De Warenne Dynasty 01 - The Conquerer (22 page)

"Please bring me water," she said, lying back on her side. It was the fever, she was sure, why else would she be fighting accursed tears? "And Granny."

"You laggards,"Alice said from the doorway. "Get going." She watched them race away, then paused to lean smugly against the wall. "You don't look well, Ceidre."

"Go away,Alice ," Ceidre said wearily.

"Now I know why you spread your thighs for him, Ceidre,"Alice purred. "It's good, isn't it, having that big thing inside you? Why, he's randy as a bull! I thought I wouldn't like it-but I found I loved it."

Ceidre imagined him rearing overAlice , powerful, his organ massive and ready, and shook away the image. She stared at the floor, her cheek on her arm. "Alice, I am not well. I have a fever. Would you send Granny to me and some water, please?"

"I won't have that witch in my house,"Alice said vehemently. "But I will send you some water." She turned and left abruptly.

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Ceidre wanted to call out and tell her she needed poultices from her grandmother or she would get an infection, but she did not have the strength. All she could do was shed a few lonely tears. And it was evening before the cup of water came.

Chapter 29

The stone ofYork gleamed diffused shades of tawny white.William was taking no chances; this time the castle would be stone and impenetrable. The wooden palisade surrounding the burned-out shell of the old timbered keep had been replaced withYork 's glinting pale stone. It was completely finished.

Rolfeand his men rode past the construction site. Most of York's villagers had been summoned to this task. Huge winches and pulleys were used to move the big blocks about on the site, but it was manpower that settled each block into its precise place. Oxen pulled sleds transporting the stone from the quarry. Activity was intense and constant, drays approaching with stone and supplies, serfs working the winches, men beneath the stone blocks, supporting them as they were raised or let down, knots of villagers shimmying blocks into place in the tower itself. Vendors hawked bread and pies, mutton and ale.

Those too young to be enlisted in the royal effort ran barefoot, chasing one another, puppies on their heels. The first and ground story of the new tower had been nearly finished as well.

They had not wasted any time, and it was three days since he had left Aelfgar, a bright, hot late June afternoon. They rode through the city, becauseYork , a trade center since the days of the Danes, had a wide thoroughfare. It sprawled right up against the moat and palisade of William's castle. Immediately their arrival began to be communicated by the housewives and aldermen, by the peddlers and beggars, by vendors and pickpockets, through every alley and doorway and window of York. Rolfe heard his own name roll off someone's lips in a hushed, awed excitement, not without a little fear, on more than one occasion.

William resided inside the palisade's walls, of course. The purple pennant bearing his crest was visible from outside those walls, floating high above the village on a pole. They rode across a drawbridge and into the inner bailey.

Rolfe left orders for his men and rode directly to William's tent. A page took his stallion, another announced him. William was closeted with Odo, his half brother and one of his most powerful nobles now that Odo had Dover, and the Bishop of York, a Saxon, Ealdred. It was common knowledge that Odo coveted this bishopric, and Rolfe was certain he would have it -sooner if not later.

William was clad, as usual for him when not in battle or afield, in a long cream-colored tunic and girdle, delicately embroidered in ivy green, a velvet purple mantle draping his broad shoulders. He was delighted to see Rolfe. "Get up, man," he cried when Rolfe went down immediately on one knee. "Up, rise, dispense with the formalities. Where is he? I wish to spit upon that treacherous swine!"

Rolfe rose. His gaze was unflinching. No messenger could have come swifter than he, and in truth, he had not wanted to subject one of his men to William's wrath. Not when it was his fault. "Morcar has escaped, Your Grace."

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William, stared, just for an instant, and then he bellowed, cursing. He knocked over a table, venting a huge fury. Odo and Ealdred were standing. William turned on them. "Out, out," he shouted, his eyes bulging, his face above his beard red. "No, you stay," he roared at Odo when he too turned to leave.

Ealdred ducked hastily outside.

William turned to Rolfe. "Explain yourself."

