“Enough to marry me without further ado?” Hugh queried.
A small smile touched Alette’s lips. “She is not yet ready to concede defeat, my lord. She is filled with anger and defiance. I have told her she will remain in her room, to be fed only on bread and water, until she sees the sense of it all.”
He nodded. “Perhaps a few days alone will help her to see reason, madame. Will you send the steward to me in the morning? I must inspect Langston thoroughly to see what needs to be done so that we are ready for the spring planting.”
“There is no steward, my lord. He was an old man, and died three years back. I did not know whom my husband would choose to replace him, and so I did not. Isabelle has run the estate ever since. Nothing has been written down, of course, but my daughter has a good memory for facts and figures. We have managed well enough.”
“Then we cannot keep your daughter locked away tomorrow. I need to learn about the estate as quickly as possible,” Hugh said.
“Will you have the keys, then?” Alette asked him, holding out her iron ring which held all the keys belonging to Langston.
He shook his head. “They are yours until Isabelle becomes my wife, madame,” Hugh said.
“In that case,” Alette said, rising from her seat, “I will see to the meal, my lords, and you will, of course, need to know where you are to sleep. I shall need a day or two to clear my belongings from the solar. I regret there are but two guest chambers. Two of you shall have to share, but I shall leave you to decide that among yourselves.” She curtsied, and hurried off.
“What a pity the king did not arrange for you to wed the widow instead of the daughter,” Father Bernard said. “She is a charming and most well-behaved woman. A man would be fortunate in such a wife.”
“She is lovely, I will agree,” Hugh replied, “but I prefer a bit more spice, good father. The daughter suits me well enough. There would be no surprises with the lady Alette.”
They were shortly invited to the high board, and the supper was served. It was a simple meal: a platter of meaty prawns that had been broiled lightly and were served upon a bed of fresh green watercress; a rabbit stew in a winy brown gravy, flavored with leek and carrot; a fat, juicy capon surrounded by roasted onions; fresh baked bread; a chunk of golden butter; a rich, runny piece of Brie cheese; and a bowl of brown russet pears. Three pitchers were placed on the table. One held cider, one ale, and the other a dark red wine. There was even a little dish of salt.
“My husband,” Alette explained, “liked variety, and preferred to help himself to drink.” She sat next to Hugh, with the priest to her left, while Rolf de Briard was seated on the other side of his friend.
The table was set with snow-white linen, silver goblets, and plates. While there were spoons for the stew, and each diner had a personal knife should the need arise to cut anything, they ate everything else with their fingers, picking from the platters. The hall was comfortably warm, with the light from its two fires and the candles casting a friendly golden glow over everything. Hugh noticed that there were no rushes upon the floor, and remarked upon it. Alette explained that she did not like rushes, even when herbs were sprinkled amongst them.
“They only encourage dirt, my lord. When garbage and spittle are worked into the wood, one can never get rid of the stink. My floors are swept daily. I keep bowls of herbs and dried flowers for sweetening the air. I do not like noxious odors, and the dogs have a tendency to pee among the rushes. A clean floor intimidates them.”
Hugh smiled. His grandmother Emma said the same thing, and would not allow rushes in her hall, either. “I agree,” he told her.
It had been decided that Hugh and Rolf would share one chamber, and Father Bernard would take the other. Neither room was large.
Following supper the lady Alette excused herself and retired to her solar. Hugh had suggested that she remain in her apartment until his marriage to her daughter was celebrated, but Alette would not hear of it.
“You are the lord of Langston now, Sir Hugh,” she said firmly. “It is only right that you have the lord’s place. But I thank you for your courtesy in offering. I am glad for your coming, unexpected as it was, and I will be happy to have you for a son.” She curtsied to him, and then turning to the priest, asked, “Will you say mass in the morning, good father? It has been a long time since we have been so blessed.”
“I shall be saying mass every morning that I am at Langston,” Father Bernard replied. “You might also tell your people that I shall be happy to hear their confessions at any time they care to come to me.”
