Aubery laughed. “Partly because it is not wise to try to disabuse a king of a notion he has taken, but mostly because it was a task I knew I could do well, probably better than any man coming directly from England. I now have some knowledge of Gascony, and Lord Raymond d’Aix, who is my father-by-marriage, can supply any information in which I am wanting. It was my pleasure and my duty to do all in my power to serve my prince and my queen.”
Rather against his will, Edward was impressed. He was mostly aware of Sir Aubery’s easy self-confidence, which somehow gave him a feeling of confidence in himself also. Although Edward had not yet learned the difference between Aubery’s directness and the way many covered with exaggerated respect the hidden contempt of a grown man for a boy, Edward knew that he felt comfortable with Aubery. At the same time he was annoyed by the lack of deference in Aubery’s manner. There was nothing of the courtier in him. No courtier would have made that remark about disabusing a king of a notion.
Edward was torn between attraction, irritation, hurt pride that his mother would connive with his father behind his back, and a reluctant loyalty to the man he had chosen to head the forty knights serving as their bodyguard. He knew his mother had not approved Sir Savin of Radanage, and he had been sure Aubery’s appointment by his father had been prearranged to frustrate his will. He was not completely satisfied with Sir Savin himself any longer, but the man had been recommended as an accredited champion on the tourney field. Edward felt his mother did not understand the need for a powerful fighter as leader. To her the results of the celebratory tourney were unimportant, but Edward felt a major defeat would reflect unfavorably upon the prowess of the English as a whole.
“That is all very well,” Edward said to Aubery, “but you were appointed as my champion also. There are many who know Gascony, but I have no desire to see the arms of England shamed.”
“Neither do I,” Aubery replied, meeting the prince’s challenging look squarely. “If you have with you a man who can beat me on the tourney field, I will gladly yield my place.”
“Those are high words, Sir Aubery,” Edward snapped. “Will you repeat them to Sir Savin of Radanage?”
“Who?” Aubery asked, his face darkening.
The name brought the man to Aubery’s mind’s eye, and rage came with the image because there was nothing in Savin’s looks—no more than there had been in his own father’s—to betray his inner evil. Savin only looked a proper man, shorter than Aubery but broader and stronger, with rather mild features. He had lost most of an ear in some battle, so he said, but Aubery wondered if it could have been clipped for some felony, which gave an odd, lopsided look to his head. Nonetheless, his snub nose and small, pursed lips gave him a rather guileless expression, guileless until one looked carefully into the dull, mud-colored eyes and understood what was there.
The prince repeated himself with the embellishment of a few pithy remarks about the difference between courtiers’ manners and ability in arms. Aubery heard, but at the time he made no sense of what Edward was saying, because his mind was too busy. His first impulse was to ask with horror who had recommended to the prince a man so unfit for his company, a greedy, dishonorable man who thought it clever to seize a helpless child’s property. He bit back the words because he remembered that it had been through the king’s half brother, Guy de Lusignan, that the wardship of Harold of Herron had been granted to Savin, regardless of the boy’s desire to go to his uncle and the testimony of Aubery and others that Savin was not a fit guardian for the boy or his lands.
In desperation, not desiring Savin on his doorstep, for Herron was less than two miles from Ilmer, Aubery had brought the case to Richard of Cornwall, who arranged to have the wardship revoked before irreparable damage was done to Harold or his property. At the time, Guy de Lusignan seemed to be indifferent since he had kept the bribe Savin had paid him to get the wardship. Still, Aubery knew that Lusignan did not like to be bested by Cornwall in any contest for Henry’s favor. Aubery preferred, unless it were forced upon him, not to stir Guy’s memory of even so small a defeat. And, although Guy was in Gascony and could not have recommended Savin personally, it might have been some friend or hanger-on of his who presented the man to Edward. There was also the problem of proving what he said about Savin was true.
Under the present circumstances Aubery decided not to dig up the past. Instead, he smiled grimly and said, “I will not step aside for Sir Savin. Ask him, my lord, if he wishes to contest against me for the honor.”