"He escaped during the wedding feast. By the time it was found out, 'twas too late. He is gone. I am at your disposal." Rolfe, expressionless, dropped again to one knee.

William shouted, cursed, and paced. Odo remained silent in the background. Finally he stopped in front of Rolfe, staring down at his bowed head. "I cannot believe this," he said, under control, his famous temper reined in with an iron hand. "You are my most trusted commander. How could this happen? Was it treason? Was your guard bribed to look the other way?"

Rolfe's insides tightened. He remained on one knee, head bowed. "My guard was taken ill. He left his post because of the malady and has been stripped of his duties. I deemed further chastisement unnecessary."

"Get up so I can look at you," William said, and when Rolfe did, he continued. "He was poisoned?"

"Yes."

"Damn." William punched his fist into his open palm. "These Saxon are a nest of vipers, but I will break them, yes I will!" He pierced Rolfe with his black gaze again. "I take it the perpetrator of this deed of treason has been found?"

Rolfe's heart leapt, then quieted. "Yes, YourGrace ." "I want the details," William said. "Are you reluctant?"

"No. 'Twas a serf. A woman. She gave my man the poison, then freed Morcar. She has been dealt with." "Dealt with? You had better mean hanged!"

Rolfemet his gaze. He was pierced with something he could not name, something that felt like fear. And it was not for himself. Yet the moment had come, and he could not lie to his king. "She was flogged, Your Grace. She will not commit treason again."

William actually blinked. "Have you taken leave of your senses! This serf cost me the leader of the last rebellion-and she is merely whipped? What is the meaning of this, Rolfe?"

Now was the moment when he should reveal Ceidre's identity to his king. Rolfe stared back at William.

There was nothing compromising in his look, or in his tone when he spoke, but nor was there a challenge.

"My lord, she is a serf-my serf. You have never had cause to question me before. I have punished her.

She is in my keeping, under guard. In my judgment hanging would have incited the inhabitants to further treason, therefore I exercised restraint. 'Twould also have incited the brothers, personal vengeance added to political rebellion. I believe I have acted wisely. Yet I know that Morcar's escape is, ultimately, my responsibility. I await whatever you deem just penalty for my failure." Rolfe held William's gaze and again dropped to one knee; then he looked down.

Williamstared at his bowed head, then paced away. He finally turned back. "Your duties as castellan of York are suspended. My sentence is light-because you I trust more than my own right arm. But know well, Rolfe, were you any other, I would strip you here and now of everything you possess. You may
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go."

Rolfe rose gracefully. He supposed he had gotten off lightly-but he was angry and using iron discipline not to let it show. He could barely believe what had just happened-that he had been relieved of the castellanship of York-and with it, half of his power. He had expected chastisement, but nothing of this magnitude. And it was all because of that witch, he thought furiously.

Everything was because of that witch.

For he had, in fact, in deed, betrayed his king. Had he also betrayed himself?

"Rolfe." William's smooth voice halted him just before he exited the tent. "Bring me their heads and you will have redeemed yourself."

Edwin paced.

Morcar, usually the volatile one, squatted by the campfire, poking it with a stick. He was not paying attention to what he was doing; he was regarding his brother. Edwin's strides were long, slow, and deliberate. He was deep in thought. Albie stood silently, half in the shadows of the woods, regarding both brothers.

It was a starry night deep in the fens, those wild borderlands between England and Wales. Two dozen men graced their camp, nestled in the crook of a timbered hillside. Many were sleeping, their snores a steady punctuation to the night. One played a flute, the sound lonely, nostalgic, melancholy. Occasionally hoarse laughter broke the low hum of whispered conversation.

Morcar rose, hands in the folds of his mantle. It was chill in the evening. He kicked a twig. Edwin turned to him. "I am going, Morcar," he said, low.

"You cannot! 'Tis too dangerous. By God, man, look what happened to me! My head was almost served up to that Bastard Conqueror on a silver plate!"

"I am going." There was only authority and resolution in Edwin's voice, and something else, something Morcar had never heard until recently, a tone he hated, and feared. Resignation.

