By Right of Arms (40 page)

Good to his word, he was more attuned to safety than to celebrating and could be found in the donjon, looking out over his keep and lands, simultaneously watching the wall and parapets to be assured his own men did not slump at their task. Aurélie climbed the steep, winding stairs without spilling a drop of the cool ale she delivered. He frowned when he turned to see her.

“You should not come up here, my lady. The way is steep and the climb is demanding.”

She smiled at his worry, finding that this suited her very well. Being protected by him was nearly as gratifying as being his wife. “But this is my favorite place, Hyatt. I came here daily before I was sick, and I mean to again, after my lying-in. It is from here that De la Noye is most beautiful.”

He took the ale and drank down a hearty gulp. He gestured toward the wood with tankard in hand. “Look there, my love. At the forest’s edge.” Aurélie strained to see what Hyatt pointed toward and finally she saw a slight stirring and gasped. “Nay, be at ease,” he said, watching.

“But someone goes there. Sound the horn.”

“ ’Tis Verel, my love. I venture it is more the smells of feasting than want of fighting that draws him near.”

“Verel? How do you know? You can barely see.”

“I caught a glimpse of the stallion I left him.” Hyatt sighed and dropped an arm about her shoulders. “ ’Twas Verel I met in the wood as I returned to De la Noye. We had a contest and he made his point on my thigh.”

“Hyatt, you told me that was a mishap. You did not tell me about Verel.”

“Aye, my love. I thought to spare you, and myself. But Verel has not gone far. He is a woodsman now, leading a little troop of scavengers through the dense wood. When he left De la Noye he must have quickly learned that there is no French force nearby and the other English warriors are more dangerous than I. He keeps himself deep in the forest.”

“And you did not kill him? You left him a horse?”

Hyatt nodded. “Verel is good stock, though angry and misguided right now. This is the pride of youth, yet untempered, not yet honed with wisdom. When I judged the hatred and shame in his eyes, I saw myself, for as a youth I was driven into the woods, left there to fight my way back to a decent life. I left Verel a horse, but when I was imprisoned in the forest I had Girvin. It was a better lot I had to aid me.” He turned her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Can you send Sir Trevor up here? I would speak to him.”

“Do you mean to go after Verel now?”

“Nay, my lady.”

“I am surprised you did not kill him.”

“On an earlier day, I would have. I am glad for us both that my temper has eased. The young knight is too good to waste. Leaders of men are hard to find.”

Aurélie looped her arms about his neck and rose on her toes to kiss him. She pressed her body close, wove her fingers into the errant locks at the base of his neck and parted her lips under the flaming heat of his. She yielded all, moving her mouth under his and drawing a deep sigh from the hearty warrior.

“You make me forget my watch, my lady.”

“ ’Tis well, Sir Hyatt. You have come nicely to heel.”

“Have I now?” he laughed. “And who better to conquer a brutish knight than the vanquished one? Go, my love. Find Trevor for me.”

She looked down into the inner bailey, as did Hyatt. They saw village girls dancing with Hyatt’s knights, captive knights turned serfs in contests of strength against armored knights, with much laughing and swigging of drink to accompany them, and serf and warrior together turning spitted meat. A scene like the one that lay below them had not been possible even with Giles, and with her eyes she flashed him a look of love that melted his heart and filled him with longing.

She left him to his high tower and beckoned away from an arm-wrestling match the young knight her husband sought. She tarried over a steaming pot, pinched the bread, and sampled a fresh, cool bean before Trevor returned to the courtyard, shaking his head in bemusement.

“Whatever troubles you, Sir Trevor?” she asked.

“My lord troubles me. He has not suffered enough drink to go daft, yet his instructions are a mite strange to bear out. I am to find a dozen armed men not bidden to the wall and take a wagon of food and drink to the forest’s edge. We’re to unload it there and return with the wagon.” He shook his head again. “Does he mean to feed the beasts of the forest as well?”

Aurélie laughed, covering her mouth. “And if he does, Sir Trevor, are you bound to argue with him?”

“Nay, my lady,” he said, still shaking his head in confusion.

“Then you had best find the men that Hyatt requires.”