“I thank you,” Alette said, and curtsied to him. Then with a small smile she bid the three men a good night and retired to the solar.
“A charming woman,” the priest approved.
“A lovely woman,” Rolf de Briard said slowly, his eyes following Alette as she disappeared through her door. “She is the ideal female.”
“Christus!” Hugh swore, and then he grinned sheepishly. “Your pardon, Father. Rolf, I have never heard you speak in such respectful terms of any woman but your mother, and then rarely, for you are a bawdy fellow by nature. Has the widow caught your heart?”
Rolf shook himself like a wet dog, saying, “It would not matter if she had, Hugh. I have naught to offer a respectable woman. I am but a poor knight with no home of his own.”
“Your home is here at Langston now, my old friend,” Hugh told him. “I need your sword, and I need you. The lady Alette told me that the steward here died three years ago. Isabelle has been running the manor without keeping any records, as she neither reads nor writes. You do, Rolf. Will you be Langston’s steward? It is not a lowly position I offer you, and I will treat you fairly. Father Bernard can draw up the agreement between us.”
Rolf de Briard thought a long moment. It was a wonderful offer. Apart from returning to King Henry’s court as one of many landless knights, he had no other prospects. To be steward of Langston would offer him a prestige he had never hoped to attain. He would now be able to take a wife. More important, he and Hugh were longtime friends and got on well together. “Aye!” he said enthusiastically. “I’ll be Langston’s steward, Hugh, and I thank you for the opportunity.”
“Then that’s settled,” Hugh said, pleased. “In the morning after the meal we shall inspect the estate with Isabelle for our guide. She knows it best. We shall need to soothe her feelings, which will, I suspect, be even more ruffled by our interest and the decisions made here tonight. I think we had best to bed now.”
Father Bernard held his first mass in the Great Hall at daybreak, for there was no chapel or church at Langston.
“We shall build a church,” Hugh said firmly, and the priest smiled.
Isabelle stood by her mother, silent and sullen. There were two women servants with them that the men had not seen the night before. Afterward, when they made to escort the girl back to her room, Hugh spoke up.
“With your permission, my lady Alette, I would like Belle to accompany Sir Rolf and me this morning on our inspection tour of Langston. She will need her breakfast if she is to ride with us.”
“As you wish, my lord,” Alette murmured, lowering her head to hide the twinkle in her eyes, the tiny smile on her lips.
“I have no wish to ride with you, Saxon scum!” Belle snarled.
“Nonetheless, ma Belle douce, you will,” he said. “Your mother has told me that you have stewarded Langston for three years. No one will know it better than you. I need your help, madame. Besides, would you not rather be outdoors than confined to your chamber?”
Belle glared at him. Damn the man, she thought irritably. He was so wretchedly smug. She wanted to deny him, but the thought of spending the entire day in her little chamber was very disagreeable. She knew her mother would insist she not be idle, and would force her to sew, or worse to weave, both of which she absolutely hated. “Very well, my lord,” she said grudgingly. “I will show you Langston, but do not think you have won me over, for you have not! I consi
der you my mortal enemy.”
“Be warned, hellion, I have never lost a battle,” Hugh said.
“Nor have I, Saxon,” she responded fiercely, and then without another word Belle stamped up to the high board and sat down.
The servants were quick to serve her, ladling oat stirabout into her trencher of warm, newly baked bread. They poured cider into her cup. Belle ate hungrily, spooning the cereal into her mouth, swallowing her cider greedily.
“In future, ma Belle,” Hugh said quietly so that only she might hear him, “I would have you wait until Father Bernard has said the blessing.”
“As you will, Saxon,” she answered him, knowing he was right, but reluctant to admit it. Leaning across him, she reached for the cheese.
Grasping her wrist, he forced her hand back. “Allow me, ma Belle douce,” he said, taking his knife and slicing her a piece of the hard, yellow cheese.
“Must you call me that?” she growled at him, taking a bite of the cheese. “I am not your sweet Belle, Saxon.”
