Gilliane (Roselynde Chronicles, Book Four)

by Roberta Gellis

  Accordingly, Geoffrey rode off at the first moment it was light enough to see on the morning of the twenty-eighth. An hour or so later Gilliane sent a messenger into town to inform merchants who had been holding orders of spices and silk cloth for her that those items might be delivered to the keep. Within minutes of that messenger’s departure from the house of the merchant where Osbert lived, another messenger rode off to bring Louis’s order to the castellan of Pevensey that his garrison should march upon Tarring. Osbert added that this should be as soon as possible, but certainly within the next two days, as it was uncertain whether Lemagne would return and bring more men. At present, he wrote, there were fewer than fifty men in the keep who could use arms.

  Actually, Osbert was nearly sure Adam would not come to Tarring. There were no men in the keep he would want to take with him to Bexhill and no supplies for war. For what, then, should he come? To Osbert, it was incredible that a man should wish to see a particular woman and go out of his way for that purpose. But what if Adam did return after Tarring was in Osbert’s hands? Pevensey’s men could not remain long; they would be needed in their own castle. While the merchant concocted a message to Gilliane that he was waiting for a shipment, which he expected the next day or the day after, and would bring her order as soon as fresh spices arrived, Osbert rethought his plan. All in all, it would be best to kill Gilliane. Then the lands would surely be his, and there could be no chance that she would run away or be stolen from him.

  The only difficulty he could perceive was that the leader of the force from Pevensey would know she had been alive when the keep was taken. Some people were stupid about the murder of a woman, and there was also that silly thing about not inheriting the lands of a person you killed. He would need some excuse, Osbert knew. If only he could order Jean to kill her and then accuse Jean of the crime and have him executed for it…

  No. Osbert sighed and put the idea aside. Jean was too clever to be caught in such a trap. Besides, Jean would be needed to lead the troop from Pevensey to the postern. The few other men Osbert had did not know its position. He would need to deal with Gilliane himself, and he would not have much time for it, either. Once the guard had been drawn away from the postern door and replaced with Osbert’s man or men, he would have to kill Gilliane before the men from Pevensey arrived. Yet he could not kill her where the servants could see. They had always taken her side, and that idiot cripple’s, and Osbert would be alone and unarmed, although he would have a sword hidden under his cape. Neville’s servants…

  With the name of the man he had murdered, revelation came to Osbert. He had his reason and his method all laid out and ready. Of course, Gilliane would confess to him that she had murdered Neville and would then leap to her death from the very window from which her husband had been pushed. The murder, he could say, had eaten into her soul, and, when she saw her second husband—for whom she had murdered her first—in the very spot where she had committed the crime, it had been too much for her. Osbert hugged himself in glee. Everything was going his way.

  Osbert’s ignorance of the happenings at Lincoln was not general among Louis’s adherents. Days before his messenger arrived at Pevensey keep, its castellan had ridden off to London to consult with his master. Osbert’s messenger was, therefore, directed on to London. The man had some idea that the message he carried was urgent, but he liked his master no better than anyone else who served him. He deliberated briefly, then threw the letter into the nearest ditch. He would go on to London, but only to discover what had really happened. If it was as great a disaster as rumors at Pevensey indicated, he could best hide himself there, take other service, or escape. No thought of returning to warn Osbert ever crossed the messenger’s mind. Not by deed or word or look had Osbert ever given a sign of caring what happened to him; why should he care what happened to Osbert?

  Rumors of the defeat at Lincoln had spread wider than the castlefolk of Pevensey. At Bexhill, Sir Godfrey had also heard that Louis had suffered a setback. To him, the tale was minimized as much as possible, but he had to be told. “Do not believe the rumors of a disaster,” his informant wrote. “The country to the north is of no real value and the prince’s hold upon the southern shires remains strong. London is also entirely his, and while he holds London his cause cannot fail ultimately.” Far from giving Sir Godfrey reassurance, these words made him most uncomfortable. He, for one, was not at all sure that the prince’s ultimate purpose was the same as his own.

