Lords of the White Castle (13 page)

As swords hissed from scabbards, Fulke laid the spear edge against FitzRoger's throat. 'Do not believe me too soft to do it, for I will.' He glared at FitzRoger's men, his eyes the hard deep grey of flint. 'I have fought in Ireland and I have been blooded. If my brother is a whelp, then I am a wolf.'

FitzRoger's men stared, transfixed by shock at the speed with which the tables had turned.

'William, mount up.' Fulke jerked his head.

The youth scrambled to his feet and straddled his horse. Against his pallor, the trickle of blood at his throat was bright crimson.

'You will pay,' Morys FitzRoger wheezed from the ground. 'I swear on my soul that you will.'

Glaring down into the hate-filled eyes, Fulke's own animosity and contempt grew. The temptation to lean on the spear trembled through his hands and he had to remind himself that his aim was to get himself and his small company clear of the situation.

Without taking his attention from FitzRoger, he snapped at his companions to spur for home. 'Do it!' he roared, as he felt rather than saw William hesitate. As he heard the receding drum of hooves, he applied the slightest pressure to the spear, drawing blood as FitzRoger had drawn blood from William.

'You are right,' he said hoarsely, 'I will pay. I will give you everything you deserve. On my soul, before God, I swear it.' Removing the lance from the hollow of FitzRoger's throat, he couched it lightly and wheeled his mount one-handed. A terse command brought the bitch to his stirrup and he galloped after the others.

'Fulke, I'm sorry,' William said in a crestfallen voice as they slowed their blowing mounts to a trot and cut across an old drover's track to avoid the next village.

'God on the Cross, you ought to be!' Fulke snapped. He was still not sure they were safe and his temper was ragged. 'You could have got us all thrown into a cell or tied to our horses' tails and whipped from one end of Oswestry to the other! Morys FitzRoger, however much we revile him, is still a man of influence in the town while we are just visiting squires—raw boys with eating knives at our hips in place of swords and scarce enough silver between us for a firkin of ale.'

'I said I was sorry. Besides, it's not all my fault. FitzRoger wouldn't let me pass.'

'And it didn't occur to you to stand aside.' Fulke knew the answer to that even as he spoke. William would hold his ground even if confronted by all the fiends of hell.

'Would you have done so?'

'To avoid trouble, yes I would.'

William's look was disbelieving. A smile suddenly twitched his mouth corners. 'After what I saw you do to FitzRoger, even if it was to save my hide, I don't believe you.'

'It's the truth. And if you had used your wits and stood aside, I would not have been forced to set the dog on him and we wouldn't be fleeing across the fields like outlaws.' Fulke gazed over his shoulder but the track behind them stretched empty until cut off by the upward slope of the land.

'It was worth it though, wasn't it?' The beginnings of an incorrigible grin deepened William's smile.

Despite his determination to remain angry, Fulke found his lips curling with reluctant humour. 'That's a question you'll have to ask Papa when he lifts your hide with his belt,' he said.

William grimaced at that. Then he shrugged. 'It won't be the first time. Can I carry the spear?' He held out his hand.

'If it's not the first time, then plainly you do not learn by your mistakes,' Fulke said, handing the weapon across.

William grasped it, bunching his fist around the smooth ash haft until the tendons stood out like whipcords on his wrist. Fulke saw from the look on William's face that his brother had opted to be deaf to the remark.

When they rode into Alberbury several hours later, their horses lathered from the punishing pace Fulke had set, le Brun was waiting for them in the courtyard, his hands folded around his belt and his features grim.

Although he knew it was impossible, Fulke thought for a moment that news of the incident at Oswestry had outflown them. But then le Brun took a pace forward and, without asking why the horses had been ridden so hard in the summer's burn, or what William was doing with a spear, said, 'A messenger rode in at noon. King Henry is dead and we are summoned to swear allegiance to Richard at Winchester.'

CHAPTER 7

Palace and environs of

Westminster, September 1189

'Fulke!' Theobald Walter engulfed his erstwhile squire in a bear hug, then held him away to look him up and down. 'Holy Christ, have you grown again?' He shook his head. 'No, it's the dark colour of that tunic making you look taller, and you've lost the puppy flesh.' He drew Fulke into the striped canvas pavilion that was serving as his lodging. 'Are you ready for your knighting?'

'Yes, my lord,' Fulke said eagerly. 'Two of my brothers are to receive their spurs too.'

'Excellent!' Theobald declared. '"Your father must be proud. Three sons knighted by Coeur de Lion is a true mark of favour.'

Fulke agreed for form's sake that it was. His father had been pleased but not ecstatic at the news. 'Richard may do me the honour of conferring knighthood on my sons, but it would be a greater honour by far if he would recognise our claim to Whittington, and that remains to be seen,' he had said somewhat testily.

'Is your mother here too?'

Fulke nodded and grinned. 'And my aunt and the rest of my brothers. A coronation and a knighting are occasions too rare and grand to be missed. Women might not be permitted to attend the crowning, but my mother has plans to empty the family strongbox in the markets and look up other wives who have come to trawl the booths and gossip.'