“But I believe that once I get through the briar hedge you have placed around yourself, I shall find a sweet Belle,” Hugh answered.
Belle burst out laughing. “Blessed Mother!” she said mockingly.
He grinned at her engagingly. “Ahhh, I have made you laugh, ma Belle. You are very pretty when you laugh,” he complimented her.
“I laugh because you are such a fool, Saxon,” she told him. “Do ladies at court fall swooning into your eager arms when you prattle such nonsense to them? I certainly shall not!”
He chuckled, and turned his attention to his breakfast. She did not realize it, but he had already begun to breach her defenses.
When the meal had been completed, the servants brought them basins of warm water in which to wash their hands, and linen towels to dry them. Then Hugh, Belle, and Rolf moved outside into the bailey, where the horses were awaiting them. One of the female servants hurried after Belle, wrapping a cloak about the girl. A young stableboy knelt, and not even looking at him, Belle stepped upon the boy’s back and mounted her palfrey. It was a dappled gray mare, and she leaned forward to pat the creature gently.
“Will you lead the way, ma Belle?” Hugh said.
She threw him an impatient look. “Since you do not know your way about yet, Saxon, of course I shall lead the way!” Then she urged her mount into a walk, moving off through the keep’s barbican gate.
Below the keep’s motte the small village of Langston was clustered. In times of emergency its inhabitants could easily flee into the safety of the keep’s stout stone walls. There was a single street along which the villagers’ houses were located. Most of Langston’s citizenry were craftsmen, although some of the more important servants also had cottages for their families. The buildings were of timber, and plaster washed pale blue, ochre, or white. Beyond lay the fields and farms belonging to the manor.
“How is it,” Hugh asked Belle, “that the keep and its walls are of stone? There is no stone quarried in Suffolk, Essex, or Norfolk.”
“My father had the stones dragged on sledges across the fens from Northamptonshire,” she told him. “The keep is only twenty-five years old. He began it the year my brother William was born. Until it was built, the old Saxon hall stood on the site. It took five years to complete. But the lady Sibylle, my father’s first wife, did not choose to live in England. My father came twice a year to Langston then. His time was spent serving the king, and then the king’s son. When he married my mother in Normandy, he immediately brought her to England because he wanted to make it their home. I was born here.”
“I was conceived here,” he told her.
“What?” Her tone was startled.
“My mother’s family,” he said, “come from near Worcester. She was married to my father in the June before Hastings. Her family, of course, supported Duke William, soon to become England’s king. My father’s family supported Harold Godwinson, but my mother loved my father and, I am told, held her peace. When word of the battle and King Harold’s defeat was brought to her, she packed all the valuables and returned to her father’s house. She was enceinte with me at the time. She died shortly after my birth. My grandmother Emma says she could not bear being separated from my father, who was killed at Hastings. She lived just long enough to birth his son and give me my father’s name.”
Isabelle said nothing. She might be willful and hot-tempered, but she had a soft heart, although she rarely showed it. His story was touching, even if he was a Saxon dog. Now they rode down the village street, and she pointed out the houses of the cooper, the tanner, the carpenter, the shoemaker, the smithy, the tinker, the potter, and the miller.
“You are remarkably well-supplied with craftsmen,” Hugh noted.
“You may credit your family and not mine for it,” Isabelle allowed grudgingly. “They were all here when my father arrived. Beyond this village, my lord, are two other small villages. We shall get to them today. Those who till our lands live in them.”
The villagers had spilled out into the street as the party rode past. They pointed and whispered. Finally, when the riders came abreast of the smithy, Isabelle spoke again.
“We must pay our respects to Ancient Albert. He is the village headman, and will be offended if we do not stop.”
They drew their mounts to a halt, and there beneath the canopy of the smithy an enormous white-haired old man sat sprawled in a chair. By his side was a slightly younger version, and then four even younger men. The elderly man peered at Hugh, and then commanded him to move his horse closer. Gazing up at the new lord of Langston, he finally said in a surprisingly strong voice, “He is of Strongarm’s line, the exact spit of him.”
