Yes, there were black vertical stripes ahead, blocking out the light.
‘Hell, no!’
Hugh was flung against metal. The river had washed him up against an iron grille.
‘Hell!’
Pressed from behind by the water which flowed under and past him, Hugh found himself blinking out at the water meadows outside the city walls. The grille must block access to the prison via the under ground river. He jerked at a bar. It shifted slightly. Hope filled him.
Ahead, the edges of the river were thickly edged with rushes. Small birds were flitting from reed to reed, warbling sweetly in the sunlit air. There were cress beds with yellow butterflies hovering over them. A swan. A brace of quacking ducks. And there, taunting him, the sleek head of the otter.
Chest heaving, Hugh leant his head against the bar while he got his breath back. A log had been washed up next to him. Like him it was pressed against the grille, like him it was too large to squeeze through the gaps between the bars. To judge by the rotten state of it, the log had been held back by the grille for some time.
Eyeing the idyllic afternoon on the other side of the bars, Hugh shifted his grip and prayed the water levels would not rise until after he had fought his way free. If the water rose first, Aude would not have to worry about seeking an annulment…
Chapter Sixteen
The evening light was streaming like a golden banner across the western sky by the time Aude and Edouard gained entry into Winchester Castle.
‘It is a risky strategy,’ Edouard said, shouldering his way into the crowd.
The Great Hall was crammed. Despite Sir Guy’s attempt at discretion, word had spread about the King’s arrival; people must have seen his en tour age ride in.
‘What else can we do? Hugh’s proof is lost and if we don’t plead for him, who will?’ Aude drew her skirts aside to avoid them being caught on a knight’s spurs.
Ahead of her, she could see nothing but heads and backs. Someone’s elbow jabbed her in the ribs. ‘Sweet Mother, is the entire district squashed in here? I have never seen so many soldiers.’
Edouard grunted. Reaching for her hand, he hauled her in the general direction of the central hearth, forcing his way past several troopers, a couple of archers, a bishop in silken robes. Aude could see no one who might be the King himself. Not that she had met him, she had no idea what he looked like.
‘Are you sure the King is in here?’ She stumbled, and at her feet a wolf hound snarled. She had trodden on its tail.
Edouard fought forwards. ‘The King is here.’
Another elbow caught her in the stomach. ‘Ow! Is it always like this, getting to see him?’ She raised herself up on her toes. By the dais at the top end of the hall, under a great banner, a row of silvered mail coats met her eyes. The King’s personal guard? ‘Edouard, I think King William is behind those men and—’
‘Lady Aude! Count Edouard!’ Sir Guy was standing before them, a harsh expression on his face. ‘Did you bring Hugh Duclair’s document?’
‘I…that is, no. We were unable to find it.’
Sir Guy let out an exasperated sound. ‘Excuse me, my lords, if you please.’ He gestured and, as if he were a sorcerer, a way was cleared for them. They found themselves at the side of the hall where it was less crowded. ‘My lady, Duclair needs that proof desperately. Matters have worsened since you were here this morning.’
Aude’s throat tightened. ‘Worsened?’
Sir Guy nodded. ‘I sent word to the prison as I had promised, but by the time I had done so Duclair was gone. Indeed, at first we thought him drowned.’
Aude felt herself go very still. Drowned? Not Hugh. ‘You thought him drowned?’
The garrison commander’s expression softened. ‘Never fear, my lady, he survived. He escaped via the under ground river—it comes out at Otterburn. The exit is barred, but he broke through. As I under stand it, he came straight here.’ He jerked his head towards the dais. ‘He is there now, in conference with the King.’
Aude lurched forwards, one thought in her mind. ‘I must go to him!’
Blunt fingers closed over her arm. ‘It would have been better if you had found his proof.’
‘Someone had been there before us. We have left his squire behind in Alfold making enquiries of the villagers, but…’ she looked down at the hand on her arm, stomach twisting ‘…Sir Guy, I will speak for him, I must.’
Nodding, Sir Guy released her. ‘He is fortunate to have such friends. But I warn you to be brief. The King came to resolve a dispute with the Church; he dislikes delay and he intends to leave again at first light.’
