“I suppose so.” Alinor made a moue of distaste. “But still, not to desire to know…”
“My father did not encourage any interest beyond the care and maintenance of Lessai,” Alex said quickly in his mother’s defense.
Alinor seemed to recognize what had called forth his sharp remark and seemed to like him all the better for his defense of his mother. She sighed and smiled.
“I suppose I am being unfair. My grandfather taught me to know everything so I could hold Roselynde and make my vassals and castellans obey me. He liked strong women.”
Simon laughed. “And Alinor and I have fought to a truce. If I can keep her from donning armor and leading the men in battle, I feel I have won a victory.”
“Pah!” Alinor said, leaning down swiftly and kissing Simon’s nose. “One thing my grandmother taught me was the art of the possible. Why should I try to do what I am not suited for when I can get a big, strong, loving fool to do it for me at no more cost than a kiss and a hug?”
“I would do it even without the kiss and the hug. It is my duty as sheriff of Sussex to protect your property.”
Simon spoke with great, if obviously spurious, gravity. Alex’s breath drew in as he realized his uncle was jesting, teasing his wife.
“Yes.” Alinor grinned at her husband. “You were cross with me, but I was wise to purchase the sheriff’s office.”
Simon groaned. “Some day, perhaps on my deathbed, you will allow me to have the last word.”
Alex had been listening to this exchange with eyes so wide that the eyeballs felt in danger of falling out onto the floor. His father and mother had what was considered a good marriage. It was rare for Sir Pierre and his wife to disagree, even rarer for him to chastise her, but the warmth and laughter that sparkled between his uncle and Lady Alinor sent a terrible pang of longing through him.
That light and laughing love was as far beyond him as the moon or the sun. Even the less heartwarming relationship his father and mother had was far beyond him. Little more than a beggar, with nothing but his arms and a half-dead horse, what had he with which to tempt any man to give daughter or sister to be his wife?
Alinor laughed again, and before Simon could turn away, snatched a kiss full on his lips. Alex saw Simon respond and then damp down his spurt of desire and swat his wife firmly on the buttocks. She giggled and twisted away, then said with great dignity that she would leave them to their business as she had her own. Simon sighed ostentatiously, but Alex saw his gaze follow his wife until she was out of his line of sight.
Simon then uttered a much briefer, much more sincere sigh, and patted the letter Alex had delivered to him. “I would,” he said, “have found a place for you in memory of your mother’s many kindnesses to me, but there is the problem of a likely war between France and this realm.”
“Not if what I heard on my way here is true,” Alex said hurriedly. “There may be fighting, and French knights and men-at-arms may take part in it, but it will be no declared war between France and England. I am sure King Philip knows the pope would not look kindly on his attacking while King Richard is missing.”
Simon smiled broadly. “So you keep your ears open and are not afraid to think. I agree. Philip will not attack in his own right. He will provide men and money and send Prince John at the head of the force to seize England if he can. So where does this leave you? I am pledged to resist John’s and Philip’s desire and hold England for Richard.”
“If you mean will I fight against French knights and men-at-arms if they try to invade, my answer is yes.” Alex frowned. “Of course, if my father named me to stand as his deputy… I do not know. I would obey him, I think, unless some new, greater oath bound me. But it is very unlikely. My eldest brother, Pierre, is his most likely deputy and if not, my next brother, Vachel, would be chosen.”
Vachel would be chosen. In his mind, Alex had heard his own voice saying the name, and that threw memory back again, back to the day after his mother’s death when, near drowned in grief, he had gone to his chest in the corner of the hall. He had only wished to weep in private, but he had caught Vachel searching through his few possessions. His shocked question had elicited the bold and indifferent response that Vachel wanted the letter of recommendation their mother had had the priest write.
