“There is also the matter of the queen’s diet, Mistress Malcolm,” Belle said pluckily. “The foods offered her majesty are too rich, and too greasy. A lady in her condition has a squeamish belly. The foods offered her should be nourishing, and gentle.”
“Aye, yer right,” Mary Malcolm said, “and why hae none of us had the good sense to remember it?” She was very aggrieved, not just at herself, but at the others chosen to serve her precious darling.
The young queen laughed. “You have met with Mary Malcolm’s obvious approval, Isabelle of Langston. Stay with me as one of my companions until my child is born. I can see I shall need your advice even more in the days to come. I hope you will not mind giving up your hunting. I have been given to understand that you have a fine merlin.”
“My falconer can exercise the bird, Your Majesty,” Belle said sweetly. “I am more than glad to remain with my queen as long as I can be of help to her. I am not used to idleness, being a countrywoman, you see. May I have a pallet here in Your Majesty’s chambers?”
“Of course,” the queen agreed, delighted to have this charming young woman, near her in age, and less fettered by the pomp and circumstance of the English court than the other women about her. “I, too, was once a countrywoman,” she told Belle. “I lived in the convent my aunt founded after her husband’s death. She was the abbess there, and I thought to be a nun, but then King Henry sought me for a wife, and my brother acquiesced, for it meant peace between our two countries.” The queen turned to Mavis. “Go and tell Isabelle of Langston’s serving woman where she is and where she will remain tonight, else the poor girl worry about her mistress’s whereabouts.”
Mavis arose from her place upon a stool by the queen and, curtseying, hurried from the room.
“You will be quite safe with me, Isabelle of Langston,” the queen said perceptively, and in that moment Belle became aware that the queen knew of her husband’s peccadilloes.
Taking the queen’s hand, she kissed it. “I thank Your Majesty for her favor. I am an honorable woman, and will serve you with as much devotion as my Hugh has served the king.”
“It is much better that way, I think,” Queen Matilda said with a twinkle in her blue eyes.
In the morning, after the mass, the king saw that Belle was among the queen’s women. “Have you taken a new lady into your service, my dear?” he asked his wife.
“Aye, my lord, indeed I have,” Queen Matilda replied. “Isabelle of Langston has become invaluable to me.” She smiled up at her husband, batting her eyes at him. “Now that I am so close to giving England its next king, I should not be denied anything that I crave, Henry. Surely you do not want to upset me by stealing Belle away to your old hunts? You have enough companions to join you, but I must stay here, practically alone, and surrounded by old faces. There is hardly a young woman my age amongst my ladies. Besides, Belle has already helped reduce the swelling in my legs and feet that troubled me so. She has recent experience in being enceinte. I simply cannot do without her!”
“Very well, my dear,” the king said with apparent good nature, and then he turned to fix his gaze upon Isabelle. “And you, madame, are you content to serve your queen rather than sample all the delights the court has to offer? It is not often easy to please royalty.”
“I am a simple countrywoman, my liege,” Isabelle answered him with honesty. “The delights you speak of are far too heady for me. I am satisfied to serve the queen until my husband comes home.” She curtsied most prettily, giving him a bright, public smile.
Henry Beauclerc grinned back at her, then bowed in return. A most clever wench, he decided once again. She had outwitted him for the present. She did not know it, although he expected that her servant would tell her soon enough, but he had been in her chamber awaiting her return from the hall the previous evening. He had sent the maidservant to the common sleeping area for women of her lowly rank, giving the girl orders not to return until the dawn. Then he had made himself comfortable upon Isabelle’s bed, but she had not come.
At first he had been concerned by her absence, and then he began to wonder if perhaps that modest and sweet demeanor she affected were not a ploy. Was she with a lover? Then he had laughed at himself. Isabelle of Langston had not been at court long enough to take a lover. Her servant had obviously been expecting her. Finally, after an hour, he had left her chamber, finding his page, Henry Beauchamp, and sending him to seek out Isabelle of Langston. The boy returned to say she was with her friend, Mavis of Farnley, in the queen’s chambers. The king had gone to his bed alone, irritated and amused by turns.
