Hellion

by Bertrice Small

  “I am not brave,” Alette said. “I have never been afraid of Richard, my lord. He is a coward in his heart. How will you kill him?” she demanded. “And when?”

  “It may not be necessary to kill him,” Hugh interjected.

  “If you do not kill him, he will never leave you in peace,” Alette warned her son-in-law. “That is the way the de Manneville men are. Welcome home, Hugh,” Alette said as an afterthought. “Isabelle has told me of your adventures.”

  “Where are the Langston men?” Isabelle asked her husband, suddenly noting their absence.

  “They have slipped out of New Tower to the barracks,” Hugh explained. “They must seize your brother’s four men and secure them so that there is no alarm given. Then one of our men will slip into the Great Hall to ascertain the state your brother and his henchman are in at the moment. If they are not drunk yet, they will be helped along by our people. When they have finally been rendered unconscious, we will move them across the river to that cow byre to sleep off their excess of wine.”

  “Where is Agneatha?” Isabelle wondered aloud, looking to her mother. “Is she safe?”

  Alette nodded. “She is hidden in the village, for she is far too pretty to be around your brother, or Luc de Sai. We will send for her, my daughter, and glad she will be to see you.”

  A Langston man arrived shortly thereafter to tell Hugh Fauconier that the Norman men-at-arms had been taken and were even now locked away. The servants had been told that their true lord and lady were safe within the keep. Richard de Manneville and Luc de Sai were being fed the best of the keep’s wines, laced with an herb that would make them sleep a deep sleep for the next ten hours.

  “It will be a while before they can be moved,” Hugh said. “I think you should get some rest, ma Belle. If I could, I would help you out of those wet clothes.” His eyes twinkled at her.

  “I want a hot bath,” she replied.

  “Not until we clear your brother and his companion from the hall, chérie. As I recall, the last time you desired a hot bath you got into difficulties.” His voice was very low, so that only she could hear his words. “This time you must possess your soul of patience.”

  “Only this one time,” she said with a small smile.

  “Will you rest?” Alette asked her daughter.

  “Nay, not yet,” Isabelle replied. “Though my cape is wet, I am fairly dry beneath. I would like some wine, though, and something to eat, madame. Come, Rolf de Briard, and tell me of Langston’s prosperity during our absence.” She removed her cloak and settled herself before a large fireplace that burned hot with large logs. Alette pressed a goblet of warm, mulled wine into Isabelle’s hand, and then busied herself slicing bread and cheese.

  “The summer you left, as you will recall,” Rolf began, “was very bad. The crops did poorly, both grain and fruit. We had much animal disease, and consequently death among the cattle, although the sheep survived. On St. Lawrence Day morning there came a horrific wind such as none you have ever before seen. It did tremendous damage, and there wasn’t a roof left in any of the villages. This year has been better, although the king’s taxes to pay for his war with Normandy do not help us recover. No one is spared. He will wring the coin from all of us, and we in turn must wring it from our serfs. I exempt them where I can, and I have made certain that they understand that we all must sacrifice for England. Most understand, and even last winter I saw that no one starved. We do not have rebellion at Langston as on some estates.”

  “You have done very well, my lord,” Isabelle said, “and I thank you for it. Without you, Langston would have fallen prey to who knows what. Hugh and I will not leave it again.”

  “Hugh owes the king service, Isabelle,” Rolf said. “If he calls us, we will go. It would be treason to do otherwise.”

  Isabelle sipped her wine thoughtfully, but said nothing. There was nothing to say. She could only pray Henry Beauclerc would forget about Hugh Fauconier and Rolf de Briard when the time came to take Normandy back from his brother, Robert. More tired than she realized, she fell asleep by the fire, her goblet tilting from her hand, to spill the remainder of its contents upon the floor.

  Hugh took the cup from her fingers and then sat down to eat. “Let her be until we have removed the intruders from the keep,” he said quietly. “Then I will waken her, and we will seek our own bed after all these months.”

  “The story she told me was simple, yet I sense there is more to your adventures,” Alette said with a perception he had not anticipated. “Is there more to your tale than my daughter would tell?”