"You are the thinker, the logical one. Surely you, of all of us, know this to be insane!" Morcar protested, blue eyes flashing. He meant every passionate word.

"I cannot stay away," Edwin said wearily. "'Tis my heart I am separated from."

A silence ensued. Edwin turned away, to stare up at the stars. Morcar watched his brother's back for a long while before he spoke again. "Wait yet a few more days, Ed. You still limp when fatigued or put to the test. If we go, you must be in full strength of limb."

Edwin almost smiled. "We? No, dear brother, I go with Albie, alone."

"No," Morcar said, warning in his voice. "We shall not be separated, nothing will keep me from following, I swear it. The Norman is a dangerous, deadly man, Ed, but the two of us together can prevail-if we must."

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"I have no intention of locking horns with Rolfe the Relentless," Edwin said. The darkest of shadows flitted across his face. "Not yet."

"You cannot take him," Morcar said bluntly. "I am better with the sword than you, admit it, and he took me."

"I will take him," Edwin said slowly, his dark gaze steady. "When I must. Anyway"-he sighed-"this time

'tis moot. I go to spy."

"We go to spy."

Edwin gave in with a shrug of his broad shoulders. "It must be done. I must know, for myself, what passes, and if the rumors are true. By God, to think he's moved the village?" Edwin's voice rose in uncharacteristic temper. "He's moved my village?"

"'Tis the Norman way, we've seen it time and again," Albie offered from the shadows of the trees.

"But when 'tis seen in one's own home, one's patrimony . . ." Edwin trailed off.

"What else does our network say, Albie?" Morcar asked eagerly as the young man entered the glow cast by the firelight. His chausses and mantle were covered with dried mud, testimony to his hard riding earlier and his recent arrival at the camp.

"The marriage is done," Albie said, hesitating. "And he builds new fortifications in the Norman style."

Morcar cursed, Edwin grew grim. "Damn Alice," Morcar said vehemently. "She thinks nothing of betraying us!"

"How is Ceidre?" Edwin cut in.

"My lord, there is a terrible rumor ..." Albie trailed off.

"Out with it," Edwin demanded.

"She is not hurt?" Morcar gasped.

"There is a rumor she was punished for your escape, Morcar. Flogged."

Morcar cried out in frustration and outrage, Edwin clenched his fists. "'Tis only a rumor, and you know how a story can change through the telling of two dozen or more different tongues. Mayhap 'tis not true."

"Why did I not take her with me?" Morcar cried in anguish. "I did not think, I never think!"

"Do not blame yourself, we do not know if it is the truth," Edwin said, a hand on his brother's back. But his lips were curled into a feral line. "We need Ceidre where she is."

"There is another rumor," Albie offered. "But not a better one." Edwin's look made him continue. "'Tis said the Norman openly lusts after Ceidre, his looks are so hot just to watch them is to get burned." Albie shrugged. "So mayhap he did not flog her."

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"If he touches her!" Morcar shouted, enraged. Edwin restrained him, absorbing this before continuing.

"And news of Hereward?"

"The Wake is planning a rebellion againstRogerMontgomery . Near Shrewsbury or not, I do not know."

"Good," Edwin said. "We will go to Aelfgar, and after, we will meet with Hereward the Wake."

"What are you thinking?" Morcar demanded.

For the first time Edwin smiled. The sternness of his face was relieved, revealing handsome features and even white teeth. "I am thinking, brother, that in September we go to war. You, me, and Hereward the Wake."

Chapter 30

"Will she die?" Alice asked.

The maid, Mary, stood next to her in the solar as they stared at Ceidre's wet, trembling form on the bed.

"I dunno," Mary whispered.

Alice clenched the cord of her girdle as if it were a rosary, worrying it continuously. She had denied Ceidre her grandmother-after all, she was a witch, and Alice was not about to have another witch in her home-and, enjoying her immense, newfound power, she had also denied her any further care. A sennight had passed. No one had been allowed into the room except Alice, not even Mary, who would gossip.