The gaoler was a huge man with an enormous tongue too big for his enormous mouth and a fist the size of a ham. He showed it to me when I started to call out to Alice to tell me how she was, and whether the room was to her liking.
‘This,’ he said, proffering his great ham, ‘this is what you must answer to. Only this isn’t Alice, it’s … do you know what its name is?’
‘Malice,’ I said.
He seemed rather put out. I had taken the jest from his enormous mouth.
‘Yes, it fucking is, you tosspot and bottle-fucker. Malice is my name too. Stay on the right side of me and I’ll try not to hurt you too much. Stay on the wrong side of me and…’
‘You’ll try harder.’
He gave me such a slap across the face that my whole head seemed to turn round on its base like John the Baptist’s in a saucer.
‘Oof,’ I said, involuntarily.
‘That is the kind of conversation I like,’ he said. ‘Not too scholarly and disputatious. And for your information, your tart can’t hear you. We put her round the corner in the royal suite.’
‘Take her some water, please,’ I asked.
‘Water’s in the morning,’ said the gaoler. ‘You’ll be calling for a tapster next and a mutton pie. Lights out now, and no talking or I’ll come and fuck you both about.’
He blew out the smoking lamp that illuminated the ghastly place and lumbered off to a warm cubby-hole somewhere. We were left alone in the darkness with our damp straw, our thoughts and our thirst.
Gaolers must have mothers, I thought, so why is it that gaolers all seemed to come out of the same relentless womb? Is there some monstrous universal gaoler-mother like a queen bee or ant who eats gaoler-jelly and produces endless gaoler replicas? Or do they put on their foul mouths and their evil masks like uniforms when they come to work? Are they really pussycats at home, cuddling their wives and showing their girlfriends every kind of gallantry and instructing their children in playing Hunt the Prisoner?
I must have slept, though how I knew not in that vile circumstance, but in the morning I woke to the sound of distant voices. One I recognised as the gaoler’s. The other, though heard at a distance, had a curious familiarity to it. It was a woman’s voice. I heard the chink of coins and perceived that the gaoler’s tone had imperceptibly softened into acquiescence. Somebody, in short, was bribing the gaoler. A light approached.
‘Lady to see you, fuck-face,’ said the gaoler.
And then I saw the lantern’s beams lighting up the face of Juliana, love of my life – correction, former love of my life – who now stood beside the gaoler beyond the bars of my cage.
‘Good morning, Latiner,’ she said. ‘How is it with you?’
LXI
Questions jostled in my mind and jumbled at my lips. I opened my mouth, but no sound came.
‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘Don’t goggle. It’s me.’
She turned to the gaoler.
‘Thank you, Turgis. You can go now. We will use your room. A jug of wine, if you please.’
Turgis! What a name! Imagine being called Turgis. Dogs would come up to you and sniff your bottom.
Turgis bowed and withdrew. Good dog, Turgis. We moved down the passageway and opened the door to the gaoler’s chamber. It smelt too much of Turgis so we kept the door open for a while. There was a fire inside which was pleasant, and a table around which were set two chairs.
‘How did you get here? How did you know I was in prison?’ I asked her. ‘When did you …?’ The questions tumbled out.
‘I arrived at Vernon with my father who is in conclave with Cardinal Cuno. He told me you were here. His spies are everywhere because he likes to know everything. It is the secret of his rule. I asked him where you were and he found you. Alice too. How is she?’
‘Very well. Until she came here.’
‘I’m sorry to do this to you. There seemed no other way to have a private talk.’
‘A private talk? You mean you had us arrested?’
‘Prison is a fine place to talk. I could not guarantee such privacy anywhere else. We could make love if you like. Here on the straw.’
I shook my head.
‘Only joking,’ she said.
‘And you could do this?’ I gestured at our surroundings.
‘Of course. I am the daughter of the Duke with whom I have made a rapprochement. I can do many things.’
The gaoler appeared again, bearing wine and two cups.
‘Do you wish me to pour the wine, Comtesse, your Extremiousness?’ he asked, like an elephant trying to dance.
‘No, thank you. Leave us now, Turgis.’
She seemed to find an irresponsible delight in repeating his name.
‘Madame,’ he bowed, tripped on his own feet, and left.
She poured wine and I drank thirstily. It had been a dry night.
‘It strikes me that you are the witch. You are the cunning woman. You are Madame Eliphas.’
‘I have to be, for what I have in mind.’
‘And Eustace? Where is he? What has he in mind?’
‘Oh, Burgundy and claret, cinnamon and cloves. He’s drinking somewhere. My father ordered him to give up for a bit. He became almost human with his cunning little eyes swivelling about. But now he’s off again.’
‘And your father?’
‘He has bits of business to finish up and then he’s off with his precious son, and his court and his generals, back to England for Christmas.’
I felt I should tell her about Alice.
‘Alice and I …’ I started.
She raised a hand. ‘It’s all right. I know. Eliphas the jongleur told me, or maybe my father. I don’t blame you.’
‘But I still love you,’ I said. ‘I love you both.’
