Hugh was indeed well aware of the importance of Domfort to his King.
William stretched. “I’m not as fit as I used to be,” he lamented as he looked around. “Not as grand as Montbryce, but a good holding nonetheless, don’t you agree, Hugh? And I know Ram and Mabelle are very thankful for your able administration of it.”
Hugh noticed the King had become considerably fatter and wondered if William had any idea how often he’d thought of abandoning the castle and going off to a monastery. “Oui, Your Majesty, it’s a good castle. I’ve found contentment here. Please, I bid you enter and I’ll take you to your chambers.”
William seemed in an effusive mood as he entered Domfort, casting an approving eye at the well maintained interior. “What a family you Montbryces are. Antoine is successful at Belisle, and he keeps a tight rein on Guillaume de Valtesse at Alensonne as well. No mean feat! Your lands are ones I never worry about. Being King of the English and Duke of the Normans at the same time isn’t easy. All kinds of factions—as you know.”
Hugh nodded. “Our Father was a good teacher.”
William put his hand on Hugh’s shoulder. “A great man—a loss to Normandie. Antoine tells me you don’t often eat in the Great Hall with your people? I hope you’ll join us this evening!”
Hugh was irritated that his brother had been discussing him with his King and Duke. “Indeed, we’ve planned a feast I’m confident you’ll enjoy. La Cuisinière, the cook at Montbryce, sent me a woman she trained, so we’ve tried to maintain the same high standards.”
William’s eyes widened. “To this day I well remember the banquet I enjoyed at Montbryce, just before the invasion. La Cuisinière was responsible for that. If only I could get someone in the royal kitchens in England to understand how to prepare food the way we Normans do!”
Hugh laughed. “La Cuisinière could find someone for you. I’ll arrange it, if you wish.”
“Excellent!”
As they entered the King’s chambers, Hugh asked, “Do you see much of Ram, your Majesty?”
William kept his eyes on the comings and goings of his servants as they brought in his baggage. “Not as much as I’d like. He’s proving to be a very effective Marcher Lord. He’s a good administrator, and knows when to use diplomacy and when to use military force. I’ve decided to reward him with a gift of manors and estates in Arundel.”
“Arundel, your Majesty?”
“Sussex—Harold’s old lands—very important for the defense of England. Oui, your brother Ram is rapidly becoming one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in all England. He and his beautiful wife are turning Ellesmere into a miniature Montbryce. They have a Norman cook as well, and one of the Montbryce steward’s sons.”
Hugh’s heart swelled with pride. “Oui, Mathieu Bonhomme. I miss Ram—and Mabelle. Are they—happy, do you think? I know they’re often homesick for Normandie.”
A servant removed the King’s cloak. “Happy!” the King guffawed. “They can’t keep their hands off each other! What about you, Hugh? Not betrothed yet? No young bride on the horizon?”
Hugh stiffened. “Non, I’ll probably never marry.”
“Never marry! Why not? You’re a fine catch for some young maiden. I’ll have to find someone for you.”
“Well, perhaps someday,” Hugh said, wanting to steer the conversation elsewhere. The idea of having to wed someone picked by the King filled him with dread. He wouldn’t be allowed to refuse. “I understand some of the building at Ellesmere was delayed?”
William sat down heavily in the massive oak chair before the hearth. “Oui, one of the other Marcher Lords, my dear friend William Fitz-Osbern, is an accomplished castle builder and he was assisting Ram with Ellesmere. But just after I named Fitz as co-Regent with my half-brother Eude, a rebellion broke out in his region and he had to abandon Ram to go quash it.”
Though Ram never put any of his feelings about politics in writing when corresponding with Hugh, the latter sensed his brother was less than happy with some of the barbaric tactics Fitz-Osbern had employed. The King had been even more brutal in his harrying of the Northern regions of England after various rebellions there. William’s scorched earth tactics would ensure no one survived on the land for years. Bloodlust was indeed a dangerous thing that could turn the best of men into monsters.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ellesmere Castle, England
In the year of Our Lord One Thousand and Seventy-Two and the Fifth Year of the Glorious Reign of King William the Conqueror.