  The letter to Sir Godfrey arrived on the twenty-fourth. On May twenty-fifth, Sir Godfrey sent out his eldest son and two younger brothers to make certain inquiries. By the twenty-eighth, he knew the true scale of Louis’s defeat, and that nearly every keep that was not in the hands of one of Louis’s Frenchmen had already yielded to Pembroke or was in the process of negotiating with him. He had been prepared to resist Adam by battle, counting on help from Pevensey and Hastings. Now he realized he would get no help from them if Adam came to Bexhill. However, if Adam came and he yielded, it was possible that, after Adam rode away, Louis’s men would use that excuse to take Bexhill. Probably Adam would come back to help him, but he might not. He might think it better to let Louis’s men put him out and then reclaim the keep in Gilliane’s name when the war was over. Then he could put his own castellan in it.

  The only solution seemed to be for Sir Godfrey to go in person to Adam and yield to him. Pevensey and Hastings need know nothing about it, and, if he were well received, that would be the end of the matter. He would still have Bexhill. There was no real reason for Adam to put him out. He had not answered Gilliane’s letter announcing her inheritance and reminding him of his oath to her, but he had not actively defied her. He had not paid his rents, either, but he could bring money for that with him. If only Sir Adam were older, Sir Godfrey would have been more sure of his reception. An older man would have understood that he had had to lean toward Louis with his property placed as it was. After all, Neville’s other vassals had gone along with the change in political affiliation as well as he. Even Sir Richard…

  There Sir Godfrey’s thoughts paused. A few minutes later he was dictating to his clerk a letter informing Sir Richard that he was going on the thirtieth of May to Tarring to yield himself to Adam’s mercy through Lady Gilliane’s mediation. He begged Sir Richard to come with him to intercede for him and explain that this would be the best solution to the problem. Sir Godfrey’s two brothers and his son would remain in Bexhill so that Adam would have no profit if he took Sir Godfrey prisoner or even killed him.

  Sir Richard received this missive at breakfast on the twenty-ninth of May. He looked out across the hall of Glynde keep and sighed. Sir Andrew, a late sleeper, was snoring in a wall room. He had arrived the previous day with his hundred men to accompany Sir Richard and his hundred to Tarring on the morrow. Sir Richard did not doubt that Sir Edmund and Sir Philip were also on their way. His son had been excused from this service because Wick was too newly in his power for him to leave it safely. So here they were, four hundred men in addition to those Adam would bring, all converging upon Tarring to fight Sir Godfrey. And Sir Godfrey was coming meekly to do homage. What was that old song about the king marching his men up the hill and then down again? What a waste of money hiring the extra men had been.

  Then, suddenly, Sir Richard smiled. Ah well, Adam was never at a loss. Probably he would think of something profitable to do with the force. Lewes, for example. Lewes was in the hands of the French, and it was uncomfortably close to Tarring and Glynde. Also, the Lord of Lewes was almost certainly absent at this time. And Lewes was very rich. Possibly it would be wise to insert a thought about Lewes into Adam’s mind before he thought of something less profitable to do with the men he had summoned. Yes, and Sir Godfrey would wish to prove his loyalty. He had doubtless hired men also to defend his keep. Perhaps Sir Godfrey would like to offer his men to a good purpose—like clearing the French out of Lewes. Sir Richard began to eat again with excellent appetite. He and Sir Andrew would
ride south tomorrow to meet Sir Godfrey, as he had requested, and he could explain his idea.

  On the same morning, Osbert sent men to watch the roads east of Tarring. As soon as they saw a large force of men approaching, they were to come back and warn him so that he could go into Tarring keep and open it for his allies. He did not expect anyone that day, and spent it joyously rehearsing how he would deal with Gilliane and trying on his merchant’s disguise, adjusting the hood this way and that so it would shadow his face and conceal it from any servant who might know him. He did not fear recognition by the men-at-arms because most of them were new. He fooled with the hood for some time but was not satisfied with the result and eventually bethought himself of a particularly rich bale of cloth. That would be a double defense. He could hold it so that it obscured his face and also say it was too precious to spread in the hall with the other goods.

