“For better or for worse?” The words were lightly uttered but Alain recognised the keenness of the question.
He smiled. “I think he feared, my lord, you might have changed for the worst, but, after what I have seen both in the hall this afternoon and from that last observation of yours just moments ago, I am convinced there has been no change.”
“Not even for the better?” Henry said flippantly.
“In so short a time I could not know that, my lord, but we have both learned a deeper sense of responsibility, I trust.”
The Count nodded.
“In short, my lord, the King is ailing—and tiring. He would like to achieve a lasting truce but—” Alain shrugged.
“On what terms?”
Alain was disconcerted by the shrewdness and quickness of the question. He gave a slight gasp. His eyes were wary. “Nothing must be said officially of what I—surmise.”
“You have my word and on my knightly honour.”
“It will be for greater lords than I to settle the terms of any proposed treaty, but—”
“But?”
“The King wishes to know your mind on the—possibility of a permanent peace based on the premise that—he would continue to reign until his death and—” Alain saw the frown gather upon the Count’s brow and he continued “—on the understanding that you, my lord, would succeed him.”
If he had expected an immediate response he was disappointed. Henry was silent, pulling thoughtfully at his ear lobe. He said at last, “And what, mon ami, would the King’s sons have to say to such a proposal?”
“Eustace, I’m sure, would be outraged; but William could be appeased, I think, if suitable provisions were made for him.”
“But Eustace is the stumbling block.”
“Undoubtedly, but he is not popular amongst the common folk and he constantly antagonises the church and some of the more powerful barons. Many would not be averse to putting him aside in your favour if a permanent peace could be agreed.” He hesitated, then said quietly, “And what think you, sir, would your lady mother have to say about laying aside what she considers her rightful claim?”
Henry shook his head. “She is a determined lady but she, too, is tired. For years now she has pressed on me that her continued claim is to establish my right to succeed to the English throne.”
Alain shifted awkwardly upon his uncomfortable stool.
“As I understand it, my lord, the English council, which was called the Witan, decided the succession.”
Count Henry said haughtily, “Can you deny my mother the Empress was King Henry’s only legitimate surviving child? The barons swore allegiance to her before him.”
“I know that, sir, but a forced oath, even before a king, is not always accepted by Holy Church as binding. The succession to the English throne does not always go to the nearest heir. King William was not succeeded by his eldest son, Robert, and it must be remembered that it was the English Witan that chose King Harold to reign over them after the death of the sainted Edward, the confessor. King William succeeded only by right of conquest.”
Count Henry’s smile grew even broader. “Do you suggest I push on and emulate him?”
“You may be forced to do so, my lord, and it could take your lifetime.”
“Aye.”
“And, meanwhile, England suffers at the hands of men like Mauger de Cotaine.”
The grey eyes glittered strangely in the torchlight as Henry leaned back on his stool.
“Well, what word of me will you carry back to your King?”
Alain started, then said hastily, “At present I am in no position to carry back any word, my lord.”
Again the Count’s lips parted in a meaning smile.
“Indeed you are not, so—we must arrange for you to escape. Since this embassy is secret and binding on neither party I cannot allow news of it to leak out to any of my supporters—at present.”
Alain drew a relieved breath. “And what do you wish me to convey to my King, my lord?”
“That I am willing to consider the proposal but, as I am sure, he must, too, receive true embassy as to the terms; following that, I must have sufficient time to consult with my advisers and, first and foremost, my lady mother.”
He rose and, sweeping his mantle clear of the soiled rushes, moved to the door. “I will see to it that you are sent down some food. Roger de Miles will come to you before dawn and take you to the picket gate. I will leave it in his hands to arrange for your guards to be less than watchful. Roger de Miles is a most resourceful man. I take it you will ride first to Wallingford?”
Alain’s thoughts flew to Gisela on the road for the Midlands. He frowned. “Since you assure me my wife will be safe I should do that, my lord. It should not delay me for more than a day, two at most.”
The Count turned, one hand lifted to knock upon the door to summon his captain to open up for him. “And what will you tell Stephen of my character, mon ami?”
Alain’s smile was almost dazzling. “That you are as true to your word and loyal to your friends, and as just, even to your enemies, as I remember, sir.”
“And should I become England’s king, Alain?”
“In the course of time I shall be honoured to serve you, my lord.”
Count Henry inclined his chin slightly. “As I shall be to confirm you in your holdings. Go with God, Alain de Treville and quickly, to your lady.”
Gisela watched numbly as Aldith hastily finished their packing. She had not slept and when she had returned to the inn, escorted by the six men Count Henry had given her as escort, she had fallen into her former nurse’s arms and sobbed out her despair. Aldith had banged on the chamber door, ordering Sigurd, who had watched in silent misery, to go to the stables, stay with the men-at-arms and see she and her lady were not disturbed.
“Come, sweeting,” she exhorted, using her endearment for her when Gisela had been a babe in arms, “tell me where is Lord Alain and what is so terrible that you break down like this?”
It had been impossible to reveal to Aldith the true reason for their visit to Devizes Castle, but Gisela had the feeling that in some obscure way Aldith had guessed at the truth and when she had sobbed out her fears for his safety, Aldith had listened in silence and hugged her closer to her heart.