  “If there is,” Hugh said grimly, “it is better you not ask ma Belle. We have told you only what you need to know. There is no more for either of us to say, Alette. Do not, I beg you, allow your curiosity to gain the better of your good sense.” Hugh Fauconier could only imagine his mother-in-law with her delicate sensibilities learning of the perversions practiced by Guy d’ Bretagne and his sister. The knowledge of those depravities would have shocked Alette terribly. He would not even discuss them with Rolf de Briard, his best friend. He and Isabelle, however, would have to speak on them eventually.

  Near midnight one of the men-at-arms came to tell the two knights that both Richard de Manneville and Luc de Sai were sleeping heavily in the hall. Hugh and Rolf went immediately to oversee the removal of the two intruders. They grinned at each other upon entering the hall and hearing the noisy snores coming from the two Normans. The drugged and sleeping men were carried outside and their bodies laid in strong slings which were suspended between a pair of horses. The animals and their burdens were led from the bailey of the keep, down the hill, and through the now-slumbering village onto the keep’s ferry, which made its way across the darkened river to the other side. There the horses were led off the little vessel and to the cowshed where Hugh and his party had earlier sheltered. Richard de Manneville and Luc de Sai were then removed from their transport and placed, still soundly sleeping, in the straw.

  “How I should like to be here on the morrow when our two friends awaken.” Rolf chuckled. “I wonder what they will think happened to them.”

  “They’ll be confused at first, I’ve not a doubt,” Hugh replied, “but then they will decide that they somehow got across the river themselves in their drunken state. The first doubts will begin to set in when they recross the Blyth and reenter the keep to find us in possession of it. It is then that the game will truly begin.”

  They returned back across the river with their men and horses. There was a new lightness of mood that was almost palpable as Hugh Fauconier, lord of Langston, rode into the bailey. The gates of the keep were barred once more, and Hugh went to find his wife, to return her to their own hall. Kneeling by her chair, he kissed her cheek.

  Belle opened her eyes slowly. “Is it done?” she asked.

  “Aye, ’tis done, ma Belle. Richard de Manneville has been dispossessed along with his henchman,” he told her, drawing her up. “Come, and let me take you to our own chamber.” He picked her up and walked from New Tower back into the original tower of the keep. Isabelle’s head lay quietly against his shoulder. She was very, very tired.

  Agneatha appeared out of the shadows, a smile upon her face. “Welcome home, my lord. Welcome home, my lady.” Her gaze flew to Lind, and the look he returned her told Agneatha all she needed to know. He yet loved her. She struggled to regain her composure, her own moist look silently saying what he wanted to know; that she loved him, too. “While you was taking that intruder off,” Agneatha said, “I roused the maids and we cleared the solar of his things and put fresh linens upon the bed, my lord. You’ll both sleep well in your own bed this night. Shall I stay and help my lady with her garments?”

  “I think she’s too tired to disrobe, lass,” Hugh said in kindly tones. “Go to your own bed, and in the morning your mistress will greet you happily, I have not a doubt. I’ll just take her boots, and tuck her in beneath the coverlet. As you can see, she’s already asleep.”

>   Isabelle could hear their voices. Familiar voices. Instinctively she knew she was safe, and with a murmur slid into a comfortable sleep.

  Awakening with the first light, Isabelle wondered for a moment where she was, and then the wonderful reality came to her. She was home! Home at Langston in her own bed!

  “You are awake.” Hugh’s voice sounded next to her.

  “We are home,” she said happily.

  “Aye, but before we may take our ease and slip back into our old lives, we have several matters to settle, ma Belle, the first of which is your brother. Will you help me in our little deception?”

  “Of course, my lord,” she replied, “but I think you a fool not to kill him. It may be the end of the matter for you, but it will not be for Richard. He will trouble us as long as he lives over Langston.”

  “Nonetheless, chérie, I am lord here, and it is my will that is law. This is the way I wish to settle the matter,” Hugh told her.

