Hellion

by Bertrice Small

  “Never!” Richard de Manneville blustered.

  Father Bernard sighed. “Then may God have mercy on you, mon seigneur, for neither Rolf de Briard nor Hugh Fauconier will when they find you in residence at Langston.”

  “Hugh Fauconier will not return to Langston,” Richard said with certainty. “My nephew is yet a babe, and children are always subject to sudden complaints, many of which prove fatal. I am the only logical lord for Langston. If Duke Robert does not take England, then I will plead my case to King Henry. The de Mannevilles have always been loyal followers and liegemen of his family.”

  Father Bernard reported this conversation back to Alette de Briard.

  “Why is he so certain that Hugh will not return?” she wondered. “And where is that daughter of mine? Gone over a year, and not a word! I shall certainly have something to say to Isabelle when she comes home. The very idea of her running off like that, and leaving Hughie; but then, was she not always willful?”

  “So you have said, lady,” the priest responded dryly. While Alette de Briard was indeed a model wife and mother, he sometimes found her a bit annoying. He had to admit he had missed the lady Isabelle. Father Bernard had prayed for her every day she had been away. He had prayed for Hugh, too, and looked forward to their return to Langston. They would both come home. He somehow knew it. In the meantime he must keep the lady Alette and the children safe, and pray harder for their deliverance from Richard de Manneville.

  Chapter 19

  Deliverance was at hand. Hugh Fauconier, his wife, and their party landed safely in England after three days at sea. They disembarked on a rocky beach bordering upon Weymouth Bay. The Breton fishermen were paid the remaining silver that had been agreed upon, and immediately set back to sea for Bretagne-sur-Mer. Before they departed, Hugh told them of the d’ Bretagnes’ demise.

  “You are free, my friends,” he said to the astounded men. “You need fear the d’ Bretagnes no more. Their magic has died with them.”

  Jean-Paul shook his head. “Perhaps, Sir Knight,” he said.

  Isabelle didn’t know who was more relieved to be back on dry land, herself or the horses. She actually had no cause for complaint, the voyage having gone swiftly and without incident. Still, the crunch of sand beneath the stones upon the beach was music to her ears. They found water for the horses and set off for Winchester, where Hugh hoped to have news of the king. Isabelle was not pleased that they might see the king again, but Hugh reassured her.

  “His attempted seduction of you was a quiet effort. You did not publicly embarrass him when you left court, but he is aware of the set-down you gave him. He will not try to breach your defenses again, especially as I am now with you, ma Belle.”

  “He should not have attempted to breach them in the first place,” Isabelle said tartly.

  “He is the king,” Hugh answered her with a shrug.

  “That is no excuse for his bad behavior,” Belle replied firmly.

  Hugh did not bother to answer his wife, for how could Isabelle understand a man as complex as Henry Beauclerc? While he was certainly none too pleased to have his wife accosted by the king, kings were in fact different than the rest of the populace. It would never have happened, he knew, had he been with Isabelle. If she had listened to Rolf and remained at Langston, the incident would not have occurred. Of course, had he said that aloud, Isabelle would have reminded him once again that had she not come to court, and then gone to Brittany, he would still be without his memory, and possibly yet the captive of the d’ Bretagnes. Hugh Fauconier smiled to himself. It was better in this instance to remain silent, and not receive a stern lecture from his wife regarding the deplorable state of King Henry’s morals.

  At Winchester they found the king in official residence, but gone hunting for a fortnight. Hugh Fauconier sought the king’s personal chaplain and left word with him that he had returned to England and was now going home to Langston. As he departed the chaplain’s quarters, he saw Rolf de Briard in the hallway and called out to him.

  Hearing his friend’s voice, Rolf turned, a look of delighted surprise and relief upon his handsome face. The two men embraced, and then Rolf said, “Where the hell have you been, Hugh? And is the lady Isabelle with you? We can’t go home to Alette without Isabelle.”