They stepped back into the crowd. With the garrison commander clearing their path, they reached the dais in moments. They were waved past another bishop, a couple of monks and a group of knights. They halted when they reached the wall of mailed soldiers that formed the King’s body guard.
‘Let them pass, Gérard.’
The captain of the guard saluted, and they stepped onto the dais and into the inner circle.
Aude’s head was pounding, her hands were trembling, her knees felt as though they would not support her.
A stocky figure sat on a painted throne.
King William!
Aude received a fleeting impression of great energy, barely held in check, of bright, intelligent eyes. A firm chin. He was wearing a gold circlet, very plain, and a single finger ring. Nothing particularly ornate. Simple, practical clothing, save for the circlet.
Hugh!
He was kneeling in front of the King. The red tunic was ripped and filthy, his hair looked as though it hadn’t been combed in a month. When he glanced her way, his eyes widened.
She dropped to her knees at Hugh’s side and focused on the King’s boots. This was William, King of England and Duke of Normandy. She must not let Hugh distract her.
‘My liege…’ Nerves getting the better of her, Aude stumbled into silence and bowed her head.
The King’s fingers drummed on the carved arms of his throne.
‘And you are?’
‘Aude of Alfold, your Grace.’
Aude sensed, rather than saw, the King exchange looks with Sir Guy. ‘I take it you have a petition for me?’
‘Yes, your Grace.’
‘Come on then, out with it!’
She lifted her gaze from his boots, thoughts racing. The King was not known for his softness—man or woman, he treated all alike. It was rumoured that he had lost his temper while courting Queen Mathilda. He was said to have dragged her about by the hair, to have beaten her…but whether this was truth or fabrication, Aude could not say.
Clearing her throat, she made her voice strong. ‘My liege, I have come to attest to the good character of Hugh Duclair. I have come to tell you that I believe the Bishop of St Aubin was lying when he spoke of Hugh seeking to ally himself with disloyal Flemish noblemen. I have come to—’
Hugh grabbed her hand. ‘Aude, don’t!’
She could smell river weed. And mud. She sneaked a sideways glance. Yes, she was right about the mud—it streaked his face, it dulled his hair. But he was still the most handsome man she had ever seen.
There was a movement behind them and the King made an impatient gesture. ‘Count Edouard?’ His voice had an edge to it. ‘You have some thing to add?’
‘Your Grace, I would endorse what my sister has said. Hugh Duclair does not have a disloyal bone in his body.’
The King lifted his hand. ‘I well remember your support in 1066. I also recall that Hugh Duclair fought at your side.’
‘Yes, my liege.’
The King sighed, his fingers tapped. ‘Duclair has spoken at some length of money his father put into the hands of the church for safe-keeping. He has spoken of an ambitious church man. I, too—’ the King directed a black look at the bishop standing on the edge of the circle ‘—have difficulties in that regard, despite having taken pains to make my views well known. It is my opinion that a King is best placed to super vis
e the government of the Church within his do min ions.’
‘Yes, your Grace.’
‘Some among us would do well to remember that Archbishop Stigand lost his liberty for taking more than was his due.’ Another pointed glance went the bishop’s way. The bishop flinched. With a small smile, the King’s cool gaze returned to Hugh. ‘But enough of that, I should like to have sight of this document.’
‘Your Grace,’ Aude said, ‘the villagers at Alfold are searching for it.’
Hugh’s fingers tightened on hers. ‘Aude, I left it in the—’
‘Hypocaust. Hugh, we guessed as much and went to fetch it. But it is not there.’ She gazed up at the King. ‘Your Grace—’
‘Hugh!’ Someone at the foot of the dais was waving to attract attention. ‘Lady Aude!’
‘Gil!’
The King sighed and cocked a weary eyebrow at Hugh. ‘Duclair, I suspect that this is yet another petition on your behalf.’
Mind in turmoil, Aude could only watch as the King waved the guards aside to admit Gil. He was holding a parchment, and Brother Reinfrid—the monk who had ac companied Edouard from Normandy—was with him.