Alex, who was carrying it close to his heart, had refused. Vachel had laughed and told him to save himself the pain of having the letter extracted from him by force, but Alex had stubbornly shaken his head. Pierre, the eldest, no longer took part in tormenting him. Carol and Marcus were dead, and Alex was pretty sure he could beat Vachel alone. Still, a chill had run down Alex’s spine when Vachel just laughed again and walked away.
Long aware that his brothers would wrest from him any inheritance no matter how small, Alex had always planned to leave Lessai when he could convince his mother to let him go. Her death had so shaken him, however, that he had not thought to go to his father and tell him of his mother’s plan; it seemed too soon, disrespectful.
It was, in fact, too late. Looking at Vachel’s expression, Alex wondered again how Carol and Marcus had come to drown; his brothers had sailed for years and knew their vessel. Would he too have an accident…a stray arrow while hunting? A knife in the dark? Alex knew that Vachel would not hesitate to be rid of him to gain what he wanted and that the only way to stop his brother was to kill him.
That was when Alex had determined to leave Lessai without even telling his father he was going. He would thereby forfeit the usual gifts of departure, but he already had a decent mail shirt, a helmet and shield, and the aged and worn-out horse he always rode. He had hoped for a blessing from his father and perhaps a few coins and he had burned with hatred for Vachel when he rode away. Now he was sorry for that hatred.
Seemingly Vachel had been God’s instrument to send him directly to Roselynde. If he had had any money, not knowing what Simon had taught him about jousting, he might well have gone looking for a tourney and lost his horse and his armor and become a beggar in truth. Because he was penniless he had prevailed on one of the fishermen to carry him and his horse across the narrow sea and put them ashore in England.
He had arrived at Roselynde hungry and destitute…and look at him now. He raised the cup of ale and finished it in one long swallow. Well, he still had not a penny in his purse, he thought, grinning, but he owned a destrier—Lady Alinor had given him Lothaire, a horse every bit as valuable as those his uncle rode…just because he was Simon’s nephew. And he had been knighted.
Alex looked around, dismissing doubt, and in the next moment smiled and stood up as Simon called his name. His heart sang with joy, with love for everyone—even Vachel. Whatever his motive, Vachel had done him only good, Alex thought, as he walked toward his uncle. He prayed earnestly that Vachel might be touched by Christ’s Mother’s grace and mend his ways, and be well and happy.
Simon beckoned to him and Alex joined his uncle at the door of the wall chamber. He was gestured to a stool and sat down across the table from Simon’s chair.
His uncle tapped a parchment lying on the table. “I have here a letter in reply to the summons I sent out to all holders to make their keeps ready for war and to man their coasts to repel any attempt at invasion.”
“A refusal?” Alex’s eyes brightened at the thought of action, a further service he could do for Simon which might make him worthy of a place in the household. “You want me to go and bring this person to obedience?”
“No, no.” Simon smiled. “The letter is a plea for help. In fact, it is the second plea for help, but the matter did not sound urgent when my deputy, Sir Andre, first mentioned to me that Lady Desiree of Exceat needed a castellan. At the time, barely back from the Crusade as I was, I had no idea whom to send. A dishonest castellan can wreak havoc. Now, however, the matter is urgent.”
“Because of the threat of invasion?”
“Yes. The letter from Lady Desiree states that she is ready and willing to obey me, but cannot because she does not know how to pr
epare against invasion. Her husband had a fit somewhat more than four months ago and he is now nearly helpless. He cannot walk or even move his arms much and he has difficulty talking so he cannot tell her what to do.”
“Poor man!” Alex exclaimed.
Simon nodded. “He is a good man too. I know him for an honest and honorable person. His illness is unfortunate because Exceat and the two fishing villages that are beholden to it are on the south coast, across from Le Havre and Fécamp. That shoreline must be carefully guarded—not a task for a woman who admits her inability or for a helpless man.”
“I do not know the coast there, of course, but Lessai is on the sea and I know boats and fishermen.”