  “Aye, Belle is with me,” Hugh replied. “Thanks to my dear brother-in-law, both Belle and I ended up imprisoned by friends of Richard de Manneville’s. We have been in Brittany, which is why we couldn’t be found, although Belle managed to track me. With the help of the Langston men, and our falconers, we were able to escape only recently and get back to England. I will say that ma Belle and I whiled away the hours of our captivity most pleasantly. We will have another child in the spring.”

  This was the tale he and Isabelle had concocted to explain their absence. The falconers and the Langston men had agreed that it was a good explanation and sworn they would support it. They knew little of what had actually gone on in the castle, but what little they had seen frightened them. Like the fishermen of Bretagne-sur-Mer, they were not entirely certain that the sorcery of the d’ Bretagnes was ended. The less said about their sojourn in Brittany, the better.

  Isabelle was delighted to learn the king was off hunting, and doubly delighted to see her stepfather. “Do not scold me now, Father Rolf,” she told him. “Hugh would not have gotten home without my help.”

  “He probably would have gotten home sooner without the burden of a wife to worry about,” Rolf answered her, still irritated that she had tricked him so neatly in making her journey to Brittany.

  “Nay,” Hugh defended his wife, adding just a trifle more to their tale. “I had suffered a blow to the head, and until Belle aided me in regaining my memory, I could not recall who I was. Belle was the key to my recovery.”

  They began their journey home the following day. The city of London seemed even noisier and dirtier than Isabelle had remembered it. She was glad to be quickly quit of it and on the well-traveled highway to Colchester. Home! They were so close now. Even the air was beginning to have a familiar smell to it, she thought, wrinkling her nose with delight.

  They reached the river Blyth on a rainy, misty afternoon. As they waited for the ferry to come and carry them across to the other side, Isabelle noted that Langston Keep now had two stone towers. Finally their transport arrived, and the ferryman gaped at Hugh and Isabelle with surprise and relief.

  “My lord! My lady! We thought you was dead,” he exclaimed.

  “Who told you such a thing?” Isabelle demanded, a touch of her old imperiousness in her voice.

  “Ancient Albert said we should ne’er see you again. He sorrowed over it mightily before he finally died,” the ferryman said, and then he looked to Hugh. “I cannot take you across now, my lord. I am to tell all visitors that entry is barred to Langston Keep, which is held in Duke Robert’s name currently.” The ferryman shuffled his feet nervously and dug his pole deeper into the mud of the riverbank to steady his vessel.

  “Who holds Langston?” Hugh asked quietly.

  “The lord Richard de Manneville, son of him who once held it for King William, my lord Hugh,” the ferryman answered him.

  “What of the lady Alette?” Rolf asked.

  “She has locked herself with the children in New Tower, my lord. They say she hurls curses daily upon the head of him who’s taken the keep when he comes to demand her surrender,” the ferryman explained.

  “How many men has Lord Richard got with him?” Hugh asked.

  “There is another knight, and four men-at-arms.”

  “How the hell did he take the keep with only four men-at-arms and a single knight?” Hugh exploded. “Surely the lady did not let him in?”

  “ ’Tis my fault, I believe,” Rolf said. “I took the more experienced men with me when the king called. We were sent to Normandy to reconnoiter for the king’s eventual invasion, and to make contact with those lords loyal to King Henry. You cannot travel in Normandy these days without a
heavily armed escort. I believed at this point the Sieur de Manneville had lost interest in Langston. I left only inexperienced men to guard the keep. De Manneville probably walked right in, for those green lads would not think two knights and four men-at-arms a threat to the keep.”

  The ferryman nodded. “Aye, lord, ’tis just what happened.”

  “Go back, and if you are asked, say it was just a party of travelers seeking shelter. Then, when it is dark, return to ferry us all over that we may retake Langston. See that word is brought up to the keep to see to Richard de Manneville’s special pleasure tonight, that we may capture him unawares. There is another knight, you said?”

