’s right to punish Canterbury however he wishes and he will see how loyal we are to him because we had Canterbury arrested and brought to him. That way, we avoid being ruined by killing the man. If we only arrest him….”
It made sense; Hugh could see the logic. “H
enry would still be avenged,” he murmured.
“Exactly.”
Hugh’s thoughts moved to Val de Nerra, a knight they all greatly respected. He was also a favored of Henry, which meant if Henry became angry for the arrest, he’d be less apt to punish a man like de Nerra.
“And how are we to convince Val that this is what Henry wants?” he asked.
William shrugged. “It is simple. We tell him that Henry has ordered it.”
Hugh digested that suggestion. He had said, in his opinion, that Henry’s rhetorical cry had been a direct command. He couldn’t go back on that, not when he truly felt as if it had been Henry’s order to knights who would hopefully interpret it as such and carry it out. But it was possible that an arrest was what Henry really meant and that consideration brought about some doubt in his actions.
Arrest? Or assassination?
In any case, de Nerra was the law. It would be his responsibility to arrest Canterbury on behalf of the king, but de Nerra was no fool. He would fully understand the implications of such an action. He would want proof.
“Val is trusting but he will want evidence of such a command,” Hugh finally said. “We have no such evidence but a few coins to one of Henry’s clerks and we would have an arrest warrant. I will swear upon my oath that I truly believe that Henry’s plea was a command to us, as his loyal men, to rid him of Canterbury. We all heard him say it. Therefore, we will issue a warrant for Canterbury’s arrest and ride to Selborne for de Nerra and my brother before continuing on to Canterbury. Do you all agree?”
He was looking particularly at William and Richard, who had seemed more reluctant than Reginald. Reginald, in fact, was nodding and so was William. Eventually, Richard nodded, but it was with great hesitation.
“Very well,” Richard said, sounding frustrated. “We ride for Selborne and then to Canterbury, and we arrest Canterbury. We stand by our belief that this is what Henry wishes.”
Hugh was relieved that everyone was finally in agreement but he couldn’t help feeling guilty, as if they were deflecting the responsibility in this action onto de Nerra. But that could not be helped now, not if they truly wanted to carry out what they believed to be the king’s orders.
It must be this way.
“Henry departs for Winchester tomorrow and hunting after Christmas,” he said. “We shall take that diversion to do what needs to be done.”
The door to the porcher suddenly opened, spilling forth a pair of knights who were heading in to sleep and the conversation at the table abruptly quieted. But before it died completely, Hugh spoke softly.
“It is as the king wishes,” he muttered, lifting his cup.
Three more cups were lifted as a dark bargain was struck. They would fulfill Henry’s command to the best of their abilities, unwilling to acknowledge again that they were bringing two innocent knights into their mix to deflect their rogue deeds. But the die was cast.
It was time to end Henry’s torment with Canterbury once and for all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Bishop’s Waltham, two miles from Durley
Val had ridden further with Vesper and McCloud than he’d intended to, but the journey had passed so quickly that he’d lost track of the miles. The first half-hour after they departed from Selborne had been filled with conversation with McCloud, but after that, Vesper had monopolized his time and, before he realized it, they were entering Bishop’s Waltham, a large village that wasn’t far from the d’Avignon home of Durley.
The village was, in fact, the seat of the Bishop of Winchester, Henry de Blois, and he’d built a large castle there about thirty years before. Val had been to the bishop’s palace a few times in his capacity as Itinerant Justice and it was a very large place, rich with wealth from the bishopric of Winchester. He knew de Blois only through his legal dealings, and the man’s grandfather had been the Duke of Normandy, so he was an important man in southern England.
But Val didn’t intend to stop to socialize with the bishop on this day. He was more concerned with Vesper and the fact that, very soon, he would have to leave her company, which he was genuinely not looking forward to. She was so easy to talk to and the warmth between them, starting the evening before, had only grown and now led them into a rather comfortable repartee.
It was joy beyond measure.
The more the hours passed, the more determined Val became to see her as often as he could, as much as his schedule would allow. McCloud had given him permission to court her and the sheer delight he felt was something he’d never known before. All he knew was that he wanted to see Vesper every hour of every day. He wasn’t entirely sure he could even leave her on this day, returning home to his shrew of a mother and an empty fortress. Now, something would be missing without Vesper there.
It was something he intended to rectify sooner rather than later.
