Winter Song

by Roberta Gellis

  “Then you have been taught wrong, my husband,“ Alys replied, smiling also, “for it is the first purpose of a wife to be shouted at so that a man may face the world with the bile and spleen cleansed from his blood.” Her eyes twinkled. “Your sweet nature has defeated me. I offered you good cause to lose your temper, and you coddled me instead.”

  Raymond burst out laughing. “But it is much pleasanter to coddle you than shout at you, and it soothes me just as well.” Then he sobered and pushed away the sweet, which he had barely touched. “Is there something with which I can write? I would like to put this idea of ours to the test, and for that I must tell the Vicomte de Marsan and Sir Oliver that I am here. I wrote to both from England, but there was no time to have an answer. We must hear what Marsan thinks before we can go further.”

  Chapter Nine

  The next few days were busy but peaceful. Either Rustengo’s plans were not yet ripe or Raymond’s arrival and reaction had made him wish to think them over. Master Ernaldus ransomed his horse and clothing for the agreed-on sum. Alys put a new herdsman in charge of the cattle—the one who had watched over the animals was too well-fed-looking for her taste. She had noted that only Ernaldus’s favorites were better than walking skeletons. The kitchen staff was banished and replaced. A young priest presented himself with a letter from the priest of Saint Remy’s church. Alys liked his looks and the way he blushed when she called him Father. She invited him to stay permanently as chaplain in Blancheforte if that would suit his superiors.

  Word had spread across the demesne of the miracle that had taken place in the keep. The gates of Blancheforte were thronged each dawn with men and women begging for work in exchange for the good meals available. There was no grumbling here about the exactions of the lord who took serfs from their own fields to work on the master’s tasks. Alys wondered briefly if a course of starvation would have done the people of Marlowe some good by teaching them how well off they were. However, she also saw that it took ten men of Blancheforte to do the work of two of Marlowe. This was not only a result of deliberate inefficiency—naturally, the first reaction to gentleness was an attempt to take advantage, which Alys cured with selected whippings and expulsions. The straining of men and women weakened by too-long semistarvation to do a normal task showed.

  Nonetheless, the work of repairing pens and sheds and stables proceeded rapidly. Clearing of the gate towers was begun, and Raymond bent his attention to the walls and the instruments of war. This occasioned a small problem when Peter Calhau arrived unexpectedly. The very last thing Raymond wanted Calhau to hear was that he was strengthening the defenses of Blancheforte. Nothing, Raymond was sure, would convince the man that it was a measure taken only in case there might be trouble. Raymond was sure that Calhau would leap to the conclusion that Raymond knew of and was ready to participate in plans for the forceful return to power of de Soler.

  Fortunately Alys was in the bailey, and she came running to the gate. She so bemused Peter Calhau with bitter complaints against Master Ernaldus, dragging him into the inner bailey at once to show him the decayed condition of the outbuildings, that he did not notice the unusual activity on the outer wall. Then she asked a host of eager questions about where to purchase cloth and supplies, and began to blush and beg pardon for importuning a guest. By that time her youth and beauty had had its effect and she was able to lead Calhau into the hall, seat him in state, and press wine and cakes on him—until Raymond got the work covered and got down from the walls himself.

  Most probably Calhau had come to determine just what Alys’s welcoming had caused him to overlook, but he could not suspect her of deception. The very modesty with which she removed herself as soon as her husband arrived to entertain his guest showed her young and artless. However, Raymond was able to convince the mayor that he did not intend to fill Blancheforte with armed men. This was partly owing to Alys’s “innocent” chatter, because she had confided how much she needed of various stores, which confirmed Raymond’s assertions. Also Raymond disclosed his plan of taking men from Benquel, whom Calhau knew would be neutral. In the end they parted with considerably more sincere amity than at their previous meeting.

  Alys was the greatest gainer. She had realized that Ernaldus might have been telling the truth when he first said the herd of cattle did not belong to Blancheforte. When she pressed him, it would be just like him to conceal the name of the owner so that she would get in trouble for appropriating the animals. She had told Calhau of this, and he had promised to investigate the matter.

