The Baron's Bride

by Joanna Makepeace

  Gisela was anxious now to confide in her father her fears for her husband. She failed to detect the note of alarm in her escort sergeant’s voice and nodded absently as he urged her to quicken pace.

  They cantered well before dusk under the gatehouse arch at Brinkhurst and Gisela held out her arms to her father, who had hastened down the manor house steps to lift her down. She was half-crying, half-laughing with relief at seeing him.

  Sir Walter gazed round the small company for Alain de Treville but, recognising both fear and despair in his daughter’s eyes, helped her hurriedly into the hall after welcoming her sergeant of escort and shouting for grooms to see to the accommodation of their guests.

  Sir Walter made sure his daughter was comfortably seated before the hearth and provided with wine and refreshment before he pressed her to tell the reason for her sudden arrival and without Lord Alain.

  His own expression revealed his alarm as she baldly told what had happened at Devizes Castle.

  “If—if he had died there—” Gisela stammered out, “surely Edwin would have joined us and—and told me. Tell me there is still hope, Father.”

  “There, there, child.” He rubbed her chill hands comfortingly. “Of course there is always hope. We should know within days if…”

  He broke off enquiringly as Osbert Greetholm pushed his way through the screen doors without ceremony and hastened to the group by the fire.

  “Lady Gisela,” he said bluntly, “despite the late hour we should make for Allestone immediately. My man Eric reports that we were being followed on the last days of our journey by two men of Mauger de Cotaine’s company. He recognised one of the fellows who was in attendance on Mauger de Cotaine at the castle. My captain, Roger de Miles, impressed upon me that you could be at risk from the activities of that man.

  “Obviously, these two are only scurriers who will apprise him of your presence here but—” he looked round searchingly “—this is no place to be caught by a full detachment of de Cotaine’s mercenaries. It’s likely he has been released by Count Henry and will be following with only a token force. He will send to his own castle for reinforcements. We must get behind the defensive walls of Allestone.”

  Sir Walter started up, cursing roundly, and Gisela blanched.

  “He knows I am his enemy,” she said steadily. “I spoke out against him to Count Henry. I did not think he would dare…”

  “That devil would dare anything,” Sir Walter said hoarsely. “Your sergeant is right. We must get you to Allestone without delay, aye, and our people must come after us. He fears you will witness against him if it comes to an enquiry and, God help us, he knows he could not win in such a case. He will move to silence you and me and if all else fails he will burn to take vengeance upon us both.”

  Osbert Greetholm was already making for the door and bawling for a servant to tell his men to make ready fresh horses.

  Gisela turned a terrified face to her father.

  “If we desert Brinkhurst, it will be fired again.”

  “Daughter,” he said through gritted teeth, “homes can be rebuilt, lives never. De Cotaine must know now that this war cannot drag out much longer. He and his ilk will be finished when that happens. This is a final throw of the dice. If he takes you, he may think himself well requited.”

  Alain de Treville emerged from the small picket gate in the gatehouse of Devizes Castle. Roger de Miles, Count Henry’s trusted captain, had come just before dawn as Henry had promised and led Alain out of his dungeon cell. There were no guards in the outer room and at Alain’s raised, questioning eyebrow, de Miles had simply laughed and drawn him on into the courtyard.

  “All has been arranged. I saw to it myself that the men who should have been here were well chosen. I’ll be instructed to deal out punishment for negligence.” He shrugged. “They’ll make themselves scarce for a while. Count Henry does not wish his uncle, Gloucester, to know he arranged for your escape—at least, not just yet. He informed you your lady is well escorted and on her way home?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “I handpicked the men of her escort too. She will be safe. Trust us.”

  De Treville held out his hand to grip the other’s. “Thank you. For a while there I was beginning to feel the sensation of hempen rope tightening round my neck.”

  De Miles laughed softly. “You had every reason. The Count urges you to leave Devizes without delay. He could not be responsible for your safety if one of Gloucester’s men sees and recognises you.”

