Relief suffused his face. ‘You are a true wife to me, Maeb.’ He kissed me, then hugged me tight to him once more. ‘It is best if we keep this to ourselves as we did the other imp. In this court, who knows how it could be used against us? Oh Maeb, I won’t leave you again, I swear.’
‘Raife, it said … it said that I would go to hell for what I’d done to … to …’
‘Shush, shush. It said that only to torment you. Has not Owain taken your confession? Have you not done penance? Perhaps, to be certain, we can donate some gold to Holy Trinity Priory in your name. What more can we do? Maeb, do not worry on it. You will not go to hell. You will not.’
I hugged him tight, allowing him to reassure me. ‘It stank, Raife!’
‘I know, sweetheart, I know,’ he murmured into my hair, and then he kissed the crown of my head, and rocked me back and forth.
‘Dear sweet God,’ I thought I heard him whisper. ‘What did it want, if I were not here?’
‘Raife?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I will keep you safe. From everything. Trust me.’
We had thought to spend a quiet day. Raife had been riding hard to get home and I wanted to compose myself after the previous night. But in the afternoon, just as we were about to go to the hall to dine, the Earl of Pembroke, Gilbert de Clare, arrived and asked to speak with us privately in our chamber.
I thought perhaps he wanted to speak with Raife, and so spoke to excuse myself, but Pembroke waved me to sit as well.
‘Fulke d’Ecouis has reappeared in London,’ he said without preamble. ‘I saw him riding toward the Templar church in High Holborn earlier today.’ He paused. ‘I have been informed, very privately, that he has been in Witenie these past weeks.’
Pembroke looked at me and I felt a flush of guilt redden my cheeks even though I had nothing to be guilty of so far as Witenie and my father were concerned.
‘The village where I was born?’ I said. ‘By all the saints, Gilbert, what was he doing there?’
‘Making enquiries about your father, Maeb,’ Pembroke said. ‘And about you. It is said he begged hospitality at the house once owned by your father … the Templars had leased it to a knight from Oxeneford.’
‘And no doubt d’Ecouis searched it from top to bottom,’ I said. ‘I have no idea what he wants of me!’
Pembroke looked enquiringly at Raife, who told him briefly of the conversation Henry and d’Ecouis had had with me and of the manner in which they had frightened me.
‘They seem convinced that my father had stolen from the Templars,’ I said, ‘and that I now have whatever it was they imagine my father took. Gilbert, I cannot speak for what my father may or may not have done while within the Order at Jerusalem, but if he did steal — which I dispute, for my father did not have that within him — then he did not hand the booty to me. I received nothing from him save his name and the clothes on my back. Rags and a bloodline. Nothing else.’
Pembroke sighed. ‘It is hard to know what the Templars want,’ he said. ‘Their Order has grown extraordinarily since it was founded a few years ago. They answer to no one save the Pope. Even Edmond has no power over them. They come and go as they want, collecting ever more wealth and land as each year passes. They hold their secrets close, more so than most clergy.’
When Pembroke had gone, refusing politely an offer to dine with us, Raife asked me if there was anything my father could have given me that the Templars might covet.
‘They seem to want gold and jewels,’ I said. ‘My father had no gold and jewels. No precious objects. Raife, when I say he left me nothing but rags, then rags was all he left me.’
When we retired that night, we lit the chamber with candles. We would sleep among light, lest the spirits and demons use the darkness of Hallow’s Eve to slide across the divide from their world to ours.
The light cheered us, and I discovered what pleasure it could be to make love with my husband amid the flickering shadows of the candles.
Part Five
Christmastide
Chapter One
Raife had hurried home for what Edmond liked to call his Advent court, some ten days of celebration, hunting, feasting and games before the commencement of Advent on Martinmas. Advent, the weeks leading up to Christmastide, was a quiet time of reflection before the celebration, feasting and fun of the Christmastide court. Edmond, renowned for his hospitality and the cheer and festivity of his Advent and Christmastide courts, expected all of his leading nobles to attend both celebrations.