Now he watched Isabelle hurry off with his wife and her other ladies. Turning to Rolf de Briard, he said, “Does your stepdaughter not understand her duty to me, Rolf? Certainly you have told her.”
“Belle is a headstrong woman, my lord,” Rolf said quietly. Then he added, “Her serfs call her Belle from Hell, for she can be most perverse in her behavior. She will have her own way, I fear.”
“Then we are, I think, at an impasse of sorts,” the king replied, “for I will have my way in the matter sooner or later.”
No woman had ever before refused Henry, and he was puzzled by it. Why could the fair Isabelle of Langston not comprehend the honor being tendered her? And he always recognized his bastards. Perhaps Rolf, who was a gentle fellow, had not related the situation to the girl clearly enough. That could be the only reasonable explanation for her behavior.
The king watched for a moment when he might take Isabelle aside privately and clarify everything for her, but she was very skillful at avoiding such a meeting, and a small niggling doubt began to creep into his mind that she really did understand, but did not wish to be his mistress. It was absolutely unpardonable. Nay! It was treasonous!
Then fate smiled upon him. He went to the falcon mews to exercise his gyrfalcon, and found Isabelle there with her merlin. Seeing the king, she curtsied prettily. Then handing the bird off to her falconer and claiming her duties called, Isabelle hurried away. With a wolfish smile, the king followed. The route she had chosen to get back to the queen’s apartments would take her through a secluded, narrow hallway. He would trap her there, and they would resolve the matter on the spot.
Isabelle could hear someone behind her. Instinct told her who it was. She walked quickly, struggling not to give in to panic or break into a run that would clearly indicate her feelings to the king. As long as she simply avoided him, there could be no confrontation. Then she realized she was entering the little hallway that connected with the large public corridor leading to the queen’s chambers. The queen’s ladies used it because it was a shortcut, but it was quite deserted. Her heart sank, and then she felt a hand upon her arm.
“Wait, Isabelle of Langston,” she heard the king say, and she was turned about so that she faced him.
“Ohh, my lord.” She feigned surprise at seeing him. “Please let me pass, for I shall be late, and her majesty is expecting me. I was only allowed a short recess in which to exercise Couper, my merlin.”
Skillfully he backed her against the wall, pressing himself against her body. “You are driving me to distraction, you little temptress,” the king murmured, and he leaned forward to kiss her.
Isabelle turned her head, and to his surprise, she giggled. “Ohh, Your Majesty, you are so naughty,” she simpered at him. “You must not approach me in such a wicked manner. I am an honorable woman.”
“I have not forgotten that night I came to your chamber and you were in your smock with your lovely hair loose about your shoulders. I cursed the venison stew that made you ill, interrupting what promised to be a most delicious interlude,” Henry Beauclerc said, and his fingers dug into her arms. “I want you, Isabelle! Surely you understand what I mean? I know damned well that you do! I am your king, A king may do whatever it is that amuses him. If he could not, there would be no point in being king.” The back of his hand softly caressed her neck. Then capturing her chin between his thumb and his forefinger, he kissed her m
outh hard. “I want to fuck you, Isabelle, and I mean to, my clever wench. You have been told there is no shame in being my mistress, and I always acknowledge my bastards. I will take care of you as long as we are together and Hugh is not here to know of it.” His hands were fumbling with his clothing, fumbling with hers.
Isabelle knew that she had to act this instant to escape the fate the king had in store for her. He meant to rape her here in this dimly lit hallway, she realized. Mustering every ounce of guile in her soul, she burst into loud sobs of anguish. Surprised by this turn of events, the king loosened his grip on her, and in that instant she pushed past him, dashing with what appeared to be a noisy display of deep sorrow down the remaining distance that separated her from the door leading out into the main corridor. Behind her she could hear him cursing furiously. Stepping forth into the public hall, she was once more the picture of composure, and quickly made her way back to Queen Matilda’s apartments.