Hugh’s document? Dear God, let it be Hugh’s document!
‘Thank God,’ Hugh muttered as Gil fell to his knees and handed the parchment to the King.
Aude held her breath as the King unrolled it. She clung to Hugh’s hand.
‘Gil, what happened?’ Hugh hissed.
‘It was the villagers,’ Gil whispered back, the King was en grossed in reading. ‘Some of them had joined that gang of thieves—’
‘I thought as much.’
‘They found our camp, and your document. They kept it because they thought it might be worth something.’ Gil sent Aude a smile. ‘But after you and Lord Edouard left for Winchester this afternoon, I…I hope you do not mind, Hugh, but I explained everything to them and once they realised how it would help you, they held a meeting. They gave it to me to bring here.’
‘Gil, you have done well,’ Aude said, smiling.
Gil nodded, but his expression was sober. ‘I am only sorry I had to break your confidence, Hugh.’
The King rolled up the parchment. ‘Yes, you did well, boy. But these thieves, do you have their names? One should not hesitate to punish thieves—’ a rancorous look was directed at the nearby church man ‘—whatever their rank or calling.’
Aude’s eyes widened, as the penny dropped. Of course! The thatcher, Chad, must have been one of them! And Cedric’s cousin, Goda? Perhaps. There were doubt less others, villagers who had joined the thieves when they had lost Thane Frideric. Perhaps they had not always been thieves, perhaps they had started out as rebels against the Normans. Villagers who had been fighting in hope of regaining their old way of life.
Firmly, she folded her lips together. She would say nothing. These villagers had come home, and in siding with Hugh, they had earned her silence.
‘I am sorry, your Grace,’ Hugh said. ‘I did not see them.’
‘Pity.’
Brother Reinfrid stepped forwards. ‘My liege?’
The King looked down his nose at him. ‘And you are?’
‘Brother Reinfrid of Jumièges, formerly of St Aubin.’
The King’s gaze sharpened. ‘Formerly of St Aubin?’
‘Yes, my liege.’
‘Did you witness the signing of this document?’
‘Not per son ally. But a fellow brother did witness it. I have found him.’
Aude’s sharply indrawn breath was echoed by Hugh’s.
The King looked searchingly over Brother Reinfrid’s shoulder. ‘Where is he? Why is he not here?’
‘My liege, Brother Baldwin, he…he would not ac company me.’
‘He refused to come?’ The King’s eyes were blank with disbelief. ‘Did you stress the importance of his testimony?’
Brother Reinfrid bowed his head. ‘Yes, my liege, indeed I did. But Brother Baldwin has become a solitary, he has with drawn from the world.’
‘Withdrawn from the world, eh? Where is he?’
‘Establishing his hermitage near St Stephen’s. He will testify to the truth, my liege, he did to me, but we will have to send to him. Is my word enough?’
Aude held her breath—Hugh’s fate hung on a knife point. If Brother Baldwin’s refusal to attend Winchester Castle angered the King, she suspected no amount of hearsay evidence would make him change his mind.
The King’s gaze ran over the supplicants kneeling at his feet, Brother Reinfrid, Hugh, Edouard, Gil, herself…
He shrugged and getting to his feet, gestured them up.
‘I find I believe you, Brother,’ the King murmured. ‘If only all church men were so dedicated to their faith as this Brother Baldwin. As I mentioned, I myself have found that far too many are overly interested in earthly matters. Sir Guy?’
‘My liege?’
‘Tomorrow, for form’s sake, you are to visit St Stephen’s and verify Brother Baldwin’s testimony.’ He sighed. ‘After which, you had best add the Bishop of St Aubin’s name to the list of bishops in need of…firm guidance. We cannot have church men casting covetous eyes on my vassals’ property; we cannot have them blackening the names of honourable men.’
Sir Guy bowed. ‘My liege.’
‘In the meantime, come, Count Hugh, let us do this properly.’
Count Hugh! The King had called him Count Hugh! Surely he would not do that unless the document and their testimony had convinced him of Hugh’s loyalty?
The King held out his arms and Aude stood to the side, holding her breath while Hugh gave him the kiss of peace.