“That is a round answer,” Edward said, again stirred by reluctant admiration. “You sound as if you know Sir Savin.”
“I do. He is a neighbor. Radanage is not so far from my own keep at Ilmer.”
“Then you have seen him fight and think yourself the better?” Edward asked on a challenging note.
“I have met him on the field and been proven the better,” Aubery replied flatly.
He did not say how near a thing that battle had been, that he had been so hurt and exhausted he could not summon strength for one last hard blow to finish the work and had accepted the yielding of a man he would rather have killed. He had been fortunate to escape uncrippled and with his life. On the other hand, four years had passed since then. Aubery knew himself to be stronger and more experienced, while Sir Savin, more than ten years his senior, was four years older and passing his prime.
Aubery did not fear a meeting. He was sure this time he would kill the man and rid his neighborhood of a dangerous pest. He also knew that four years would not have reduced Sir Savin’s powers by much. He would pay a high price for his victory. Thus, he was not disappointed when Sir Savin did not choose to pick up the gauntlet he had thrown down, on the grounds that it would be disrespectful to challenge the king’s will. For a few days Aubery hoped that Savin would retreat altogether and go back to England, but Aubery knew he had not done that, because his name was not stricken from the roll of knights. At least he was staying out of the way. Had Aubery been less distracted, he would have realized this was out of character for Savin, but Aubery’s unaccustomed role of courtier was taking all his attention.
It was easy enough for Savin to avoid Aubery in the huge army of knights, priests, merchants, petitioners noble and common, and servants of every degree from high-bred ladies-in-waiting and elegant courtiers to laundry maids, cooks’ helpers, and collectors of night soil who now swarmed around the royal quarters. Still, the glimpses Savin caught of Aubery increased his hatred manyfold, for he imagined himself in Aubery’s place, mingling with the great and probably gaining lands and money by discreet hints and suggestions to the king and queen. But Savin was intensely practical. Hatred would not have kept him in Gascony. He did not retreat because he felt he still retained the prince’s favor and was reasonably sure that as long as he kept that, any accident to Aubery would restore Savin to his position.
A strong satisfaction upheld this belief. Savin was certain he had turned against Aubery the statement that Aubery had been proven the better knight on the field. When Edward repeated it, Savin had managed to laugh, although his throat was bitter with bile. “Well, well,” he had said indulgently, shrugging a little as if Edward should have understood without explanation, “if he wishes to say he bested me, let him. It was no quarrel à I’outrance. I already had many tourney prizes, and he was…what, twenty, twenty-one? He had hardly won his spurs. He fought well—yes, but he would not yield no matter how often I beat him down. Was I to kill a boy for nothing?”
The statement did not fit very well with others that Savin had made to the prince, but this did not trouble him. Although his manner was deeply respectful, inwardly Savin was contemptuous of Edward’s youth and inexperience. He put down the slightest uneasiness in the prince’s attitude to an admiration the heir to the throne felt it unfitting to show.
This was not all self-delusion. Edward did admire Sir Savin’s ability in arms, which Savin had been at pains to demonstrate while they were in England. He enjoyed listening to Savin
’s stories of tournaments and war, although he did suspect that here and there Savin had painted his accounts in slightly brighter colors than actually existed. Still, Savin had the prizes to support his claims, and none of the other knights contested his orders. However, Edward noticed that they did not contest Aubery’s orders either, and most of them smiled more and talked more freely to Aubery. But this pricked Edward’s pride, too. He did not relish the knowledge that the men preferred his father’s choice to his. He told himself they were only buttering up the king’s new favorite, which reinforced Edward’s loyalty to Savin.
