‘What’s this rumour that the king may raise the siege?’ Meulan said when they were inside with a flagon on the table between them. ‘Do you know about it, Tirel?’
‘And do I know if it’s true?’ said Tirel acutely. ‘Yes, I heard it but no I don’t know if there’s anything in it. The siege is going badly. We all know that.'
Even within the tent walls, the air still smelled of smoke from the blackened fields and vineyards which ringed the camp. Le Mans had apparently been well-victualled before Belleme, who had had charge of the operation, had set to work on its surroundings.
‘Rufus seems distracted these days,’ Meulan said. ‘There’s something on his mind. Or should I say, someone?
They regarded each other thoughtfully. Tirel nodded his balding head. ‘You agree?’ Meulan asked him. Despite his tendency to be jealous of Rufus’ other friends, Meulan tolerated Tirel as he did FitzHamon. Walter Tirel, Count of Poix, brother-in-law to Earl Gilbert Clare of Tonbridge, was for one thing sufficiently well-bred to have some sort of claim to the king’s notice and for another thing, never presumed on his relationship to Rufus. He had come to the siege, and Meulan knew it, because whatever else Rufus might mean to him, he was also Rufus’ friend in the same way that Meulan himself was.
‘Helias,’ said Tirel, trying the name out on them as if bouncing a stone on water.
‘You hate his guts?’ said FitzHamon, not sympathetically but as one who really wanted to know.
‘No. I think he’s a menace,’ said Tirel quietly. They studied him as if he were some kind of fabulous beast, such as a unicorn or griffin. ‘I call the king my friend,’ he said. ‘There was a time when that meant doing certain things which I, personally, could take or leave alone. But one doesn’t refuse a king. At least, I can’t,’ he added frankly. ‘But when the demands ceased, I didn’t resent it. And because of that, I have remained his friend. I feel that that position is threatened now. So are your positions. We’re all in the same leaky vessel.’
‘What does that mean?’ enquired FitzHamon brusquely. ‘If Helias yields to the king, I think he’ll be taken into Rufus’ inner councils. He has as brilliant a mind as you could find anywhere, you know.’
‘In what sense do you mean yield?’ Meulan asked.
Tirel found with amusement that he had them as a riveted audience. It was a new experience. He had not been able to say no to a king because he had not enough confidence in himself. It was the first time in his life he had ever held a company’s attention so securely. ‘I mean what you think I mean,’ he said. ‘But I’d go further. Even if Helias were to make a purely political peace with Rufus, with nothing personal in it, I believe they might still draw very close. Excuse me. In this respect I know Rufus very well indeed, as you may imagine. I believe that the king wants Count Helias’ friendship, his esteem, so passionately that he’d settle for almost any terms. If Helias refuses to become his lover but agrees to become his liegeman, we shall still find him at Rufus’ side for evermore. Something of the sort happened with Ranulf Flambard once. The king told me. Flambard had the hardihood to refuse to be his lover, but he became instead his chief minister in England. Not more, but not less, either.’
‘Flambard,’ said Meulan sharply, ‘isn’t lord of an exceptionally bloodyminded province with a history of rebellion as long as the Old Testament. It’s more than a question of our own positions. It’s dangerous to make a confidant of a man who has reason to rebel against you. Confidants know all the things your enemies would like to know, such as how much money you have and how many swords you can command. If Helias ever walks out of prison as Rufus’ friend, on any terms…’ The usually dapper Count of Meulan dragged his fingers through his hair. ‘I don’t understand this. This is Helias’ capital city we’re encamped round and that stink is the ash from his crops. If Rufus wants to win Helias as a leman, how can he expect…?’
‘I think,’ Tirel said slowly, ‘that he’s wild to enter Le Mans because he can’t release Helias till the place is taken. Well, he can’t. What would we all think of him if he let Le Mans go and then freed Helias too? He has his pride. But while Helias is a prisoner, Rufus can’t – er – court him.’
‘This is disgusting,’ FitzHamon declared. He gulped wine angrily. ‘He should be getting himself a son, like other men. If anything happens to him, I for one don’t want Curthose! Even if Curthose were here. And he hasn’t got a lawful heir either.’