Mavis, however, noticed her friend’s flushed cheeks. “What happened?” she asked Belle, her voice soft.
“He caught me in the shortcut, and was about to do his worst, but I got away,” Isabelle said. Then she chuckled. “He used some very colorful language, I might mention. I had never heard some of the words.”
“You are playing with fire,” Mavis said, shaking her pretty head. “Heaven only knows what he’ll do if you drive him too far.” Then she thought a moment. “Rolf is seeking you. He said he would seek you out in the Great Hall later.”
Rolf had news, Isabelle learned that evening, that a young messenger had arrived from Normandy that same day. Her stepfather did not know what word of Hugh the messenger carried, however, for the king had not yet told him.
That did not stop Belle. With Mavis’s help, she sought out the messenger, a young and inexperienced squire. Mavis flirted with the boy quite shamelessly. “This is my friend, Isabelle of Langston,” she gigglingly told the messenger. “Did you bring the king any word of her husband, Sir Hugh Fauconier? He was at Duke Robert’s court last autumn and winter.”
“Was he the lord who brought my lord duke that fine gyrfalcon who hunts cranes? What a bird she is!” the squire said admiringly.
“My husband raised the bird, and trained her himself,” Belle said with a friendly smile. “I am quite put out with my Hugh, however. He plays at the duke’s court when we need him back upon the manor.”
“Oh, he is not at my master’s court any longer,” the messenger told her. “He left before the feast of the Nativity to visit with the Sieur de Manneville. My master was quite surprised when his brother sent for word of Sir Hugh. He assumed him gone home this spring from Manneville,” the young squire finished.
While Mavis remained to flirt further with the young Norman so he would not grow suspicious, Isabelle hurried off to find her stepfather.
“God’s bones!” Rolf swore, hearing her news. “What if your brother has killed him in a misguided attempt to regain Langston?”
“Hugh is not dead!” Isabelle said quietly. “I would know if he were dead. Richard is a coward. He would not kill Hugh, for fear of being discovered, but he would imprison him. We must return to Langston! He may attempt to see that harm comes to my son. To murder a distant child is far easier than murdering a grown man. Children are so susceptible.” Why on earth, she wondered, had Hugh gone to Manneville? Surely he understood how dangerous Richard could be when thwarted. Had she not told him?
“What if the king will not let you go, Belle?” Rolf asked. “Henry is slow to give you the news the messenger brought from his brother, if indeed he intends to give you that news at all. Hugh’s disappearance is only to Henry Beauclerc’s advantage, daughter.”
“Then I must stay, Rolf, but you must go home. Mother is not strong enough, or brave enough, to fend off Richard’s wickedness. Besides, you have the advantage over any assassin in that you will be expecting an attack. I’ll keep Agneatha and Lind to serve me. Take half of our men and ride with all haste for Langston. Go this very day, Rolf. I sense that there is no time to waste. Tell Mother what has happened. Then watch carefully for any sign of treachery against Hugh Fauconier’s son, and Langston.”
Rolf de Briard did not need further urging. He agreed completely with his stepdaughter’s assessment. It wasn’t until he was halfway back to Langston that he suddenly realized that Isabelle had said nothing at all about how Hugh might be retrieved from her brother’s clutches. She certainly could not count on the king’s aid unless she yielded herself to him. Of course! That was her solution, and she had sent him home so she would not be embarrassed before her family.
When he was safely home, Rolf discovered, to his great distress, that there was another answer. The king’s royal messenger came to Langston, demanding that the lady of the manor return to court, which had now removed to the New Forest for the hunting season.
Astounded, Rolf told the king’s messenger, “My stepdaughter is not here. I left her in Winchester myself several weeks back. She said nothing of returning home to Langston. Nor are her servants here. Tell the king I am at a complete loss as to where she might be, but if she returns home, I shall certainly tell her of his royal command and see she immediately rejoins the court.”
The messenger departed. Two days later Agneatha and the men-at-arms returned.
“Where is your mistress?” Rolf de Briard demanded of the girl.
“Is not my lady here, my lord?” the maidservant replied.