It was not all Edward’s fault. If Aubery had paid him more attention, he could have rid himself of Savin by drawing Edward’s favor to himself. Had Aubery been less harried, he would gladly have applied himself to weaning Edward away from Savin, but Henry, having found a willing horse, was using it. The king wished to take his wife and son on a tour of his newly pacified province, which was reasonable, because it would relieve some of the burden of supporting the royal entourage from Bordeaux and Henry’s own purse. However, it was necessary to make elaborate security arrangements when a king visited men who had been his enemies only a few months earlier, and Henry sent Aubery to make the arrangements.
The royal party moved slowly from place to place all through July and August, coming to rest in Bayonne at the beginning of September. Then it took several weeks simply to organize the cortege that would continue on to Castile with Edward and his mother, to gather the wains and the draft animals to draw them, to arrange for provisioning, and to negotiate safe passage through the small domains that divided Gascony from Castile and Navarre.
Aubery thanked God that he was not responsible for that. He found it enough to be required to arrange for guarding his royal charges and the many chests of rich clothing and jewels. Some of these were the property of Edward and Eleanor, some belonged to the noblemen and noblewomen accompanying the prince and queen, many, however, were destined as gifts for Alfonso, little Eleanor, and the principal ministers, churchmen, and nobles of the court of Castile.
Indeed, Aubery was so busy that Sir Savin faded to a dark spot in the back of his mind, recalled as an additional specific source of uneasiness only when Edward, who took an active interest in all military arrangements, including those as simple as guarding a baggage train, mentioned the man. In the weeks while they were in Bayonne the prince talked of Savin frequently, almost as if he were challenging Aubery to protest against his keeping such company.
But in those early days while Aubery was trying to determine the actual limits of his responsibility and his power within the contradictory orders and advice he was receiving from the king, the queen, the noblemen, the prelates of the Church who were escorting Edward and Eleanor, and the clerks who had made most of the arrangements, he would not have cared if Edward were keeping company with the devil. In fact, he would have been delighted if the prince, the king, the queen, and the entire party had all been snatched up by the prince of hell.
It was Fenice who was the greatest help. She was not involved in any way in either the diplomatic or physical plans for the journey, but she did have the queen’s ear. Having welcomed her warmly for her father’s sake, Eleanor soon became very fond of Fenice for her own. All the queen’s ladies were in theory honored to perform any service for her, no matter how menial. In practice Eleanor had to be careful what she asked of them. Most regarded their own breeding as equal to hers, and sometimes they could trace their lineage back to greater kings than she. There were strains and jealousies, too, not only for her own favor but owing to their husbands’ or fathers’ relationships with the king.
Fenice was apart from all this. Her family was the same as the queen’s, although she would never have made that claim. Her husband was no great lord seeking still more power. Indeed, Fenice knew Aubery’s greatest desire was to escape what was being thrust at him. Moreover, Fenice was accustomed to service, to running errands for Lady Alys, to instructing the common maidservants. She did not feel that such duties were demeaning to her, and her gratitude for the kindness and affection with which she was treated, together with her guilt for the way she believed Eleanor was being deceived, made her serve with a lighthearted eagerness that lifted the queen’s own spirits.
Best of all, Fenice would not quarrel with the other women. She did not cavil at the lowest seat nor at being placed farthest from the queen at formal presentations. She was quite willing to serve the other ladies as she served the queen if she had no other duties. There had been some hard feelings when Fenice was first presented and identified as the queen’s kinswoman, but the feeling slowly dissipated as even the most jealous of Eleanor’s women accepted that Fenice asked for nothing and truly did not desire anything more than she had.
Thus, when Fenice looked downcast, Eleanor did not try to look the other way, fearing a spate of hurt pride or petty spite. She asked at once what was troubling her niece and was told simply and directly of Aubery’s problems. The queen did not make light of them, understanding that the responsibility was heavy and more than Aubery was accustomed to bearing, but she was able to offer sure advice on those to whom Aubery must listen closely and those who should be thanked heartily and ignored. In addition, Eleanor had a word with this one and that, including the king, and with sweet smiles, puzzled frowns, and gentle, chiding laughter, she managed so that the pressures on Aubery decreased.