Today, Hallowmas, was the first day of Advent court. Raife was tired from his hard ride back to London, I was fatigued from the events of the past two days, but nonetheless we rose before dawn, dressed and, without breaking our fast, left the house just as the eastern sky was lightening to ride for the Conqueror’s Tower. Many of the household came with us: Raife’s valet, Charles; Isouda and Evelyn; fitzErfast; many of the knights and squires of Raife’s court; grooms, pages, soldiers, falconers, servants; Raife’s head huntsman Wulfsige; his Master of Horse, Ludo; Raife’s hunting dogs and his three gyrfalcons with their attendants.
To all intents and purposes we were moving our household (or an attenuated version thereof) to the Conqueror’s Tower for Advent court (and as we would also for Christmastide court). Advent court was to be so packed with activities and feasting that running to and fro, often in the dead of night, between the Tower and our house was simply impractical, so Edmond had assigned us generous quarters in one of the new buildings within the inner bailey.
Although I felt weary already at the idea of so much feasting and fun, I was glad to leave the Cornhill house for the time being. While we were gone, Raife had arranged for the prior of the Holy Trinity Priory to bring in priests to bless each room and reconsecrate the chapel.
It would feel clean on our return.
I could not bear the idea of birthing a precious, tiny baby in a house where imps roamed.
When we arrived within the inner bailey we immediately dismounted and left our household to settle us and them into our apartments while Raife and myself entered the Tower. We were greeted by Edmond’s Constable of the Tower, Alan de Bretagne, the Earl of Richemont. He led us directly to Saint John’s Chapel on the top floor of the Tower, where Hallowmas was to be marked with a service, and the participants in today’s planned hunt were to be blessed.
The chapel, ablaze with candle and torchlight, was already crowded, people shuffling and coughing and rubbing hands beneath mantles in the cold air, and I think the crowd was much relieved when Edmond arrived. Prince Henry accompanied him, to my disappointment, for I had hoped he may have found something else to occupy himself this Hallowmas, but I suppose I had to expect him to attend Advent court. Also accompanying Edmond were two younger men, one only a boy, who, by reason of resemblance, were immediately apparent to me as his younger sons, Richard and John. I looked about for Adelaide, Edmond’s queen, but if she, too, was attending Advent court, then the lucky woman must still be snuggled in her bed.
Once mass and prayers and blessings were done, we moved to the great hall, where lay food with which to break our fast. We did not sit down, but rather moved about, picking what we wanted, and supping of small beer and weak ale as we chatted with acquaintances, discussing the day ahead.
There was a buzz of excitement in the hall. Today was to be a festive hunt in the forests to the east of London. Almost all of the court, save the infirm, were to attend. When Raife and I (and our household) had ridden through the outer bailey earlier it had been a bustle of activity as huntsmen, grooms, falconers and houndsmen were moving their charges from stables, kennels and mews into the outer bailey ready for their masters to ride out.
I had never ridden to the hunt before, and was slightly anxious, but excited also.
‘It will be more of a gentle ride through the fields, marshes and forests than a true hunt,’ said Alianor, standing with me, and warmly wrapped in a fur mantle. ‘Can you imagine this lot setting off at a gallop
from Ald Gate? We would frighten any game into France within moments!’
‘Then I am certain the men will be disappointed,’ I said, ‘for surely they would relish the opportunity to display their hunting prowess to their lady folk.’
‘They will find something to slaughter,’ Alianor said. ‘No one will enjoy the day until a little blood be spilt. We will ride gently, my dear, in honour of your baby, and at the earliest opportunity will make our excuses and guide our horses to that field chosen for our picnic. There we shall make ourselves comfortable by the nearest brazier, sip spiced wine and, when our menfolk arrive, shall make loud praise about their prowess.’
I laughed, and prepared to enjoy the day.
We rode out not long after. We made a procession down the stairs, through the lesser hall, and then down the wooden stairs to the inner bailey where grooms held our horses for us. By now the sun was risen and the moisture of the night steamed from walls and cobbles. To my relief I saw that it was a cloudless day. It would be cold — this was the first day of winter — but it would not rain, and the sun would be welcome.