‘There are some things,’ Tirel said, still following his train of thought, ‘that one can’t ask of a captive. Things it’s dishonourable to take by force and are worthless anyway if there’s the least suggestion of duress.’
‘He’s gone mad!’ said FitzHamon.
‘He has deep feelings,’ said Tirel. ‘He’s never forgiven Ralph des Aix for deserting him. One day I think he may take some kind of revenge on des Aix. Even Helias hasn’t made him forget that injury. But Helias is another thing about which he feels deeply, I fear. I’m worried about this rumour that the siege may be raised. If so, it will be because there’s no alternative, because in trying to starve out the city by destroying the crops, we’ve starved ourselves out instead. And then what?’
No one knew, but in all three minds was the same displeasing picture of a Rufus trailing back to Rouen defeated, wound in like a salmon by Helias, who ought to be his humble captive but instead had gained the ascendancy.
FitzHamon yanked his seat nearer the table. Meulan leant forward. So did Tirel. It had begun as a fortuitous gathering. It had become a council of war.
The August night was too hot for closed shutters so the light of the full moon poured into Rufus’ chamber and onto his face. Some men thought that this could cause madness and would have had their beds moved. But Rufus liked the moon. Cold and weak though its light was, it mitigated the darkness. And as for the risk of insanity, he was mad already.
Helias of Maine was in the next room.
A mosquito whined and he slapped it angrily. Rouen was rich in the bloodsucking little horrors, for the Seine bred them. But he did not need mosquito bites to keep him awake. Not with Helias in the next room.
Helias was still a captive but honourably so. He had airy, well-furnished quarters, a seat at the high table, a tailor to dress him at Rufus’ expense, a horse to ride, albeit under escort. It had been a joy, to Rufus, to observe all the laws of knightly behaviour towards Helias.
Belleme had taken Le Mans, making Rufus its lord. Trust Belleme; he was no angel but he was peerless in the field. Rufus had withdrawn his own troops, leaving Robert of Belleme in sole charge of this siege. It had been Meulan’s and FitzHamon’s idea and it had worked, reducing the siege forces to a number which could – just – be fed. Belleme had done the rest, winning this campaign as he had won others, because he was devoid even of the residual conscience which restrained other men from doing certain things. If a moat had to be crossed and he had nothing but corpses to pile in for a walkway, Belleme would pile in corpses. Probably headless ones since another charming Belleme stratagem was to use heads as slingshot. This time he hadn’t needed such extremes, though. A few of Fulk’s nobles had carelessly let him capture them and the rest was easy since no one inside Le Mans was foolish enough to disbelieve Belleme’s imaginative warnings about the fate of his hostages if surrender were not instantly forthcoming.
Rufus, summoned to the city, had made a triumphal entry, promising peace and good government to all Maine and even extending diplomatic friendship to the defeated Fulk. The people of Le Mans had been so relieved to see him taking over control from Belleme, that they had actually greeted him with trumpets.
Helias ought to think himself lucky that he mattered to Rufus. Belleme had brought him straight to Rouen and handed him over. Where would Helias be now if Belleme hadn’t known that his lord wanted him unharmed? Humph, yes, where indeed?
Rufus groaned and turned onto his face. Once, the hosannas of Le Mans were all he desired in the world. Now, Maine was nothing more than a ste
pping stone on the way to somewhere else. His triumph had been spoilt.
Stepping stone? Bargaining counter! Helias was in the adjoining chamber.
Rufus had sent his own chamberlains away at nightfall. Helias had none. He lay alone, unattended, because after all, there must be some differences between captor and captive. Rufus thought of Helias’ unprotected state, rolled over again and sat up in the moonlight.
But lay back. Helias was still a prisoner. That was a gulf that could not be crossed. The question could not again be asked, the agonised hope had no chance of fulfilment until Helias was free. And to use Maine for this purpose would be wrong, quite wrong, unknightly…
So why had he sent his chamberlains away? What had been in the depths of his mind, when he gave that order? Rufus sat up once more and this time rose, girding on the robe which had lain across the foot of his couch. There was no law which prevented a captor from talking, merely talking, to his prisoner, after all. That was all he wanted to do; just talk. Perhaps just mention ... he padded out.