As the young man went off to do as he was asked, Aurélie looked up toward the donjon, but she could not see Hyatt. He was obviously intent on watching over the whole of this property singlehandedly. She beckoned to a squire and asked him to carry a tray to Sir Hyatt, and the lad was overjoyed to be chosen for the task. And then a swirl of robes caught her eye and she saw Father Algernon among the group, near the food. She made her way toward him.

“So you have decided to join us after all, Father. I’m glad you came.”

He frowned at her. “I suppose you are very enamored of your able warrior now, since under his sword he has provided so much. But do you ask yourself what there is of Christ in this burg?”

“We have you, Father. Is not your task to deliver us the gospel, the saints, the salvation of our souls?”

“It was my mission under Giles, but under this new master I am not bidden do my cleric’s chore.”

“Nonsense, Father, you do Hyatt wrong. He has tried hard to support your word, your Church. You ask too much of him, I fear, for he will not indulge you the way Giles did. And we are all the better for it, I think.”

“You would think so, madame, for your heathen ways match his.”

“I will not let you spoil the day, Father. Partake of this feast in good spirit and say a prayer over the labors of these good people, or go back to your cell and eat your dry bread alone.”

“You could change his mind.”

“I doubt it, Father, for we are too much in agreement.”

“He has forbidden me to journey to Avignon.”

“Forbidden? But …”

Aurélie looked at the red-faced priest with something of confusion. Hyatt had not mentioned that he had finally delivered an answer to Father Algernon’s request, and it was above all a very strange answer.

“I’m sorry, Father, I do not understand. ’Tis like Sir Hyatt to refuse to put the Church’s needs above those of the people, but I don’t see why he would forbid you to travel to the Pope’s see. Are you certain you understood him?”

“He was easy to understand. He would not permit me to go unless I told him the business I traveled to complete, and he said I might not travel with pilgrims, but would take knights of his colors with me.”

“And that was not to your liking?”

“A cleric’s business is not a knight’s. My conference in Avignon is none of his business, and I will not travel through France with an English escort.”

Aurélie frowned. “Hyatt must fear that you plot against him.”

“Priests do not plot. The faith and the souls of our people are our concerns. He does nothing to lend spiritual help to this place.”

“Look around you, Father. What do you see? The people are fed, happy, and protected for the first time since I came here. You decry my lord’s faith, yet he has done better by this place than you and Giles ever did together. If you wish to go to Avignon, go on his terms and be brought safely back. If you will not abide by Sir Hyatt’s request, then he is right to refuse you.”

“I am his priest!”

“He is your
host!
I am sorry you have not gone to your papal see. You should venture down the road but a league and see what these knights of Hyatt have seen. You would return to this humble keep and give thanks for a score of days and nights for your life, your Church, and any tolerance from this lord.”

“You lie,” he growled.

She smiled with rare superiority. “Nay, Father, ’tis truth. Edward had but a few with the wisdom to rule and not just devastate the land. Ask Percival; his town was leveled to ash; babies and women who begged for mercy were slain.” She gestured impatiently toward the one she named. Percival had one arm casually draped over his wife’s shoulders while with a free hand he lifted a mug to his laughing lips. “If we sin because we live, Father, then we shall sin for a long, long time.”

“You heathen wench, you conspire with him to lies. You try to make me believe that ’tis worse borne through other lords, when I know otherwise. I have been cut off by your English swine. In other French burgs overtaken, the priests are revered and obeyed.”

“You old fool,” Aurélie angrily snapped. “Go back to your prayers and pray for truth. Hyatt has saved your life. Anywhere else you’d have been lucky if only turned away from your chapel in rags … and on the road you would surely be killed if not stoutly guarded.” She dismissed him with an impatient wave of her hand. “Life with Giles spoiled you and made you greedy. May your soul yet be saved, O faithless monk.”

She whirled away from him, angry to the depth of her bones. In her mind there was nothing worse than a bad priest. Algernon cared not for souls, but for the money he could earn in pretending to save them. She had seen and heard of evil priests before and knew that Algernon was not the worst, but she wished they had a sincere cleric.

