The traveller remained on his knees. ‘Lord, I am Simon of La Barre, youngest brother to Herluin. My father sent me to seek service with the Duke when we heard of his triumph at Rouen…’ he saw Henry smile a little but he went on, ‘only when I got there I found the court gone to Caen, so I followed.’
‘Well? What happened to send you scurrying here?’ Henry studied the lad as he spoke. Simon had the same colouring and the same angular figure as his brother though he was not so tall, but his eyes were blue not grey, widely alert, without Herluin’s heavy lids, and his features were more regular, smooth and boyish, the mouth curved like a woman’s. He looked up at the Prince with unabashed curiosity.
‘Lord Count, most of the great men of Normandy are gathered there, some for the Duke and some for the King. I was surprised not to find my brother there with you, but . . .’ he broke off briefly. ‘Lord they have made a treaty.’
Henry stood very still, stiff with a premonition of evil. ‘My brothers?’
‘Yes, lord, and with many barons to witness it – Count Stephen of Aumale and the Count of Eu, I know. And Gerard of Gournay, Robert de Beaumont, the lords of Auberville and Freville . . .’
‘What of the Lord of Conches?’
‘He was with the King too, and his son, Ralph.’
So they had all gone over to Rufus, even after Robert’s victory, he thought angrily. He pulled his mantle more closely about his shoulders for the room seemed chill. ‘And who stands for the Duke?’
Simon’s brows were drawn close together in a frown. ‘The Count of Bellême, my lord, and William of Breteuil, Hugh of Grandmesnil and his sons, and some others, but I cannot remember all the names.’
Henry swung away to the window. They were alone in the room but for Fulcher who was standing silently by the door, watching his master in acute anxiety. Outside the men had gathered in groups, talking together, wondering at the reason for this urgent visit.
‘And the treaty?’ he asked at last, indicating that Simon should rise from his knees. ‘What do you know of that?’
‘Mostly what was common talk afterwards, for everyone was speaking of it. It was sworn to by twelve men for the Duke and twelve for the King.’
‘Tell me,’ he said sharply. That his brothers should agree a treaty without him was indefensible – was he not Count of the Cotentin, owning a third part of the duchy?
Simon paused, as if hesitating now that he had come so far to be the bearer of bad news, but he was about to speak when there was a tap on the door. Annoyed at the interruption Henry opened it himself in a spurt of irritation, however seeing Herluin with Roger the Priest, he bade them enter and shut the door behind them.
Herluin looked at the visitor in astonishment. ‘Simon! What in heaven’s name are you doing here.’
Henry gave a harsh laugh. ‘He has come to shatter the pleasure of our hunting, my friend. It seems my brothers plot my ruin.’
Roger folded his arms in his sleeves. ‘That was to be expected, my lord.’
‘Was it, by God! I did not think so. But Simon was about to tell me of this treaty they have agreed behind my back which bodes no good to me, I’m sure of that. Speak, boy.’
Simon cast a quick glance at his tall, frowning brother, and then came out baldly with the truth.
‘My lord, it was agreed that the King will continue to hold those castles he has already invested, the Duke to keep his and . . .’ he looked from one to the other, ‘and the King is to have Cherbourg and Mont St. Michel while Duke Robert will take the rest of your county.’
‘What!’ Henry was almost speechless with astonishment. What right had Curthose and Red William to parcel out his lands as if he were a chattel, a nithing – as if he were not also their father’s son? He beat one fist into the other in impotent fury. By God, had he not paid three thousand marks of silver for this very land on which he stood?
Herluin had seized Simon by the shoulder. ‘Think, boy! Are you sure? It cannot be true.’
Henry said drily, ‘I think it can. I am beginning to know my brothers too well, though even I did not believe they could do this to me.’
Simon was silent, staring at this unknown Prince who meant little to him other than his brother’s chosen lord; the fact that de Redvers had sent him here to Valognes gave him a sense of importance, fed his desire to be at the centre of things.
Henry began to pace rapidly, as if the small room could not contain his growing rage. ‘Do they think I am a child to have sweetmeats taken from me?’ Robert’s perfidy astounded him most, for had he not gone to Robert’s aid less than three months ago? ‘And the barons?’ he burst out. ‘Did none speak for me?’
‘One or two, my lord, at the beginning. Earl Hugh was one – Messire de Redvers too, but the Duke and the King together were too powerful. They have agreed each to be the other’s heirs and none of the barons dared dispute after that.’
‘And Prince Edgar? Was he there?’
‘Aye, he was, but he fared no better than yourself, my lord Count. He is banished, his lands in Normandy and England confiscated.’
‘Edgar banished?’ Henry stared at Simon in disbelief. ‘In God’s name, why?’
‘Well, it seemed the King’s will, though the Duke did not want it at first. Only he yielded in the end.’
‘He would! ’ Henry thought of his gentle Saxon cousin. ‘Poor Edgar, what does Rufus think he will do?’
Roger the Priest had been standing quietly, listening to the talk. Now he said, ‘The King has made a grave error. Prince Edgar at court and with lands of his own would be less potential danger than Edgar banished. I would guess, my lord, that he will go, as he has done before, to his brother-in-law the King of the Scots, and then the Red King will have enemies at his back door. Likewise he has made a needless enemy of yourself.’
