by Speer, Flora
* * * * *
Magnus led his companions out of Hythe in early morning and they reached Richton Castle shortly after midday. Sir John met them in the bailey and he did not look pleased to see them.
“I was wondering when you'd come back,” he said to Magnus. “My orders are to conduct all of you to Royce the moment you dare to show yourselves.”
“I’m surprised to hear that Royce has returned so quickly,” Magnus responded. He broke off the conversation to stare at the unusual activity in the bailey. “Did all these extra knights come from Normandy with Royce? Are they here on our account?” he asked, dismounting as he spoke.
“Lord Royce will answer your questions,” Sir John replied. “Let me warn you, he is not in a happy mood.” With that, the knight turned on his heel and headed for the tower keep. Magnus hurried to keep up with him.
“That fellow is almost as delightful a host as Count Erland,” Desmond muttered, limping along beside Gilbert.
Lilianne didn’t answer. She was staying close to William, certain he’d need some assistance to climb the steep staircase to the keep, so she was pleased when Braedon fell into step on William’s other side. Just as they reached the stairs, Braedon slipped an arm over William’s shoulders in a gesture of comradeship that could not possibly insult any man’s pride. Lilianne took William’s arm and together she and Braedon supported their friend until they entered the great hall.
The hall was remarkably crowded. Knights and squires were everywhere and servants were bustling about, setting the long tables for the midday meal. Lilianne stared at the activity and wondered what was going on.
Sir John did not slow his rapid pace. He continued straight to the solar steps, and the others followed him. Just as they reached the solar, Alice flew into William's arms, nearly knocking him down by the enthusiastic force of her embrace.
“Be a little more gentle, if you please, my lady,” said a low-pitched, masculine voice that was laced with humor. “Can you not see the man is injured? Please be good enough to help him to a seat.”
“I've been so worried about you!” Alice exclaimed, keeping one arm around William’s waist. “Here, lean on me.”
He needed Alice’s support, for Braedon had abruptly removed his arm from his friend’s shoulders. While Lilianne and Alice guided William to a bench, Braedon moved forward to kneel to the man who had spoken. Magnus and Desmond were already on their knees before him.
“Sire,” Magnus said, his head bowed.
Unable to catch Magnus's eye, and with Alice preoccupied by William, Lilianne looked to Royce for clarification of the scene. He stood at the stranger's right shoulder and though Lilianne could tell he was angry, he did not forget his manners. He held out a hand to her, beckoning her to come forward.
“My lord,” Royce said, “will you allow me to present Lady Lilianne de Sainte Inge? Lilianne, this is King Henry.”
Lilianne dipped into the low curtsey she had learned as a child. Her soiled, still-damp skirts were crumpled about her, she knew her hair was in sore need of combing, and her face was as dirty as any street urchin’s. Yet when Henry of England took her hand and bid her rise, he made her feel like the most elegant lady of his court.
King Henry I was a tall man, powerfully built, and remarkably handsome despite the encroachment of time. His thick, dark hair was liberally streaked with silver, his smile was endearing, and the age lines about his eyes crinkled with good humor.
The king of England took Lilianne's breath away. She stood holding his hand and gaping at him like the simplest country girl. Then Gilbert advanced to stand beside her and she remembered her courtly training.
“Sire,” Lilianne said, “may I present to you my brother, Lord Gilbert de Sainte Inge?”
Gilbert made an impeccable bow though, being a subject of the French king, he did not kneel.
“Gilbert?” Alice cried in surprise from the bench where she was sitting with William. “You are alive? Do you know how much Lilianne has grieved over you?”
“I have some idea,” Gilbert said, his gaze still on the king.
“Lord Gilbert,” Royce said, smiling at the boy, “I am glad to see you in good health after thinking you dead. Welcome to Richton Castle.” The look in Royce's eyes when he regarded Gilbert's companions was not so warm.
“The rest of you have a good deal of explaining to do,” Royce told them sternly.