  Osbert was surprised when his men returned that very night with the news that a small group was encamped on the banks of the Cuckmere. It seemed rather soon for the castellan at Pevensey to respond and the number of men seemed too small. Still, Osbert thought, he had told them there were only thirty men in Tarring. There could be no reason to camp on the Cuckmere, so close to Tarring, if not to wait for Jean to lead them in. If Lemagne showed up later when there were so few men… Osbert shrugged. Once Gilliane was dead, he could change sides. During his stay in town, he had discovered that Adam was far from a monster. From the tales he had heard, the man was a fool, so lenient to the people that they got away with a modest profit in their dealings with him. He had even given food to some. Osbert shrugged off the problem of Lemagne. He had been a fool to let the cowards who escaped from the battle at Kemp frighten him. Anyone as soft as Lemagne could be dealt with. Meanwhile, everything was going well. Tomorrow Tarring would be in his hands.

  The evening of the same day Adam arrived in Kemp. Had he been alone or with his household troop, he would have dropped his prisoners in Sir Robert’s lap and ridden straight on to Tarring to spend the night with Gilliane. He could not do that because he had with him a large force of footmen, whom he had picked and chosen from among the soldiers taken at Lincoln. Those he had chosen were English-born mercenaries who had been in the service of the rebels. These common men had no political opinions and, seeing no hope of further employment with their late masters, were quite satisfied to take service with Adam.

  They were good fighting men and had been accustomed to discipline, although the license they had been permitted to practice recently had shaken their standards. Adam marched them from Lincoln to Roselynde in three days with strict orders not to loot or rape along the road. They were promised that food and other necessities would be provided. The first evening two men had been executed for raping a woman, and five had been flogged within an inch of their lives for stealing. However, a plentiful meal was prepared and served, and Alberic and Cuthbert went around the camp and saw that every man had a blanket and a pair of leather boots.

  The second night there were some floggings also, but less severe, for minor infractions. An equally plentiful meal appeared and Adam himself walked through the camp with the leech beside him inquiring about wounds, sore feet, and general health, and seeing that the men were treated and dosed to the best ability of the leech. The third night no stern disciplinary measures were required. Cuthbert had sharp words with one new-hired man and knocked him down for an insubordinate grimace, but generally speaking, the men were shaping up. Adam sent word around that if behavior continued good, there would be feasting and drinking at Kemp, his own stronghold, the following night. The new men had come one hundred and thirty miles in four days, after a humiliating defeat; they deserved a rest.

  Bitterly resenting the inconvenience, and vowing he would make Gilliane suffer for it before she died, Osbert rose and dressed in his disguise just before dawn on May thirtieth. By the time the sun rose, the merchant and his assistants were at the drawbridge of Tarring asking for permission to enter. They were unusually early, but they were received readily because the merchant was well known in Tarring. No one looked particularly at those who entered with him. Since the merchant’s goods were valuable, cloth and rare spices and medicinals, he also asked for and received permission to go up to the hall to lay out his wares.

  Outside the keep in a sheltered position, Jean dismounted from his horse and waited. His instructions were to stay until the guard was changed, and then ride to the men encamped on the bank of the Cuckmere and lead them to the small wood not far from the castle.

  Meanwhile, two of the merchant’s assistants helped him carry the parcels up. One of these assistants was genuine, in case someone like the priest should ask questions about the goods; the other was Osbert. Two other assistants, both of them Osbert’s men, led the horses around to the back where the stables lay. Osbert, smiling broadly in the concealment of his hood, unpacked a particular bolt of cloth and made for the stairwell. It was still early enough that the servants were in considerable confusion. Some were putting away bedding; others were drawing on clothing; still others were staggering down to the bailey to wash, to snatch some food from the cooking sheds, to obtain a cup of ale as an eye-opener. No one noticed Osbert, which was just as he planned it, and this increased his confidence in the efficacy of his plans.

  All continued to go perfectly. One maid called a question as Osbert entered the large upper hall, and he mumbled that the lady had asked to see this bolt of cloth in her chamber. With his hand across his mouth and the cloth as well as his hood obscuring his face, no one knew him. He passed unchallenged, laughing to himself, into Gilliane’s room. There, luck favored him once again. Catrin was right near the door, her back to him, bending to put something in a chest; Gilliane, just finished dressing, was seated at the polished metal that served as a mirror, fastening her wimple, too intent for the moment to notice him.