  “Understood.” De Treville put up the hood of his merchant’s cloak, turned once more to acknowledge the other, then stepped briskly across the cobbles towards the town market-place.

  He would have to leave Devizes on foot. It would not be wise to return to the inn where he had stayed with Gisela and he needed a horse. Fortunately, he had coin enough to purchase one immediately he got clear of the town. All his property had been snatched from him in the first search of his person following his arrest, but Roger de Miles had handed him a leather purse containing sufficient gold to ensure his needs would be met on the journey.

  He swallowed a sigh as he faced the fact that, though de Miles and Count Henry had sworn Gisela was safe and would be conducted back to Allestone, his whole being yearned to abandon his mission and follow her as swiftly as possible, but he had sworn an oath of fealty to his King and his duty must firstly take him to Wallingford.

  Here he would report his findings to Stephen and then beg for permission to return to his own castle. Once he had ensured the safety of Gisela he could then, if the King required service of him, return to join the King’s force at the siege of Wallingford.

  De Miles had told him succinctly when asked that de Cotaine had been released after a stormy interview with Count Henry and the Earl of Gloucester, at which he had sworn his innocence of all accusations.

  “Gloucester was reluctant to believe ill of the man. He has proved himself too useful,” Henry’s captain had growled. “Count Henry was helpless to intervene. He thought it best to keep his own counsel at this stage. I cannot think you will have aught to fear from de Cotaine. He knows Allestone is well defended and I doubt he would dare to take reprisals.”

  As he trudged through still-darkened streets, Alain was less convinced. He knew the man’s ugly reputation far too well to believe that de Cotaine would tamely accept his humiliation at Gisela’s hands before the full council of Gloucester’s supporters without wishing to revenge himself. It would be well to see to Gisela’s security before he returned permanently to the King’s active service. Again he cursed the need which took him to Stephen’s camp instead of riding directly to Allestone.

  It took much longer than he had expected to find his way on the correct route north from the town. As the sun came up he gave a grunt of satisfaction—at least some warmth might begin to lift the heavy dank mist.

  He should pass an inn soon or possibly a smithy where the smith might have a horse to sell to him, otherwise he might have to reach the next village or even a town before he could acquire one. At least a village would accommodate some carter or even a serf driving a cart who could be persuaded to take him on to a town.

  Again he cursed inwardly at the need for these delays. He was fevered now with the desperate wish to reach Wallingford, discharge his mission and be on his way home.

  He was so preoccupied with his own discomfort that he did not at first realise that the rider who was coming towards him at a gallop was rising in the saddle and waving to attract his attention.

  When it seemed that the man might ride him down he stopped and stared as his man, Edwin, dismounted and, leading his mount, approached.

  “My lord, praise to all the saints. I was even now on my way back to Devizes, fearing I might have to carry back the news that I had seen your corpse dangling from the battlements of Devizes Castle.”

  His first bewilderment soon over, Alain seized his man by the shoulder and tightened his grip cruelly.

  “Damn it
, man, what are you doing returning to the town when your mistress, I’m told, is already on her way home? Why are you not with her as I commanded?”

  Edwin showed no sign of fear but grimaced and stood docilely in the harsh grip.

  “My lord, she commanded me to return and discover news of you. She begged me to try to get you free if I could. I hadn’t the heart to tell her that was nigh impossible but I swore I would carry news back to her as soon as I could. I swear I was convinced that she was well protected. Algar would give his life to save her and so would that young fool, Sigurd. I’d not have left her else, however she had begged me to do so.”

  Lord Alain grunted and released him. “Well, as you see, I am free and unharmed. I appreciate your concern for your lord—” he bared his teeth in a sarcastic smile “—but I would have preferred you to have discharged your duty to your lady. However, now you are here, you can do me a service. Will that nag of yours carry both of us some distance until I can find a new mount?”

  “Aye, my lord, he’s sturdy enough, if not the fastest steed I’ve ever mounted.”

  He waited while his lord mounted and reached down a hand to help him up behind.

  “Right, let us find some horse coper and then ride for Wallingford with all speed.”