‘You are right, by God and His Mother!’ He stood by the window, trying to assimilate this appalling news. It meant, and he knew it, that the combined forces of his two brothers would be marching against him to implement their infamous treaty. Despite their former double dealing, their treachery towards him, he had not wanted to think them capable of this. Did they want his life too?
He had been so sure of his future, his destiny that Abbot Anselm had predicted for him, but now, on this bright morning, a slow trickle of fear crept into his bones. If they were against him, had weaned all his friends from his side, what chance had he in a fight against them? Unsentimental though he was the loss of those friends – Earl Hugh, de Redvers, Ralph de Toeni – hurt damnably. He felt utterly alone. Not half an hour since he had stood by this same window rejoicing in the prospect of the day’s hunting – now the morning held a menace, a hint of death. If they caught him, would his brothers kill him? Imprison him, perhaps for life? Once he would have repudiated the thought. Now he did not know. Only he wondered what he had done to make them think him their enemy.
‘My lord,’ Herluin’s voice broke into his furious thoughts. ‘What will you do?’
He turned back to face them and saw them looking at him expectantly. He did not answer the question immediately, but instead said, ‘Simon La Barre, it was good of you to come to warn us. What now? Will you stay with me?’
There was a pause. Simon opened his mouth and shut it again.
Henry smiled wrily. ‘Or am I so poor a case that you will go hurrying back to my perfidious brothers?’
Simon glanced at Herluin and then said easily, ‘My lord, if I had entered the Duke’s service I should have been at the lowest end of the knights’ table – if I serve you as my brother has done, I think his good offices will secure me a better place.’
Henry burst out laughing. ‘By St. Peter, you are honest. And you are right. You shall be among my own household. Will that suffice?’
Herluin sent his brother an annoyed look, but the irony was lost on Simon,
‘Thank you, my lord,’ he answered coolly. ‘Messire de Redvers thought when he sent me to you that you would be glad of another sword.
He told me to tell you that he would aid you if he could, but the King has garrisoned Vernon with English troops.’
Somehow the news cheered him beyond measure for it meant at least that Richard would aid if he could, was still his friend.
‘What will we do?’ he said, at last answering Herluin’s question. ‘We will make a fight of it, by God. I will show them I am not a weakling to be driven off my lands by their plots. If they want the Cotentin, they will have to seize it by force.’
He saw the satisfaction in their faces and when they rode out half an hour later they made a small but brave company, his gonfanon fluttering on the pole borne by Hamo, his hawks in their gay hoods carried as usual by Gulfer, his leashed hounds and alaunts in the capable hands of Walter the lymer, the pack horses following laden with his household gear.
They rode first to Coutances but there found the gates barred to them by Bishop Geoffrey, always Duke Robert’s man. Henry did not waste time attempting anything there, merely commenting that his brothers had hastened to spread the news that be was deprived of his lands.
Riding on southwards towards Avranches Simon La Barre drew his horse close to his brother and said in a low voice, ‘It may be you have given your sword to the wrong prince.’
Herluin retorted sharply, ‘I have? Are you not his man too?’
‘Oh aye, at the moment. But would you wreck our fortunes by setting them on one target?’
Herluin looked at him in surprise. ‘What ails you boy? Can you not see he is the best man to serve?’
Simon shrugged, staring between his horse’s ears. ‘Our father was maybe not so foolish in wanting me to enter the Duke’s service.’
Herluin snorted. ‘That was probably because he thought it expedient to have a son in each camp. I’m surprised he didn’t send Milo to the King.’
‘He did suggest it, but Milo has gone to Mont St. Michel to be a monk.’
‘As he always wished,’ Herluin sighed. ‘Who shall say he has not chosen the better part?’ He was silent for a while, but then roused himself to say vigorously, ‘Well, I’m glad for him. But I hope you see that you will do better with us than elsewhere.’
Simon glanced at his brother in open astonishment. ‘You can say that now – when, if the King and the Duke have their way, the Prince will be banished with naught but his sword?’
‘I can say it. If he must be exiled, why I will go too – but I tell you this, a day will come when he will be greater than either of his brothers. I have always believed it.’
Simon laughed derisively. ‘You dream, Herluin. Our father says you were always the dreamer. I see things as they are, and the Duke and the King have more to offer at the moment.’
‘I know my master,’ Herluin said confidently, and smiled at the sulky young man beside him. ‘And I tell you he’ll hold his own. You’ll not regret this, Simon.’
He cantered on to join the Prince, certain that a few weeks in Henry’s service would dispel the lad’s doubts. Even defeat, he thought, would do no more than deflect his master’s course for a while.
At Avranches Earl Hugh, who had ridden to his native city at the express command of William Rufus, saw the company approaching and ordering the gates to be shut fast heaved his great bulk up the narrow spiral stair to the roof of the gatehouse. Below him the Prince, riding his magnificent red destrier, drew rein and called for the gates to be opened. The Earl did not like what he had to do but he leaned over the parapet and shouted down, ‘My lord, I cannot let them open to you.’