“My dear lady, if the Count assured you that he would deal justly with Lord Alain, you must not fear.”
“But he gave no promise that his life would be spared.”
“But he has treated you well. You tell me that Lord Alain knew the Count when they were boys. Friendships like that never entirely disappear. He will do his best for his friend.”
“But he is confined in a dungeon somewhere in the gatehouse and—and—it cannot be denied that he was spying on the Count’s force.”
Over her charge’s bent head Aldith’s expression hardened and she compressed her lips. Before leaving for the castle, Lord Alain had impressed on her that it might be necessary to remove Gisela from Devizes at a moment’s notice.
“If you receive word from me by Edwin, you must not wait for me but go at once. Get your mistress back to Allestone. Edwin and Algar have had instructions from me that that is their prime task. They must think of nothing else but their mistress’s safety.”
She had known then that he was going into danger; and when the plan changed and Gisela had accompanied him, her fears for her mistress had grown into the night hours. Only now, as she held Gisela in her arms, could she believe that there was hope for her—for Lord Alain she could have little, but of that she must not speak to Gisela.
She had insisted that Gisela lie on the bed and rest, but knew from the sound of her restless movement through the remains of the night until the grey spears of dawn light forced their way through the ill-fitting shutters that Gisela had not slept; neither had she.
Now she gave up any attempt to make Gisela eat, arranging with Sigurd to buy bread and cheese and cold bacon at the inn to carry with them.
Gisela could hear the men leading out the horses for the journey. She stood up and allowed Aldith to wrap her hooded cloak around her.
Through stiffened lips she murmured, “Oh, Aldith, how can this be? Only days ago I discovered how deeply I love him and was able to tell him of it—and now—and now—he could hang this morning and our new-found happiness be shattered all too soon. Will he know and understand—and forgive my stupidity in betraying him like that?”
Aldith kissed her gently upon the brow. “He will know you are safe and that will be all that matters to him, but things may not be as bad as you believe. You must keep hope within your heart, sweeting. Trust in the Count’s good offices.”
“Aldith,” Gisela said on a little gasp, “Count Henry will let him know that I am safe, won’t he?”
“I’m sure he will. Come now, my lady, it is time to go. Nothing can be served by endangering our own men.”
Gisela nodded and moved from the chamber down the rickety stair to the chill of the courtyard outside. It was a damp, misty morning. Everything was shrouded in greyness and wet as if the world itself was weeping with her own lost hopes.
Edwin hastened to her side to lift her into the saddle of her palfrey. His face looked strained in the grey half-light.
She caught at his hand. “You didn’t see him?”
He shook his head. “No, my lady, one of the Count’s men came and demanded I take him with those others to your inn. I had no choice. I had to leave him.”
He turned to watch as the Count’s men were busy checking girths and making ready to mount. “Once on the road I could possibly make off and ride back to Devizes.”
Her fingers tightened feverishly on his wrist. “Edwin, will you go, find out what has happened to him, reach him if you can?”
He looked down at her thoughtfully. “It will mean breaking my word to him. I swore I would extricate you from this tangle, but…”
“This is my command to you, Edwin. Go when you can and—” she gulped back a sob “—if things go badly—bring me word.”
Again he looked back at the small escort. “Algar will ensure your safety and even Sigurd will fight like a wild thing to keep you safe, but…”
“I trust the Count’s men, Edwin.”
“I wish to God I did,” he muttered through his teeth, but squeezed her hand then walked back to the older man in charge. She could hear him calling that he was doubtful about his mount’s left forehoof.
“She was walking stiffly the day we arrived, then seemed better, but I noticed her shying back just now when I bent to look. Her shoe doesn’t appear to be loose but better if I don’t carry the mistress’s attendant pillion. Will one of your men do that? Then, if I have to drop behind and find a smith, you can keep up the pace and I can catch you up on the road.”
Gisela bit down on her bottom lip as she strove to hear the man’s reply but it seemed that all was well as Aldith was mounted behind the leader himself and he rode to her side.
“Can we ride out now, my lady?”
“Yes, yes,” she murmured, “let us start at once,” though the words were forced out. The one thing she wanted to do was to stay in Devizes and discover for herself Alain’s fate, but she understood, from the last strained glance Edwin gave her, that her husband’s one chance was to have Edwin’s help if that could be managed.
If he could be freed, the last thing he needed was to worry about her presence in the town. No, she must obey the instructions he had given her before even leaving Allestone—that she must leave with his men if needful.
They left the town without being challenged. She had discovered that these men were of the Earl of Gloucester’s force and no one here would dare to delay them. She looked back longingly as the town dissolved into the grey morning mist behind them and prayed that Alain would be safe.
They were all cold and miserable, but the men rode stolidly without complaint. Later, the mist began to lift and Gisela could see the still brown fields on either side of the road. She glanced back once and the sergeant informed her that both her maid and the young lad were mounted comfortably. She looked round anxiously for Edwin and Algar rode up to her side.