“Indeed you have,” King Henry said, though he didn't appear to be nearly as angry as Royce. “I was so concerned about the situation with King Louis and my missing spy that I decided to leave Normandy and make a private visit to Richton, so I could discuss it in person with my other agents. Despite Lady Alice's vigorous defense of you, we were not pleased to learn you had returned to France without authorization from either of us.”
“Sire,” Braedon said, smiling boldly at his king, “a wise man does not quarrel with success. And we all know what a wise king you are.”
“And I know all too well what kind of wicked daredevil you can be,” Henry told him. His mouth twitched, then straightened as if he was trying hard not to smile. “Royce, I suggest we postpone the midday meal for an hour, to allow these poor, disheveled souls to bathe and change their clothes. Sir Desmond's appearance is particularly unappetizing.”
“I know it, sire, and I wish it were otherwise.” Desmond bowed his head in a remarkable display of meekness.
“I had hoped,” Magnus said to the king, “that Desmond's safe return to English soil would bring an end to your immediate problem with King Louis. Your spy is free, while the French king's spy remains in your hands, which gives you the advantage over him. For the moment, at least.”
“Magnus, I do admire your gift for concise speech,” King Henry said. “I confess that I am astonished by what you have achieved. Now, I want time in which to consider all of the ramifications.” The king raised his hand in dismissal.
“I expect to see all of you in the great hall in one hour,” Royce declared, frowning at them. “When the feast to welcome King Henry is over, we will speak privately. And we will expect an honest accounting of your recent actions.”
* * * * *
Lilianne found a bathtub waiting in her bedchamber and servants carrying in buckets of hot water. She bathed and washed her salt-laden hair as quickly as she could, then donned the clean gown that Royce had provided for her just a few days ago. It seemed as if half a lifetime had passed since she had first tried on the dress. She was still grappling with everything that had happened during the interval.
Alice, who in the past would have stayed with Lilianne to ply her with eager questions, was with William, having declared rather forcefully that his wound required a fresh bandage. Gilbert was with the men – where, Lilianne suspected, he would prefer to be from now on.
She didn't mind being left alone, for she needed time to think, and she wanted to find Magnus before they all gathered again in the great hall. Saying her final farewell to him wasn't going to be easy, so she wanted to do it in private. She expected King Henry to whisk his men back to Normandy within the next day or two, leaving her at Richton to help Alice care for William. She knew full well that her stay at Richton was only a temporary solution to her lack of a permanent home. While William healed, Lilianne was going to have to decide what to do next. But first, she'd seize any opportunity to put her arms around the untitled, landless knight she loved with all her heart.
The solar was empty when she reached it. The king's presence at Richton required a public meal in the great hall, so that the men who guarded the castle for Henry – and guarded the prisoners he sent there – could see their ruler at close range and, perhaps, have a chance to speak with him.
Braedon and Gilbert were already in the hall. Lilianne noticed them as she descended the stairs from the solar. Gilbert was well-scrubbed, his hair was freshly trimmed, and he was clad in a green tunic, most likely borrowed from one of the smaller squires. Braedon, too, was washed, brushed, and shaved, wear
ing a dark blue tunic that matched his eyes.
Magnus was absent.
“He's with Royce,” Braedon explained before Lilianne could ask. “They’ll be along soon. Alice and William are excused from the meal. The king decided William ought to rest, and he commanded Alice to remain with him. Alice offered no objection to the royal order,” Braedon added with a knowing smile.
King Henry did not keep them waiting. With Royce a few steps behind him and Magnus and Desmond following, he swept into the great hall, smiling and nodding to the men he knew, stopping to speak a word here and there. He paused in front of Lilianne and once again she sank into a deep curtsey.
“Come, my lady,” King Henry said, taking her hand. “Sit beside me.”
“I would be honored, Sire.” She allowed him to lead her to the high table, not daring to show how disappointed she was at not sitting next to Magnus.