Henry started at the familiar voice and soothed Rougeroy’s restless prancing. He looked up in silence for several moments before he spoke.
‘Hugh! I did not think this of you.’
The Earl shrugged. There were dark clouds scudding up from the west and it was beginning to rain, adding to the irritation of his mood. ‘I am sorry for it, but I tell you frankly that the King and the Duke combined are too strong a force for me. And I’ve no mind to lose my earldom in England.’
Henry leaned on the saddle, frowning. The loss of Avranches and Hugh’s defection were blows he had not expected. ‘Will no friend stand by me? Not even my old tutor?’
The Earl seemed honestly regretful. ‘I wish I could – you were ever a good pupil, Henry – but I’ve too much now to risk losing all in a rash act of folly, for folly it would be to set yourself against the might of Normandy and England. You would be well advised to ride on, over the border to Brittany, or where you will, until the times are better for you. You cannot pay an army to defy the Duke.’
It was too far to see the expression on Hugh’s face, but with a cold fear in him Henry asked, ‘He has taken my silver?’
‘Aye.’
He chewed his whip, trembling with rage and frustration. He wanted to hit out, to meet them face to face, challenge them, throw their perfidy back at them.
As if sensing this, Hugh called, ‘Go, boy, anywhere. You cannot think to hold your brothers at bay.’
‘Nevertheless I will try,’ Henry shouted back vigorously. ‘They have robbed me unjustly and I appeal my cause to Almighty God.’
‘Then may He aid you,’ Hugh answered, ‘I cannot.’
There seemed no more to be said.
Herluin edged his horse up to the Prince’s. ‘Let us go to Mont St. Michel. I doubt if they can have seized that yet and some of our Breton friends will surely ride to help us.’
‘Aye,’ Roger agreed, ‘we could hold out on the Mount as long as maybe with the sand and the sea to aid us – long enough to give your brothers time to reconsider.’
Henry was silent. This was his city, his castle – inside was his hall, filled with his possessions and to be robbed and cheated thus, before his staring men, was an indignity he would not easily forget.
Roger said, ‘come, my lord.’
But he had not yet finished with the Earl. ‘Hugh Lupus,’ he shouted up at the burly figure on the roof of the gatehouse, ‘I trust you’re not so much the Wolf that you’ll keep my mistress in your lair. Is Alide of Caen in the castle with my children?’
‘She’s here and unharmed.’
‘Then bid her join me.’
There was a slight pause and it seemed as if the Earl was about to deny him but then he gave a laugh that shook his great belly. ‘I’ll not deny you your pleasure, my lord,’ he called back, leaning over the parapet, his shield in his hand, the wolf’s head clearly visible painted in black on a scarlet ground, as if he expected one of Henry’s archers to loose a shaft at him.
‘And my garrison?’
The Earl nodded. ‘Those that wish to ride out may do so.’
He disappeared and the small cavalcade waited outside for what seemed a long time, the horses pawing the ground, tails switching, some of the dogs growling and snapping at each other, several stretching out on the ground, closing their eyes against the rain. At last the gates were opened and some twenty men rode out with Alide in the centre. She was mounted on a small palfrey, with a maidservant behind her carrying her youngest child, a babe of barely three months, while young Robert was held in the arms of one of the soldiers, chuckling with delight at the unaccustomed pleasure of being on horseback.
They rode down the slope and Gerard of St. Lo, the knight Henry had left in command, raised his hand in greeting.
‘The first we heard of the treaty, my lord, was when Earl Hugh came himself. I could do naught but submit. Your lady is safe.’
She was wearing a long blue mantle, the hood about her face for the rain was heavy now. She seemed calm, refusing to show to the world the desperate anxiety she had suffered since she had learned that all Normandy had turned against her lover.
He rode forward to meet her and reaching across set his hand on hers. ‘Well, my heart, it seems our fortunes are low, but please God only for the moment.’
She smiled at him, caring for nothing but the fact that he was beside her again, his hand warm on hers, and she was free of the confining castle and even more constricting fear
.
They turned their backs on Avranches and its barred gates, and he sent Herluin ahead with a scouting party to the island of Mont St. Michel. Presently Herluin returned to say the rock of the Archangel still held for him, but the tide was now up and would prevent their crossing before morning, and he suggested that the night should be spent at Barre le Heron. Their arrival threw their host into a paroxysm of activity in his endeavour to feed and entertain his guests, but it was clear the old man was uneasy. He could scarcely veil his annoyance at seeing his younger offspring joining Herluin in the service of one whose star seemed, at the moment, in the decline. His eldest son, Gilbert, ponderously gave it as his opinion that the Duke and the King would be in the Avranchin within the week and they had all best make peace as soon as they might, to which Herluin replied sharply that when it was a question of might against right, too many men took the expedient way. Simon sat listening sulkily to the arguments of his elders and the youngest boy, a lad of fourteen, begged to be allowed to ride with the Prince, to which his father replied with some asperity that he thought two sons in the Prince’s service was enough.
Henry of the High Rock Page 15
