by Jo Beverley
He looked down at his still-grubby clothes with a grin. "The clean bits are courtesy of a few buckets of well water. Am I clean enough to kiss?"
Aline stepped back. "Of course not!"
"I feared as much. If you're not going to kiss me, sweeting, I had better go back and tend my more appreciative sword." And he did just that, leaving Aline feeling abandoned and intensely dissatisfied.
She soon lacked time to fret about such things, however, for Jehanne needed her help to prepare for the journey.
"Aline," said Jehanne the next day as they went through chests selecting suitable clothes. "There's actually no need for you to come with us. You could return to Burstock, or even to St. Radegund's."
Alarmed, Aline looked up from a pile of shifts. "But I've never been south, and I've always wanted to." It was as good an excuse as any.
"It will be a long, arduous journey, with possible danger at the end. After all, Duke Robert could invade."
"I don't mind the journey, and surely with Lord William and Galeran to protect us, we'll be in little danger. And Raoul de Jouray as well," she added, praying that her interest didn't show. "I suppose he will be with the party."
"I believe so. Galeran said something about him wanting to find grapes. He must be missing his home in the south of France."
Aline hid her red face in the depth of a chest, alarmed at how determined she was not to be left behind.
* * *
In a small, cozy parlor in the Bishop's Palace in Durham, Ranulph Flambard unwrapped a package, peeling off layers of leather and cloth until he revealed a small white skull.
A stocky man of middle years, with a heavily jowled face and sallow skin, he was intelligent and shrewd, and both qualities showed in his features. He was also ruthlessly avaricious, which was well known by his actions.
The letter that accompanied the gift had told him what to expect, but he was still considering the implications. Coming hard on the news of King William Rufus's death, the strange gift was especially disturbing.
Rufus's death was a serious blow, but Flambard was not one to worry over what could not be changed. His only concern now was how to maintain his wealth, power, and influence.
He'd prefer to continue undisturbed under Henry Beauclerk, but the new king had never been well disposed toward him. To be sure, Henry—like Rufus—was going to need money, and Ranulph Flambard was very good at squeezing out money, but he still couldn't depend on that to maintain his place.
Which left Henry's brother, Robert of Normandy, who was a less clever man, and thus a more likely tool. If Robert was to win England, however, it would be through war, which meant he'd favor men with military power over those with administrative skills. Flambard could not have true power in the north unless he destroyed William of Brome.
He contemplated the skull, then sent for Raymond of Lowick.
The man who arrived not long afterward almost had to duck beneath the stone lintel, and his muscular breadth took up too much of the room. Flambard found Lowick an annoying mix of ambition and scruples, but with his blond hair, massive chest, and proud bearing, he was generally considered appealing, especially by women. And it was a woman who was at the heart of this matter.
"My lord bishop, you have news for me?"
He stood, hand on sword hilt, as if ready at this unlikely moment for battle. Bishop Flambard sighed, wondering why tools always came in such inadequate form. He recounted Brother Forthred's adventures at Heywood and Brome.
Raymond frowned. "How could such a simple matter be so miscarried?"
"Lord Galeran is rather more clever than you gave me reason to think, Sir Raymond."
"What has cleverness to do with it? You said I had a right to my daughter."
"But mother and child cannot be separated—a fact we counted on—and Lord Galeran claims a right to his wife's attentions."
Raymond's well-shaped mouth tightened. "It can be little better than a rape, my lord bishop. Jehanne has always loved me. She never wanted her marriage. Her father had to whip her to the altar to say her vows to that runt."
Flambard had heard that story from other sources, so it could be true. It was not, however, supported by recent facts. "Yet she did not leave the castle with you when she had the chance."
"She felt her marriage vows too strongly." Lowick stood even straighter. "I honor her for that."
"It is indeed honorable," said Flambard, adding dryly, "if a trifle belated. According to my information, she was not intimate with you throughout her pregnancy or afterward."