  Beyond that, from Calhau’s immediate eagerness to prosecute the bailiff, he had betrayed the fact that Ernaldus was probably an adherent of the de Soler party. Most innocently Alys had refused that offer. Master Ernaldus, she said sweetly, had been sufficiently punished by being deprived of his place. Moreover, she remarked with spurious timidity, since he claimed to have been appointed by the king’s master of the wardrobe, it was not her place to punish him. She intended, she added, to write to the Earl of Cornwall an account of what Blancheforte should have yielded over the years it was in Master Ernaldus’s hands. Uncle Richard would take the account to the king. If the king wished to pursue the matter, he could then do so.

  When Calhau was gone, Alys and Raymond compared accounts of the visit. Raymond decided he had better visit Rustengo to tell him of Calhau’s coming to Blancheforte. Not to do so would arouse grave suspicion in Rustengo if he heard of it from another source. Incidentally, Raymond said, he would complain of Ernaldus so that if Rustengo wanted to deal with the matter himself, he could. It might add to the de Soler party’s problems if Alys complained to the king, so he would be grateful to Raymond for asking him first.

  However, in the late afternoon those plans had to be altered. A letter arrived from the Vicomte de Marsan acknowledging and enthusiastically accepting Raymond’s proposals. He suggested that Raymond come to Marsan as soon as possible, bringing with him Sir Oliver, so that an agreement as to the terms of enfeoffment could be reached.

  “I think I should go tomorrow,” Raymond said. “I do not think Bordeaux will erupt in the next few days, and telling Rustengo about Calhau can wait. My relationship with Marsan is important. Rustengo will understand that. It is possible that I will need to convince Oliver that this is the best way, and I do not wish to give Marsan too much time to think. In the first flush of pleasure at getting back what he considers his right, he is likely to be generous, which will make it possible for me to agree to his terms without argument. That will make for a good feeling between us. If Marsan has time to consider, he may begin to think of what he has lost over the years and wish to recoup.”

  “But we cannot leave all undone here,” Alys protested. “There are not even sufficient provisions for the servants or for what men we must leave to guard our furnishings. I intended to ride to Bordeaux with you tomorrow to buy what is necessary.”

  Raymond frowned. “They must make do. This business with Marsan is more important than supplies and servants.”

  Alys, of course, said no more. Raymond went back to his work on the walls, and Alys went upstairs to tell Edith and Bertha to pack clothing for the trip. She noticed that as soon as the maids left them, the women of the castle began to look uncertain and draw together when they had finished the immediate task on which they had been employed. None had the sense or self-confidence to begin something new without specific orders. Alys could see that she would be back where she started, although less filth would have a chance to accumulate, if she left Blancheforte at this time.

  Thus, when she and Raymond sat down together at dinner time, she reintroduced the subject, asking whether Raymond believed Sir Oliver would resent him.

  “It is a possibility, but I think a distant one,” Raymond answered. “It is true most vassals would rather their lords were at a distance and not looking over their shoulders, but this is a different case. Here Sir Oliver has long needed an overlord’s protection and has been unable to obtain it. He is threatened and ha
rassed by Marsan’s men. I have high hopes that he will be delighted to see me and some expectation that he will be eager to come to terms with Marsan. My only doubt is that in so long a conflict, sometimes personal hatred is aroused. I must say that Marsan’s letter does not sound as if that is the case, but he is the stronger.”

  “I was not thinking of Sir Oliver’s hatred for Marsan, but only whether you can trust him, and whether, for example, it would be safe to go to Benquel with only a few men.”

  “As to that, yes, I am certain it would be safe. If he hates the vicomte, Oliver might try to convince me not to do homage to him, but he would be mad to offer us violence. He is only a simple knight of neither great family nor large influence.”

  “You are sure, Raymond?” Alys asked with considerable intensity.

  “My love, what do you fear?” he asked, putting an arm around her. “Indeed, I know Sir Oliver—not very well, perhaps, but I have guested at Benquel. He knew I was tied to Marsan, and he did complain to me of the constant trouble he had from that quarter, but he did me no hurt nor offered any insult.”