‘You do not have to choose,’ she said. ‘It’s not a competition. To be honest, since my girls died, I lost interest in all that. I am not sure that I am capable of love any more. All I can feel is rage. Oh, how it burns, Bertold! Feel … feel my heart here.’
She guided my hand to her breast and it did indeed seem near incandescent, or I did.
‘I want you to do something for me.’
‘Anything,’ I cried, excusing her disgraceful guile in putting us in prison.
This was the effect she had. I wish you had known her.
‘I am glad you say that – because what I am asking of you is a lot.’
‘Anything,’ I replied if a trifle less enthusiastically.
‘You know that I have made a humiliating submission to my father?’
‘I had heard that. Eustace too.’
‘I grovelled, Latiner. Eustace too – but he is finished. He is good for nothing. My father knows that.’
‘And what does he know of you?’
‘He knows nothing of me. He thinks I am tamed as well as shamed. He does not know that I cannot rest, I cannot sleep…’
‘Alice has a draught that can help you.’
‘You understand nothing,’ she said angrily. ‘What a fool I was to love you.’
It was the first time she had ever used the word love in my direction. I noticed, as she spoke, that I desired her more than ever. She had that effect on me.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked. ‘What is it that afflicts you?
‘I cannot rest until my daughters are avenged. And when I sleep they haunt me because I have done nothing.’
‘This is wild talk,’ I said to her. ‘The last thing they would want is revenge. They were gentle girls. You cannot put right a wrong by committing another.’
‘My mind is made up,’ she said. ‘Will you help me or not?’
That put me on the spot. I was aware as I stood in the dungeon that I was not in a good negotiating position, but I thought that the power of love would prevail, and that she still wished me well.
‘I see you pause,’ she said.
‘I pause,’ I told her, ‘because the man on whom you want your revenge is the Duke, and though I have
some quarrels with him, I have saved his life and that ties me to him. I am not sure that I want him harmed again.’
‘I do not have it in mind to harm him personally. I have no poisons, nor hired assassins, no daggers under my robe. His person is not in the line of my bowshot.’
‘Well, then,’ I said, ‘let’s hear what you intend to do. But first, can we not go out of this vile place, somewhere where I can see the day? And even before that we must rescue poor Alice.’
Juliana shook her head. ‘I cannot do that,’ she said. ‘We have to speak in secret, unobserved. The gaoler will not talk. He knows what will happen to him if he does, but I do not wish others to see us. I intend to strike at the very heart of my father, at everything that he holds dear.’
‘And what is that?’
‘His son, my half-brother, William the Atheling.’
‘You are mad, Juliana. You cannot do that. And how would you do it if you could? The Duke won’t let you near him with your crossbow. And I’m not going to do it.’
‘I’m not expecting you to shoot him or to stab him. It has to be something a bit more subtle than that.’
‘A subtle killing?’
‘Yes. I have the beginnings of a plan.’
‘The beginnings?’
‘You have not much time. The Duke leaves for England at the end of November. So you have little more than eight weeks, if that.’
‘What do you mean … I have?’
‘It will be enough. I am thinking of the sea.’
‘I’m not. Cold at this time of year.’
‘So much the better.’
There was something different about her, now I came to look at her closely: her natural grace was a little strained; she seemed intent, fixed, as one who has found religion. The grief over her daughters’ death must have tipped her very near the brink. I had thought she was exaggerating when she talked of something dying in her, but now I realised that words could not convey her lust for revenge.
‘Some have found the sea very restful,’ I said. ‘You should talk to Alice. She comes from Barfleur. She knows sea things. I think her father has shares in a hulk.’
‘I know she comes from Barfleur. But no, I am not going to the seaside. You are going to Barfleur.’
‘I am not a sea person,’ I told her.
‘You are going to meet a shipbuilder called Thomas FitzStephen. Remember that name. His father provided the fleet for my grandfather, the Conqueror, when he invaded England. He loves our family. He will of course have no idea of your purpose.’
‘And what is my purpose?’
‘I am nearly there. It will be delivered when it is ready.’
She spoke of it as though it were a monstrous birth.
‘I have no knowledge of the sea,’ I told her again. ‘Nor love of it either. I do not swim well.’
‘Well enough for the lake at Breteuil, I recall.’
We had once swum naked together in a little nook of the lake, hidden by trees. I could not believe I was standing, now, in an oozy dungeon, talking to that same woman whom I had loved to distraction but who was now, it seemed to me, completely mad.
‘The White Ship – which is to be the fastest ship afloat with all the newest refinements – will be offered to my father when he sails for England at the end of November, two months from now. I happen to know Henry has already made his arrangements, but FitzStephen does not know that, nor will he until he offers the ship to my father for his pleasure and convenience when he arrives a day or two before he intends to embark.’
‘I still do not understand.’
‘You are very slow, Latiner. My father, feeling sorry for FitzStephen, will then accept it on behalf of his son since a vessel has already been reserved for the Duke’s personal service. The Prince will of course be delighted with the new ship. All the young generals and staff officers and the ladies of the court will want to come with him. He will try to race his father because that is the sort of prince he is. All the better for you.’
‘I am afraid I am still in the dark.’
‘That is good at this stage. That is as far as we need to go.’