“This,” said Isabelle, “is Ancient Albert, the smithy.”
“In truth, lord,” Ancient Albert said, “I do not smith any longer. My son Elbert and his sons do the work, and good work it is, I promise you, for I have trained them all.”
“You knew my grandfather?” Hugh said.
“Aye, and your father, and uncles, too. I am the oldest man in these parts, lord. I have lived eighty winters. Your grandfather was a fair man. Your father, who was called Hugh the Younger, took after him. I remember your young uncles, Harold and Edward. Such mischievous laddies, always after the girls in the village, and them happy to be caught.” He chortled, then shook his head. “Too young to die, they was, but your mother did the right thing fleeing back to her family after the battle. Oh, there was some who criticized, but she saved the line of Strongarm; and made it possible for me to see the day it was restored to Langston. Is it true what Eldon has told us? Is it true you have come home, Hugh Strongarm?”
“Aye,” Hugh said, greatly moved by the old man. “I have been restored as Langston’s lord by our good king, Henry, God save him and grant him long life! But, Ancient Albert, I am not known by my father’s name. I am called Hugh Fauconier, Hugh the Falconer, after the prize birds I raise. Soon they shall fly over Langston.”
“And the lady?” Ancient Albert asked, looking up at Isabelle. “She is to be sent away?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you old reprobate?” Belle snapped.
“The lady is, by order of the king, to become my wife,” Hugh told the assembled villagers. “As you respect me, I will demand that you respect my lady Isabelle as well. She has stewarded these lands honestly the past three years, caring for you all and seeing you came to no harm.”
“And squeezing every groat of rent from us,” a voice in the crowd called out.
“It was her duty to collect the rent, and yours to pay it. You have not suffered that I can see,” Hugh replied. “I see no signs of starvation or illness among you. As serfs and freedmen, you owe that rent to Langston. You have been too long without a master, I fear. Now you have one again. The knight who rides with me is Rolf de Briard. He is to be Langston’s new steward. He is a fair man and will not mistreat you, but neither will he allow you to fall into slothful ways. There is also a priest, Father
Bernard, with me. We will build a church together. Until then mass will be held in the Great Hall each daybreak. For those who need marriages and baptisms celebrated, he will tend to your needs if you will but go to him.”
“God save your lordship!” Ancient Albert said approvingly.
“And God bless all here,” Hugh Fauconier replied.
Then the three riders moved on, passing through the village, out into the countryside beyond. There the fields lay fallow in the weak winter sunlight. Beyond them the river ran into the sea.
“I saw boats on the riverbank,” Hugh noted.
“Three or four families earn their keep by fishing,” Belle said. “What we do not use they are allowed to sell.”
“And what crops are grown in the fields?”
“Wheat and rye. Oats, barley, some hops for the beer. Beans, peas, and vetches. The kitchen gardens also grow lettuces, carrots, onions, and leeks. My mother has an herb garden for both cooking and medicinal purposes as well. The kitchen is on the lower level of the keep. Our gardens lie behind it. There is a good-sized apple orchard, and trees growing peaches, plums, and pears. We have wild and bird cherry, too,” Belle told him.
He could see both cattle and sheep grazing in the winter meadows. There would certainly be domestic fowl. The marshes were full of water fowl. The woodlands bordering the estate would be home to deer, rabbit, and other forms of wildlife. It was a good estate, with everything needed for survival.
They visited the other villages, making themselves known to the serfs and freedmen living there. Their welcome was warm, but no one appeared surprised by their arrival, the gossip having traveled well ahead of them. Belle spoke little except to answer Hugh’s questions. They returned to the keep in mid-afternoon to find that Alette had a fine, hot dinner waiting for them. And when they had eaten, she surprised them yet again.
“You have not bathed in several days, I am certain,” she said. “If you will come to the bathing room, I will see to your needs.”
Hellion Page 4