The tiny stone landing in the tower where he and Helias were sleeping was empty, dark. Only a faint gleam of torchlight came up from the floor below, where the guards were. He hesitated. But he could feel Helias’ whereabouts through the gloom, like a shaft of heat. Blindly, groping, he found his way to Helias’ door. It had no inner lock and opened silently.
Helias too lay in the moonlight. Rufus moved noiselessly to the bedside and looked down at his captive’s sleeping face. Helias’ eyes opened at once. He jerked upright.
‘I only want to talk, in private.’ Rufus sank onto the end of the couch. ‘It’s me, Rufus.’ He paused, unsure what to say next and then spoke humbly, from the depths of Rufus the man and as though the king had never been. ‘I need your help.’
If Helias’ faculties were impaired by this small-hours awakening, he didn’t show it. He had been trained as Rufus himself had. Both, as boys, had been often roused from a dead sleep by a trumpet or a shout and had learned to be out of bed within seconds, sword in hand and reflexes working, as an alternative to a hiding on the spot.
‘Yesterday,’ said Helias as though he were in the middle of an established conversation, ‘I offered you my service in arms and my fidelity, in the hope that one day you would see fit to give me back my county. It was an honest offer and you appeared to accept it. I will help you in any way that is also honest.’
‘It’s about that offer. And m ... my acceptance.’
‘Yes?’
The moon shone directly onto Helias. Highlighted in silver, the symmetrical bones of his face, the firm, clean- cut mouth, were very beautiful. His smooth, naked chest was silver-washed too and as he settled his back against the bedhead, his shoulder muscles slid powerful and easy between white light and black shadow.
‘Let’s n… not pretend,’ said Rufus roughly. It seemed that after all there was no gentle way into the subject. Stalk his quarry as warily as he might, the end must be the same. The prey’s recognition of this danger; the piercing arrow and then the bloody scrimmage. ‘We have drawn up a treaty. You helped. It concerns the future of Maine. There’s a blank space where the name of my representative, the governor, will be entered. I might put Fulk’s name, which is what he expects. But I might put yours.’
‘I see. You want to buy me.’
‘No! By the Face, it’s not I… like that! Count Robert of Meulan came to see me last night. FitzHamon came with him and Walter Tirel and three or four more. They had something to say to me. They hedged, by God they hedged,’ said Rufus fiercely, ‘and now… wonder, seeing what the point was when they g… got to it. They told me that if I gave you back Maine, or if I made any treaty which offers you as much as the chance of regaining it, or even accept your allegiance on any terms which will keep you near me, they’ll withdraw their own fealty. In fact, if I actually gave you control of Maine, I could have another rebellion to deal with, led by my oldest friends. But I’ll risk it. I’ll see if they dare do it, if only…’
He ran out of words. Ever since that miraculous glimpse of this man at St. Gervais, even though he had not then known the name of his dream, he had been haunted by Helias, finding echoes of him in other men, but always, unknowing, searching for the original. Then Helias had walked through a door and into Rufus’ life… and Helias had said no.
Helias found words, of course. Helias was never at a loss for words in all his life. ‘If I break the laws of God and man and share your bed, you’ll return Maine to me and chance an uprising? You’ll trade a province and the trust of your closest friends to commit buggery with me? Is that it?’
Rufus leant down, resting his hands on either side of Helias’ hips, bringing his face close to the other man. ‘I can make you, you know. If you called the guards, they’d come but when they see who’s with you, do you think they’ll interfere? I could order them to hold you. They’d do it.’
‘I wouldn’t need to call the guards. I can break your neck myself.’
‘You forget who you’re talking to.’
‘You forget who you’re talking to. I’m your prisoner. I should be safe from some kinds of harassment.’
‘You’re a petted, pampered prisoner. If I’d been Belleme, you’d be rotting in a dungeon now, wet and starving. Wrists and ankles flayed with gyves. I can still do it. There’s such a thing as ing… g… gratitude.’
‘There’s such a thing as demanding too much damned gratitude! You took my lands from me. Now you want to turn me into a catamite as you did a fine young man who was incidentally once the best huntsman I ever had. I know about Ralph des Aix. And you expect me to be grateful because in addition to all this you haven’t fettered and starved me too?’ It came as if it had been struck out of Rufus by flint. ‘You b… blind fool! Can’t you understand? II... love you!’