  His tone irritated her. He was being a pompous fool, Isabelle decided. Richard de Manneville was dangerous, and you did not end such a danger by turning your back upon it. There was certain to come another time when Hugh Fauconier would regret that he sent Richard de Manneville packing upon his horse instead of in a wooden box. “I seem to recall hearing Agneatha’s voice last night before I was totally lost to sleep,” Belle said to her husband, turning the subject neatly.

  “You did,” he replied, “and I will wager she is even now nearby.”

  He was correct. Agneatha came bustling from the bathing room.

  “I’ve a bath all ready for you, my lady,” she said as if Isabelle had never even been away. “Ohh, what a fright you gave me when I awoke that morning at Winchester and you was gone. You were very naughty. I fretted for weeks afterward, wondering what had happened to you.”

  Isabelle bathed beneath the eye of her servant, and the two spoke of the version of Belle’s adventures she was telling everyone. Once her beautiful red-gold hair was washed, dried, and neatly braided into a single plait, Belle dressed in her favorite green, then hurried with Agneatha to see Hughie.

  “You ain’t going to believe how he’s grown, lady. Ada, his nursemaid, took real good care of him. He walks, and he can even talk, and him not yet three! Everyone loves him. Old Ancient Albert would sit outside his cottage in his last days and wait for wee Lord Hughie to come by. He’d carve little wooden animals with his old gnarled fingers for the small laddie.”

  They hurried through the Great Hall and across the bailey to New Tower. Upstairs in the nursery Isabelle’s eyes widened. It could not be! Yet she knew it was. The small boy brought by the faithful Ada was his father’s mirror image. Isabelle held out her hand.

  “Hugh, my son, come and greet your mother.”

  The boy hid shyly behind Ada’s skirts.

  Isabelle smiled softly. “Hughie, mon petit,” she said, “in the springtime, perhaps on your very birthday, I shall give you a little brother or sister for a present. Would you like that?”

  Hugh the Younger thought a moment, and then he nodded solemnly. “Can I play with it?” he asked her.

  “In time, my son,” she said, enfolding the boy into her warm embrace. “Ahhh, bébé, I have missed you!”

  Hugh Fauconier came then, equally amazed to find a small boy when he distinctly remembered a chubby-cheeked infant. “I am your father, young Hugh,” he told the child, who looked up awestruck at the tall man. Hugh bent down and lifted his son up into his arms. “Men,” he said, “should always speak face-to-face.” Then, kissing his child, he set him back down again and looked to Belle. “Let us go into the hall to await our guests, lady,” he suggested.

  In the hall the servants’ faces were all wreathed in smiles as they greeted their lord and their lady. Fresh sweet cider was served along with eggs in cream and dill, oat stirabout with raisins, fresh bread, newly churned butter, and a large honeycomb. Isabelle’s appetite was the best it had been in many months, although the experience of feeding herself again was still a bit strange. Hugh also enjoyed his meal. He had posted a lookout, he told his wife, and they would have plenty of warning when Richard came back across the river.

  When they had finished their meal, Hugh called for all his servants to come into the hall. He then explained to them that he had been held captive along with his wife for these many months in Brittany. He told them just what they needed to know about the relationship between Richard de Manneville and the d’ Bretagnes. “Now,” he said, “when my brother-in-law returns to the keep this day, I will convince him that I removed him by means of sorcery and that my powers are strong enough to punish him should he ever attempt to gain control of Langston again. Since I do not want my own people to fear me, I tell you that there is no magic, but Richard de Manneville must not know that. He is superstitious and will be afraid. He will go and not trouble us again.” Hugh looked out over the upturned faces. “Now trust me, and go about your daily chores,” he told them.

  Toward the noon hour word was brought that Richard de Manneville was seen in the company of Luc de Sai on the other side of the river, calling for the ferryman to come and get them. The watch on the battlements monitored the two men’s progress as they returned to the keep.

  Upon entering the hall, de Manneville shouted for wine, and then he stopped, the color draining from his face as he saw Hugh Fauconier and his sister Isabelle standing behind the high board.

  “Well, brother,” Isabelle said in distinctly unfriendly tones, “I see you returned despite my warning to you last time you visited. Are you so stupid that you do not learn? You are not welcome at Langston, and yet I return from Brittany to learn you have penned up my mother and my son in New Tower and are threatening them. It will not do, Richard. It simply will not do.”