  Stimulated by success to greater success, Osbert dropped the cloth, closed the door quickly, drew his sword and struck Catrin over the head with the flat of it so hard that she fell unconscious to the ground. That was an accident. Osbert had meant to kill her, but he was so awkward with the sword that the weapon turned in his hand and the edge did not strike her.

  “Do not scream,” he hissed at Gilliane, who had leapt to her feet at the sound of Catrin’s fall. “I will do you no harm.”

  For one moment, Gilliane was paralyzed with surprise and terror. Tarring had been taken! In the next instant, she realized that was impossible. Her window was wide open. Through it she could hear the ordinary morning sounds of the keep. Moreover, Osbert was without armor, and—her eyes moved to the floor near him—he had been carrying a bolt of cloth. Somehow Osbert had gotten into Tarring by trickery. Then the man who would have been a symbol of the devil to Gilliane had he not been so contemptible in his evilness began to advance upon her, and her eyes widened.

  Owing to aching heads—the result of their new master’s generosity and fulfillment of his promise—Adam’s troop was a little slow getting started on the morning of the thirtieth. The sun was up by the time they were formed in ranks and ready to move. Word went out that this was all Sir Adam’s land. If they looked crooked at a woman who was unwilling, they would be drawn and quartered; if they stole, they would lose both hands. In fact, it would be safest not even to step on the grass by the side of the road until permission to do so was granted. There was no laughter at Alberic’s jest. The newly hired men were not even sure it was a jest, but they were sure that this master kept his promises—both for good and ill—and expected to be obeyed.

  Although he was eager to see Gilliane, Adam had not rushed them. His own head left something to be desired, as he had fought over the whole silly debacle at Lincoln with Sir Robert and the most congenial of the prisoners. He had felt it necessary to ease their grief and humiliation with liberal potations of wine, and, naturally, one could not allow guests to drink alone.

  On the banks of the Cuckmere, Sir Godfrey and Sir Richard had met and were h
aving a very fruitful discussion. They were interrupted by shouts, and as they leapt to their feet they heard the sounds of a brief pursuit and a scuffle. Moments later a slightly battered Jean was dragged into their presence and thrown down at Sir Richard’s feet by his master-at-arms, who said succinctly that the man had asked for the castellan of Pevensey. At the name, Sir Richard’s and Sir Andrew’s swords were drawn. Sir Godfrey turned a pasty yellow. Sir Andrew’s master-at-arms had alerted the men, John of Glynde continued, and Sir Godfrey’s men were surrounded.

  “But if this is a trap for the men of Pevensey to know where to find us, my lord,” John of Glynde went on, “I would say Sir Godfrey’s men know nothing of it.”

  “And neither do I!” Sir Godfrey exclaimed. “On my life, it is no such thing. Louis’s people have more to think about than your two hundred men.”

  That was true. What was more, how could Sir Godfrey know Sir Richard would bring more than ten or twelve with him? How could he know Sir Andrew would be at Glynde? Sir Richard had not particularly expected it, although it was not much of a surprise because Sir Andrew often broke his journey to Tarring at Glynde. Although Sir Richard’s sword remained bare in his hand, his eyes moved from Sir Godfrey to Jean. That sly wretch had recovered from his shock of surprise and resolved in seconds to throw his master to the wolves to gain a hope of preserving his own life. Without prompting, he disclosed the entire plot.

  Sir Richard was not much inclined to credit Jean’s tale, but he did not dare discount it, either. Lady Gilliane might be in danger. To ignore such a warning, even from so unreliable a source, was a violation of his oath to serve her. Another factor leading Sir Richard to favor action on Jean’s tale was that strategically he would be better off in or near Tarring, even if men from Pevensey were bent, for some unknowable reason, on war with Adam. Sir Edmund and Sir Philip should be arriving at Tarring sometime this very day, if they were not there already, and so should Adam himself. All things considered, even if Tarring had been taken and Jean was trying to lead them into a trap, with the force he had and the men who were due to arrive, the trap might be sprung on the trappers themselves.