  They were fortunate to acquire a horse in the next village and after that made better speed, but the following day it snowed and progress was slowed again. Lord Alain cursed steadily against his ill fortune, but he dared not risk their horses’ legs on the icy roads by attempting to travel too fast. He determined to keep Edwin with him, at least for the present. The man could hardly reach Allestone now much before he himself could and he might need the man’s services.

  Though he still ached to know Gisela had arrived home safely, he was somewhat mollified by Edwin’s further assurances. Edwin was experienced in the art of knowing men’s worth and had apparently summed up the attitude of the escort sergeant to his charge.

  They stayed within an inn stable that night. Lord Alain had hoped to push on further into the night, but could not exhaust their mounts; neither he nor Edwin would be in any state to continue without rest.

  The snow was not heavy and slackened next day, but the roads were still icy and there was still need to go slowly.

  Arriving at last at Wallingford, Alain was further dismayed to learn that King Stephen had left with his army to attempt to raise the siege of Malmesbury. Alain gritted his teeth so hard in his frustrated fury he might well have broken one, rested his horses, took refreshment and again set out, this time for Malmesbury.

  The snow had stopped, but there seemed little chance of a thaw yet and the ground was still iron hard. Alain hoped that conditions were better further north so that Gisela’s journey would not be so uncomfortable or hazardous. He blamed himself for agreeing to both Rainald de Tourel’s suggestion and her pleas that he take her with him in the first place. She should have remained snug and safe at Allestone.

  He pictured her beset by blizzards, benighted, too far from a welcoming abbey or inn, even lying near some roadside frozen to death. Though he laughed inwardly at his own fears soon after they had come, it was hollow laughter. He could not rid himself of continuing fears for his wife.

  One fact, he told himself grimly: Mauger de Cotaine would have an equally difficult journey home and was unlikely to leave Offen Castle, his stronghold, when he once reached it. Surely Gisela would be safe from him.

  Alain reached Malmesbury at last and, to his relief, was conducted immediately into King Stephen’s presence, once he had announced his identity to the captain of the guard. Rainald de Tourel hastened to greet him and led him to a battle tent where the King had been recently conferring with some of his captains.

  “We had the devil’s own difficulty in getting the barons to agree amongst themselves,” he confided in Alain. “The Avon was in heavy flood, swelled by the recent snowfalls and Robert Beaumont, Earl of Leicester, Derby and Arundel were against trying to cross but Eustace, ever headstrong, wished to make the attempt and advised his father to chance it, backed up by the earls of Oxford, Warwick, and Northampton. It seems as if we shall soon have a surrender.” He glanced, frowning, at Alain but did not press his friend to divulge any news of his mission, which was for the King’s ears alone.

  King Stephen welcomed Alain warmly. He was seated in a folding camp chair, a tall man, handsome and charming as ever, though Alain noted with some concern that the King appeared unduly exhausted and there were dark shadows under the kindly brown eyes and the streaks of grey in the brown curling hair and beard more pronounced than when Alain had last been in his presence.

  He dismissed his captains courteously as he was ever wont to do and invited Alain to sit on a stool near him.

  “You look as if you’ve ridden with the devil on your heels,” he said mildly. “Rainald tells me you have recently wed and that your wife is both courageous and beautiful. You must be very anxious to return to her side.”

  Alain bowed his head in acknowledgement.

  “Did you manage to get into Henry’s presence?”

  “Aye, my lord, and we talked for some time privately—in my cell,” Alain returned grimly.

  The King’s eyebrows arched interrogatively and Alain hastened to explain what had occurred at Devizes Castle and the nature of the conversation that had followed between Henry of Anjou and his prisoner.

  “Yet you are here—free.”

  “Count Henry arranged my escape, sire, else it would have gone very badly for me.”

  “I can imagine.” Stephen leaned eagerly forward in his fald chair. “Then, at least, your relationship with Count Henry did not suffer too great a reversal from this rather fraught encounter.”