To My Dear Brother, Hugh de Montbryce,
His Majesty King William has afforded me an enormous honour in granting oversight of four score and three manor houses in Sussex.
In my view, this is a reward for the Montbryce family. I therefore intend to deed ten of these manor houses to you and ten to Antoine.
I have in mind to cede to you responsibility for the manors of Patcham, Melton, Withdean, Portslade, Angmering, Wick, Rustington, Ferring, Worthing and Lancing.
Your presence will be required in Ellesmere so the necessary documents can be drawn up and signed, and perhaps you can visit some of your new holdings.
I confess I haven’t had time to inspect any of them personally, especially now that Mabelle is with child! Yes, you’re to become an uncle—at long last!
With great affection,
Your brother Ram, Comte de Montbryce, Earl of Ellesmere
***
“So the King was serious about the Sussex lands,” Antoine exclaimed. “I received a similar letter. It’s very generous of Ram.”
“It’s a daunting responsibility too, and embroils the two of us further in the power struggles of both England and Normandie. Ram is wily, he knows now that we’ll have a vested interest ourselves in seeing England prosper,” Hugh replied.
The brothers were enjoying a tankard of ale together in the Hall at Belisle where Hugh had gone shortly after receiving Ram’s letter. Hugh was thankful Antoine was careful not to fill the tankard too full.
“Your fields are looking fertile, Antoine. I noticed as I rode in. And the forests!”
“Oui, it’s amazing how serfs and servants will work if they’re treated well. Some of them still can’t believe they’re no longer under the yoke of the Valtesses. In the years I’ve been here the yield has doubled.”
Hugh raised his tankard in a mock toast. “Now if we could only gain full control of Alensonne!”
Antoine echoed the gesture. “Well, Guillaume de Valtesse won’t live forever, and isn’t a healthy man. It’s hard to believe that our beautiful sister-by-marriage Mabelle is the daughter of such a madman. By the way, how’s the apple orchard progressing?”
Hugh shrugged. “Not bad, but it will take a few years before the trees are mature enough to attempt the Montbryce recipe.” He put down his empty tankard. “What about this journey to England?”
Antoine drained his tankard. “I can be ready to go in a sennight. The weather promises fair and Steward Bretel will take care of Belisle while I’m gone. Cormant can be depended on at Alensonne.”
Hugh stretched out his legs and propped his feet up on the trestle support of the table. “It will be good to see Ram and Mabelle again, and to congratulate them on their happy news.”
“Oui, I wonder if our fool brother has realized yet how much he loves Mabelle?”
Hugh laughed. “I think he knows it, he just can’t tell her.”
Antoine hesitated. “What about you, little brother? Any interesting women?”
Hugh bristled. “I told you, Antoine, I’m not looking for a wife. Are you?”
Antoine laughed. “Non, I’m not looking for a wife either, but I’m enjoying myself. I’ve plenty of time to marry.”
Hugh wagged his finger. “Don’t leave it too late, you’ll soon be eight and twenty.”
***
Mabelle was an only child, apart from her hated half-brother, Arnulf, and she felt the lack of siblings keenly when Hugh and Antoine came to visit Ellesmere
. Ram was so obviously overjoyed to see his brothers it brought tears to her eyes.
The three of them were like boys, teasing, laughing, jesting, and reminiscing together. Ram was careful to include her and she too enjoyed the company of these men who were so like Ram, and yet different in their personalities. Ram had been concerned about Hugh after Hastings and she noticed as they supped in the Great Hall that he was still troubled by the hand tremor.
“It’s something I’ve got used to, Mabelle. Don’t concern yourself about it.”
Mabelle reddened. “I’m sorry, Hugh. I didn’t mean to—” she stammered.
Hugh smiled. “My only request is that the servants not fill my tankard right to the top, lest I spill some of the precious ale!”
“By the saints! We don’t want to see any ale spilled,” Antoine rejoined good naturedly.
“Indeed not!” Ram agreed.
They talked for many hours about Ellesmere and the problems of the Welsh, about Ram’s hopes and dreams for the castle and the town, and his frustrations and worries over the cruelty exhibited by some Norman lords.