The last three words burst out with such force that for a crazy moment Helias had the illusion that the face six inches from his own had briefly glowed with flame. There was a silence.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Helias at last.
‘Think about it!’ Rufus was shaking. ‘Think what I can do for you and think what I can do to you. I’ll ask you again tomorrow. In p… public but only you and I will know. I shall d… drop something, a cup or a knife, anything, on the floor near you. Pick it up and you’ve said yes. In the hall, when we meet to discuss the treaty. Leave the thing I drop I…lying and I… look out! Good night!’
He waited a second longer but Helias neither moved nor spoke and had he stayed in that room, Rufus knew he would have flung himself on his knees before the Count. Clutching at the very last of his self-respect, he flung himself from the couch and fled, bare feet thudding on the stone floor. In his chamber again, he threw himself on his bed. But he did not sleep.
‘It would be unwise to ask him again,’ said Henry. With his back to the watchful Christina, and Edith facing him, he could surreptitiously take Edith’s hands. ‘One refusal is enough. To persist would provoke him. But if we wait…’
She was drooping, he could see it, withering like an unwatered flower in this harsh place. It was harder for her to wait than for him. He had campaigns to occupy him, and other women to quench his fires. What had she to help her through? She was meeting his eyes and trying to smile. He wished Rufus could see her now; perhaps he’d take pity on Edith if not Henry. The memory of Rufus’ brusque refusal of his plea still burned him. They had been coming back to England to attend to the Welsh disturbances. They had been on board ship. ‘No,’ Rufus had said. ‘For more than one reason and you know what they are. D… don’t ask me to recite them. And d… don’t look at me as if you wished I’d fall overboard!’
‘Why not? I do,’ said Henry angrily.
He had known it was useless to ask again, and that the time was still not ripe even now, two years later. He looked very tenderly at Edith and was anxious. Although she was so brave, and not innocent in the sense of being ignorant, she was completely uncorrupted; it was part of her enchantment. He
must be careful what he said next. He could not say outright, to Edith, that he hoped for a brother’s death although he did, to the point of prayer. Either brother would do.
‘My eldest brother is in the Holy Land. No one knows when or if he will return. There’s been no news. Sooner or later, Rufus must see that he needs an heir at home. Many of the barons are telling him so already. Since he clearly doesn’t mean to provide one for himself, he must eventually turn to me. Then my position will be very different; he could not refuse to let me marry and I would be expected to marry appropriately. You would be that.’
‘I’m afraid,’ said Edith. Her eyes glanced past him. ‘Of her. My aunt. The king hasn’t countermanded his order that I’m not to become a nun without his permission. But he only gave that order because he was thinking of marrying me himself, didn’t he?’ She said it simply, a statement of fact, without coyness. She was a princess and had from birth known her value in the marriage market. She was a princess and would make a queen. ‘It wasn’t to please you that he gave that order,’ Edith said. ‘I thought so at first but you yourself have told me the truth. Now that he has… another interest…well, if his permission was asked, he would probably give it. He might even not care if I took vows without it. He has probably forgotten me, and his order about me, altogether. My aunt has… suggested as much. I’m afraid of her, Henry!’
‘Oh, my dear darling. Listen.’ He grasped her hand and thought urgently, with the rapid resourcefulness of a man who has lived by his wits. ‘Is there any way you could put a signal which could be seen from outside, from the road?’
‘A signal? But you can’t sit outside for ever, watching!’
‘I can leave a man of my household nearby with orders to ride past regularly and keep watch for me. What signal could it be?’
‘There’s ivy under our dorter window.’ Edith too was capable of thinking quickly. ‘You can see that bit of wall from outside. A white cloth, caught in the ivy?’
‘That’ll do. If he sees that, he’ll get word to me and I’ll come even if I have to come from Normandy ... or Jerusalem! I swear I’ll come. You have only to hold out till I arrive. Oh my love, you must, don’t slip away from me behind walls and veils. Feign illness, madness, anything! But don’t give in!’
King of the Wood Page 38