She fumed so with anger at his disloyalty, his selfishness, that rather than partaking of the feast, she climbed the high tower again. When Hyatt turned angry eyes her way, her flushed cheeks stayed his chastisement. “Leave me be, husband,” she said hotly. “I have just had a few unkind words with a fat priest and I am ill disposed to be reprimanded by you.” She let out her breath in a huff. “Ungrateful churl!”

Hyatt chuckled at her anger and lifted to his lips the thick, brown-roasted drumstick from a healthy hen. He chewed thoughtfully and gestured with the bony point of the meat toward the forest. A rug was spread on the ground by the edge of the trees and on it rested a keg, a pile of food, a mound of bread. Hyatt said nothing, but watched. The small troop who had delivered the goods was just making their way over the bridge and inside the wall. The creaking of the wheels that turned the crank and raised the bridge finally stopped.

A man came into view from out of the trees. He looked around very cautiously. Another appeared. A third. A group converged on the mound of food. Two hefted the barrel of ale while the others lifted their share, and finally the cloth was closed over what was left and the whole lot disappeared in an instant. All that could be seen finally was a man astride a dark stallion, who stood looking at De la Noye. A better eye, Aurélie suspected, would show a wistful look of longing on Sir Verel’s face. And then he gave the stallion heel and turned into the trees.

She touched Hyatt’s face. “Why do some fail to see your goodness?” she asked, thinking of Algernon.

“Because,” he said with a shrug, still chewing, “I am not good to all. Some, like Verel, Algernon, even Guillaume, will have to abide on less because of me. That is the way of it. Not all can willingly accept their lessened share. If it were I, I would accept no less than I had before.” Hyatt looked up at her and smiled. “You, my lady, have less than before. I took your command from you. Are you angry still?”

“Nay, Hyatt. I have more than ever before. And I thank you.”

* * *

The feasting was five days past. Hyatt had sent a train of wagons with goods to trade with vineyard monks on the following morning, though many people were bleary-eyed from celebrating. Twenty-five soldiers were required to guard the entourage, but fortunately it would not take them long to empty their wagons and return with cases of wine. A group of nuns were housed overnight and given the gift of a heavily laden wagon of vegetables to carry on the remainder of their journey.

Hyatt had proven to be more generous with the pilgrims than Aurélie had expected, but then, he had not said he would spurn them. And truly, Giles had given too much to them, whereas Hyatt had been generous, but fair. Even if their winter proved to be the worst ever, the people of De la Noye would have enough.

Aurélie awoke at dawn and impulsively kissed Hyatt’s bare chest, waking him. His arm was instantly around her. “Had I known the delights of waking up with a woman at my side, I would have tried it before.”

“You mock me,” she said, pushing against him. “You have slept with hundreds of women; I know it.”

He chuckled. “A time or two I slept, but deeply, from the help of too much drink. But I never slumbered at a lady’s side by will, until the wedding night.”

“Not so!”

“True, Aurélie. More than true. I have been afraid of women. They are all soft and pliant, and while their victims sleep, their claws come out.” He pulled her closer. “Or, so I thought.”

“You fear me, sir knight?”

His voice trailed off as a fierce knocking at the door interrupted him. He cast a glance over his shoulder. “And so the day begins. Is it yet dawn?” He sighed. “Cover yourself, my love. I do not wish to kill anyone over you today.”

Aurélie did as she was instructed and Hyatt called out to the intruder to enter. Girvin stood in the frame of the door, sheepishly looking inside. His business was more important to him than decorum, and he entered despite the state of undress within, closing the door behind him.

“Sir Hyatt, I beg your pardon, but Guillaume is not about our camp. Something is amiss.”

Hyatt’s spine straightened and Aurélie sat up straighter, clutching the covers over her naked bosom.

“What is it you fear?” Hyatt asked.

Girvin shrugged. “We had a plan; if some troop ventured near our camp, Guillaume was to leave a lance stuck in the ground, standing upright. There was no sign, and nothing there was disturbed. And he would not leave the cave to venture closer to knights or travelers.”

“Perhaps Verel …”

“Nay, again. Verel would do ill to any of us, but not to Guillaume. I do not know what has become of him, but the wood is deep … and dangerous. Will you give me ten men?”

“To search?”