When they finally left Bayonne, she spoke to Aubery herself, assuring him that the final authority was hers and that he would not be judged on others’ complaints but on how the journey progressed. That day the assurance did not provide him with much comfort because, in fact, there was little progress, owing to general confusion about duties, a sudden rainstorm, several attacks of hysteria about indispensable items that had been left behind when the possessions of the queen’s cortege had been separated from those of the king’s, and innumerable other causes. However, John Mansel, who had joined them in Bayonne, bringing with him the final itinerary of the party, was well accustomed to royal journeys. Thus, the first stop was no more than seven miles from their point of departure.
Mansel, despite the large quantity of extra baggage he brought, was a most welcome addition to the party as far as Aubery was concerned. Although many hated the king’s favorite clerk—and he had certainly collected an unusual number of priestly benefices, to which he paid no more attention than that necessary to ensure that the tithes reached his purse—he was calm and extremely efficient. It was not surprising that he was one of the king’s most trusted agents, and there were few willing to cross him. Since Aubery was his choice, Mansel was prepared to support his decisions.
Between the queen’s marks of trust and Mansel’s, the small sullennesses, acts of petty spite and passive resistance which marked any man’s attempts to organize others, abated. The normal effect of familiarity with expected tasks also helped, and within a week of leaving Bayonne, Aubery found he was no longer beset with questions and complaints every minute of the day.
Now when Edward approached, he was able to greet the prince with a smile and was very willing to discuss the arrangements he had made and why he had made them. The knights in his charge took different positions with reference to the cortege when traveling across open, flat land, wooded or hilly areas. There were special horn calls for particular formations in case a narrow winding track should hide one portion of the party from the remainder, or should trees or hills distort voice commands. Aubery explained to Edward everything he had done and planned, unconsciously imitating the way Hereford had explained such matters to him. When they talked of such things, the prince did not mention Sir Savin.
The cortege did move more quickly as the party gained experience in working with one another, but with stopping for formal entertainments and the deteriorating condition of the roads as the autumn rains began, it was October before they came to the border of Castile. Twice during the journey suspicious groups had been sighted, but Aubery’s defense was ready
so swiftly and they were so formidable a party that the threats—if they had been threats—dispersed without attack.
The prince was very disappointed, but the responsible members of the party understood and showered compliments on Aubery. Nonetheless, he was the happiest person in the world when the banners and ranked knights of the King of Castile came into sight. It was still his duty to see that no casual theft diminished the possessions of any member of the party, but responsibility for resistance to attack, either to steal or to take hostages for ransom, had passed out of his hands.
Sir Savin was also gravely disappointed at the lameness of their passage through territories where he had hoped one of Alfonso’s or Henry’s enemies would try to take advantage of the possibility of seizing Edward and Eleanor. He had intended to use the confusion that would ensue to strike at Aubery if he could find an opportunity of doing so undetected. The meeting with the King of Castile ended that hope, but Savin had not given up. There was still the tournament to celebrate Edward’s knighting.
Actually, Savin was no longer so sure that he would be appointed in Aubery’s place by Edward’s favor. The frequency with which the prince sought his company had diminished steadily, but still, Savin was certain there was no one else in the company of knights capable of acting as the prince’s champion. If he could only arrange to have Aubery killed or disabled before the tournament or even early in the jousting, he could offer himself as substitute. However, he realized that his opportunities for damaging Aubery before the tournament would be few. Aubery disliked and distrusted him intensely, so Aubery was wary of him. There was no way Savin could change that, nor in this foreign country could he find companions with whom he could set up an ambush.
As they moved toward Burgos where Alfonso had decreed that the celebrations of Edward’s knighting and marriage would be held, Savin devised and abandoned one plan after another. Little as he liked the notion, he finally decided it would be necessary for him to make the attack during the tourney itself. It would not be difficult, he thought, to arrange that Aubery’s lance be faulty. In a formal jousting to celebrate a happy occasion, there would be no special care taken. No one would fear treachery, for there was little to be won or lost.
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