Raife was clearly looking forward to the day and the hunt. He jostled and shouted with the rest of the men, heated by excitement. As we rode out, Alianor on her pretty bay palfrey by my side, he came over with Gilbert Ghent.
He greeted Alianor, then looked to me. ‘Are you well, wife?’ he asked, and smiled at my nod.
‘Ghent will ride with you today, to make sure you are kept safe,’ Raife continued, his courser skittering beneath him, eager to be off.
I looked at Ghent, who was trying — and failing — to keep the disappointment from his face. No doubt he’d have much preferred to have ridden with the rest of the nobles at full chase.
‘I am most glad of your company, sir,’ I said, and gave him a sweet smile which I hoped was some compensation for his duty this day.
We rode in splendid procession out from the Conqueror’s Tower and then north through the fields to Fenechirche Street, ignoring Tower Gate though it was the closest gate for us to exit London. Instead, Edmond wanted to ride in procession through eastern London and depart via Ald Gate. There were, I believe, several hundred among us: nobles, knights, squires, grooms, various huntsmen and falconers, servants accompanying the oxen-trundled carts that carried the tents and tables and food for our field feast, spare horses and, of course, the dogs, both hunting hounds and pleasure dogs, the latter running up and down the column of riders, barking with excitement and in constant danger of being trampled by horses over-excited by the noise and desperate to run.
As well as numerous, we were colourful. Everyone wore the best clothes they could that were also suitable for hunting. As the sun rose higher it glittered from buckles, jewelled sword belts and mantle clasps (I wore Edmond’s gift). Pennants and banners fluttered from staffs. The horses were clad in their best harnesses and bright cloths covered their rumps. Dulcette was resplendent in scarlet leather and rump cloth embroidered with gold and turquoise. Her mane and tail had been washed yesterday and were left to wave and flow in the sun.
It was impossible not to enjoy myself. Many Londoners had come out to line Fenechirche Street and wave us on our way — their enthusiasm no doubt fed, as their stomachs were, by the meat pies Edmond had caused to be handed out. Horns sounded, bells rang, pipes and drums played, and gaiety filled the air. I sat Dulcette, Alianor by my side, and we smiled and dimpled and waved at the people lining the street. Even Gilbert Ghent overcame his disappointment at having to stay by my side and straightened in the saddle, doing his best to look like one of the Arthurian knights riding out on some romantic, idealistic quest.
We rode down Fenechirche, past Holy Trinity Priory (whose occupants I hoped were even now in our house, delousing it of imps), through Ald Gate (draped in huge banners depicting the king’s devices), and past Saint Botolph’s without Ald Gate, and thence down the road that led into the forests to the east.
As we reached the forest, the column halted, and split into two: those who would take their falcons down to the marshlands abutting the Thames to hunt heron, and those who wished to hunt boar, and perhaps even deer, in the forests. The wagons carrying the equipment and food for our field feast went with the heron hunters, for the field chosen to host our feast bordered both forest and marshlands.
Here Alianor and I split, too. Alianor loved to hunt with her falcon, and so she peeled off to join the hunting in the marshlands. I had hesitated, but eventually decided to stay with the main group who headed into the forest — to Ghent’s evident relief.
Alianor gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and said we should meet up in the field later, and then she was off, calling to her falconer to join her.
Dulcette and I headed into the forest. This was relatively lightly wooded land, but with trees that were from ancient times. They stood all about us: elm, beech, oak, chestnut, and many others, mostly unleaved now, their ancient trunks twisted and gnarled and thick, their branches arching and winding overhead to provide a canopy as fine as any stone vault I had ever seen. The ground underneath was thickly carpeted in autumn leaves. Sunlight streamed from overhead in many-splintered sunbeams, piercing the thin morning mist which was still trapped among the trees.
I had never seen anything so beautiful, nor so peaceful.
I reined in Dulcette, letting the hunting party stream ahead, the dogs baying, the riders shouting. I just wanted to enjoy this mystical, ancient, comforting forest.