  “You were in Brittany?” Richard de Manneville was ashen. “What were you doing in Brittany, you little bitch?”

  “Seeking my husband, whom you lured to Manneville and then gave into the hands of Vivienne and Guy d’ Bretagne,” Isabelle said. “You have much to answer for to us, brother, but my lord will now attend to you and your companion, Luc de Sai.”

  “Did you sleep well, Richard?” Hugh asked innocently. “Was your cow byre comfortable?” He laughed insinuatingly.

  “How did you know where we slept?” the Sieur de Manneville asked nervously. “I don’t even know how we got to such a place.”

  “I put you there,” Hugh said softly. “ ’Tis a little trick my friend, Guy d’ Bretagne, taught me, my lord.”

  “Taught you?” Richard was now openly frightened.

  “A small bit of magic,” Hugh told him. “ ’Twas nothing, really. Was your friend nearby? Sometimes when one does this little trick, it does not always happen properly. Were you also in the shed, Luc de Sai, or were you outside it?” Hugh cocked an eyebrow questioningly.

  “We were on opposite sides of the shed,” Luc de Sai answered slowly. His dark eyes were filled with fear.

  “Good!” Hugh replied. “When Guy d’ Bretagne first taught me that trick, I transported a servant from Guy’s magic room to the peak of La Citadelle’s highest tower instead of into the Great Hall. Poor fellow was so frightened he fell to his death, but then he was only a serf. We all have plenty of serfs to spare, eh, Richard?” The rough voice had the ring of truth to it.

  The Sieur de Manneville shuddered. “I do not believe you,” he quavered.

  Hugh smiled a slow, devilish smile. “Do you not?” he rasped. “Shall I transport you both back to Manneville, then, Richard? Of course I am not really as good at long distances as Guy d’ Bretagne was. You could easily end up in mid-Channel. Do you swim well, de Sai?”

  “My lord!” Luc de Sai began to babble, terrified. “I will leave Langston this very moment, but do not, I beg you, place a spell upon me! You will never see my face again, I swear it!”

  Hugh seemed taller than normal to all those in the hall. He looked down coldly at Luc de Sai and told him, “Get you gone!” Then, gazing at
his brother-in-law, he suddenly snapped his fingers, and at once there was a small flash of blue flame that seemed to spurt from his fingertips. “Well, Brother Richard?” he asked.

  Richard de Manneville’s eyes widened at the burst of fire from Hugh Fauconier’s hand. His heart began to pound violently. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Then he collapsed upon the floor.

  “Is he dead?” Isabelle demanded of the servant who knelt by her brother’s side, seeking a pulse.

  “Aye, lady, he is,” came the startled reply.

  “Good!” Belle said triumphantly.

  Luc de Sai took to his heels, running from the hall as fast as his legs would carry him. They would not see him again.

  “Do not bury Richard’s body on English soil,” Isabelle said firmly to her husband. “Let his men take him home to Manneville. It is late autumn, and the body will not rot before it gets there. My sister-in-law will not long mourn his passing.”

  The servants hurried to do her bidding, and the body was removed from the Great Hall of the keep, to be placed in a box and returned to Normandy by Richard’s four men-at-arms. Isabelle wondered if her brother would reach Manneville or if the men-at-arms would abandon his body along the road and seek service elsewhere. At least Langston would not be bothered by Richard again.

  “How did you make the fire come from your fingers?” Belle asked Hugh curiously.

  He smiled at her. “Some things are best kept secret, ma Belle,” Hugh told her. “I did not mean for so simple a trick to frighten your brother to death, but his own fear of magic did him in, I suspect.”

  “He was a fool,” Isabelle said. “I know you think me hard, my lord, but I am glad he is dead. He will trouble us no more, and now we may take up our lives anew without fear.”

  “There are other things we must settle before that can happen, ma Belle,” Hugh told her seriously.

  “Not today,” she said. “Let me enjoy being home for at least today, and then we will talk, my lord.” Then she left him, hurrying through the hall and out into a bright, late autumn day.