“I know this won’t be repeated, but often these cruel men take their cue from our King. He’s my great friend, but sometimes he goes too far. Parts of Northumbria and Yorkshire will likely take years to recover after his harrying—everything down to the last ploughshare was destroyed and every living thing put to the sword. We call the Saxons barbarians, yet we Normans have proven ourselves to be equally barbaric.”
“We heard about a rebellion in Ely that was crushed?” Antoine asked.
“Oui, last year. Difficult to deal with, given the marshes that abound in that part of the country, but the revolt led by Hereward the Wake was put down. It didn’t help Hereward that the King bought off his ally, the King of the Danes.”
Ram sighed and wiped his hands on his napkin. “I never seem to get across to William and the other Marcher Lords the ideas we’re succeeding with here. I demand obedience in my earldom, and have no problem meting out harsh justice when it’s required, but I turn to diplomacy when I can. I try to be firm, but fair. I’ve encouraged trade and immigration. If people prosper they don’t rebel.”
Hugh nodded. “We heard rumblings of discontent on our journey here about the New Forest.”
Ram made a disparaging sound. “You know how the King loves to hunt. He has set aside a huge tract of land in the south which will be solely for the use of the royal hunt. Hundreds of people are being displaced from farms, manors, estates and the like—mostly Saxons of course. It isn’t that far from the manors we’ve been given in Sussex.”
Antoine leaned over to place his hand over Ram’s. “Your gift to us is more than generous, Ram,” he said.
Hugh half stood and pressed his hand atop Antoine’s. Ram put his other hand on the top of the pile, affirming the trust they shared. “It’s the right thing to do. You both sacrificed much at Hastings and in the aftermath. The Montbryce family has done more than most to secure William’s English throne for him, and to keep Normandie under his control. I want to share the rewards with my family. The scrivener is drawing up the documents and will have them ready for the morrow.”
They regained their seats and turned their attention to the food. “This chicken is delicious, Mabelle,” Hugh said between bites.
Mabelle smiled. “Oui, Trésor is indeed a treasure, thanks to La Cuisinière’s expert training in Normandie.”
Antoine asked, “What of the Scottish king, Malcolm Canmore? We hear rumours in Normandie about his designs on Northumbria.”
Ram shook his head. “Malcolm will keep trying to make Northumbria part of Scotland until his dying day, and William will do everything in his power to stop him. As we speak, our Conqueror is gathering an army to march against Scotland. I’m relieved we’re too far away, and William would never weaken us here in the Marches by dragging men off to Scotland.”
“Enough of this talk of war,” Hugh said. “How are you feeling, Mabelle, with a little one on the way? I’m excited to be an uncle.”
Mabelle’s face reddened and she smiled. “I’m well, Hugh. Ram and I are blessed at last. It has taken a while, but God willing our son will be born in August.”
Mabelle thought it a great pity that Hugh had told his brothers he intended never to marry, and she was aware of Antoine’s concern about Hugh’s self imposed isolation at Domfort. Hugh was a gentle man whom she was sure would make a wonderful husband and father. She wondered what lay at the root of his decision and resolved to discuss it with Ram.
What’s he afraid of?
***
Antoine and Hugh enjoyed their sojourn at Ellesmere. The documents regarding the manor houses in Sussex were signed and sealed, and each brother bore a copy as they rode away. They would have time to visit only some of their newly acquired properties and they intended to do it together, not knowing fully what to expect from their new tenants. Ram had lent them a contingent of men-at-arms. From their new south coast properties it would be a relatively easy matter to take ship for Normandie.
They began their tour of inspection with Antoine’s manor of Kingston Gorse, where a family of Normans, settled there before the Conquest, ran the manor and estate well. At Hugh’s manor at Rustington the Saxon family was hostile in its manner, but the holding was well taken care of and produced good revenues.
“At least they seemed relieved their new overlord is a reasonable man,” Hugh jested.
Antoine wasn’t happy with East Preston, which was derelict. “Perhaps the thane didn’t return from Hastings,” Hugh suggested.
“There’s work to be done here for certain. Five years of neglect. I’ll send someone over from Normandie to re-establish it. It has good fields and could produce well if tended.”