Simon smiled. “And I do not know the coast near Lessai, but mostly seacoast is seacoast, and Exceat and Lessai would have more in common than Lessai and an inland keep. It is clear that what Lady Desiree needs is a castellan until Sir Frewyn either recovers or dies so that she can remarry. Do you think you might be able to take on this duty, Alex?”
Alex swallowed and flushed. Here was the answer to all his doubts, all his fears. He was ashamed of lacking faith, of lacking trust in this man who had shown him every kindness and far more care than his own father. The reason his uncle had not taken him into his household or asked him to swear fealty was now clear. Sir Simon had found him a better place, a place of great honor. To name him castellan where there was none to oversee him betokened great trust.
Carefully, wanting to have everything utterly clear, he said, “To tell the fishermen how to make ready against invasion and to see that they do it, to defend the keep if invaders do come ashore, to clean out any outlaws that are preying on the land because of the lord’s weakness—those things I hope I can do. However, I do not think I am fit to be a true castellan, my lord. I was never taught how to manage land, what crops to sow and how much to expect to reap, or to properly husband flocks…”
Simon made an impatient sound. Alex understood it. Now he knew Lady Alinor and knew that his uncle had been only half joking when he spoke of her donning armor and leading the men to war. That was about the only thing she could not and did not do. And his uncle had become so accustomed to a woman who could do everything that he had forgotten most estates were managed completely by men.
Alex could see his uncle measuring the need for defense against the need for management and he held his breath, until Simon shrugged. “It will soon be time for planting and breeding, but as sheriff I must be most concerned with defense. For managing the land… Perhaps the lady can do it herself. If not, I will have someone ride over from Roselynde and leave a plan that you can follow.”
Alex breathed a sigh of relief. “Then, my lord, I believe I could do this. And you can be sure,” he added earnestly, “that I am not puffed up with pride. I will ask for help if I meet a problem I cannot solve.”
Chapter Two
A week later, Simon frowned as he looked down the crest of the hill they had just climbed. “I am not certain,” he said to Alex, “but I believe this is where Exceat lands begin.”
“That was a farm then?” Alex asked, also frowning as he saw a pile of rubble that might once have been a hut and an overgrown patch that might once have been cleared land.
“Yes, but this is no recent attack. What happened here is several years old.” Simon’s lips tightened. “I cannot believe Sir Frewyn destroyed the farm to force Lady Desiree into marriage. I would swear he was not that kind of man.”
“Whatever he is, it is too late to amend now. He is in God’s hands.”
Simon snorted. “He, yes. But that does not mean that what was ill done to the lands should not be corrected. Find someone who knows the Exceat demesne and who and what are beholden to Exceat. You will need to ride the lands, to discover whether similar outrages were inflicted elsewhere and, if possible, you will need to establish new villeins on this land. It could be a profitable holding if it were not in danger of being burned out again.”
“There would be charters, I hope, and a priest who can read them?”
“I am not so sure where you will find a priest. The fishing villages may have someone who sings Mass—such as it is to them—but likely such a man will not be able to read. Perhaps there is an old servant who will remember the extent of the lands. If not, I will arrange to have someone sent to you. That can wait, however. First you must win the loyalty of the fisherfolk so that they will watch the narrow sea for you, and then make sure of the defenses of the keep.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Alex accepted the need for defense first, but he had also been made aware of his other responsibilities and he looked with care and intent at everything they passed. From Lewes, where they had spent two uncomfortable days, they had ridden east through fine arable countryside bordered to the south by precipitous and forested hills. When they came to the Cuckmere they turned south, following a track along the river that wound through the hills on either side. Alex had been aware of a faint tang of salt air not long before Simon called his attention to the ruined farmstead. Now the scent became stronger and not long after Simon pointed up.
“There is Exceat,” he said.
The hill above the river had been broken away at some time in the past, leaving a cliff, not very high, perhaps twenty cubits, but sheer. In the past, Alex believed, it had been kept free of growth, but now he could see young bushes rooting in cracks. That would have to be cleared immediately, specially if there was a ledge on which the castle wall, possibly another fifteen cubits above the cliff, rested.