  “Aye, my lord. One Luc de Sai, and a mighty unpleasant fellow he is, too,” the ferryman replied. Then he pushed off, poling back across the Blyth to the other side.

  Isabelle sneezed. “The rain is getting heavier,” she said. “How long must we wait? Is there any shelter nearby?”

  “We must move back into the trees so we cannot be seen from the keep’s walls,” Hugh said. “Our party is large enough to alarm your brother should he see us, and I don’t want the gates barred to us.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Rolf said. “When New Tower was constructed, we built a tunnel that exits just outside the keep’s walls for emergency purposes. When it is dark, we will ferry across, and using the night for cover, we will be able to enter the keep. There is no interior passage connecting New Tower and the original tower yet. We had intended to build it later on. When we built the tower, we opened a section of wall to fit it in, but it is accessible only by means of a door on the main level, or this secret tunnel.”

  “Excellent!” Hugh smiled wolfishly. “Richard de Manneville is very superstitious, for Vivienne d’ Bretagne told me so. I have the perfect plan to remove him from Langston, and it will not cost us a single life.”

  “You would be better to kill him, and his henchman,” Belle said grimly. “He will not give up the idea that he should have Langston easily. Unless he is dead, we will spend the rest of our lives wondering when he will next turn up. He will pass his erroneous idea onto his sons, and we will never be rid of the de Mannevilles. Kill him now while we have the opportunity, my lord.” She sneezed again.

  “There is a cowshed nearby where the lady may shelter,” one of the Langston men said, interrupting them.

  They quickly found it. Wood, not yet soaked, was gathered, and a small fire was made with it and some scraps of dried hay from within the shed. The birds were set down in a wooden enclosure that was used to contain straw for bedding the cows. The shed was crowded and soon warm with the press of bodies. They were all hungry and tired, and eager for dry clothing.

  “What do you intend to do with de Manneville?” Rolf asked when they were finally settled down to wait.

  Hugh smiled slowly. “The people who imprisoned Belle and me were believed by the local populace to be sorcerers. They traded on their family’s reputation to keep their serfs in check and their neighbors at bay. Richard swore fealty to them, and they promised that he should have Langston. The first time he came, after Isabelle sent him packing, he returned to these alleged sorcerers most angry. They reassured him if he would be patient, he would get his way in the matter. How they laughed at him behind his back, for they were, of course, frauds,” Hugh told Rolf, making light of the whole matter. “I, however, shall convince Richard de Manneville and his toady that I have been given some magic powers, and will punish him with my magic if he does not return home to Normandy and remain there.”

  “He will never believe it!” Rolf said skeptically.

  “Oh, yes he will.” Belle giggled. “When I was a little girl I always remember that Richard was fearful of certain things. If a black cat crossed his path—and we had an old tabby who kept producing black kittens—he would cross himself, turn about three times, and spit. If it thundered in winter, which it sometimes does, he would claim that it was the devil making noise. He is afraid of anything to which he cannot give a logical explanation. I am sure that with a suitable ruse, Hugh will be able to convince him that he now possesses magic powers. Nonetheless, I still think we should kill him,” Isabelle concluded. “My brother cannot be trusted.”

  “Let us try to conclude this matter peacefully,” Hugh said.

  They waited until it was almost dark, then rode down to the river, where the ferryman was awaiting them. The rain had finally stopped, but a fine mist was rising from the water. The Langston men were ferried across first so that in the event of a surprise attack their lord and lady would not be undefended. Rolf went in the first boatload. The last crossing was made by Hugh and Isabelle and their two falconers. The boat slid up onto the beach, and Isabelle prodded Gris off, followed by her companions. Slowly, they rode through Langston village. In the dimly lighted doorways the villagers stood in silence, but they were smiling, every last one of them.