  “No, sire. I had opportunity to see that Count Henry was as patient to hear the truth of the matter and as anxious to mete out justice as I had expected and hoped he would be.”

  “Yet I am led to understand that he has a fearsome temper.”

  “Aye, sire, but I have observed, at least from our past association, that he is always in control.”

  “Ah.” The King smiled broadly. “Then you believe that if—in time—we send an embassy to propose a truce on the lines suggested by your talk he would consider the matter favourably?”

  “I do, sire, but—” Alain shrugged “—those more experienced and wiser than I in the art of diplomacy will be better fitted to decide the truth of this matter.”

  Stephen leaned back tiredly. “I am not so sure of that, Alain. I am tired of the constant wrangling between my barons.”

  He sat, eyes closed for a moment or two, considering, then he looked up and smiled again.

  “I am deeply grateful, my old friend. You have done me excellent service and not without risk to yourself. Now I know you are anxious to leave Malmesbury. First take refreshment and I would suggest you rest the night in camp. You will be provided with fresh horses and supplies.”

  Alain rose and bowed. He was aware of the kindly, wearied interest of the King as he left the tent to join Rainald de Tourel outside.

  De Tourel grasped his friend’s sleeve and drew him away to a larger tent from which issued the succulent smell of roasted meat and savoury pottage.

  “Further problems,” he grumbled as he pushed Alain inside and seated him at a trestle, bawling for a trencher and ale to be brought. “Eustace arrived from a survey of the terrain and demanded to be admitted at once to his father’s presence. Fortunately for me, Leicester arrived on the scene and drew him away to make a report on the possibility of some mining procedure on the east side of the castle wall.”

  Alain tucked into pottage and meat when it arrived on his trencher and drank deeply of good ale. “Did you see to it that my man was fed and our horses attended?”

  “Yes, of course, but you’ll not get much further on those poor beasts. I’ll see to it myself that fresh good horseflesh is provided for your journey. Now, how is the Lady Gisela?”

  “I hope, well,” Alain
growled, and proceeded to tell his friend of her encounter with Mauger de Cotaine at Devizes Castle.

  Rainald whistled long and low. “I have heard tales of the man,” he said thoughtfully, “but I know the King has been slow to act and, as you know, we thought it best to allow him enough rope to hang himself.”

  “The very reason why I did not ally myself with the knights of the shire who are constantly murmuring against him to the shire reeve.” He sighed. “I shall be thankful to be on my way early tomorrow. I shall not rest until I am with Gisela again. My seneschal is reliable but not the most imaginative of commanders and Gisela can be rash, especially where de Cotaine is concerned.”

  His expression darkened. “She is entirely consumed with a desire for revenge. It comes between us,” he said softly and Rainald glanced at him sharply.

  Alain gave a little harsh laugh. “Yes, my friend, I too am consumed but with jealousy and for a dead man, a pathetic state of affairs, is it not? You were right, of course. You said when you came to Allestone that I had fallen deeply in love. I am besotted, Rainald.”

  “I told you then you must be patient, my friend.”

  “Yes, you did.” Alain gave a little embarrassed laugh so foreign to him that, again, Rainald looked at his friend oddly. “Yet I was not. I taxed her that she was still in love with the man that very night you stayed with us. We quarrelled but, in the end, she surrendered to me. God, Rainald, I held her in my arms and she told me she loved me. I believed her then, yet at times—I doubt—I cannot believe myself worthy of her love.

  “She is brave and beautiful and spirited. You should have seen her there, Rainald, in the castle hall at Devizes, facing them all out. I was so proud of her—” He caught his breath as he recalled the pain of that moment when the Count’s men had dragged them apart. “I was so terrified for her—Count Henry assured me she would be safe on the journey but I ache to reach her. I cannot rid myself of some dread fear that she could be in danger—or lost to me—”

  Rainald said, “You need to rest tonight. The weather is still not good and travelling is hard and exhausting. You could be benighted. You’ll make better speed in the morning if you sleep here and rest your mount. A few hours can make little difference, surely.”