No scaling ladder could reach from the road to the top of the wall, but if attackers climbed the cliff and then hauled scaling ladders up, the keep wall could be surmounted. And there did not seem to be any men patrolling along the top of the wall. Alex could see towers at intervals but no lookout atop either one.
He mentioned his observations to Simon as the river curved left and the track followed it. The wall continued above, but here Alex could see that the ground had been deliberately cut away to continue the sheer rise. And here again were signs of neglect, brush taking root and cracks in the soil that would make it easier to climb. Then the river wended away and Alex and Simon left the well-defined track to follow a rutted, grassy path around the base of the hill on which Exceat stood.
Simon had also been watching the wall and the land. Now he nodded, raising his voice slightly to be heard over a distant hissing roar. “Despite the neglect, Exceat would be a hard nut to crack. It would take an army to attack the keep successfully, and no army like that has moved in England since Henry took the throne. I imagine that was why the farmsteads were ruined, to pick away at the holder’s livelihood until it was easier to make some compromise.”
“That will not happen again,” Alex said, lips tight. “I will see that the outer steads are fortified to protect themselves until help can come from the keep.”
“You must see to the keep first. This time it is an army you will face, coming from France.”
“Yes, but likely both defenses can be put in place at the same time. I can set your men, who are already trained to fight, to ordering the farmsteads. While they are doing that, the castlefolk can be used to clear the cliff. Be sure I shall not stint to be prepared in case of invasion.”
The wall took another sharp bend to the left and the precipitous drop of the hill altered to a steep slope. A square tower rose above the slope and this was obviously manned, for a voice cried out a warning to those at the gate. Simon shouted an acknowledgement and his name, but when they came to the gate it was shut.
There ensued a delay, partly because the men who could have recognized Simon could not be summoned—one being dead and the other helpless—and the gate guard suspected him of intending to abduct Lady Desiree. While they waited for someone with authority, Alex rode a little way down a well-used path. In the distance there was a sparkling glint and the sound of surf was louder, so the path led to the sea. The scent of salt in the air was strong, and Alex found his hea
rt lifting in response.
It was certainly not because Lessai was on the seacoast. He had not been homesick for Lessai—although he still missed his mother. One could not long for the kind of home from which he had come—but Roselynde…there was a warmth within him whenever he thought of Roselynde, and Roselynde too had the smell of the sea. Alex looked ahead to the glint of light on water and found himself very glad that the place where his duty had been set was one of familiar things.
The thought made him turn back to look up the path toward Exceat. It was a bigger, stronger place than Lessai, although nothing compared with Roselynde. And then he saw he had turned back just in time. The gate was swinging open. Lothaire made nothing of the distance, and Alex was in time to ride into the keep at the tail end of the cortege.
Within there was the same kind of confusion. No one seemed to know what to do about the forty-strong troop of men that had ridden inside the outer wall. Alex looked around and saw a man somewhat better armed and dressed than the small troop that had formed up. He glanced at Simon, but Simon was following a thin, elderly man toward the gateway to the inner bailey with Cedric Southfold on his heels.
“You,” he shouted at the better-dressed man. “Do you understand French?”
“Yes, my lord.” The man came forward and bowed.
“Are you master-at-arms here?”
“Yes, my lord”
“Very well. What is your name?”
“Godric, my lord.”
“Assign a man to show Sir Simon’s troop the stables and to see that the horses are cared for. Can Exceat Keep lodge these men?”
“Yes, my lord,” Godric said, and promptly chose a man from the waiting troop to see about stabling the horses.
The man obeyed Godric promptly, and Alex saw that the troop watched him alertly, that their boiled leather armor was in good condition as were their weapons. Then Godric turned back to Alex obviously waiting for further orders, not even offering information about the lodging he had mentioned or asking whether Alex would like to examine the place.
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