Lowick flushed. "I honor her for that too. She is not a sinful woman, my lord bishop. We were weak, but only once."
"Yet I'm sure you tried to persuade her to sin again."
"I have confessed it to you."
Flambard studied his tool uneasily. Surely Lowick was right, and Jehanne of Heywood preferred him to her husband. But in his experience, women were not given to such noble scruples, especially when they think their husband is dead. If the Lady Jehanne was merely afraid to flee her husband, that could be solved by the man's death. If she sincerely repented of her sin, however, she could take herself—and her property—to a convent, which would not suit at all.
Jehanne of Heywood could be the means to break the power of William of Brome and secure Flambard's undisputed power in the north. She could also prove to be a disaster, and what he'd learned of her worried him. He much preferred stupid, docile women.
"Brother Forthred brought back a story of Lord Galeran being attacked near his home."
"Brigands?" asked Lowick without great interest.
"Doubtful. The attacker was a lone crossbowman."
That jerked the man out of his thoughts. "A crossbow! That's the devil's tool. What would such a wretch hope to achieve?"
"Lord Galeran's death, I assume."
"Was Galeran injured?" Flambard could not detect a trace of hope in the man's face.
"Scarcely at all."
"I give thanks for that. No man should die in such a dishonorable way. By the Holy Cross, if I could get my hands on such a low rogue as that..."
"It has already been dealt with, Sir Raymond. Lord Galeran dispatched him, with considerable vigor, or so I hear."
Lowick nodded his approval. "He is capable in his own way."
Flambard eyed the noble fool. "It would not have been completely inconvenient for Galeran of Heywood to have died there, you know."
Lowick frowned again, but this time with puzzlement. "What has that to do with it?"
Flambard abandoned that line of debate. "You gave me to understand that Lord Galeran is not a notable warrior."
"How could he be, so small as he is? But it takes little brawn and skill to execute a villain."
"It seems Lord Galeran fought well in the Holy Land."
The man frowned in genuine perplexity. "Have I ever suggested otherwise?"
"You have never shown a high opinion of his fighting skills."
The frown tangled the golden brows even further. "I merely mean that he has no great taste for it and is lacking in stature. I am sure he would do his part in a battle."
"But you still think you could defeat him in a court battle?"
The frown cleared. "Without a doubt, my lord. I would regret the necessity, but for the sake of Jehanne and our child, I would do it."
Flambard was no longer sure he could depend on this success, though Lowick was known as a formidable opponent. He had a prickle of uncertainty about this whole affair. The lord of Heywood's reactions upon his return had not been normal except for that one blow. Anyway, court battles were always chancy things, best avoided if there were safer ways.
He tossed in the next piece of information without warning. "The king is dead."
It clearly took a few moments for the new idea to penetrate. "Rufus? How?"
"Unlike the lord of Heywood, he did not escape the convenient arrow."
"The king was with Galeran?"
"No," said Flambard, holding
on to his patience. "He was with his brother Henry in the New Forest. Henry, I assume, has seized the throne by now. Unfortunately he is no friend of mine. We must hope that Duke Robert arrives back in Normandy soon."
"You think the duke would be more likely to support my case?"
"For the promise of your support, yes." Flambard spelled out the situation. "If William of Brome throws in his lot with Henry, Duke Robert will be looking for a staunch supporter here in the north. That could be me, and you, once Galeran of Heywood is dead and his widow is your wife."
Watching Lowick stand taller at the thought, Flambard ran his hand over the smooth white skull on the table.
"What's that?" asked Lowick with distaste. "A child's skull?"
"The skull of John the Baptist as a child."
Lowick promptly sank to one knee. "My Lord! May I touch it?"
Flambard sighed again. "Of course."
Raymond reverently touched the white bone, then kissed it, his face softened almost to childish wonder. "Where did you obtain such a miracle, my lord?"
"A miracle indeed. It is a gift from Galeran of Heywood, to thank me for bringing peace between him and you."