  Alys sighed. “Well, if you are sure it is safe to go there, my lord, then I think I will not go with you.”

  Raymond had opened his mouth to reason further when the sense of what Alys had said struck him. He opened his mouth again and, still wordless, closed it once more. Meanwhile, Alys was hastily explaining her purpose and assuring Raymond that she would miss him every moment, and the only reason she could endure parting with him was that she knew, from the speed with which the courier had returned, that it was no long journey to Benquel. By this time Raymond had sorted out his emotions and started to laugh.

  “Alys, I do not know whether I should strangle you or beat you,” he choked. “You have managed to insult me at least three separate ways in one sentence, and I am sure if I were to think about it, I would find a few more doubts about my honor, ability, and good sense.”

  Astonishment opened Alys’s blue eyes wide. “My dear lord, if I have truly done such a thing, you should beat me, but you will have to stop laughing to do so. It is very hard to beat someone while you are laughing. And strangulation seems to me to be overly severe a punishment for an error. What did I say amiss?”

  “First, you implied that I was either so much a fool or so uncaring as to take my wife into a situation of danger without adequate precaution. Next, you implied that you could preserve me from that danger rather than I you. Last, you seem to believe I intend to do homage to Marsan when it is you who must do it.”

  Alys began to laugh also, and hung her head in false shame. “Alas,” she chuckled, “I am guilty, but only of the first crime. As to the second, far from thinking I could be of any assistance, I only wished to share your fate. And as to the third, it is no crime for a woman to trust her husband.” She looked up, serious now, and asked, “Is there not some way for you to do my homage by proxy? If my confirmation is needed, I can give it when we pass Marsan to go to Amou. You did tell me that we would do so, did you not? We could stop for one night at Benquel so that I may meet Sir Oliver, and I may say whatever must be said to Marsan. Will that not do?”

  Raymond had sobered and considered her suggestion seriously. “Yes.” He nodded emphatically after another moment’s thought. “And if you stay, we need not chance—however slim the possibility—that Rustengo’s suspicion of Calhau’s visit, which I am sure will come to his ears, will cause some unwanted action on his part. You can go to him tomorrow in my stead. Tell him where I have gone and why—there is no harm in Rustengo knowing the whole matter of Marsan and Benquel, and he will feel pleased that I confide my business to him. As to Calhau’s visit, speak the truth, that I wanted him to know of it and to know that Calhau has still made no definite proposals nor uttered threats. No more than smooth talk passed between us. About the cattle and the bailiff, you may say what you like.”

  So it was decided, and Raymond departed at first light, hoping that the roads would be good enough for him to reach Benquel by dusk. He took only five men, with Hugo to lead them. To Alys’s protests he replied with laughter, pointing out that no less than an army could help him if Sir Oliver meant treachery, and if he took more than five to guard against thieves and rogues, he might make trouble by implying distrust.

  I must stop acting like a hen with one chick, Alys told herself severely as she set the tasks for the day. I was not forever telling Papa to be careful. Raymond is a man grown, and in his own territory, too. These strictures helped a little, but Alys knew she would need an absorbing concern to stop herself from fretting. Thus, as soon as she had set all to work, she changed to her richest riding dress, ordered Aelfric to keep Blancheforte closed against all intruders as Hugo had done the previous day, and rode to Bordeaux accompanied by Arnald and five men-at-arms.

  They had no trouble finding their way, for Raymond’s instructions had been explicit. Rustengo was waiting for her, having been prepared by a note from Raymond the day before, and Alys’s meeting with him was pleasanter by far than Raymond’s had been. Alys had no more to do than act the obedient wife, and she was accustomed to a stream of well-meant advice delivered in a voice of authority. So, naturally, this did not raise Alys’s hackles as it had raised Raymond’s, although she had even less intention of taking any advice that did not suit her purposes.

  Alys had one real surprise, however. Had she not known Rustengo was only a cousin to Raymond and not close, she would have guessed they were father and son. There was a great likeness in looks and voice between them. Alys wondered naughtily whether Raymond’s mama—whom she had reason enough to think ill of from Raymond’s tales—had known Rustengo too well before Raymond’s conception. It was, of course, impossible, and even if it were not, it did not matter to Alys.