‘Yes, but hold on. If it were remotely possible that I should do what you ask – whatever it is – I see one enormous problem.’
‘Only one?’ She was laughing at me in that way she had.
‘Only one to start with, but it’s big. I am not going to be involved: I am unacquainted with the sea; I am scared of your father.’
‘Ah.’
‘I am glad you say ah. This is a cock-eyed scheme, wherever it’s leading, and you must forget you ever told me about it. Put it out of your head, Juliana.’
‘Listen to me, Latiner.’
I was taken aback by the ferocity in her voice. She was a tigress, she was a panther, there was a wildness that I could not name. It had to be madness. And yet she had already put a great deal of thought into her scheme. I could see that. Whatever it was, it involved the Prince’s whole court, putting to sea, in a ship that she had commissioned…
So why would she do it?
The realization dawned on me – and it seemed that I stood on a floor liquefying under my feet – that she meant something to happen to the ship … No, more, that she meant to sink the ship with everyone on board.
I gazed at her open-mouthed. She was still the Juliana I had loved. What a vengeance that would be! No one would say her daughters’ deaths – their murder – had passed unnoticed. The Sultan Suleiman, a monster hated all over Europe for his recent massacre of thousands in Antioch, would have been hard put to it to do better. The flower of Norman chivalry and English aristocracy, a cluster of royal brothers and sisters, a welter of cousins, the pride of the Norman army and of the fleet, all to go down in one calamity.
I gasped at the scale of it. I did not ask her if that was exactly what she meant, I knew it, just as I knew the woman who was speaking to me.
‘You’re not seriously expecting me to do this? To sink a big ship? I wouldn’t know where to start.’
‘I am not asking you to do this, Latiner. I am telling you.’
‘You can’t make me.’ I said again, rather weakly.
She laughed. And then she had me really worried.
‘Oh, but I can.’
‘You can take a horse to water but you can’t make him drink – especially if it’s sea water,’ I said, jesting feebly in the face of what seemed to be an impending force majeure.
‘You will drink if I tell you to.’
I decided to ignore the threat.
‘And how will I find time to go to Barfleur when I am working with Haimo?’ I said, lightly.
‘You will ask your butcher friend if you may train up an assistant who can look after things while you take the opportunity, for instance, of visiting your brother who lives nearby.’
‘I…’
‘And don’t tell me you don’t have a brother, because I know – I am convinced – that you will find you have. Or maybe you could look up Alice’s family on some urgent pretext. We know she comes from those parts. I forget nothing that may be useful, Latiner.’
She was half-amused, half-angry.
‘And don’t pretend you won’t be able to find someone who can follow your strange Arabian mathematical methods,’ she continued.
An idea struck me.
‘Alice could look after the books, I suppose. I have explained my ways to her.’
‘Alice will not do it. Butchering? What a horrible idea for a girl! I have other plans for Alice. When you have trained your assistant, you will go to Barfleur on a matter of business, that is the best excuse, Haimo will like that. You will take up lodgings and make yourself known to Master Thomas FitzStephen, the shipwright. I have told him about you. I have said you and your partner Haimo are thinking of investing in shipping – he is always short of money because his ships are too good. I have said you are a merchant, a necessary man. He will show you the harbour and the coast nearby. He will lend you a boat so you
can explore for yourself. I shall contact you again when you are there. It is no good flapping your hands at me. I have arranged it all.’
She was talking about some fantasy in which I was never going to be part. I have always disliked the idea of the sea – it’s a slopping, peevish kind of place. Why couldn’t she find some mariner or fisherman to do her dirty work?
‘Are you paying attention?’ she asked, noting my general air of resistance.
‘I am not good on the water – or in it for that matter,’ I said again. ‘I don’t think bastards like the water.’
‘You were perfectly good on the lake at Breteuil. You will come to like the sea.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘You prefer that you and Alice should stay in prison?’
‘You wouldn’t do that?’
‘Try me.’
She was smiling at me, teasing me, desirable as ever, in a green dress that showed off her admirable bosom. I knew just how sweetly she smelt under that dress. If I said yes, she might let the bastard Bertold fuck her now, here on the straw.
‘Look, Juliana, I love you very much – I will always love you – but you have to find someone else to do this.’
‘You are the only one for me,’ she said.
And the bastard was entranced yet again by her big green eyes and her wide smile. Who would have thought anyone could be so pretty and so mad!
‘I won’t do it,’ I said. ‘And there is Alice to consider anyway.’
‘I was afraid you would say that, though you have often told me you would do anything for me.’
‘I would. Almost.’
‘What a wide gap there is between a true knight and an almost true knight. Which brings me on to a subject which I had hoped I would not have to raise. You see, I have taken Alice hostage.’
I felt the earth shaking as when a massive breaker hits the headland – something which I had not seen, but I was beginning to imagine. All this talk of water was getting to me.
‘You have what?’ I shrieked.
‘Hostage,’ she repeated, ‘hostage to your good behaviour. If you succeed, you shall have her back, more beautiful than ever, and you yourself will be richer by one thousand pounds. If you do not, she will be put to death.’
The White Ship Page 33