At that, Lowick surged to his feet. "A bribe, you mean! I see it now. You are supporting his cause against mine."
Flambard picked up the skull and contemplated it. "Such a course does have its appeal, I must admit. But no. I see no future in it, for his family would not join with me for any consideration." He replaced the skull on its cloth and addressed his tool in simple terms. "We must turn Rufus's death to our advantage, but no matter what we do, the key is still the death of the lord of Heywood."
"I will be happy to kill him in honorable combat."
"You are unlikely to have the chance unless he challenges you."
Lowick laughed. "He has not the courage!"
"Be careful how you speak, Sir Raymond. Never forget that Lord Galeran is a crusader. He is held in high respect."
Lowick paced the room, his cloak and scabbard buffeting small objects. "Just for being there? I wish I had gone. I'd have shown them true heroism!"
"I'm sure many share your wish." When the scabbard almost toppled a candlestick, Flambard snapped, "Stand still!"
Lowick obeyed and Flambard continued. "Listen carefully. I hear that William of Brome and Galeran of Heywood are planning to journey south to declare themselves for Henry. They hope for his support in their case, of course. The Lady Jehanne and her child are to accompany them. You, too, must ride south with all speed and try to establish yourself in favor before they arrive. I will send Brother Forthred to assist and advise you, since he seems to feel he has a score to settle with Heywood."
"But I thought I was to take oath to Robert of Normandy."
Flambard waved a hand. "There will be many in London pledging allegiance to Henry but keeping an eye out for Robert. After all, Robert has dallied in Sicily and it might be some weeks before he returns. I, too, will set out for London tomorrow, but will not be able to make as much speed as you."
Lowick nodded. "So what must I do, my lord?"
"Appear to support Henry, and gain as much favor in that quarter as you can. As soon as the lord of Heywood appears, try to bring the matter to a challenge and kill him. Since God will have spoken through your sword, Henry will have little choice other than to give you the Lady Jehanne and her castle. Then, if Robert makes war over the Crown, you will be excellently placed to support him and rise high under his rule."
Raymond's ambitious eyes glowed at the thought. "Killing Galeran will be easy, if only I can push him into making a case of it."
"Do your best. If nothing has been achieved when I arrive in London, I have some other ideas. All that is required is that you eventually do your part and kill him. God go with you, Sir Raymond."
Raymond fell to his knee and reverently kissed Flambard's ring and then the relic before sweeping out on his holy mission.
The bishop picked up the skull. "What a useful test of men you are, to be sure. But I wish that in this struggle I had Galeran of Heywood on my side rather than Raymond of Lowick."
Chapter 12
Two days later, Galeran's party left Heywood.
Though he felt rather foolish about it, he had agreed to extreme security for the short trip to Brome. The area all around had been scoured, and everyone had been put on the alert for strangers. Today six of Lord William's men-at-arms had come over to Heywood to bolster the eight Galeran was taking on the journey.
Since the group also included Jehanne, Aline, and a maid with Donata, all riding their own horses, and ten pack horses to carry the baggage, it was an impressive entourage.
Raoul was driven to tease. He rode back to where Galeran was placed securely in the middle of the line. "We could always carry you in an iron-bound litter, safe from all harm."
Galeran scowled at him. "I could always make you stay behind to hold Heywood."
"You have no power over me," his friend declared cheerfully. "I wouldn't miss this jaunt for the world."
"Jaunt? I'm hoping this will be nothing more than a dull journey followed by tedious paperwork."
"Alas, you do not have the soul for high adventure!"
"True. All I want is a quiet life on my own lands with my family around me, prospering." He looked at Raoul thoughtfully. "Do I detect restlessness? Once this excitement is over, will you be off adventuring again?"
"Perhaps." But Raoul turned to stare ahead as if a vista of swaying horses' rumps enthralled him.
"What else?" asked Galeran curiously. "Much though I love the north country, I hardly see it holding you."