The feast lasted for several hours. From where she was sitting, Lilianne couldn't see or speak to Magnus, who seated was between Braedon and Desmond. She did hear the jokes Braedon made about Desmond having a new pair of boots and about Gilbert’s obvious enjoyment of the roast beef.
The conversation at the high table was general, with no specific mention of the adventures of recent days. That was a subject to be discussed later, in a more secluded spot. While Lilianne responded politely to the king's remarks and agreed with him that the food was delicious – though it tasted like ashes to her – she wondered if Henry would decide to leave Richton that very day and if Magnus would be gone before they were able to speak again.
She ached to jump up from her seat and run to Magnus, to throw her arms around him and beg him never to leave her. Only her pride and years of training in noble deportment kept her where she was.
When the long meal finally ended King Henry led the way to the solar. There he took the chair that Royce usually occupied and motioned for the rest of them to sit, too. Royce continued to stand at his king's right hand, a position that warned Lilianne he was going to share the duty of interrogation.
“Sir Desmond,” King Henry said, “I will hear from you first. What happened to you in Scotland? And how did you reach France?”
“In truth, I do not know,” Desmond admitted. Like his brother, he had bathed and visited the castle barber. With his hair neatly trimmed, lice and beard removed, Desmond was revealed as a slender, grey-eyed man with sandy hair, who bore little resemblance to his twin. The multicolored bruises on his face remained and the borrowed tunic he wore hung loosely on his tall frame. To Lilianne's eyes, he looked feverish.
“Why don't you know how you were captured?” Royce demanded. “Were you too drunk to remember?”
“Not unless my single cup of cider was spiced with poppy syrup,” Desmond said. He paused to cough a few times before continuing. “I was in a tavern, alone. I had gone there for a meal and in hope of overhearing a bit of useful information. Before my food arrived someone hit me on the back of the head. When I woke up, I was aboard a small boat, on a rough sea. I made the mistake of moaning, so someone hit me again. I believe my captors didn’t want me to see their faces and recognize them.
“The next time I woke up I was in the dungeon at Manoir Sainte Inge. Erland and Norbard were there, in the cell, watching me. I knew them, of course. Norbard and I transacted occasional business together when I was sent on missions to France, and I had seen Erland from a distance. Most English agents know who he is.”
“Did Erland say what he wanted with you?” King Henry asked.
“No, but I assumed that Norbard would tell me later. I knew he was working for Royce, so I hoped he'd help me escape from the manor. He didn't.” Desmond shrugged, dismissing Norbard's treachery. “I spent the winter in that damned cell. I must say, I’ve had far better accommodations. Then again, I have endured worse.”
“So you have no idea why you were taken to France, or why you were being held there?” Royce asked.
“None at all. After the first day, I never saw Erland again, and saw Norbard only twice. Both times he beat me and threatened me with torture. Aside from those delightful visits, my only entertainment was sending food to Gilbert. But that didn't begin until spring. I could tell it was spring,” Desmond said, “because I was no longer freezing all the time.” Another fit of coughing brought his recitation to a halt.
“Dear heaven!” Lilianne exclaimed. “To think you were held captive while I was at the manor, and I had no idea of it.”
“Why should anyone tell you what was going on?” Magnus asked her. “To Erland and Norbard, you were irrelevant.”
“Magnus, I have read your written report concerning your first visit to Manoir Sainte Inge, when you were sent to abduct Erland, and brought his niece away as well,” King Henry said. “Since you led the second expedition to the manor, in direct violation of Royce's orders to remain here at Richton until he could speak to me, I will now hear your version of the story.”
“It was my fault,” Lilianne said in Magnus's defense, foregoing good manners to interrupt the king's questioning. “Erland had told us how he kept Gilbert in the tower room at the manor. We believed Gilbert must be dead of starvation without Erland to provide food for him. I decided to return to the manor to bury my brother and I would not be dissuaded by Magnus's arguments against the venture. Seeing how resolute I was, Magnus refused to let me go alone. When Braedon and William learned about our plan they chose to join us in order to provide extra protection for me.”