I rode for a while, grateful that the horses and their riders and the dogs had gone far ahead — I could just make them out at the limits of my hearing. Dulcette seemed content to pace along at an extended walk — I think she, too, revelled in the calm and peace of the forest.
Poor Ghent rode his horse behind me. I could hear the despondent thudding of its hooves into the soft carpet of leaves, and I thought both Ghent and horse must have wished desperately to be riding with the hunt.
I looked over my shoulder. Ghent and his horse, riding ten or so paces behind me, were bathed in bright dappled sunlight, so much so that I could barely make out any features of either horse or rider.
‘I am most sorry, Gilbert,’ I said, ‘to be such a sluggard at the hunt.’
He made a deprecating gesture with his leather-gloved hand, managing to convey that somehow he, too, was enjoying the peaceful, sunlit ride. Happier, I turned back to the path, sitting so relaxed that I thought I could almost doze in the comparative warmth of the forest.
After a while I did actually catch myself dozing, and thought that perhaps I should make my way to the field where we were to feast. Hopefully by now the servants would have set up braziers and chairs, and I could doze in more safety there than on Dulcette’s back in the forest.
I turned again in the saddle. ‘Gilbert,’ I said, ‘which way to the field where we are to dine?’
He was still bathed by the bright sun which glinted from every piece of maille that he wore, his concealing helmet, and his gold and silver surcoat. Strange, I had been sure that Ghent had been wearing a blue surcoat earlier, and certainly no maille or helmet, but maybe I had been too excited to take true note. I thought he said something, though I did not quite catch it, but he pointed to the south, turning his horse that way, and so I likewise turned Dulcette and we made our way through the trees.
Ghent rode by my side, now, at a similar distance as he had ridden behind. I had a clearer view of his horse from this perspective, and realised that it was completely white, and that its wavy mane was so long and thick it trailed upon the ground, catching at the leaves. The mane appeared to have diamonds woven through it, as did the horse’s flagged tail.
Strange I had not noticed that before and I wondered where Ghent had found such a courser, and where he had obtained the fistfuls of diamonds that littered its tresses.
We rode on. Often trees separated us, and we wove in and out of the ancient forest like partners caught in some sunlit, silent dance, our only music the soft hoof-falls of the hor
ses, our only guide the path laid down by the sunbeams. Sometimes I blinked and thought there were other riders with us, too, noiselessly weaving their way in and out of the trees. Other times I thought a silver wolf, his coat rippling with light, walked majestically with us, but when I opened my mouth to mention the wolf to Ghent, the wolf vanished.
Maybe it was all a trick of the bright light.
I felt an amazing peace. I had Ghent to watch over me, and his presence comforted me immensely. At one point I thought he said something to me about the deaths of Stephen, Rosamund and John, that they were safe and contented and there was no guilt nor burden for me to carry over the manner of their passing. But when I turned my head to answer Ghent (being somewhat surprised that he should talk to me of this), I saw that he was almost twenty paces away, his horse still weaving silently in and out of the trees, in and out. As he was too far away for conversation, I thought I must have dreamed it.
Maybe the voice was a construct of my conscience, and its interaction with the tranquillity and beauty of the forest and its almost unearthly light.
Yet, somehow, even now I can still hear the voice, and am sure someone must have spoke the words.
I know that this ride cleansed my soul of guilt, and that from this day forward I remembered Stephen, Rosamund and John with uncomplicated love.
Eventually, too soon for me, Ghent reined in his magnificent horse and nodded ahead, and I saw that beyond the trees lay a field festooned with colourful tents, pennants fluttering at their peaks.
If ever you need me, he said, call for me. I will always protect you.
I sighed, deeply reluctant to give up the serenity of this ride, and thanked Ghent for his trouble and the companionable nature of his guardianship.
But he was gone and I frowned in puzzlement. How could he have vanished so quickly? Had he been so anxious to rejoin the hunt?
I rode from forest to field, shaking off my almost dreamlike state, and raised a smile as I saw Alianor standing before a brazier, warming her hands.
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