Theobald returned the grin. 'Doubtless there will be some boasting too.' He signalled his junior squire, Adam, to pour wine. Fulke reddened with pleasure and embarrassment. It would be the first time that he and Theobald would drink man to man instead of as master and equerry.

'To King Richard. 'Theobald raised his cup. 'And to the glory of knighthood.' If there was any cynicism in the toast, he kept it well hidden.

'Amen.' Fulke echoed Theobald's gesture before taking a swallow.

Lowering his cup, Theobald rested one haunch on his clothing coffer. 'I suppose you came looking for Jean too.'

A smile lit in Fulke's eyes. 'In part, my lord, but I came to pay my respects to you first. Knowing Jean, he's as likely to be in the kitchens or stables as here.'

Theobald threw back his head and laughed, indeed, you know him well. Knighthood certainly has not bestowed any airs and graces on him.'

'Does he still intend taking the Cross?'

Theobald sobered. 'Yes, he does. I shall miss him, but my brother Hubert will gain, since Jean is to travel in his retinue.' A note of exasperation entered Theobald's voice. 'The lad isn't fired up with religious zeal like many of them—it's that accursed wanderlust of his. He wants to see other lands and other customs; that's his appetite in life . 'Theobald looked at Fulke from beneath his thick, fair brows. 'You weren't tempted yourself?'

'A little, sir, but not enough to stitch a cross to my cloak. My brother William was all for going, but my father sat on him.'

Theobald snorted. 'But in his youth, I think that your father would have gone. He was renowned for being a fire-eater. No one ever went up against Fulke le Brun with a lance if they could help it.'

Fulke felt a small glow of pride on his father's behalf. 'They still don't.' He took another drink of wine. It was smooth as red silk and reminded him that Theobald's tastes were impeccable. A little of the best rather than a largesse of dross. 'He always claims that my mother put a stop to his adventurous wandering—that he found what he was looking for: a handsome, spirited woman with a dowry larger than her capacity to nag.'

Theobald chuckled. 'One way of putting it, I suppose,' he said and then shook his head. 'I doubt that the Queen Mother or Richard's betrothed, the Princess Alais, could keep Richard from this great enterprise of his, whatever the size of the bribe.'

'Well, Richard's different to most men.'

Theobald gave him a sharp look.

Fulke reddened, suddenly feeling that he had spoken out of turn. 'I mean that he lives for war. As you said about Jean's wanderlust, war is King Richard's appetite for life. He doesn't have the time or inclination for gentler pursuits.'

'True,' Theobald nodded. Certain ugly rumours abounded concerning Richard's sexual preferences but he was not about to voice them to a young man of nineteen on the verge of knighthood. Besides, he was aware that his own bachelor state might be cause for gossip in some quarters, yet he liked women well enough. It was just that the time had never been ripe to take a wife and there were women at court who were paid by the Crown to see to the comforts of retainers such as him.

The tent flap was pushed aside and Theobald's brother Hubert entered in the company of a slender, balding man whom Fulke did not know. The latter was introduced to him as Robert le Vavasour, lord of Shipley and Warrington, a baron sharing similar interests to Theobald in their northern holdings. In common with other tenants-in-chief of the Crown, he was here to witness the coronation and renew his oath of fealty.

'FitzWarin?' He looked Fulke up and down, a strange, almost envious expression in his eyes. 'You must be one of le Brun's whelps then.'

'You know my father, sir?' Fulke was discomforted by the man's stare.

Le Vavasour's smile twisted. 'We were rivals in passing for your mother's hand in marriage. He won—to be expected, I suppose, when he had once been her fathers body squire. It gave him an unfair advantage.'

Fulke said nothing, unsure how to respond.

Le Vavasours lip curled. 'I wed Jonetta de Birkyn instead. Unfortunately she did not vouchsafe me a crop of sons the like of your mother's. Between all the miscarriages and failures before she died, she bore me a single daughter.' His tone rang with bitterness.

'May your lady's soul rest in peace,' Theobald said, crossing himself and bringing a measure of compassion to the conversation. Fulke followed his example, signing his breast and murmuring appropriately.

Le Vavasour merely grunted and folded his arms, affecting a stance that said he was a man to be reckoned with. 'It had better,' he said brusquely. 'I've spent good silver to have masses said in her name. 'Thus dismissing his late wife, he turned to the subject of his daughter.

'I've brought young Maude with me,' he said. 'It's never too soon to start looking for a likely match. She's well dowered. No telling whether or not she'll be a beauty when she grows into her looks, but she's got her mother's hair and the Vavasour spirit.' He rubbed his jaw and watched Theobald slyly beneath his lids. 'I'm open to offers, Lord Walter.'

Theobald looked slightly taken aback. 'Are you indeed? And how old is the lass? Surely she's still a child?'

'Of legal age to wed,' le Vavasour responded with a thrust of his jaw. 'It was her twelfth year day at the Midsummer feast.'

'Jesu, Rob, I'm nearly old enough to be her grandsire!'

'There's scarcely a grey hair in your head, and I'd rather have her wed a man who knows the ways of the world, who can fight and govern, rather than squander her on a stripling. Give me age and experience over the prettiness of youth any day.' He glanced at Fulke, without intending insult but emphasising a point. 'Our interests run together in the north. It would be a profitable union.'