“Ah, Magnus!” Desmond exclaimed. “How delighted I am to learn that you went off on your own to aid a lady. So irresponsible of you, brother. So unlike your usual disciplined and virtuous self.”
“I did have a second, very good reason for making another trip to France,” Magnus said to the king. “When we captured Erland during our first visit, we left the manor in such haste that I only had enough time to scoop up the most obvious documents strewn across his desk. I thought if I could find the rest of his private correspondence we might learn from that material where Desmond was being held. Those are the documents I handed over to Royce today, before the midday meal.”
“Once those additional writings are decoded, they will be useful,” Royce acknowledged. “Still you did disobey my specific order.”
“Let Magnus finish his story,” King Henry said.
Magnus recounted the tale of the second voyage across the Narrow Sea, calling upon Gilbert to supply details about his imprisonment.
“So, it was you who knew where Sir Desmond was being held?” King Henry asked Gilbert.
“At the time, I didn't know who he was,” Gilbert responded. “I only knew he had helped me, so I was duty-bound to help him in return.”
“Yes.” King Henry nodded his understanding. “Knightly honor demanded it, and you intend to become a knight.
“Well, Braedon,” the king said, “have you anything to add to this remarkable tale?”
“Only that Lady Lilianne has behaved as gallantly as any knight,” Braedon said. His eyes began to twinkle. “Sire, I wish you could have seen her during the battle in the manor hall! The lady does not flinch at danger. Every item of food and every dish she touched was turned into a weapon in our behalf. I am convinced that her prompt action saved my life when I was sore beset. Later, Lilianne's knowledge of the tunnels underneath the manor provided our way out.”
“I will take note of what you've said,” the king told him. He looked around the solar, resting his gaze on each person in turn. All trace of amusement left his face and his voice hardened. “Is there anything else I ought to know? Any detail that any of you has neglected to mention?”
“There is one minor matter,” Magnus said after clearing his throat. “I thought to tell it to Royce later, but now I think you should hear it, too, Sire. Captain Piers has charged me to report that he requires extra payment for the two unexpected passengers he carried to Hythe. I am to tell you that in future the captain wants to be warned in advance of passengers he is expected to tra
nsport for Royce. And, he refuses ever again to accept Norbard as a passenger, no matter how much you pay him, or how urgent and important Norbard’s transportation may be.”
“Indeed?” said Royce in a voice like fragmented ice. “A man who is little better than a pirate, who ought to be thanking heaven he’s not in prison, dares to place conditions on his employment?”
“Still, you do employ him,” Lilianne said, the comment earning her a cold glance from Royce.
“I can’t say I blame Captain Piers,” Magnus added. “Norbard blackened his eye and split his lip while trying unsuccessfully to convince the captain to reveal why we were returning to France. Royce, Captain Piers does own the Daisy, and thus he has the right to refuse passengers or cargo that he doesn’t like.”
“Ah, the English,” King Henry remarked, shaking his head. “So willing to defy authority for what they think is right and just. It must be the Saxon remnant amongst you.”
“Perhaps, Sire,” Royce said, tight-lipped, “it is the combination of Norman and Saxon blood, which you have encouraged by your own marriage to a half-Saxon princess of Scotland.”
“That is undoubtedly the explanation.” King Henry smiled, though he appeared a bit sad at the mention of his recently deceased queen. “I’ve heard enough for the moment. Desmond, you look ready to perish from weariness. Go to bed. The rest of you leave, too. I want to think about everything you've told me. Tomorrow will be soon enough to reveal what I’ve decided to do with you. Go!” He waved a regal hand and his audience departed.
Chapter 19
“Come, my lord,” Braedon said to Gilbert. “We owe a visit to Sir William.” Placing a hand on Gilbert's shoulder he steered the boy along the corridor in the direction of the guest chambers.