Rolf shook his head. “No, Agneatha. She is not.”
Agneatha began to weep. “I awoke one morning, my lord, and she was gone. Lind, too, their horses, and the merlin. I waited for some days, but she did not return. The queen was most distressed, my lord. The king was furious, and threatened to have me beaten if I did not tell him where she was, but I could not. I went to the lady Mavis, but even she claimed not to know what had become of my lady Isabelle. When the court decamped for the New Forest, the men and I began our journey home.”
“Richard!” Alette’s face was ashen.
Rolf shook his head. “Nay. He had no means of spiriting her from the court. Besides, if he had, why take Lind, their horses, and Couper? Nay, my sweet wife. Knowing her child safe with us, Isabelle has, I suspect, gone to Normandy to fetch Hugh herself. That can be the only answer, I fear. I hope she was wise enough to travel with someone else going her way, for to travel alone is surely to invite disaster. She’ll probably go to Duke Robert and plead for his aid, since Richard is his liegeman. What a girl your daughter is, Alette. I want no headstrong offspring like that,” he told his wife.
“Nor would I give you another like her,” Alette said fervently. “I tried to be a good mother, Rolf. I did! But Belle was always too strong for me to handle.”
“We must pray for our lady’s safe return,” said Father Bernard in soothing tones. “I know that God is with Isabelle of Langston, for her cause is a just one. Trust in God, and His Blessed Mother, my children. We know that the lady Isabelle will return safely to us in the Lord’s time, and Hugh Fauconier with her.”
The priest led them all to the chapel.
Chapter 12
The king had not been forthcoming at all to Isabelle about the messenger from his brother. In fact he said nothing to her about Hugh, despite the fact she approached him when he was with the queen in the Great Hall and asked. Isabelle now knew what she must do. She sought out the household steward of Anselm, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was about to embark upon a pilgrimage to Rome.
“Two of my servants, falconers, must travel to Normandy,” she said. “May they travel with your train, Master Odo, that they be safe from robbers and other evildoers?”
“We leave on the morrow,” the archbishop’s steward said doubtfully.
“They can be ready,” Isabelle replied. “They have a merlin for the duke’s son, a gift from the king to his nephew.”
“A merlin for an infant?” The steward raised his eyebrow.
Isabelle laughed. “I agree,” she
said pleasantly, “but the king would insist the bird be sent, and hand-delivered by my own falconers. What could I do?” She shrugged fatalistically.
“They may travel with us,” the steward said. “They must provide their own food, however. I will see they are given drink.”
“My thanks,” Isabelle said, pressing a coin into the steward’s fat hand. “They are good men, and I will rest easy knowing they travel in relative safety with the archbishop’s train.”
“They are fortunate to have so caring a mistress,” the Steward said approvingly, his palm feeling the generous weight of the coin. “I will ask my master to pray for you and your family.”
“I am honored,” Isabelle said, curtseying and withdrawing.
“Lord Hugh is like to kill me,” Lind said nervously when Isabelle sought him out and explained her plan to him.
“Lord Hugh can do nothing while he is imprisoned by my brother,” she answered him.
“We will be discovered for certain, lady,” Lind fretted.
“No one will penetrate our ruse, I promise you,” Isabelle assured him. “We shall be brothers. You the elder, I the younger. I am called Lang. We are falconers, freedmen, traveling in our youth before settling down with a master. Though I have told the archbishop’s steward we travel to the duke’s court to deliver a bird, ’twas but a little lie. We shall not go there at all, and since the archbishop is not going there, his steward will not know whether we arrive at Duke Robert’s court or not.”
“Where are we going?” Lind ventured.
“To my ancestral home at Manneville,” Isabelle told him. “My lord Hugh was last seen there, and I will wager he is still there, imprisoned in my brother’s dungeon.”
“And if he is,” Lind spoke up more boldly now, “how can you and I rescue him, lady? If your brother is bold enough to jail my lord Hugh, will he listen to you? I think, lady, you will find yourself imprisoned as well.”
Hellion Page 24