  The wind rose, and once again it began to rain as they made their way up the hill to the keep. As they had suspected, the gates were barred. Rolf led them around the walls to where the second tower now rose. Pulling away carefully arranged undergrowth, he revealed a door. Taking a key from his tunic, he fit it in the door’s lock. The door swung quietly open on well-oiled hinges. Dismounting, the others tied their horses within the shelter of the trees where they could not be seen and followed Rolf de Briard into the tunnel. He waited until they were all inside, motioning them with his hand to move forward in the passageway, and then locked the door behind him.

  Taking torches from a stone container, he lit them one by one from the single stone lamp burning in the dim corridor, passing them along so that they would be able to light their way. Then, coming to the head of the line, he said, “Follow me!”

  They hurried down the stone tunnel. The air was still, cold, and slightly fetid. They walked for a few short minutes, and then before them they could make out the outline of another door. Without warning it swung open and light poured into the passage. A faceless figure loomed in the opening for a short space, and both Hugh and Rolf reached for their swords.

  “I thought you would come this way, my lord,” Father Bernard’s voice called out. “Welcome home! Is that my lady Isabelle I see with you?” The priest ushered them from the tunnel into a square hallway which quickly filled up with the Langston men.

  “Where are we?” Hugh asked the cleric.

  “This is the entrance to New Tower from the bailey, my lord,” he answered. Then he let a tapestry that had covered the tunnel entry fall back against the door and pushed an oaken table in front of it. “Your mother is awaiting you upstairs, lady,” he told Isabelle. “I have prayed long and hard for the safe return of you both.”

  “Your prayers did not go unanswered, good father,” Isabelle responded graciously. There was no need to say that she wished God had worked faster. The priest, for all his upbringing in the Norman court, was an innocent. He could not possibly ever imagine what she and Hugh had been through. Instead she ran up the stairs to find her mother awaiting her at the top.

  Alette took one look at her daughter and burst into tears. “Praise be to God and His Blessed Mother Mary!” she sobbed.

  Isabelle embraced her, scolding her as she did so. “Madame, must you always weep and wail? I have returned safe and sound to you, and you will soon have a second grandchild to spoil. Where is my son? I would see him this very instant!”

  “The children are sleeping, Isabelle. You cannot wake Hughie. He is still just a babe, and you will frighten him. Then I shall not be able to get him back to sleep. You must wait until morning.”

  “But I have not seen my son in over a year!” Belle protested.

  “That is not my fault,” Alette said, “nor is it Hughie’s fault that his mother ran off and deserted him when he was barely past his first year. You will wait until the morning. I will not have the nursery roused at this hour. Besides, I want to know how soon your husband will rid us of Richard de Manneville.”

  “Hugh will have
to tell you that, Mama,” Belle said. She was disappointed at being denied access to her child, but knew in this particular instance her mother was absolutely correct. She looked at Alette, and a smile lit Isabelle’s face. “You are with child, too!” She laughed. “How many will this make, madame?”

  “Three,” Alette said smugly. “I hope it is a daughter this time, for I should like to have a daughter to comfort me in my old age.”

  “Meaning,” Belle said, just a trifle offended, “that you do not believe you can rely upon me, eh, madame?”

  “You are too independent a female, Isabelle,” her mother replied. “I would need you, and you would be off on some adventure or other. I want a meek, gentle daughter who will grow into a woman like me,” Alette said, “not some hellion who would be careening all over the countryside.” She folded her hands over her burgeoning belly. “Now, where have you been all these months?”

  Isabelle carefully offered her mother the gentle version of the truth that she and Hugh had decided upon. When she had finished, Alette nodded, and, to her surprise, agreed that her daughter had been absolutely correct in following her instincts and going after her husband.

  “I would not have thought you would believe me right in this matter,” Belle said, “for, as you have pointed out, I will go my own way.”

  “Hugh could not have found himself again had it not been for you, Isabelle,” Alette said. “It is quite clear you did the right thing.”

  Hugh and Rolf now entered the little Family Hall in New Tower. Alette ran to her husband, holding her face up for a kiss which he gladly gave, wrapping his arms about her protectively.

  “You have been most brave, as well as clever, my love,” Rolf said to her proudly.