“Edwin has had to drop behind, my lady. One of his horse’s shoes was loose. He’s gone back to the town to find a smith. He’ll catch up with us soon.”
She felt a surge of relief. At least that one plan had gone smoothly. Edwin would return to search out the truth about Alain. She dared not hope that the man’s ingenuity might manage to aid an escape.
From then on she did not dare to enquire further for Edwin. When, by nightfall, it became clear that he was not going to rejoin the party Osbert Greetholm, their sergeant in charge, muttered an embarrassed assurance that nothing could have happened to the man and that he would doubtless find his way home in his own good time. If he suspected that Edwin had returned to Devizes, he made no comment.
He had his orders: to get Lady Gisela de Treville back to her home at Allestone; he could not now bother himself with one of her party who had decided to desert her. Privately, he thought the fellow might well have found himself some wench in Devizes but that was no business of his. The lady was well protected on the journey and the loss of one man could make little difference to his task.
The weather steadily improved over the next few days, though to Gisela, sunk in a torpor of emotional torment, it seemed as miserable as ever. Osbert took good care of her. As on the outward journey when she had travelled with Alain, Osbert studiously avoided contact with bands of soldiers on the road and took roundabout routes round castles known to be possibly under siege or belonging to opposing parties.
Her comfort was assured at the inns and abbeys where they sought accommodation and she made no complaint in spite of the long days in the saddle. As on that first morning in Devizes after Alain’s arrest, she seemed numbed and neither discomfort nor delay appeared to affect her. Aldith’s concern deepened, for her mistress hardly spoke to her, not even when they were alone together in their chamber at night. Only once did she voice her concern for Edwin.
“He went back to Devizes,” she told Aldith, “to seek word of my lord. Since he has not come after us, we must assume either that he, too, was arrested, trying to find an entry into the castle, or that he had bad news and was afraid of bringing it to me.”
“I doubt he would do that,” Aldith comforted her stoutly. “Possibly he knows Lord Alain is still held in his prison and is trying to figure out some way of helping him escape or it could be that he has encountered some slight mishap on the road. His mount might actually have become lame, which would delay him.”
Gisela tried to make herself believe both those possibilities but there was ice round her heart and, as they pushed on back along the old Roman Fosse Way towards Lutter-worth and the town of Leicester, she dreaded to take back to Allestone ill tidings of the loss of its lord.
She determined first to visit her father at Brinkhurst; it was when they were only six miles short of their destination that Osbert Greetholm had the first intimation that his task of protecting the lady might be less simple than he thought. One of his men reported that he had glimpsed a blur of light within the forest trees behind them along the track and that he had seen it several times throughout the day.
“I reckon it could be the sun catching metal, either mail or weaponry,” he announced. “Didn’t take much notice at first, sergeant, but it ’pears to be a keeping up with us. I reckon as ’ow we’re being followed, though why?” He pushed up his conical helmet and scratched his carroty hair. “I can’t say. You’d think they’d take us in ambush if they meant business. O’ course, don’t know ’ow many as they be. We could be too big a force for ’em.”
Osbert reined in for a moment. He’d ridden back to talk to his companion when the fellow had signalled to him, not wishing to call him forward and so alarm Lady Gisela who would overhear what was said. Now he turned and, shading his eyes against the weak rays of the dying sun, peered back along the track.<
br />
“You say you’ve seen the glint of metal several times. When did you first see it?”
Again the younger man scratched his head. “’Bout just after we stopped for dinner, I reckon, sergeant. I was just packing away the remains in my saddle bag when the light glinted in me eyes. Didn’t think much of it then, but I’ve just seen it again for the third time, maybe the fourth.”
Osbert Greetholm looked forward to where Gisela had reined in her mount and was clearly impatient to proceed. It was the first time throughout the journey she had shown signs of animation. Now she’s near her destination, she wants to greet her father, he thought, like an old horse that scents the nearness of the stable.
He sighed. They were still some miles off the manor of Brinkhurst and were they to be taken by surprise it could be a hard fight, yet if their pursuers had meant to attack they would surely have done so by now. His best course was to quicken his pace and get Lady Gisela to the safety of her father’s manor.
He cursed inwardly her decision not to ride straight for Allestone Castle. If they were to resist an attack, Baron Alain de Treville’s stronghold would offer far the best promise of safety.
“Eric,” he instructed, “take one of the men and hold back. Watch to see how closely we are being followed. Take cover. Try to see the badges of any men-at-arms. Don’t invite attack. Keep hidden and, when you can, ride on to Brinkhurst and report to me.”
“Aye, sergeant.”
Eric pulled his mount’s head round and beckoned to the man who had ridden beside him throughout the journey. The two moved to the side of the track. Eric dismounted and the other man followed suit. Osbert Greetholm avoided Aldith’s anxious stare and trotted his horse back to Gisela.
“More trouble,” he remarked sourly. “Another horse appears to be casting a shoe. We’ll ride on, my lady. My men know their way well enough. Meanwhile, I think we’ll make all speed now. At this time of year the darkness falls early and we don’t want to be caught in this forest district, do we? The territory is foreign to my men and we could have more mishaps in the dark on such uneven ground.”
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