At this part of December, the weather was remarkably mild as they rode into the outskirts of Bishop’s Waltham. The roads were passable and there were people out conducting business or simply visiting family or neighbors. Children played in the road, laughing and screaming, as dogs chased them about. When one child ran too close to Vesper’s palfrey and startled the horse, she pulled the little animal to a halt.
“It has been a very long time since I have visited this village,” Vesper said, watching a little girl with a kitten standing alongside the road before giving her horse a kick to get it going again. “It seems to have grown quite a bit since I last remember it.”
Val was inspecting their surroundings. “With the Bishop of Winchester seated here, it has, indeed, grown quickly over the past several years,” he said. “I seem to remember hearing that the Danes burned the town about two hundred years ago, but I do not see any evidence of that. McCloud? Did you hear that as well?”
McCloud, who was riding ahead because he wanted to leave Val and Vesper some privacy to their conversation, turned around when he heard his name.
“Indeed, it was,” he said. “I can recall my grandfather speaking of such things. His father was here when the Normans came, you know. He’d come from France to establish his orchards before the Duke of Normandy came and then he found himself fighting off his countrymen. But he managed to save his lands, poor old fellow.”
Val smiled faintly. “Fortunately for you,” he said. Then, he glanced off to the southwest where the towers of the bishop’s palace could be seen over the trees. “Have you ever had any contact with the Bishop of Winchester? It seems to me that you may have, being that your home is so close to this town.”
McCloud considered that question; had he had any contact? He hadn’t. He didn’t want any. Given what he was trying to hide, he didn’t want contact with anyone of authority, including Val, which made this journey an increasingly anxious thing. He didn’t want Val coming to their home and had spent the past hour trying to determine how to discourage him from doing just that. Given that the man was on the scent of Vesper, he suspected he would not be easily discouraged.
But he had to try.
“Nay, I do not know the man,” McCloud said. “Do you?”
Val nodded. “I have had some contact with him in the capacity of Itinerant Justice,” he said. “He is not a pleasant fellow.”
“I have heard that about him.”
Val wouldn’t say anything more, simply because they were in the bishop’s town and he didn’t want to be overheard gossiping about the man. He changed the subject slightly. “I mostly have contact with the sheriff of the village, a man named Benton. I hold court in Winchester, Fairfield, and Waterlooville about once a month and Benton brings his prisoners to Fairfield, mostly.”
“Is that what you do?” Vesper asked curiously. “Travel around and render judgement in towns?”
Val nodded. “That is exactly what an Itinerant Justice is, so I travel to the larger towns in Hampshire and hold court. I also hold court at Selborne once a month.”
“Any kind of justice?”
“From someone stealing a pig t
o a wife beating a husband and more. Anything.”
Vesper thought that all sounded quite interesting. When her eyes met Val’s, he winked, causing her to flash that smile he was coming to love so well. But as he smiled in return, they came to an intersection of two streets and Val seemed to catch sight of something over the top of Vesper’s head.
It was a busy merchant area, a prosperous village bustling with commerce. With thoughts of Vesper and her sweet smile on his mind, it occurred to Val that he now had an excuse to remain with her a little longer. He’d been given permission to court her, had he not? And it would not be unseemly for him to give her a gift from any number of these merchants, a small token of his esteem and intentions. Moreover, McCloud was present so he could do it in full view of the woman’s father so it wouldn’t seem as if he was doing anything subversive.
But, truth be told, he was most excited to purchase something for Vesper that would remind her of him during the times they could not be together. Still, he didn’t want to come right out and say that. It seemed a little too sentimental considering how long they’d known one another.
Therefore, he would have to be clever about it.
“My lady,” he said, pointing to the merchant street beyond, “I was wondering if you might help me with selecting a gift for my mother. With the day of Christmas upon us and being in a village with a selection of merchants, this is a prime opportunity to find something for her.”
Vesper nodded eagerly. “I would be most happy to,” she said. “What do you think your mother would like to have?”
Val began directing his horse in the direction of the street, as did Vesper. “Fabric,” he said without hesitation. “My mother loves to sew, whether it is garments or scenes to display on walls or looms. Mayhap there is a merchant that will supply material and threads of different colors.”
Vesper was already looking around, leaning forward on the small white palfrey. “I am sure there is someone like that around here. Papa, do you know of a merchant where Sir Valor can purchase fabric for his mother?”
Noble Line of de Nerra Complete Set: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 95