Thank God, Hugh thought. Thank God.
The King grimaced and stepped smartly back. ‘I think a change of clothing is in order, my lord Count.’
‘Yes, your Grace.’ Hugh was grinning like a witless fool, he couldn’t help it. This banishment had been hanging over him like a doom for too long. For so long, in fact, that he suspected it would take a while for the full ramifications to sink in. He was re in stated, but more importantly he had regained the favour of his King. Bowing, he re treated a pace. Freyncourt would be his once more! He smiled at Aude. She smiled back.
‘One thing further, Lord Hugh…’
‘My liege?’
‘Your marriage. I should like to seal our new accord by granting you an heiress.’
Hugh’s blood went cold. He hadn’t thought it possible, but a doom worse than banishment was louring over him.
‘An heiress?’ No! In his mind’s eye, Hugh watched in horror as a lock of copper hair unravelled from about his wrist.
‘Indeed. I seem to recall that some years ago there was talk of you marrying one of my half-cousins—’
‘No!’
The King drew his head back. ‘I beg your pardon, Lord Hugh?’
‘My liege, I have to inform you that I am already married.’
‘Already? The marriage of one of my Counts is a political matter, I do not recall you asking my per mission.’
‘No, my liege, I am sorry. I can only say that I was not, at the time, one of your Counts.’
The King’s eyes were like flint. ‘You make light of this, Lord Hugh?’
‘Never.’ Hugh tasted bile. He looked at Aude and pain sliced through him. Agony—to lose her—agony!
Understanding crashed in on him.
For months, he had fought to regain the King’s favour, thinking that was the sum of his desires. He had come to England with but one aim in mind.
But Aude…he could not lose Aude! Set against Aude, the favour of the King was but an abstraction. To lose Aude would be to lose half of himself. Aude was, quite simply, the most important element in his life.
How long had this been the case? Since they had bedded? No, Aude had been important to him before that.
Since their marriage? No, long before that. He loved her. He needed her. Holy Virgin, he loved her!
Since when? Jumièges? He had no idea. But he loved her
.
‘Whom have you married?’ The King was waiting for his reply.
‘The Lady Aude.’ Hugh led her forwards.
King William looked thoughtfully at them. ‘You are content, my lady?’
‘Yes, your Grace.’ Aude gave him a curtsy. ‘But if…. if our marriage is not suitable, we can seek an annulment.’
Hugh went cold to his core. ‘Aude?’ Hell, that damned message he had sent from the prison! She must be thinking of that message. He gritted his teeth. ‘I don’t want an annulment.’
The King’s lips twitched.
Well, I am glad someone is finding this amusing.
‘Hugh…’ large amber eyes searched his ‘…I do not want our marriage to…’ there was a slight catch in her voice ‘…hold you back. I do not want you to come to regret it.’
He gripped her hand. His chest felt com pressed, it ached with the thought of losing her. ‘Aude, I will never regret our marriage.’
‘Oh, very well.’ The King sank back on to the throne. ‘Have your marriage with my blessing. If you are half as content with your lady as I am with mine, you will be a happy man.’
‘Thank you, your Grace.’
‘Now go away, there are other matters that need my attention.’
Yes, your Grace.’
‘And for pity’s sake, take a bath, Count Hugh. You reek of river.’
Back at Alfold Hall, Aude gave the broad-shouldered form of her husband a sideways glance. He was sat next to her at the head of the table, raising a cup to Edouard at the end of what had turned out to be a meal of celebration.
In Winchester, Hugh had taken a bath as the King had ordered, and Aude had found a seam stress who had been able to provide her with clothing that fitted him. Tonight he was wearing a green silk tunic with a subtle pattern in the weave. The seam stress Aude had bought it from had insisted the fabric had been in a consignment shipped in from Constantinople. Aude had no way of knowing whether that was the truth, but Hugh certainly looked well in it.
Tonight he was every inch the lord. Hugh Duclair, Count de Freyncourt and Lord of Alfold. She felt slightly in awe of him. This was the old Hugh, the Hugh she had idolised long before her betrothal to Martin.
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