Hugh rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “We’ll need someone to oversee all these manors for us, to collect and administer the revenues. We can’t keep crossing the Narrow Sea to solve every problem. Do you have anyone at Belisle capable of that?”
Antoine mimicked his brother’s thoughtful stance. “I’ll need to think on it.”
They had to camp out overnight at East Preston since the house had been overrun with rodents, and pigeons roosted inside and out. The brothers sat gazing into the campfire, rubbing their hands together after holding them to the warmth of the flames. Hugh’s memory went back to the campfire that had warmed the chilled spirits of the three brothers after Hastings. “Melton on the morrow, then back home to Normandie,” he mused.
“Let’s hope Melton isn’t the ruin this is.”
***
“Looks like a handsome property, Hugh. Best we’ve seen so far I’d say.” The impressive stone edifice that was Melton Manor sat on a cliff overlooking the sea. It was a fine house, though the grounds looked neglected and somewhat overgrown.
“I wonder if it’s possible to see Normandie from here on a clear day?” Hugh mused. A strange feeling of homecoming washed over him, yet he’d never set foot there before. He inhaled deeply. “Ah! Nothing like sea air. Mon Dieu! Look at the size of those dogs!”
“Let’s hope they’re friendly,” Antoine exclaimed as two mastiffs bounded up to them. “I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of those black jaws.”
Hugh dismounted, keeping a wary eye on the dogs, and braced himself as one stood on its hind legs and planted its massive front paws on his chest, licking his face. The other dog sniffed at Antoine, wagged its tail then lumbered off.
“Well, that beast certainly likes you, little brother,” Antoine laughed as Hugh struggled to remain upright.
An elderly Saxon came to take the reins of their horses and gave them a malevolent look. “Boden!” he snapped. “Heel!”
The dog went immediately to the old man’s side.
“Could be trouble there,” Antoine whispered. “He doesn’t seem very happy.”
Hugh faced the man. “I am Hugh de Montbryce, newly appointed by King William as overlord for this manor. Who is the m
aster here?”
The elderly man glared at them for a few minutes, spat and then turned and walked away. The dog followed him.
Hugh and Antoine both clenched their jaws as they looked at each other, unused to such behaviour from a servant. They walked towards the manor house. “You’ll need to take that one to task, Hugh.”
Hugh paused. “Oui, perhaps you’re right, but did you notice something about him? His bearing? I don’t think he’s a stable hand.”
Suddenly the front door of the manor was flung open and a tall, bearded man strode out, sword in hand. “Be gone! Get off my property.”
The mastiff wheeled at the sound of the man’s voice and barked at the figure in the doorway. The old Saxon restrained the animal and pulled it away.
“He’s a Norman!” Antoine hissed. “Can’t he see we’re Normans too? And is he unaware of the armed men we have with us and whose devise they bear on their surcoats?”
“Greetings, friend. We too are Normans,” Hugh began, speaking their common language.
The giant folded his arms across his chest. “You’re too late. This manor is mine now. Move on.”
“We won’t move on since I’m entrusted by King William with the oversight of this manor, to make sure it’s properly run and prosperous. I am Lord Hugh de Montbryce, and I’m accompanied by my brother, Lord Antoine de Montbryce. I’m your overlord.”
Hugh noted with satisfaction that the name Montbryce registered with the brute as he lowered his sword. Shoulders hunched, his voice defensive, the man said, “All is well here. You can tell his Majesty that Melton Manor is in good hands.”
“I’m confident that is true, however, will you not offer us the hospitality of your home? After a camp cot yestereve, a warm bed in a friendly Norman home wouldn’t go amiss. On the morrow we return to Normandie.”
The giant hesitated before he agreed. “Very well, we’ll prepare a chamber. I am Renouf de Maubadon. Welcome!” he said without warmth. “Bemia! Aediva! Prepare a chamber for visitors,” he yelled to someone in the house. “Mes seigneurs, enter. Torod will show you where you can wait while your room is prepared.” Without looking round, he pointed with his thumb to a scowling fellow who had appeared behind him, a man whose face put Hugh in mind of an unripe lemon rind.
If Love Dares Enough Page 3