  All that mattered to her was that she had achieved her ends. First she explained Raymond’s mission and described Calhau’ s visit, seeing at once that Raymond had judged his kinsman correctly. From that vantage point, she managed to insinuate into Rustengo’s mind the notion that Raymond’s new need to be treated with deference was owing to his desire to impress her. It was a perfectly harmless bit of conceit, even endearing in a young man, that would keep Rustengo polite and encourage greater harmony between the kinsmen. Additionally, Alys suggested that Raymond’s conversations with her implied that all his natural instincts were in support of the de Soler party. Though Alys did not say it, Rustengo saw for himself that to urge Raymond to support his natural friends implied a lack of faith. Rustengo began to look thoughtful.

  Alys chattered on about “Uncle Richard”, correcting herself to say “the Earl of Cornwall” with a deliberate blush that drew questions. These permitted her to explain, with suitable hesitations and further blushes, her relationship with Richard of Cornwall in such a way that she would not seem to be boasting. To do that, Alys knew, might throw doubt on the validity of the claim of long and enduring friendship. And yes, of course she knew the king very well, Alys replied to another question, her complexion now normal despite the lie.

  “Although, perhaps, I should not say that,” she went on, “for he is a most difficult man to know. I do not mean he is haughty or unapproachable, but he does not show what is in his mind, except, perhaps, to Eleanor—oh, heaven, I mean Queen Eleanor. Please forgive my unruly tongue. She is Raymond’s aunt, you know—how funny that is, for she is only the elder by a month and they were playmates as children. He always speaks of her as Eleanor, and I have caught it.”

  “The queen has the king’s ear, then?” Rustengo asked.

  “Yes, and his heart, too,” Alys replied ingenuously, wondering whether Rustengo’s question was a trap. Eleanor had been in Bordeaux with Henry, and Rustengo must have seen the king’s devotion—unless he was already out of favor and not invited. Tread carefully, Alys warned herself. “Sometimes King Henry is constrained to do harsh things,” she continued, “but the queen wins him softly back to the best path. The thing is, like all kings—and even more so in Henry’s
case because he came to be king so young, only twelve—he cannot bear to be forced. To do violence against his will…” Alys shook her head. “He will never forgive nor forget, not even for the queen’s sake. And,” she widened her eyes, “you will not betray me if I speak what is in my mind, even if it is not all flattering to the king?”

  “You may be sure I will keep your confidence.”

  “Well, then, King Henry has such pride that he cannot bear to admit he was wrong in anything. He may know it in his heart, and then he will set about to amend the wrong, but it must come about in such a way that the world will not see he has deliberately changed his path to mend a mistake.”

  Alys told several anecdotes to drive home those two points, that Henry did not forget or forgive violence against him and that he resorted to devious methods to restore the correct balance when he had made a mistake. None of the stories had anything to do with Bordeaux, of course, nor even with a situation similar to that in Bordeaux—to be too pertinent, Alys thought, would be dangerous—but the stories were illustrative of Henry’s set of mind, and they were quite true. Alys had a huge fund of stories about the king gleaned from his brother’s discussions with her father.

  Then Alys set about making sure Rustengo believed her ignorant of his plans by relating everything she had said to Master Ernaldus. “The trouble he gave me,” she exclaimed. “The filth! The stench! And the people so starved that they had not the strength to clean properly. And they all say this Master Ernaldus ordered that Blancheforte be dirty and ruinous. Perhaps they were lying out of fear, but he certainly gave them no order to clean. Oh, and do forgive me, I had almost forgot to thank you for giving my husband dinner that day. It was so kind of you and a great favor to us, for there was nothing fit for him to eat.”

  “You should have come, also,” Rustengo said, smiling with real affection and thinking that if he had seen young Raymond preening before this pretty bird of a wife, he would not have made the mistake of talking to him as if he were still a boy. “You should have come to stay with me. You would have been most welcome.”