"You're right there," said Raoul with an artificial shudder, for the weather had turned dull again, and there was a hint of rain in the air. "Before winter sets in, I'll be off to sunnier parts. But I've lost taste for holy wars and pointless battles. Perhaps your example is making me think of settling down."
"My example!" Galeran laughed out loud. "I'd think my experiences would suggest a long journey far away from women."
Raoul glanced sideways. "And yet you do not have the look of a completely unhappy man."
"True enough," said Galeran, laughter lingering as a smile. "If we can just settle the matter of Donata and deal with Lowick so I can ride through my own land without fear of ambush, I'll be as happy as any man has a right to be."
"Why do you grudge me the same, then?"
Galeran concentrated, alerted by a seriousness in his friend's tone. "I don't. But I do wonder if you have the temperament for domesticity. For fidelity." After a moment's thought, he decided to charge the issue head-on. "Surely you're not thinking of settling down with Aline? Quite apart from her intent to become a nun, she is a northern girl, born and bred. What of your beloved sun, then?"
"I'll have to try seducing her with southern fruits." Raoul glanced sideways, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "I really do fear the Lady Aline is running so fast from my wicked ways that she just might catch me."
Galeran raised his brows. "This will be an interesting jaunt after all."
They stayed the night at Brome, and then set out in an even more impressive cavalcade, heading to Richmond, where they would join the remains of the ancient road that headed straight as an arrow south.
That night they asked the hospitality of a priory, but it had only separate dormitories for men and women, so Jehanne and Galeran had to part. "It's perhaps fitting," he said, "that we be chaste on this journey."
Her eyes searched his features with a shadow of concern. "I might begin to think you are growing fond of chastity."
"Never think that." He stroked her cheek with his knuckles. "It is because it's hard that it will be a suitable offering to God."
"You think we need His aid, then?"
"Don't we always?"
"And yet, you haven't been much given to sexual abstinence in our marriage, Galeran."
"And you have always had a saucy tongue. Now, if you were to insist that I perform my marital du
ties, we could probably find a suitable corner...."
"Oh, no!" she said, capturing his teasing hand. "You won't make me into your Eve. By all means let us suffer. In your case it can be a votive offering. In mine it will be penance."
Galeran shook his head as he watched her cross to the well-separated women's quarters. Jehanne would never lose her sharp edge.
Thanks be to God.
He took a moment to slip into the chapel to offer his abstinence to God, and to pray for His assistance in this tangled matter.
* * *
Raoul made sure that he assisted Aline down from her saddle, and escorted her to the entrance of the women's dormitory.
She looked at the sturdy door with a rather smug smile.
"I fear this journey will not provide much opportunity for your assault of my citadel, Sir Raoul."
"Do you think not? But it is a soldier's skill to find the weakness in any defense."
Her eyes flickered to his and her smile wavered. "I doubt you will find one here."
"No? In most religious houses the chapel is common ground."
Her lovely blue eyes widened. "No one would conduct dalliance in a chapel!"
"Do you think not?" Now it was his turn to smile smugly.
"If you were to do such an irreverent thing, it would only strengthen my defenses, I assure you."
"Then why do you seek to dissuade me?"
She raised her pretty, round chin. "'Tis merely that I fear for your soul, Sir Raoul." Then she moved to open the door.
He seized her hand, stopping her. "Don't fear for any part of me, Lady Aline," he said, raising her hand for a kiss. "Unless it be my heart that swells with what might be the beginning of love for you."
She snatched her hand away. "If any part of you is swelling, sirrah, I'm sure it's not your heart!" With a sharp look at his genitals, and a rapid blush, she flipped the latch and marched into the dormitory.
Raoul laughed. She had him there, but the swelling had not begun until she had—so to speak—raised the subject with her sharp tongue and bold look.
The thought of tongues and eyes did little to ease him, so he went off to check the horses and use up his energy in purposeful work.
